Page 19 of The Pakhans’ Curvy Prize

What are the odds?

What are the actual statistical odds of that happening?

I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling of my bedroom, replaying the moment I walked out of Nick's building and saw Alex leaning against that black SUV.

The way his eyes had locked onto mine and the recognition in his expression.

Then Russ pulling up in his own vehicle and the instant understanding that flashed across his face when he saw both me and Alex.

They know. They definitely know.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I reach for it without thinking. It's a text from Sharon, the third one this morning.

Girl, you need to call me. I heard something crazy at work last night.

I drop the phone back onto the nightstand without responding. I can't deal with Sharon right now.

I just want to hide in my cottage and pretend the last three weeks never happened.

Of course, I know what she heard. She'd heard I slept with three friends and they'd just found out.

I don't want to even think about it. I won't be able to show my face at the Ivory Wolf ever again.

I don't even think I can manage to go into town. I might meet one of them, or overhear whispers and gossip about me.

And that's not something I'm willing to deal with. Not after Zach and how he ruined my reputation. Oh God, I'm smack dab in the middle of another scandal... again.

Only this time, I can't afford to pack up and move to another town like I did before.

What did they say about me after I left?

I can picture it too clearly.

The three of them sitting in Nick's penthouse, probably with expensive whiskey, discussing the woman who'd somehow ended up in all their beds.

Did they laugh?

Did they think I was pathetic?

Did they compare notes about my performance, my body, or the things I said?

The thought makes me want to crawl under my bed and stay there forever.

I force myself out of bed and into the shower, hoping the hot water will wash away some of the embarrassment.

It doesn't.

If anything, standing under the spray just gives me more time to think and replay every interaction I've had with each of them.

Russ at the club, buying me a drink, his easy charm and playful confidence.

The way he'd made me feel safe enough to bring him back here, to my sanctuary.

The way he'd touched me, like I was something precious and exciting at the same time.

Alex a week later, calm and controlled, studying me like I was a puzzle he wanted to solve.

The smoothness of his approach, and the way he took charge without being aggressive.