19 RHEA
The house comes into view as we turn down a quiet suburban street, Corey and Julian gliding in behind us. A perfectly manicured lawn stretches out before a modern two-story home with warm exterior lighting. My jaw drops slightly at the contrast between this domestic scene and its inhabitants.
"You're kidding me, right?" I gesture at the pristine flower beds lining the walkway. "Who's mom and dad live here?"
A strangled laugh pierces the interior of the car. "No oldies in sight, unless you count Corey and I." He says with a wink. "What were you expecting?" Tobias parks my car in the driveway next to a black pickup truck.
"I don't know. Beer cans on the lawn? A 'Man Cave' sign? Maybe some pin-up posters visible through the windows?"
"Those are inside." His lips quirk up at the corners. "Along with our collection of empty pizza boxes and dirty socks."
"You're full of shit." I step out of the car, taking in the neat rows of flowers. "Someone actually maintains this."
"That would be me." Tobias pulls out a set of keys. "The garden helps me think."
"You garden?" I can't help the laugh that bubbles up. "The big bad bouncer tends to petunias?"
"Roses, actually." He unlocks the front door. "And some herbs.
Nothing fancy."
Corey and Julian catch up to us at the front door. The warm light from inside spills onto the welcome mat as Corey pushes it open with a flourish.
"Welcome to our humble abode." He gestures me in with an exaggerated bow.
My boots click against hardwood floors as I step into an open- concept living room. The space is surprisingly... clean. Modern furniture in neutral tones, a massive TV mounted above a stone fireplace, and - I squint at the far wall - are those actual framed art pieces?
"This is not what I pictured." I drift toward a black and white photograph of what looks like an old boxing match. "Like, at all."
Julian snorts. "What, you thought we lived in some kind of bachelor pad nightmare?"
"Kind of?" I trace my finger along a sleek leather armchair.
"Expected more protein powder containers being used as cups.
Maybe some questionable stains on the carpet."
"We keep those upstairs," Corey says, shrugging off his jacket.
"Along with our collection of empty beer cans and dirty gym socks."
"Don't forget the wall of UFC posters," Tobias adds, heading toward what I assume is the kitchen.
"Those are in Julian's place," Corey calls after him. "Above the garage. Where they belong."
"Hey, those are vintage." Julian drops onto the couch, propping his feet on a surprisingly tasteful coffee table. "And signed."
"Guest room's this way."
He pushes open a door to reveal a cozy room with a queen-sized bed and neutral decor. Even the bedding looks expensive.
"This is nicer than my actual bedroom," I mutter, running my hand along the soft duvet.
"Bathroom's across the hall." He leans against the doorframe. "Try not to snoop too much in the medicine cabinet."
"No promises." I set my keys down. "I need to know where you're hiding all the evidence that actual men live here."
"I should probably call Brianne, tell her I made it." I say, pulling my phone from my pocket. "Mind if I...?"
"Of course," Corey smiles. "We will be downstairs."
Closing the door behind me. Brianne picks up on the second ring.
"Where the hell are you? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." I sink into a leather chair. "Got a flat tire after work.
Some coworkers helped me out, and I'm crashing at their place tonight."
"Their place?" Her voice rises an octave. "Who exactly-"
"Just some people from the bar." I cut her off before she can start her interrogation. "Everything's fine. I'll be home tomorrow."
"But-"
"Love you, don't wait up!" I hang up before she can ask any more questions.
The bathroom is exactly where Corey said, and I nearly moan at the sight of the rainfall shower head. The hot water washes away the tension from the night, and I try not to think too hard about being naked in a house full of gorgeous men.
When I pad back to the guest room wrapped in a fluffy towel, there's a neat stack of clothes on the bed - a soft gray t-shirt and black sweats. The shirt smells faintly of laundry detergent and something masculine when I pull it over my head.
My stomach growls as an amazing smell wafts up from downstairs. Something rich and savory that makes my mouth water.
I follow my nose down the hallway, my bare feet silent on the hardwood floors.
