Chapter 4 #3
The second knock comes a moment later, followed by Finn's familiar voice. "Maddie, open up."
Relief rushes through me so fast it almost makes my knees weak.
I pull open the door to find Finn balancing a cardboard drink carrier in one hand and two takeout bags in the other. Dash stands beside him, holding a stack of DVDs.
"We brought lunch," Finn announces.
"And apparently movies," I say, eyeing Dash.
Finn grins. "It's Sunday. The bar's closed, and nobody should spend the day alone."
Before I can protest, he steps around me and heads for the kitchenette.
Dash lingers just long enough to meet my eyes. "You gonna let me in?"
I step aside, unable to stop smiling. "Yeah, sorry. Come on in."
"Plates are in the cabinet over the sink," Finn says to Dash.
"I know," Dash replies.
Of course they know, they own the place.
Dash sets the stack of DVDs on the counter before unloading the takeout bags.
One by one, plastic containers cover the counter.
Carnitas tacos. Chicken fajitas. Foil-wrapped burritos.
A box of enchiladas. Sizzling fajitas still tucked inside their takeout tray.
Mexican rice. Refried beans. Chips still warm from the fryer, a container of queso, fresh salsa, guacamole, and a bag of cinnamon-sugar churros.
"You bought enough food to feed an army,” I mumble looking at all the food covering my counters.
Finn opens the cabinet, grabs three plates, then heads for the silverware drawer and shrugs. “Good. There will be leftovers."
"For who?"
"You."
Dash starts spooning fajita chicken and rice onto a plate. "You eat like a bird."
"I do not."
Both men look at me and I sigh. "Okay, maybe a slightly larger bird."
Finn hands me a plate loaded with enchiladas, rice, beans, and enough chips to feed three people before making one for himself.
Dash fixes his own plate, then carries it over to the TV without a word.
He slips Friday the 13th into the DVD player while Finn drops onto one end of the couch.
I take the plate and go to the couch and sit down in the middle.
My apartment feels smaller with both of them in it.
“I’ve never seen these before. You actually own them?” I ask, eyeing the stack of horror movies that came out before I was born.
Dash glances over his shoulder. "All of them."
Finn lets out a dramatic sigh. "He's got all twelve. It's a problem." Making me smirk.
"They're classics."
“They're people getting hacked apart with a machete.” Finn counters.
"Exactly." Dash lowers himself onto the only open spot beside me, his thigh brushing mine as he settles back against the couch.
There's plenty of room for all three of us, but not enough to avoid touching.
Finn's arm rests along the back of the couch behind me, and Dash's knee stays pressed lightly against mine.
Neither of them seems to notice. But I do.
I notice every single inch of them and where their bodies are touching mine.
Tingles are racing up and down my skin and butterflies are exploding my belly.
I’ve tried like hell to ignore the two men, my two bosses, since they hired me.
It’s like every day they chip away at the restraint I built up against them.
It doesn’t help that they are so good looking.
That’s the biggest problem, I’m not just attracted to one of them, that would be easier.
I go and get attracted to both of them. How would that even work?
I’ve read books where one lucky girl falls in love with two men and they all live happily ever after.
I’m not in a fairy tale, I’m far from it.
That doesn’t mean I haven’t imagined what it would be like to have them both, at the same time.
I’d be the middle of a Finn and Dash sandwich anyday.
The warmth coming off Dash beside me. The clean scent of Finn's laundry detergent every time he shifts. The solid weight of two broad shoulders anchoring me between them without making me feel trapped.
It's strange, for weeks I've panicked anytime someone got too close. Now I'm sitting shoulder to shoulder with two men who could overpower me without breaking a sweat, and all I feel is... safe. The thought should terrify me. Instead, I sink farther into the couch.
The opening credits roll across the screen. "I can't believe you've never seen these," Finn says around a bite of enchilada.
I shrug. “I’ve been busy."
He arches an eyebrow.
"Okay," I admit. "I've never liked scary movies."
Dash finally looks at me. “Excuse me?”
I can’t help it, I throw my head back and laugh. “Okay, it’s not that I don’t like them but more that they scare the crap out of me.”
His mouth twitches. “Don’t worry baby, we’ll protect you.”
I narrow my eyes. "You're enjoying this way too much."
"A little."
Finn laughs. "He's been waiting all week to traumatize you."
"I have not."
"You absolutely have."
The movie starts, and before long Finn is quoting half the dialogue before the actors can say it. Dash rolls his eyes every time, though I catch the corner of his mouth lifting more than once. Guess Dash isn’t the only fan.
By the first big jump scare, I'm so caught up in the movie that I jerk hard enough to bump Dash's arm.
Heat rushes to my face. "Sorry."
His gaze flicks to mine. "You don't have to apologize."
I nod, but neither of us moves. Our arms stay pressed together for the rest of the movie, and somewhere along the way, it stops feeling awkward that I’m leaning into him with his arm around my shoulders, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into my skin.
By the time the credits roll, the plates are empty, the queso is gone, and Dash already has the second movie in his hand.
"We're watching another one?" I ask.
He looks horrified. "We're watching three."
Finn reaches for the DVD. "We're committed now."
I shake my head, smiling despite myself. Somewhere between the terrible horror movies, too much Mexican food, and Dash’s running commentary, I stop listening for danger outside my apartment door.
For one lazy Sunday afternoon, I'm not hiding. I'm just a woman curled up on a couch between two men who make me laugh. It’s the best Sunday I’ve ever had in my life.