8. Leah
Leah
Apron tied securely around my waist, I stare into my mixer as the butter and sugar cream together. Everyone loves cookies, so I’m making Granny’s chocolate chunk delights as an apology for my outburst earlier. If Parker and Grady don’t appreciate them, I have exhausted my best option.
Eggs and dry ingredients join the party in my mixing bowl, just as a knock sounds at my door.
Seriously?
Marching over, unbothered with the mess I’m wearing, I tear it open. “Won’t you give me the chance to grovel?” I ask, nearly falling over.
Who the hell are they?
“Pardon?” the tall blond asks. His deep blue gaze glimmers as he takes in my cow print ensemble.
“Who would ever make you grovel?” the slightly shorter man to his left asks, red locks poking out from under his black ball cap. Their eyes are almost identical—expressive, full lashes. Gorgeous.
Blondie has his pink shirt tucked into light-wash jeans. The ginger with a dangerous smirk next to him has his gray tee loose, but intentionally so. Black tattered jeans hug his thighs. Men should not look this good.
Words? I have none.
“I’m Warren,” the blond says, full lips pulling into an easy smile.
The other man tips his head. “Quincy.”
“Uh. Sorry, you’re not who I was expecting. I don’t make a habit of groveling, so don’t get too excited.” I place my hand on my hip and lean against the doorframe, grateful that my brain has snapped back to reality. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Please be strippers. It’s not even my birthday, but golly, I could use some visual stimulation, and they’re both very adequate.
“We’re your new neighbors,” Warren answers, expression still casual.
“If we’re imposing, we can come back later,” Quincy offers, face pulled taut.
Neighbors? New faces, in general, are exciting. They must own the Jeep I saw earlier.
“I love inviting strange men into my home. Get comfy, I’m making cookies.” I beam and motion for them to follow me inside.
They don’t budge. Surely they think I’m insane. They’d be correct, but at least I’m not boring. Boring people suck.
Okay, this is awkward. Best try and smooth it over. They’re the first new people I’ve seen here, except Grady and Parker… and, unfortunately, Bridget.
“Sorry, bad joke. But I am making cookies, and you’re more than welcome to come in.” I flutter my lashes.
Flirting always works… usually.
Quincy blinks while Warren chuckles, shaking his head as they step inside.
Yup, still got it.
“Wow, this place is lively.” Quincy admires the living room, face filled with wonder.
My lips pull into a wide grin, eager to brag a little. “Thanks, I painted them all myself.”
“I feel like I know everything I need to about you now.” Warren laughs, stopping at my bookshelf to admire Tally’s picture. “You own the Friesian?”
“Yup, that’s my T. Don’t try to pet her. She bites and I will not accept the blame.”
“Uh.” Quincy, standing next to Warren, scrunches his brows. “We’ve already introduced ourselves. She poked her head out of her stall and nickered at us to come over.”
“She what?!”
“Yeah, the stable hand gave us some peppermints and she just about melted. Then he turned her out.” Warren smiles, completely unaware that he could have lost a hand earlier.
“His name is Grady,” I grumble, pouring chocolate chunks into the mixer, setting the speed to low.
“Is there a problem?” Quincy asks, leaning on the counter. The veins in his biceps bulge, begging for me to lick them. Why does he have to be a redhead? My kryptonite.
No, Leah, get it together.
“Nope, no problem… So, are you two trying to qualify for the Olympics, too?” I deflect to the best of my ability.
“Ah, no. We just enjoy the sport and want to better ourselves,” Warren replies, coming to the kitchen as well. “You want to make the Olympics?” He hoists himself up, plopping on my counter.
What is it with men making themselves at home here? Weirdly enough, I don’t really mind. They’re close, but it’s not intimidating. Loneliness is making me too accommodating. That’s got to be it.
“I do, that’s my main goal in life. Even if I flop and don’t do well, I just want to make it.”
“That’s inspiring.” Quincy leans a little closer.
My skin pebbles, breaths becoming shallow. It’s been a while since I’ve had a man this close to me, aside from Parker and Grady anyway—but that’ll never work, we have to maintain healthy work relationships. These two absolutely perfect men, on the other hand? They’re creeping into hookup territory.
I can’t do that.
But I want to.
I wonder if they would be into a threesome?