Voices drift up from the kitchen, along with the sound of pots clanking and what might be actual cooking happening. These guys continue to surprise me.
I follow the smell to find all three men are moving around each other with surprising coordination. Julian's at the stove flipping what looks like french toast, while Tobias arranges strips of bacon on a plate. Corey's measuring coffee into a fancy machine that probably costs more than my car.
"You're cooking? At three in the morning?" My borrowed sweats drag on the floor as I pad into the kitchen.
Julian glances over his shoulder, spatula raised. "What, you thought we were gonna let you go to bed hungry?"
"I thought I'd grab some stale chips from my bag like a normal person." The rich scent of vanilla and cinnamon makes my stomach growl. "Don't we have to work tomorrow?"
"Perks of owning the place." Corey hits a button and the coffee machine whirs to life. "We don't open until five anyway. Plenty of time to sleep past lunch."
Tobias slides a loaded plate in front of me. Golden-brown french toast dripping with butter and maple syrup, perfectly crispy bacon, and fresh berries arranged on the side. "Holy shit, this looks amazing."
"Julian's the chef." Tobias drops into the chair beside me with his own plate. "I just handle bacon duty."
"And you do it so well." Julian sets two more plates on the counter. "A true master of your craft."
I take a bite and barely hold back a moan.
The french toast is perfectly crispy on the outside, custard-soft inside, with just the right balance of cinnamon and vanilla.
"Okay, I officially forgive you guys for the whole underground fight club thing. This almost makes up for nearly getting murdered tonight."
"Almost?" Julian raises an eyebrow.
"I mean, I might need a few more breakfast-for-dinner situations to fully get over it." I spear another piece of french toast. "Just to be sure."
"So, sports medicine?" Julian leans back in his chair, syrup-sticky fork gesturing in my direction. "That's quite a jump from slinging drinks."
I swallow a bite of perfectly crispy bacon. "The bar's temporary.
I've got a position lined up at a clinic opening in spring, assuming I pass my licensure exam."
"Ah, that explains the textbooks I saw in your car." Corey refills my coffee without asking. "How'd you get into that field?"
"Played soccer through college. Spent enough time with physical therapists to get interested." I wrap my hands around the warm mug. "Plus I like helping people get back on their feet. Literally."
Tobias nods thoughtfully. "Could've used someone like you back in the Marines. Our medic couldn't tell his ass from his elbow."
The conversation flows easily after that, bouncing between cars and college stories and terrible customer encounters. It's... nice.
Normal, even. If I ignore the whole illegal thing they’re involved in, they're just guys sharing breakfast and trading jokes.
A yawn escapes me as I glance at my phone. 5:47 AM glares back accusingly. "As amazing as this has been, I should probably try to get some sleep."
"Lightweight," Julian teases, stacking empty plates. "The night's still young."
"Some of us have to study occassionally." I stretch, the borrowed shirt riding up slightly. "Can't all be professional pretty boys."
"Pretty?" Tobias raises an eyebrow. "I prefer ruggedly handsome."
"Whatever helps you sleep at night, big guy." I push back from the counter, my bare feet cold against the tile. "Speaking of which..."
"Get some rest." Corey's voice is soft, concerned. "We'll keep the noise down."
"Bold of you to assume I can sleep through Julian's snoring anyway." I pause at the kitchen doorway. "Thanks for... everything.
The food, the clothes, not letting me get murdered."
"Anytime." Julian winks. "Though maybe next time we skip the attempted murder part."
"Deal." I head for the stairs, pausing at the bottom step. "Oh, and guys? If anyone needs me, I sleep with a knife under my pillow."
Tobias barks out a laugh. "Noted."
"Smart girl," Corey calls after me as I climb the stairs.
The guest room feels different in the pre-dawn darkness, less like a hotel room and more like a sanctuary.
I slide between the soft sheets, my muscles finally relaxing as exhaustion catches up with me.
The last thing I hear before drifting off is the quiet murmur of voices downstairs and the gentle clink of dishes being washed.