“I’m sorry,” Sam said quietly and rose from the kitchen table. He poured a cup of coffee and slid it to Blake.
The coffee burned his lips, but he kept gulping, needing the pain as much as the caffeine. He’d barely slept. Being next to her again, feeling her warm, soft body so close, hearing her breathe…even those cute little snores she made when she was conked out had been like finding a trove of long-awaited treasure. And it had made him cry, dammit.
Sam’s hand rested on his shoulder, and he welcomed the show of support.
“She threw herself at me and was shocked when I turned her away. She said…she loved me.” The knife slid under his ribs again, tearing open his flesh.
“Then you were right to come here,” Sam said. “She might have been drunk, but you know what they say—in vino veritas. Everything will work out. Somehow.”
He couldn’t think about that right now. When the guys left later, he would take a long hike in the mountains and try to clear his mind.
“I’m going to take a quick shower.”
“Don’t be surprised if you don’t find any clean underwear,” Sam told him when he was halfway across the room.
He did a double take. “What did they do?”
Sam grimaced. “I tried to put a stop to it after the first few, but…I gave up under duress. Some of the guys—not saying who—climbed one of your trees and stuck all your briefs on the branches. In hindsight, it’s not as bad as the time we put all of Jordan’s briefs in the freezer.”
He glanced out the window, but couldn’t see anything from his vantage point, so he walked out the back door. “You’re shitting me.”
“Wish I was, although I did think it was pretty creative in the beginning.”
He watched a squirrel carry one of his navy briefs in its mouth and run up a tree. Were they using his underwear for blankets or something? He could see the ad now.
Ride the Squirrel Craze. Discover men’s underwear for blankets. Keep your nuts warm.
His eyes tracked to the right, and sure enough, his underwear were flapping in the breeze on the highest branches possible, like a men’s-only May Pole. The sheer number of them and the amount of colors he wore made his face flush.
“Whose brilliant idea was this?” he asked.
“Jordan and Grant’s. Who else?”
He growled in his throat. Normally he would laugh something like this off, but he’d slept two hours tops and had woken up with blue balls.
“You’re telling me they used all my briefs?”
“Cleared out your drawer,” Sam said with barely disguised glee.
Blake turned at the sound of heavy footfalls in the hallway. When no one emerged, he strode over and discovered Grant hiding behind the wall like a little kid.
When the lineman saw him, he held up his hands. “Don’t kill me. It was Jordan’s idea.”
“Right.” He rubbed the stubble on his face. “I’m showering now, and I want all my underwear down by the time I finish.”
Grant shook his head. “No way, Ace. We…ah…made a brother’s pact. The only person who can get them down is you.”
He and Sam had started the brother’s pact at camp to make sure no one welshed on a dare or a bet or a practical joke. Now he was eating his own words.
“Terrific. Let the caterers in if I’m not out yet.”
He headed straight to the shower. It was intolerably brief and cold, and he elected not to shave as he tugged on yesterday’s underwear and Don Johnson getup. No way was he going commando in tight acid-washed jeans. He didn’t need anything rubbing or chafing down south. When he returned to the kitchen, the caterers were already setting up. He started when he saw Natalie slowly peeling saran wrap off a bowl of fruit, wincing with every inch uncovered.
Of course she’d come. She prided herself on her professionalism—always had. The smell of food had to be pure torture for her, not to mention the noise from the five guys who had emerged from back rooms with wet hair and clean-shaven jaws. Jordan wasn’t among them and neither was Zack.
Sam waggled his brow as if he knew what he was thinking. He nodded.
As he passed Natalie on the way to the cabinet, he rested his hand briefly on her shoulder. She looked back at him. Her skin had a gray pallor, and her hair was still wet from her own shower. But she stole his breath away.
“I told you that you didn’t have to come,” he said. What he really wanted to tell her was that she looked beautiful, even hung over.
“I know you did. Thanks for helping Andy this morning.”
“You’re welcome.”
He moved to the cabinet and pulled out two pitchers. Sam grabbed one, and they filled them first with ice and then with water before tiptoeing into the room where Zack and Jordan were bunking. Once they were inside enemy territory, Blake crooked his finger for Sam to take Zack while he positioned himself over Jordan.