Chapter 27 The Shirtless Chefs
THE SHIRTLESS CHEFS
Trina
I need a nap, but there’s no time for that so I’ll settle for fuel. After I shower, I practically float into the kitchen on a waft of freshly brewed coffee, though the eggs and toast are luring me too.
I’m dressed for work in cute flare jeans, and a flower-print shirt. I lift my nose to draw a satisfying inhale, savoring the smell of the food and the sight of two shirtless men.
“Never cook with shirts on,” I say.
“We’ll start a band. The Shirtless Chefs,” Chase says.
“Name’s probably taken though. All the good ones are,” Ryker says, plating some scrambled eggs.
I move between them, grabbing a mug, then Chase slaps my wrist. “We’re serving you. Sit. Now.”
I hold up my hands in surrender. “All right, all right. But why?” I ask as I settle in at the counter. “I hardly did anything today.”
He huffs, deliberately over the top. “You did the most work in bed,” he says, and I scoff.
“I was tied up.”
“It’s a lot of work for the woman.”
Ryker arches a brow as he grabs two slices of sourdough bread from the toaster. “Have you been studying the caloric output of various threesome positions?”
“No. I’ve been participating in a lab experiment, you jackass,” Chase says, and their boyish insults make me smile. “And my conclusion is this—it’s more work for the woman than the men. So the least we can do is feed you and take care of you.”
I shrug happily. “Works for me. I like food.”
And so does the beggar dog at my feet, who clearly wants me to drop a piece of my egg.
I shoo Nacho back to his bed, then return to the stool.
The guys come around to the island counter and sit on each side of me.
Ryker drops a kiss to my cheek, then hums, sounding deliciously happy.
It’s the first time he’s seemed fully relaxed outside of bed, like he’s letting go of some of his hard shell.
Chase plants a kiss on my other cheek. “I like it better when we all get along,” he says, and my heart goes a little fluttery.
Okay, a lot.
“Same here,” Ryker says, and I know it costs them something to admit this. Their shared vulnerability makes me feel all soft for them, like I’m made of flutters as I savor their morning attention.
“We only have a few more days left. Let’s make the most of them,” Chase adds, and…the flutters die a hard death.
“We will,” I say, trying to sound chipper, but likely failing. I don’t want to think about Monday morning when I move out and they head off to their next series. Chase travels to New York, then Boston; Ryker to Seattle. They’ll be far away, and I’ll be moving into a studio.
Best to focus on the here and now. I pick up my fork and dig in with a “Yes, let’s do that.” Then I shift gears. “Is everything set up for the online auction?” I ask since Chase has organized all the details.
He grabs his phone, checks something, and shows me the screen with a ticking clock. I try not to think of our ticking clock. “Went live this morning as planned.”
“Damn. Look at those bids already,” Ryker says, peering at the screen too. “You’re going to bring in a nice haul for Little Friends.”
“I’m so excited about that,” I say. The funny thing is we planned this as “revenge for charity” but now it just feels like a fun thing that belongs to us. It’s our project, and Jasper has nothing to do with it.
As Ryker scrolls through the bids, an idea pops into my head. “What if we share it on your social feed?” I suggest, enthused. “It’ll help with your agent’s goals and your goals.”
He gives a crooked grin. “Your brain is seriously sexy,” he says, then takes out his phone, unlocks it, and hands it to me. A few seconds later, I’m posting about the auction on his news feed, then handing him back the phone.
Which reminds me, we have one more “moment” planned as part of his reputation makeover. “Don’t forget we’re seeing your grandma tomorrow at lunch.”
“Dude. Say hi to Dorothy for me,” Chase says, chiming in. “She cleaned up last time I played poker with her.”
“She always does,” Ryker says.
And more flutters come my way over how they talk about Ryker’s grandma. Evidently, just having breakfast and normal conversation with them on a random Wednesday is a romantic risk. But a pounding makes me hungry so I tuck into the eggs again.
As we eat, Chase’s phone buzzes. He picks it up. “Might be my mom.”
“Aww, such a momma’s boy,” Ryker teases.
“Pot. Kettle,” Chase taunts back, then his brow knits as he reads the screen. “Huh.”
I snap my gaze to him. Huh doesn’t sound good. “What is it?” I hope he’s not checking out press reports after the last two losses. That can’t be good for his stress levels.
But Chase quickly erases his frown as he looks Ryker’s way. “It’s just this Sea Dogs fan account. They picked up the pic of you at Trina’s store yesterday and mentioned her.”
