18. Party Of Eleven
Chapter eighteen
Party Of Eleven
Cameron
Alexis neglected to mention that she lives in a fucking mansion.
Not a big house.
Not a wow, you guys have a lot of bedrooms house.
A house that marks the one I live comfortably in with four men seems downright modest, which is impressive considering ours has enough space that I occasionally have to text people to figure out what floor they’re on, let alone what room they’re in.
“Holy shit,” Dex says from the back seat as Griffin pulls into the driveway.
“Thank you,” I reply, twisting to point at him. “I was trying not to be the one who said it.”
“You knew they had money,” Micah reminds me.
“I did. But there is a difference between knowing someone has money and pulling up to a house that looks like it should have its own concierge.”
Beside me, Griffin leans forward over the steering wheel slightly, taking in the house.
Ronan leans too, trying to get a better view.
Neither comments—which means they agree with me.
Dex leans in. “Did we just enter a higher-level dungeon?”
I laugh. “I think we entered a higher tax bracket.”
“Everyone behave,” I warn as Griffin parks.
Dex makes an offended noise. “Why did you look at me?”
“Pattern recognition.”
“That feels discriminatory.”
Micah laughs as he opens his door. “Come on.”
My amusement lasts until my hand touches the door handle.
Then the nervous fluttering in my stomach comes back.
This seemed like such a good idea when Alexis and I were sitting across from each other at lunch. Even better when the guys agreed to it at campaign night.
Now I’m bringing all four of them into a house with five men they’ve never met, and suddenly I’m worried this is some bizarre relationship version of introducing two friend groups and discovering they absolutely fucking hate each other.
Griffin’s hand lands on my thigh, from over the console. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I give him a smile. “I just really want everybody to like each other.”
“If they don’t, we’ll fake it until we get home.”
I narrow my eyes at him.
He smiles.
“Very reassuring, husband.”
“I’m here for you.”
Before I can tell him he’s an ass, Micah opens my door from the outside.
“Come on, Princess.”
Fine.
Worst-case scenario, we eat expensive food with people we never see again.
Best-case scenario—
I don’t let myself get that far.
Alexis opens the front door before we reach it.
“Hi!”
The nervousness evaporates when she hugs me.
“Hey.”
When she releases me, her eyes immediately find Micah. “It’s good to see you under considerably less dramatic circumstances.”
Micah laughs and accepts the quick hug she gives him. “Definitely preferable.”
Then she steps back and looks at all four of my men. “Okay. I know names, but I’m not going to pretend I know which of you is which besides Micah.”
“Guessing could be dangerous,” Dex teases.
Alexis points at him. “Dex.”
His face falls. “Dammit.”
I laugh as she starts introductions, and almost immediately two men join her from farther inside the house.
One is dark-haired with neatly groomed facial hair and a smile that makes it obvious why Alexis described him as charming.
The other has light blond curls, tattoos running down both arms, and approximately the same amount of hesitation about strangers that Dex has.
Meaning none.
“I’m Ethan,” the dark-haired one says, shaking Griffin’s hand first. “Welcome. Alexis has told us enough that I promise there isn’t going to be a quiz.”
“Speak for yourself,” the blond counters. “I’m Carter.”
He shakes Griffin’s hand, then Ronan’s, but his attention catches on Micah’s arms.
“Oh, we’re gonna talk. That is some great work.”
Dex steps beside Micah and gestures at him like he’s presenting on a game show. “Professional tattoo artist at your service. He accepts cash, praise, and unresolved sexual tension.”
Micah shakes his head. “I do not.”
“Not with that attitude.”
Carter’s grin gets wider.
Oh no.
Are there now two of them?
Ethan takes our coats before Carter immediately offers everyone drinks, and within about ninety seconds, any illusion that this is going to be a formal dinner is gone.
Thank fuck.
We follow them toward the kitchen, and I try not to openly stare.
I fail.
The house is enormous, but it doesn’t feel sterile.
That’s, honestly, the surprising part.
There are photos everywhere. Shoes by one door. A backpack tossed over the back of a chair. Christmas decorations that look really good, but don’t look staged by an interior designer.
It looks… lived in.
Just on an absurd financial scale.
The kitchen alone could probably fit my entire first apartment.
Three more men join us around the massive island while Ethan and Carter start pulling appetizers from the refrigerator.
I recognize Holden immediately from Alexis’s description…
and social media. He’s tall, with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes.
He seems slightly quieter than Ethan. Jeremiah has darker blonde hair with a hint of red to it and an intensity to his presence that makes me understand within about five seconds why Alexis thought he and Ronan might have things to talk about—besides their dominant tendencies.
