The Deal

“Garrett, beer me!” a voice ripples over the line. Judging by the faint Texas drawl, it must be Tucker.

“Hold on, Wellsy. One sec.” A rustling meets my ear, followed by a howl of laughter, and then Garrett comes back. “Okay, tomorrow at nine then.”

“Seven!”

“Right, seven. Sorry, I can’t hear you at all. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He hangs up on me, but I don’t care. I’ve discovered this past week that Garrett never takes the time to say goodbye on the phone. It annoyed me at first, but now I sort of appreciate his time-saving approach.

I shove my phone in my apron and reenter the main room to tell Allie I’m good to go for tomorrow night, and she squeals in response. “Yay! I can’t wait to get my Gosling on. Hottest. Guy. Ever.”

“I’m sitting right here, you know,” Sean grumbles.

“Babe, have you seen that man’s abs?” she demands.

He sighs.


The following night, I show up at Garrett’s house at seven o’clock sharp and let myself in as usual. Before I head upstairs, I poke my head into the living room to say hi to Logan and the guys. Logan’s not there, but Tuck and Dean are, and they glance up in confusion when they spot me.

“Hey, Wellsy.” Tucker wrinkles his forehead. “Whatcha doing here?”

“Tutoring your captain, what else?” Rolling my eyes, I start to edge away from the doorway.

“You don’t want to go up there, baby doll,” Dean calls out.

I stop in my tracks. “Why not?”

His light-green eyes gleam in amusement. “Uh…he might have forgotten.”

“Well, then I’ll go up and remind him.”

A minute later, I completely regret that course of action.

“Yo, Graham, let’s get this over with so I can—” I halt midsentence, freezing like a deer in headlights after I open the door.

Embarrassment slams into me when I register what I’m seeing.

Garrett is lying on the bed in all his bare-chested glory…while a naked girl straddles his thighs.

Yep, Miss Thang is buck-naked, and she whirls around in a cloud of blond hair at the sound of my voice. Perky breasts assault my vision, but I don’t have time to judge them one way or the other because her ear-piercing screech cuts through the air.

“What the hell!”

“Shit. I’m so sorry,” I blurt out.

Then I slam the door and race downstairs like I’m being chased by a serial killer.

When I stumble into the living room a moment later, I’m greeted by two grinning faces. “We told you not to go up there,” Tucker says with a sigh.

Dean’s grin widens. “How was the show? We can’t hear much from down here, but I have a feeling she’s a screamer.”

I’m so mortified that my cheeks feel like they’re burning from the inside out. “Can you tell your slutty friend to call me when he’s done? Actually, no. Tell him he’s out of luck. My time is precious, damn it. I’m not tutoring him anymore when he obviously doesn’t take my schedule seriously.”

With that, I march out of the house, my emotions alternating between embarrassment and anger. Unbelievable. How is fooling around with some girl more important to him than passing his midterm? And what kind of jerk would do that when he knows I’m coming over?

I’m halfway to Tracy’s car when the front door bursts open, and Garrett rushes out. He at least had the decency to put on a pair of jeans, but he’s still not wearing a shirt. Or shoes, for that matter. He hurries over to me, his expression a mixture of sheepish and annoyed. “What the hell was that?” he demands.

“Are you kidding me?” I retort. “I should be asking you that question. You knew I was coming over!”

“You said nine!”

“I changed it to seven, and you know it.” My lips twist in a scowl. “Maybe next time you should pay more attention to me when I call you.”

He rakes a hand through his short hair, and his biceps bulge as he does it. The cold air causes goose bumps to rise on his smooth, golden skin, and my gaze is unwittingly drawn to the thin line of hair that arrows toward his unbuttoned waistband.

At the sight, an odd flicker of heat travels from my breasts to my core. My body suddenly feels tight and achy, my fingers tingling with the urge to…oh, for fuck’s sake. No. So what if the guy is totally cut? That doesn’t mean I want to ride him like a cowgirl.

He already has someone else doing that to him.

“I’m sorry, okay?” he grumbles. “I screwed up.”

“No, not okay. One, you clearly don’t respect my time, and two, you clearly don’t want to pass this class, otherwise your pants would be zipped and your textbook would be open.”

“Oh really?” he challenges. “So you expect me to believe that you study twenty-four-seven and never hook up with anyone?”

Discomfort churns in my stomach, and when I don’t answer, suspicion floods his eyes. “You do hook up, don’t you?”

An irritable breath escapes my lips. “Of course I do. Just…not in a while.”