“What the hell?” Ryker fumes.
For a second, fear flashes across my skin.
Did they see me pulling Ryker into my office?
Did I mess up everything we worked out last night when I did that?
But the office is around the back hallway of the store and totally out of view.
Still, nerves skate over my skin until Chase sets the phone down, showing it to us.
“Gianna sent it,” he says, then gestures to the pic of Ryker buying books at the counter.
Whew. That’s a relief. It’s the pic I snapped.
“And they took it from my new social account,” Ryker says, stewing.
Gosh, he’s cute when he’s mad about the world. I kind of love it because his ire gives me a purpose. “Yes, that’s the point,” I say gently. “We’re putting it out there for that reason. We took this pic.”
“I fucking know that,” he grumbles. “That’s not even the issue.”
But before I can ask what the issue is, I read the caption.
Better not be sharing team secrets, Cap! The new GF of the Sea Dogs captain works at An Open Book, where crosstown rival Ryker Samuels shopped yesterday. Serious so quickly that she’s hanging with friends again after meeting them both at the game the other night? Seems so.
I tense. Is Ryker going to feel like he’s not an equal part of this us again?
“I don’t like this,” he says.
And I need to reassure him it’ll be fine, so I set a hand on his rock-hard shoulder. “They don’t need to know what it’s really like with the three of us.”
“It’s better this way. Trina said her family would lose their shit if they knew she was with both of us,” Chase says, jumping in too. “But I won’t make a big show of her and me at the wedding, I swear. That’d be fucking rude to all of us.”
A dark cloud drifts over me at the mention of my family. But I don’t want to think of them right now. I want to make sure Ryker’s not feeling like a third wheel, so I turn to him. “You’re not just a friend. Just because I have a fake date with Chase doesn’t make what we do any less real.”
Ryker drags a hand down his beard, shaking his head. “Don’t you two get it?”
I furrow my brow and look to Chase, who appears equally confused. “Um, no,” Chase says.
Ryker gives him a stern stare. “I don’t need you two to make me feel like I’m a part of this.
We talked it out last night, the three of us.
And we’re good. I fucking trust you two.
Both of you. But I don’t trust people. And I don’t want people jumping to conclusions.
Or figuring out what we do at night or in the morning.
They’d have a field day. Two rivals and the girl with the cheating ex,” he says, then turns to me, and cups my cheek tenderly.
“And I definitely don’t want anyone talking shit about you. ”
And my heart trips over itself again. “They aren’t.”
Chase is quick to reassure him too. “And we won’t let them. We won’t give them anything to talk about. Besides, it’s not like this is Page Six,” he says, naming the gossip outlet. “If the Selena-slash-Abby thing didn’t get out, this won’t either.”
He takes a pause, clearly devising a plan. “And listen, when the three of us are out together, we’ll act like friends. All of us. That feels fair and right. And that’s got to be a new pact, okay?”
“I agree,” I say, then wait for Ryker’s reaction.
But my broody guy is quiet again, unreadable again.
Chase, though, is not. He’s clearly determined to steer this ship out of choppy waters. “Listen, I’m not going to be all touchy-feely with Trina in public in front of you. That’d be disrespectful to you, man,” he says, and great, just great.
Now my insides are doing cartwheels over how much Chase cares about his friend. How he wants to do right by Ryker. My pulse surges.
And I swear, if I’m not careful, my feelings for both of them will snowball from crush to something deeper very, very soon.
“Thanks, man,” Ryker says quietly, appreciatively.
Chase claps Ryker’s shoulder. “While we’re in this,” he says, then draws a circle in the air, indicating the three of us, “we’re all in this.
There’s no picking sides or playing favorites.
I fucked up by not asking you yesterday, but I am seriously grateful for the save at the wedding.
Lisette has been on my case, and I just can’t go there and be introduced to all the women she wants to set me up with.
And even if this thing ends the next day, no fucking way do I want to be introduced to someone while I’m with you,” he says to me.
It’s like a seesaw, the emotions inside me. I love that he’s focused on me. But I hate that he’s mentioning the end.
Ryker offers a fist for knocking. “Not your fault, buddy. It’s the world’s. People saw that pic of you and our girl, and they made assumptions. That’s how this thing spiraled. We just need to look out for each other.”
Chase knocks back. “We will.” Then he beckons me with his other hand. “Bring it in, sweetness.”
I set my fist on top of theirs. The three of us.
“This is our new pact,” Chase says, like a declaration, and the serious tone makes the snowball…snowball.