“If you even finish that sentence by telling me it could have been worse, I’m going to use this pan as a weapon. Rapunzel won’t have anything on me,” I tell him slowly, holding the wet pan up with dangerous intent.
Caiden wisely holds his hands up, though the mocking grin remains. With a shake of my head, I turn my back to him before I show him my accidental smile and continue washing the dishes.
“I’m just saying, you could have really hurt yourself or something.”
“Oh, sure, as if my flaming labia weren’t hurting enough,” I grouch, handing over the next plate a little aggressively. My poor girl is still a little tender, though I’m not mentioning that anytime soon. It’s bad enough they already know and have seen the results of a failed attempt at trying to masturbate.
A manly snort from beside me reminds me I’m not alone, and I feel my cheeks heat uncomfortably. I glance up and find Baxter looking down at me with humor-filled eyes and a quirked lip that is almost hidden behind his short and neatly trimmed beard. If I couldn’t feel the prickly rush of embarrassment thrumming through my veins, I would appreciate just how freaking handsome this guy is. With his shoulder-length hair tied in a messy bun at the crown of his head, a few strands loose from the hair tie, the tattoos that run up his arms, and the beautifully defined muscles that strain against his shirt… well, hell, looks like I can appreciate him just fine even as my cheeks heat further.
Rolling my eyes at myself and the now grinning man beside me, I focus back on the dishes in front of me and decide I’m going to have to spend some time at the rink to cool down from this entire morning. It’s what I should have done in the first place, but nope. I was swayed by three assholes I love more than life itself.
And they’re all going to die.
“Looks like you’re plotting murder,” my sink neighbor comments, his rumbling voice doing all kinds of things to my body it really should not be doing after the whole lube debacle.
There’s a smile in his voice, one I confirm when I flick my eyes to his quickly before turning back to the last plate in the sink. “Murder is too good for those skanks, but it’s all I’ve got right now. I need to think of a suitable punishment for those shitheads.”
“Should I ask why?” the stupidly attractive man asks, his voice washing over me like a waterfall of warm water.
Shrugging with narrowed eyes, I pass the plate over and answer anyway. “Because if they hadn’t suggested rubbing one out to pass the time, then I would have gone to the rink instead, and I wouldn’t have been praying for death while I suffered through the events of the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me in my entire life. And I’ve done some shit that would most definitely be considered embarrassing.”
Baxter laughs, followed by more deep, manly laughter, reminding me I have a kitchen of testosterone to witness the glory that is me. And by glory, I absolutely mean a whole thundering fucknugget of a disaster. Guess it’s only right they find out now instead of later down the line when they knock on my door and ask for sugar, only to find a crazy lady living in the apartment above theirs. They’re fully aware now. Silver lining, right?
“All right. Well, that’s about as much humiliation as I can take for the morning. I’m heading out,” I announce, using the dish towel now draped over Baxter’s shoulder to wipe my hands before I can make my great escape.
I head to my room, pulling my skates from the closet with hurried motions. Slinging them over my shoulder, I hustle my ass out of my room, praying the four stupidly gorgeous men have decided to leave me to my mortification. My movementsare jerky and rushed, the need to flee, to skate, outweighing all else. The faster I can get away from my witnesses, the faster I can forget this entire morning.
Unfortunately for me, they’re still here. In fact, it looks like they’ve made themselves right at home. Baxter is clearing the counters and wiping away the mess made from breakfast, looking entirely too comfortable. I mean, my kitchen officially looks like it was made for him. Doesn’t help that he’s only in a shirt and the tightest boxer briefs known to man. The hell is that about? And why didn’t I notice sooner?
Caiden is searching through my fridge with an unapproving frown and a shake of his head, while Rayne and Ryan lounge on the couch once more. It actually looks like Rayne is about to fall asleep, and my humiliation fades just a little, making room for a flurry of butterflies to form in my belly. Dang it.
Clearing my throat and scaring the shit out of Rayne enough for his body to jerk and his eyes to widen on me, I hold back my smile before I state, “Thought you guys would have left already.”
“We were going to,” Caiden answers, looking over at me with a smirk, his gorgeous brown eyes lit up with delight. “But you told us that as soon as we leave, we’re never speaking of this morning again. I don’t agree with those terms, Blue. So, by that logic, we’re never leaving.”
Shocked, I burst out laughing, my skates almost falling to the floor while my shoulders shake. “You’re not serious?”
Because they can’t be serious, right? They just moved into the apartment below. I’m their landlord. I don’t even know them. They’re not staying here. They could be weirdos for all I know, though my head and heart are both telling me they’re not since they so kindly helped me this morning. I take a step backjust in case, eyeing them all like I’ve finally just had my first smart thought of the day.
“Deadly,” Caiden replies, now grinning like the cat who caught the canary. I don’t much care for that look, mainly because I suddenly feel like the canary in this situation. “Well, unless you decide to change your mind about the whole forgetting thing. I couldn’t even if I tried.”
Based on the look he gives me, he means every word. Damn my ability to make an ass out of myself. I really hate how memorable this first impression is, but with a growl and heated cheeks, I remind them all, “I distinctly remember offering to pay you all if you wouldn’t mention it again.”
“We don’t need the money,” Ryan replies, looking over at me from the couch, eyebrows raised, eyes filled with intrigue. “We make plenty ourselves.”
“And we wouldn’t take it, anyway,” Baxter mumbles, his eyebrow rising while he washes his hands and wipes them on the towel he’s tucked into the handle of a cabinet.
“But we can’t exactly forget about finding a woman stuck in her tub after a self-love session went wrong,” Caiden concurs with a smug grin.
Of the four, Rayne is the only one to wisely keep his little mouth shut, though he looks stupidly amused regardless. He’s turned his hat so it sits normally, his face cast in soft shadows, but it doesn’t hide how funny he thinks this all is.
“For fuck’s sake,” I blurt, throwing my hands up, my skin itching with the need to get on the ice and calm my brain and nerves. “Fine! I revoke my offer. Talk about it all you want. I’m leaving, so let yourselves out when you’re done.”
Grumbling under my breath, I snatch my keys from the side table near the door, turn my own hat backward, and start looking for my cell. “Where did you go, you sneaky little…?”
Just as the question leaves my mouth, it appears right in front of my face, a tatted hand holding it close enough that the screen almost touches my nose. The arm attached is covered in beautiful art, so I know it’s Baxter.
“Thanks,” I mutter without looking at his face, no doubt still smug, accepting my cell before stuffing it into my pocket.