Shawn is the easiest one to identify from what I knew walking in tonight. Longer dark hair. Brown Eyes. Very quiet.
Then he smiles, and he has these amazing dimples.
Okay… Alexis described him perfectly.
She points through the introductions, and somehow, despite eleven people being packed around one kitchen island, nobody seems to lose track.
“Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes,” Ethan explains while he closes the oven after checking it. “The chef service does the actual work. We just have to successfully heat things without ruining them.”
“Speak for yourself,” Carter says as he sets a charcuterie board on the island. “I can cook.”
“You can grill.”
“That is cooking.”
Griffin laughs softly beside me.
Something in Ethan’s posture shifts toward him. “You cook?”
“Enough to keep everyone alive.”
“Same.”
“You both say that like the rest of us are helpless,” Alexis argues.
Ethan gives her a look.
Carter snorts.
I look at Griffin.
Griffin looks at me.
“I’m not getting involved,” I decide, hands in the air.
“Smart,” Alexis says.
Within minutes, the group starts breaking apart without anybody trying.
Carter has Micah cornered near the far side of the island, both of them looking at the tattoos on Carter’s forearm. Dex is wedged into the conversation, naturally, while Carter explains something about one of the designs.
“My daughter has opinions about all of them,” Carter says, laughing. “She thinks I need more color.”
“How old is she?” Micah asks.
“Seven. She’s with her mom tonight, but she’s here a lot.”
Dex’s eyebrows lift. “You have a seven-year-old?”
“I do.”
“You don’t look responsible enough for that.”
Carter stares at him for half a second.
Then he starts laughing so hard he has to put his drink down. The other guys in Alexis’ polycule laugh too.
“I like him,” Carter announces to the room, pointing at Dex.
Micah closes his eyes. “Please don’t encourage him.”
“Too late,” Carter replies.
I catch Alexis’s eye across the island and smile.
Ethan is talking to Griffin now, and I drift closer.
“So Alexis said you two are legally married,” Ethan says, nodding between Griffin and me.
“We are,” Griffin answers.
“And the house is yours?”
“Yeah.”
Ethan leans back against the counter and crosses his arms. “Mine too.”
Griffin glances around a little dramatically. “That is… a lot of house.”
“It’s ridiculous.”
Griffin smiles. “You said it. I didn’t.”
That makes Ethan laugh. “Everyone pays for their own shit, everybody makes good money, but somehow I still feel responsible for the roof, the utilities, the furniture, the appliances, and whether there’s enough food in the refrigerator.
Griffin’s whole face changes with recognition. “Yes. That.”
“And if something breaks—”
“It feels like your problem, even when it’s not.”
“Yes.”
“Even when somebody else broke it.”
“Especially when somebody else broke it.”
I look between them.
This is apparently how men make friends.
Financial anxiety and HVAC systems.
“I feel like I should leave you two alone,” I tease.
“Probably,” Ethan says with a smile.
“Definitely,” Griffin agrees.
Holden appears beside us with a drink in his hand. “What are we discussing?”
“Feeling financially responsible for grown adults who don’t actually need us to financially support them,” Ethan answers.
Holding considers that and nods.
Then his eyes land on Griffin. “Alexis said you’re a paramedic?”
And there goes my husband.
Within thirty seconds, they’re talking about emergency medicine.
I smile and back away.
Well, one fear down. Maybe nine people to go.
Alexis catches my hand as I pass her and pulls me closer. “You doing okay?”
“Yeah.” I glance around. “Actually, yeah.”
“See? They’re all housebroken.”
“Debatable about mine.”
Her eyes follow mine to Carter and Dex, who are both laughing while Micah looks like he is reconsidering every life choice that led him here.
“Those two might be a problem,” she admits.
“I already have one of them at home. You can keep the other.”
We both laugh, and while we’re close enough to keep the conversation private, I glance toward an open door and the staircase headed to the lower floor.
“I assume the playroom is in the basement?”
Alexis smiles slowly. “Actually, it’s upstairs.”
I stare at her. “What?”
She nods toward the second floor.
I follow the gesture before looking back at her. “That’s somehow more scandalous.”
“I know.”
Before I can continue interrogating her, Shawn speaks from the other side of the island.
“Alexis told me you guys play D&D.”
Ronan, who has spent most of the last ten minutes quietly taking in the room, turns toward him immediately.
“We do.”
“You have an active, current campaign?”
“Yes.”
“What edition?”
Oh, well, now I lost the Dungeon Daddy too.
Shawn has him.
The change in Ronan is subtle, but I see it. His shoulders loosen, and within a minute they’re talking about campaigns, classes, and how long Shawn has been without a regular group.