She steps past me in her blanket toga with all the confidence of a queen. Opening the sliding glass door, she disappears out onto the patio. The dog follows her. The door whispers shut, leaving me alone in Ilmari’s house.
Awesome. This is just fucking perfect. I’ve been here two minutes, and I’ve already upset her. That has to be some kind of record, right?
I glance around the condo, my eyes quickly taking in all the clues I missed during our surprise exchange. It’s easy with Mars’s minimalist decor to note what is out of place. There’s the bottle of wine on the counter, fresh flowers in a vase on the kitchen island, snacks lined up under the microwave. There’s also a laptop set up on the kitchen table. A legal pad rests next to it. All the evidence of someone taking this place and making it their own. Tess is living here.
Wait—why is Tess living here? Doesn’t she have some big, high-powered job up in Cincinnati?
Well, it was a good idea in theory, but it looks like I won’t be staying here after all. After the way I just showed my ass in front of her, I’m not surprised she’s upset. I could blame it all on the painkillers, but that would be a lie. My irrational jealousy was real. It surprised me as much as Tess. She doesn’t owe me anything. And I’ve never been the territorial type before.
What the hell is happening to me?
I know what’s not happening. I’m not moving in with Tess Owens. Life simply isn’t that cruel…or that kind.
17
I stomp out onto the back patio, my entire body humming with nerves. That’s twice now that Ryan Langley has caught me off guard. Don’t get me wrong, I like being naked, but I don’t typically show my body off to men I’ve just met. Now Ryan has seen me naked, not once, but twice.
What’s that saying? Third time’s a charm?
“Yeah, good luck getting a third time out of me, buddy,” I say to no one at all.
The look in his eyes just now was a total surprise. In Jake’s kitchen, there was only want and hunger. He liked what he saw. He craved it. If I wasn’t battling a sandy ass crack and sunburned shoulders, I may have even taken things further than a kiss. He’s sweet and cute and so ridiculously fit I want to cry…or beg. I mean, you could cut glass on those sexy hip bones.
But tonight, there was a different look in his eyes. Possession. Need. Anger.
That last one threw me for a loop. The anger rolled off him like a surging storm. He thought I was wandering around the house, freshly fucked, flaunting myself in front of him.
I’m done with possessive men who think they get to own me. If Ryan keeps up this attitude, he’ll see me fly before he ever sees me naked again.
Unless he’s your roommate.
The thought flashes through my mind and I bat it away, glancing down at my phone.
RACHEL (7:45 p.m.): MISSED CALL
RACHEL (7:50 p.m.): MISSED CALL
RACHEL (7:51 p.m.): Girl, answer your phone. Major crossed wires happening over here!
RACHEL (7:54 p.m.): MISSED CALL
RACHEL (7:55 p.m.): Please don’t freak out, but apparently Jake told Langley he could stay there too. He didn’t know you were already there.
RACHEL (7:56 p.m.): Don’t worry, I’ll fix this. OMW
I sigh, shaking my head. At this point it’s all just par for the freaking course. I glance up to see Ryan still sitting inside on the couch. He’s in profile, not looking my way. He looks exhausted and miserable. And he’s hurt. A knee sprain, he said. I didn’t even ask him how bad it is or how long he’ll be off the ice. Hockey is the only thing these guys care about. It’s their whole world. He has to be reeling a bit too.
The doorbell rings, and both he and the dog jump with surprise, their heads turning towards the front door. Ryan reaches for his crutches, wincing as he tries to get up.
I launch into motion, pulling open the patio door. “I’ll get it,” I say. “It’s just Rachel.”
He sinks back onto the sofa with a groan, not looking my way.
I hurry across the living room, the tail of my blanket dress dragging across the floor. Poseidon dances at the front door, whimpering with excitement, like he knows who waits on the other side. I pull open the door, and he darts past me, yipping for joy to see his family again.
Mars and Jake are here too. Rachel looks anxious, Jake looks guilty, and Mars is pissed. As one, they take me in, three sets of eyes trailing from my face, down across my blanket dress, and back up.
Jake’s face splits into a grin. “Well, that happened fast.” He glances to his partners. “I guess we have no problem here then, right? So, everyone can just stop being mad at Jake now.”
“Hush,” Rachel says with a wave of her hand. “Tess, oh my god, what did you—”
“Will you get your head out of the gutter? I wasn’t having sex,” I cry indignantly. “I was in the sauna.” I spin on my heel and march back into the house. Ignoring Ryan, I sweep into the kitchen and snatch up my glass of wine, taking a deep swig.
The Prices say their ‘hellos’ to him as I step up to the edge of the sofa, not sitting down. The three of them stand there, Rachel and Jake in front, Ilmari framing them from behind with his arms crossed over his barrel chest.
“So apparently we got our wires crossed a bit here,” Rachel begins. “Tess, I gave you a key when we left and said you could stay here as long as you needed.” Her gaze shifts slowly to look at her husband. “Apparently, Jake said the same to Ryan without telling anyone—”
“Oh my fucking god, don’t get me started again,” Jake huffs. “You did the same thing, babe. You didn’t tell anyone you gave her a key—”
“It just hadn’t come up yet,” she retorts, hands on her hips. “We were all a little busy with the Winter Classic, remember? It didn’t seem necessary to chase you out onto the ice and horse-collar you just to tell you I gave Tess a key to a house none of us live in—”
“Horse-collaring is a football tackle,” he shouts. “In hockey it’s called ‘holding’—”
“That is so far beyond the point—”
“It is the point! You’re married to three hockey players—”
“Enough,” Ilmari barks, his gaze darting between them. “How did either of you get a key? That’s my question.”
“Caleb,” they say at the same time.
“He made us all keys just in case we needed them,” Rachel explains.
“Yeah, what’s yours is mine now, asshole,” Jake adds. “Metaphors, remember?”
“Ohmygod, it’s metamour,” Rachel cries. “We can’t keep correcting you—”
“Fuck! I hate that fucking word.” He glares at Mars. “I hate calling you a metamour, Mars. It’s weird and confusing and I just—I fucking hate it.”
“I never asked you to call me that,” Ilmari replies.
“We gotta pick something better,” Jake presses. “Why can’t I just call you my husband?”
“I never said you couldn’t,” he says softly.
Jake sucks in a sharp breath. “Wait, oh my god, are you serious right now?” He looks to Rachel, all the anger blown from his sails. “Babe, is he serious?”
“He’s always serious,” Rachel replies, her anger receding, too, as she glances between them.
“It’s my factory setting,” Ilmari adds, slowly crossing his arms again.
“No way. Don’t fucking do that,” says Jake. “Don’t make a joke now. Mars, are you serious? Can I call you my husband? I might cry in front of these guys if you say yes,” he adds, gesturing with a wave at me and Ryan.
We share an awkward glance. Maybe Ryan and I should just go wait this out in the sauna.
“Call me whatever you want,” Ilmari says at last.
“I mean, Cay’s my husband,” Jake says. “Like, my husband husband. Like, we’re legally married.”
“I know,” says Mars. “I was there.”
“But you could be my husband too,” Jake says gently. “In a purely friends way,” he adds.
“I said call me whatever you want,” Ilmari repeats with a shrug.
Jake gazes at him for a minute. Finally, he breaks away with a shrug of his own. “Nope. Not happening. I’m not calling you my husband until you beg me for it. We’ll find another word to use as a placeholder.”