Oh, right, he complimented me.
“I have dreams, that’s all. Everyone does, mine are just a bit wild.”
Warren chuckles. “You seem more than a bit wild.”
Looking him in the eye is a horrible idea, but I do it anyway. “Wouldn’t you like to find out?” I spin away from him to put the dough in the fridge. “So, do you two know each other?”
“We’re brothers. Trained together at our last facility. When the opportunity to come here arose, we took it. They were kind enough to offer a discount if we shared a cabin.” Warren answers, voice light.
Brothers make sense. Matching eyes, eerily similar sharp jawlines, muscular but with slim waists. The resemblance is strong.
Damn it. Why does this place have to be crawling with men who could double as models?
I untie my apron, hanging it on the magnetic hook on the fridge. “It’s almost dinner time, my cookie dough has to chill. Wanna go to the diner in town?”
“Wow, already asking us on a date, huh?” Warren jokes, dropping off the counter.
“Well, I was thinking I could invite Parker and Grady, too, since you’re going to be working closely with them.” I place my hands on my hips, raising my chin in challenge.
“The more the merrier,” Quincy answers with an impish smirk. “Grady was nice enough earlier, but he seems sad.”
“You have no idea.” I groan. “Bridget treats him like shit. I almost kicked her ass for it earlier. Hence the reason I’m making apology cookies.”
“Ah, that explains the groveling.” Quincy snickers.
“He hates me. I don’t know why, but he does.”
“Want to make him jealous? We can pretend to be your boyfriends.” Warren raises a brow, glancing at Quincy.
“What? He’d have to like me to be jealous. Your plan is flawed.”
“He’d have to be blind not to like you,” Quincy speaks up, cheeks slightly flushed as he dodges my gaze.
“He’s not wrong,” Warren agrees. “Maybe he’s just awkward and doesn’t know how to act around you.”
“What is this, high school? I’m not going to try and make him jealous.” Straight-faced, I shut them down.
Warren pouts, fluttering those damn lashes. “So, no flirting?”
“I don’t mind flirting. Hell, you could hit me up for some casual fun. I don’t care, sex is great. Where I draw the line is manipulation.”
He groans. “Fuck, you’re hot.”
Quincy lets out a hearty laugh, leaning in for dramatic effect. “He’s definitely going to take you up on the sex.”
“Don’t act like you won’t, too,” Warren quips. His face softens, gaze drifting over me from head to toe. “In all seriousness, you’d look great between us. Something tells me you’d make us earn it. That is fucking irresistible.”
“He’s not bullshitting,” Quincy says, face flushed, posture relaxed, but carrying himself with confidence. The duality is delicious.
I clear my throat, getting my thoughts back on track.
Their words have jolted my body awake, exhilarated by their heated promises.
I could see myself with them—both of them.
My cheeks heat against my will. So much for containing my enthusiasm.
“I’m just going to send a quick text to Parker and Grady, and they can meet us at Carrie’s.
Let me clean up real quick.” I excuse myself to the bathroom, letting out a held breath.
Somehow, some way, I’ll survive these men.
Warren and Quincy are sitting on either side of me. My stomach aches from the slight pang of guilt, as if I’m cheating on Parker and Grady. There’s no reason for it, but rationality has never been my strong suit.
Why can’t I accept the fact that nothing will happen between us?
As Warren throws his arm around me, the door opens, and in they walk. When Parker spots us across the room, he does a double-take, eyes flashing wide for a split second. They take seats across from us, faces pulled tight.
Parker squints at the men at my sides. “I thought you invited us to dinner as an apology.”
“I… well, I sort of did, but it’s more to introduce everyone. This is Warren and Quincy. They’re your new trainees.” I force a smile, trying to shrug Warren’s arm off my shoulder.
“Looks like you’re well acquainted already,” Parker deadpans.
I’ve never seen him like this. The shortness of his answers, how tense his shoulders are, icy-blue gaze unnaturally sharp.
“What’s good to eat?” Quincy looks at Grady, knowing damn well he can’t answer. They met him earlier, he has to know.
To his credit, Grady doesn’t flinch as he flips a menu open, slides it across the table, and points to the chicken and waffles. Never once breaking eye contact.
Great, this is going fantastic, love it.
