Chapter 3
Troy
Rhett kept walking around shirtless, and it was impossible not to notice the way his jeans slid low on his hips as he rooted around in the hall closet for something, showing off the dimples above his ass.
Or the way morning sunlight from the tall, loft-style windows cut across his torso, highlighting every ridge of muscle on his abs and chest as he turned back to face me.
Rhett and I had been friends for years. We’d been rookies together, both new to town and new to the job, and we’d bonded instantly.
But ever since we’d moved into Ryker’s apartment together, things had shifted.
I noticed him in ways I hadn’t before. In ways I shouldn’t notice one of my closest friends.
Hookups with guys were reserved for random strangers in a bar, or locker room fun at the gym.
Not Rhett. Rhett was my ride or die. He was fun, easygoing, and always up for an adventure, but living with him had reminded me he had a solid steadiness to him, too. I didn’t want to fuck that up with the tangle of weird emotions that came from messing around with straight guys.
Besides, he was crazy about Aimee. And Aimee was… well, I didn’t want to think about that, either.
As he leaned over and looked through a bin of junk, those treacherous jeans gave me a glimpse of his ass crack. I adjusted my jeans to make room for my hardening cock and tried to think of anything but sex. I needed to get laid. That must be it.
“Have you seen my belt?” Rhett asked, oblivious to my wandering eyes as he rummaged through a pile of clean laundry on the couch. “The brown one with the silver buckle. These pants don’t stay put.”
I noticed. “Check the hook by the door,” I said, forcing myself to focus on pouring coffee into my travel mug.
This was getting weird. Not the looking—I’d checked out plenty of dudes before. Hell, I’d done more than look with some of them. A drunk handjob in a bar bathroom here, a “let me help you with that” in the shower at the gym there. Normal stuff for horny guys willing to experiment.
But this was Rhett. My best friend. My work partner. The guy who’d seen me puke after too many tequila shots and made me drink Pedialyte the next morning. The guy who knew exactly how I liked my burgers cooked and what movies made me cry, though I’d deny that last part under oath.
Rhett grabbed his belt from the hook and looped it through his jeans, finally stopping their descent toward indecency.
He grabbed a shirt from the laundry pile and yanked it over his head, and I told myself that was for the better.
I could focus better if I couldn’t see the thick muscles of his chest. Still, I felt an irrational surge of disappointment as his abs disappeared from view.
“Earth to Troy,” Rhett said, waving a hand in front of my face. “You with me? We’re gonna be late if we don’t hustle.”
I blinked and shook off the lustful daydreams. “Yeah, sorry. Just… thinking.”
“Dangerous pastime for you,” he teased, grabbing his own travel mug and filling it.
“Fuck you,” I laughed, the familiar banter helping me settle back into our normal rhythm.
This was fine. I was fine. Just because I’d noticed my roommate was hot didn’t mean anything.
Most of the guys I worked with were sexy as hell.
And I didn’t suck all of their dicks, just the ones who wouldn’t expect me to be their boyfriend the next day.
And if Rhett was straight, he definitely would have been the boyfriend type.
“We need to head out. Captain’s gonna have our asses if we’re late again. ”
“Speaking of asses,” Rhett said, dropping his voice as he leaned against the counter, “you think Aimee’s still pissed at us?”
The mention of Aimee brought back the memory of last night—her standing in her doorway, fury radiating off her as we stood dripping water on her hardwood floors, sink cradled between us like some bizarre offering.
“Oh, she’s definitely still pissed.” I picked up my duffel bag and slung it over my shoulder. “We cockblocked her for the third time in two weeks.”
Rhett sighed, pushing a hand through his light brown hair. “We were trying to help.”
“Were we, though?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Or were we being overprotective assholes who don’t know how to respect boundaries?”
He had the good grace to look sheepish. “Little of column A, little of column B?”
“Try all of column B with a side of ‘we fucked up.’” I zipped up my bag with more force than necessary.
“We gotta control our urge to butt into her life, man. She’s a grown-ass woman and she’s gonna shut us out if we keep trampling her boundaries.
” I knew what it felt like to be crowded out of your own life.
Even growing up in a five-bedroom house, ten kids meant nobody got a say in much of anything.
“I know, I know.” Rhett grabbed his keys from the bowl by the door, then froze with his hand on the doorknob. He pressed his eye to the peephole, and I let myself admire the way his ass curved in those jeans as he bent a little to see better.
Shit, was checking out my roommate’s ass a boundary issue, too? I was an asshole. I cleared my throat, not sure I wanted the answer to that. Rhett was straight, but he was an attention whore and didn’t mind flaunting his body to anyone who would look.
“What are you doing?”
“Ryker asked us to look out for her. How are we supposed to do that if we can’t talk to her?”
“You spying on her door right now?”
“Just checking if she’s heading out,” he protested, still peering through the tiny lens like some kind of stalker. “I don’t see her.”
“Rhett.”
“She doesn’t want to see us! I’m just making sure we don’t accidentally bump into her. It’s all in the name of boundaries. Still, how do we know she’s doing okay if we don’t check in on her?”
I rolled my eyes and reached into my bag, pulling out a small notepad with the Denver Fire Department logo on it.
“How about this?” I held up the pad, shaking it for emphasis.
“We’ll leave friendly notes, nothing pushy, just letting her know we still care.
The old-fashioned way. I don’t think that crosses any boundaries.
” Did it? Growing up one of ten kids, I’d learned early that if you wanted to be heard, you left a note on the fridge.
It was the only way to make sure your message didn’t get lost in the noise.
“Right. So, flowers?”
“No, we need to keep it simple. I think notes are perfect. We let her know we’re there for her, but she’s not obligated to respond.” The more I thought about it, the more this seemed perfect for the boundary issue.
