“Have you thought about picking up a paintbrush again? Give it another shot.”
“I don’t really have the time,” she insists. “Plus, all of my stuff is in boxes back home, so—”
The front door swings open, and voices travel down the entryway. I lost track of time. Ember’s social clock with me is usually an hour maximum, so I never thought about her still being here when the guys got home.
“What’s going on here?” Zeke questions.
“We were just working on our project.”
“You two look awfully cozy to be working on a project.” He smirks, and Ember’s shoulders fall—
Progress gone.
“I should go,” Ember says, but Zeke’s hand flies in the air, motioning her to stop.
“Not yet, dollface,” he says, but I notice she doesn’t cringe the way she did with me. I don’t blame her, though… man’s got charm. “Declan hasn’t even introduced us.”
“I don’t need an introduction.” She smiles, rising to her feet. “I already know who all of you are.”
“But we don’t know,you,” he continues.
“Oh, what a shame.” She pouts.
“I can see why you’ve been hiding this one, Declan.” Zeke crosses his arms. “She’s got some sass to her.”
You have no idea.
“Sorry about our friend here,” Brooks jumps in to save her, “he never learned his manners.”
“I just have priorities,” Zeke argues.
“And obviously, she’s not interested,” Jeremy adds.
“Please, make yourself at home,” Jaxon motions to the couch. “Brin will be in soon.”
Like clockwork, Brin walks in with arms full of groceries. Fletcher follows close behind her.
“Brin, what are you doing here?” I wonder, looking past the group in front of me to eye my sister.
“I texted Jaxon,” She drops the groceries on the counter, “and told him if he picked me up from campus, I’d make us all dinner.”
I eye Jaxon, but he only shrugs. “I’m not gonna pass up a homecooked meal.”
“I didn’t expect my bestie to be here, though,” she responds. “I thought you could only tolerate Declan for ninety minutes at most.”
“He’s growing on me.” Ember catches my gaze over her shoulder, a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.
“I think it’s settled then,” Zeke throws an arm around her, “you’re staying for dinner.”
“I don’t think at any point that was established in the conversation,” she says, but I know there’s no winning this one. She’s staying for dinner whether she likes it or not.
“So, dollface, you familiar withNHL 17?” Zeke asks, pulling Ember back onto the couch and grabbing a controller as the other guys fill in around them. I can’t fight the cheeky grin on my face.
“It’s Ember,” she begins, yanking the controller out of his hand. “And are you familiar with losing?”
“At this game, always,” Brooks jokes, and we laugh.
“Well, tonight won’t be any different.” Ember winks, leaning back as the TV powers up.