“It’s funny.” Parker flips through his menu with nonchalance. “I was not informed of any new trainees.”
Weird…
“Yeah, we don’t officially start until next week. Something about Mrs. Hart not wanting to take up your time with the upcoming competition. We’re totally tagging along for that, though, gotta cheer on hot stuff here.” Warren squeezes me.
My eyes roll painfully fast. I’ve been called a variety of nicknames, “hot stuff” sure as hell isn’t original or appealing.
It’s becoming abundantly clear to me that these two are nothing more than pretty faces.
Your typical douche bags who know they’re hot.
Undoubtedly used to women falling at their feet.
Weeks ago, I’d have gladly joined the ranks, but now the thought is oddly repulsive.
As if he can sense my awkwardness, Grady shifts his attention from Quincy to Warren, gliding to the spot where his hand rests just above my breast, finally landing on my crinkled brow.
Tilting his head, a scowl pulls at his lips.
I offer a faint smile, hoping to de-escalate his…
worry? Anger? Whatever it is, silence has never been so intimidating.
Darlene, as always, steps up to our table with a vibrant grin, bursting the testosterone bubble I’ve been trapped in. As we place our orders, Quincy and Warren break the unwritten rule and order burgers.
Grady’s face shifts to one of disgust. Silly me for thinking he hated my guts.
Right now, I’m certain he wants the men at my sides dead—for various reasons.
The way he’s staring holes through them is terrifying.
I don’t quite understand his obsession with the chicken and waffles, but they are delicious.
Warren tilts his head and leans forward, finally giving me a chance to relax now that he’s not draped over me. “You got a problem with the burgers?”
Parker mirrors Warren’s pose, resting his elbows on the table. “He told you guys to get the chicken and waffles.”
Grady chews his lips, jaw working as he stares at me.
“Oh shit, I see it now.” Quincy titters. “He has it baaaad for her, War.”
I whip my head toward him so fast I sway in my seat. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!” I protest too loudly, drawing the attention of people seated around us. Several regulars catch my eye, expressions full of questions. Great, they think I’m crazy. We can never come here again.
“Go on and lie to yourself, but I know the eyes of a man who wants what he can’t have,” Quincy continues. “Tell me I’m wrong, Grady.” He raises his chin, face pulled into a taunting simper.
“That’s quite enough from both of you,” Parker seethes. “This dinner is over. Grady and I will get our food to go. Good night, Leah.”
Parker’s face is rigid; meanwhile, there’s nothing but pain in Grady’s eyes.
Disgust sours my stomach, appetite thoroughly ruined. When Darlene delivers our food, I barely register the conversations filling the diner. Quincy and Warren eat their burgers, chattering on about things I don’t care to hear.
Mentally, I’m in a different place, one from long ago.
Small and helpless, curled up on the locker room floor while other girls kicked and spat on me, for no reason other than envy.
As one of the first in my grade to hit puberty, I looked like a grown woman at fifteen.
Boys spread filthy rumors around our small town, claiming I did things with them that I’d never heard of.
Eventually, I embraced it, convinced myself that sex is all I’m good for.
Before long, I was labeled the town slut.
I knew nothing of love or loyalty.
And still don’t.
Life with no female friends, raised in a house full of boys, and a mother I wasn’t close with.
Nothing could prepare me for the cruelty of teenage girls.
Sure, as a grown woman, I own my sexuality now.
But tonight, the way these guys came out and peacocked…
I loathe it. Any attraction I felt for them is dead.
Ears hot, shoulders tight, I interrupt whatever conversation they are having, “I told you I don’t do manipulation.”
“Calm down, Baby,” Quincy jokes. “We’ll show you a great time, don’t worry.”
“You’ve shown me the exact opposite of a great time. Parker and Grady are—”
“Too scared to act on their impulses,” Warren interrupts, rolling his eyes.
“You’re insane,” I fire back. “They’re friends, and I’m literally paying their salaries.”
“Wow, you’re actually stuck in denial. Whatever, go on and keep telling yourself it won’t end badly.” He stands to let me out of the booth, face blank.
“I hope you choke on your burgers!” Stomping off, I pay my bill at the counter and beeline for my truck, thankful that I drove myself.
So much for my apology. Why is everyone around here so shitty to my guys?
No, they’re not mine. I need to stop that.