“That’s not a bad idea, T. I bet Aimee’s the kind of girl who loves a good note. She can collect them and put them in her scrapbook.”
“Since when does Aimee scrapbook?”
“She will once she gets our amazing notes. She’ll save them to tell the story to our children. Who knew you were so brilliant?”
“Your children. I’m starting to suspect you haven’t learned anything,” I said. “What should we write? ‘Sorry we ruined your date and your bathroom, please don’t hate us’?”
“Maybe something about her podcast? So she knows we’re fans,” Rhett said.
“I don’t know, after the one guy mentioned her being a slut, is that the best plan?”
“What about saying we like listening to her sexy voice?” Rhett bit his bottom lip as his cheeks went pink. I wanted to point out that I also had a sexy voice, but that probably wasn’t the ideal thing to say in this moment.
“Please don’t tell me you’re beating off to her—no, never mind, I don’t need to know about what goes on inside that thick head of yours.”
He flipped me off. “Fuck off.”
“Maybe we should skip mentioning the podcast so she doesn’t think we’re obsessive stalker listeners like you.” I tore off the first note and tossed it in the trash, then started again.
“I’m not a stalker, I just think she’s so… wise,” he said with a dreamy sigh. “And insightful. And she just… gets people, you know? And she’s so pretty.”
“I’m well aware of your crush, but let’s not include the fact that you’re mooning over her like an idiot in the note.”
“Obviously not. The crush remains our secret.”
“It’d be more of a secret if you could control yourself around her.”
“I’m completely in control! She has no idea,” Rhett protested. “How about offering to pick up something from the store on our way back from shift? As a peace offering.”
“A peace offering?”
“Yeah, like wine? Chocolate? One of those fancy cheese boards she likes?”
“No, if we’re going to stop being overbearing, we need to leave it open-ended.”
Rhett clapped. “Good call. Tell her to let us know if she needs anything. And we can leave the groceries at her doorstep in case she’s not ready to see us.”
“Right. We can’t get in the way of another date. Girl’s gonna kill us if she doesn’t get some dick soon.” I nodded, something uncomfortable twisting in my stomach at the thought of Aimee fucking someone who called himself Karl-with-a-K. I cleared my throat. “Don’t want to cockblock her again.”
“I mean… we could cockblock her a little,” Rhett waggled his eyebrows at me. “That guy was an ass. ‘Hey Karl with a K, I’m Rhett with an R.’”
“What the fuck else would Rhett start with?” I elbowed him in the ribs, harder than was strictly necessary. “But you can’t say shit like that about Ryker’s sister. And we’re trying to be better, remember? We have to trust her judgment and let her decide what she needs.”
“I know, I know. It’s just…” He trailed off, staring at the blank notepad. “These guys she keeps bringing home, they’re such dicks. Why is she bothering with them?”
“Did they actually suck? Or was that wishful thinking?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” His voice took on that squeaky tone it did when he was lying. “Why would I want anyone to suck? Unless it’s my dick.”
“You make a good point. I think she wants to suck some dick.”
“That is NOT what I said.”
“Who knows what she’s into? But she deserves to have some fun, let loose, and get laid if she wants. Finally get over what’s-his-face. Gavin or whatever.”
“Garrett? What an asshole.”
“You met him?” I asked, genuinely curious about Aimee’s ex.
“Nah. But I hated him on principle. I don’t like anyone who makes Aimee sad.”
I finished the non-intrusive note and held it up for Rhett’s approval. He took the pad, read it over, and started to write something, then stopped.
“Your handwriting is better than mine.”
“And spelling.”
“Fuck off, I’m dyslexic.” He said it with a grin, the way he always did, turning it into a punchline.
A twist of guilt hit me for the spelling crack.
I’d heard enough about his parents—both surgeons, both convinced their son’s reading difficulties meant he was stupid—to know that joke landed harder than Rhett let on.
“Still, I’ve got something you don’t: I can draw.
” He leaned in and started to sketch, and I watched as his hand moved across the paper, two buff firefighters appearing before my eyes.
His fingers were long and strong, callused from years of handling equipment and climbing ladders.
I found myself wondering how those fingers would feel against my skin.
Nope, not going there.
“Cute. But you made me way too buff.”
He added a few quick lines, and soon they had tears streaming down their faces, hands positioned like they were begging for forgiveness, then handed the note back to me.
“It’s a realistic depiction. You have muscles for days,” Rhett argued, his shoulder pressing against mine as he continued sketching details on the tiny firefighter. “Besides, how else is she supposed to know it’s us?”
“The puppy dog eyes on the guy on the left give it away,” I said, hyperaware of the heat radiating from his body, the scent of his soap mixing with coffee on his breath.
We were standing closer than necessary, my brain helpfully pointed out.
I could step back, create some space between us, but I didn’t.
“Think this will work?”
“Worth a shot,” I replied, my voice coming out rougher than intended. I cleared my throat. “Worst she can do is ignore us.”
“Or file a restraining order,” Rhett joked, folding the note in half.
“Let’s aim for forgiveness and avoid legal action,” I suggested, opening our apartment door and checking that the hallway was clear. “Coast is clear. Operation Apology is a go.”
Rhett crouched down in front of Aimee’s door, sliding the folded note underneath with the gentle precision of someone disarming a bomb.
And it wasn’t my fault I glanced at his ass as he was bent over; it was just where my eyes naturally went.
I shoved my hands in my pockets, making sure he couldn’t see my body’s reaction.
He stood up, brushing his hands on his jeans. “Mission accomplished.”
“Now we wait,” I said, shouldering my bag again and heading for the elevator. “And hope she doesn’t feed our note to a paper shredder.”
“Even if she does, I bet it’ll make her smile,” Rhett said, falling into step beside me. “Especially my cartoon.”