~~Gage~~
She turned me down. What the everlasting fuck was that all about?
She turned me down.
Me?
Gage Horatio Harmon.
I still couldn’t believe it. I’d never in a thousand millennia ever considered she’d be the one dumping me. Not that I was dumped exactly. You had to be together to be dumped. We were not. It was the not part that was killing me.
Fuck. Damn. Hell. Shit.
Having her under the same roof was bad enough. Not fucking her into oblivion every night was pure torture. I admit after I’d gotten over my initial irritation at having her in my house, I’d fantasized about her in my bed every night and all the kinky, crazy shit we’d do to entertain each other. We’d go our own ways in the morning like vampires who only screwed each other at night.
Entering the privacy of my bedroom, I shut the door behind me. I stared around the master, kicked some clothes out of the way, and slumped down on the unmade bed. I was a slob and didn’t care. My floor was littered with clothes, and I had a pile of dirty laundry in one corner. I needed to clean the place up, but I didn’t have the ambition. I’d make some flippant comment about missing my maid and that I didn’t stoop to cleaning my own place. Everyone would believe me because, well, that was what they wanted to believe.
Well, fuck them. Fuck them all. This shit was why I kept friendships superficial and hookups even more casual. I didn’t need anyone but myself and my football.
~~Alisa~~
I cooked a batch of my world-famous spaghetti for dinner. My grandma was Italian to the bone and had taught me to make her super-secret sauce when I was a little girl. The meat sauce was made from scratch; nothing came from a can. It smelled awesome.
I enlisted Wayne to assist me, much to his dismay. I was onto him. Last year, his tendency was to dirty every dish in the kitchen when he cooked and walk away, leaving Tiff and me to clean up. Not so tonight. He was doing the dishwashing as I cooked and prepared the meal.
“Stop whining,” I said, giving him my famous evil eye.
“I’m not whining. I hate washing dishes.”
“You’re whining.”
“Why can’t one of the other guys help you?”
“Because I asked you—not them.”
He propped his soapy hands on his chest and leveled me with a glare. “That’s discriminatory. Make the gay guy do the dishes while the jocks lounge around and watch sports.”
“Maybe, but I like hanging with you better.”
“You do?” His grumpy mood dissipated immediately, replaced by a grateful smile.
“I do.” I meant it too. With Tiff graduated and off campus, Wayne would be my rock. I needed him as much as he needed me.
Wayne was a nerdy guy with very few friends. I’d taken him under my wing my freshman year, and we’d been fast friends ever since. He was a slob and a horrible dresser. He’d rather play computer games than go for a hike. His hair was too long, his clothes wrinkled, and he often said the wrong things. I loved him like a brother. Someday I was going to convince him to allow me to do a major makeover.
“The guys are nice to you, aren’t they?” I lowered my voice and watched him carefully.
“Yeah, really nice.”
“Good, ’cause if they weren’t, I’d be kicking their asses and taking no prisoners.”
“I believe it. I also believe your Italian temper has preceded you. None of them wants to cross you.” He cast a quick sideways glance toward the living room. “They are hot. Too bad they’re all straight.”
I winked at him, and he winked back. Turning to the sink full of pots and pans, he whistled as he washed and dried them.
Easton Black, the lone hockey player in the bunch, poked his head in the kitchen. “Smells fantastic in here. When will it be ready? If it takes much longer, a couple of those guys will be eating the couch.”
I laughed. Easton was the new guy. He’d transferred from a small college in the Midwest to play hockey for Tyee and to be around his uncle Coop, who owned this house. Tiff had explained he was actually Cooper’s second cousin but called him Uncle Coop.
“It’ll be ready in five. Do you mind setting the table?”
“Not at all.” Easton gathered the dishes and silverware together, stacked them in a precarious pile, and carried them to the dining table.
Wayne watched him go and cringed when I caught him.
“Nice ass,” I noted.
“Yeah. Hockey players have the best butts. All muscular and round and—” He stopped and studied me. “Are you going to add him to your list of conquests?”
“Probably not. I don’t want the hassle of the aftermath since I live in the same house with him.”
“And Gage.” Wayne almost smiled. I was a heartbreaker, a screw-’em-and-leave-’em girl. Gage was the only guy I had multiple repeat performances with, and I couldn’t seem to shake those memories from my mind, while the others were distant recollections.
“How did you spend your summer, Lis?” Wayne maneuvered the conversation away from butts and sex to something safer.
I wasn’t sure whether to give him the partial truth, whole truth, or nothing close to the truth. I decided partial was best, in case I let something slip later. “I spent it in Europe with family.”
“Oh, that’s right. You guys are loaded.”
He had no idea. If he thought I’d been loaded before…
I shrugged, somewhat embarrassed. My mom had family money and my stepdad had been like a half-a-billionaire. I’d enjoyed the benefits over the years, including indulging my horse habit. Horses were my solace, my savior, and my heart. The one thing I loved most outside my family was horses.
“What did you do?” I asked Wayne.
“Worked for my dad’s company as a go-fer. It was perfectly boring. I couldn’t wait for classes to start again.”
I nodded. “Carry the salad out, would you?”
He disappeared with the large bowl of greens and returned for the noodles. I followed him with the sauce. The boys were already sitting at the table, every pair of eyes riveted to the bowl containing the sauce.
“Damn, that smells incredible, Lis. Will you marry me?” Easton grinned at me, and I patted his back.
“I’m not the marrying type, Easton.”
He held his hands to his heart and gave me a sorrowful puppy-dog look.
“Let’s eat,” Gage said tersely. I swung my gaze toward him. His jaw was set stubbornly, and his eyes were hard and cold. That intimidating gaze was levelled directly at Easton, who merely blinked at him. Hockey players were notorious for their game faces, and I doubted Gage intimidated him.
Mason reached for the bowl of spaghetti, and the melee began as the guys filled their plates, all talking at once, mostly about football practice.
“I saved you a seat.” Easton patted the chair next to him.
Ignoring the heat of Gage’s glare, I sat down. “Thank you. That’s so considerate of you.”
“We non-football players have to stick together.”
Wayne had managed to wedge his chair between Mason and Easton and launched into a discussion with Easton about Tyee’s hockey team. I had no idea Wayne was a hockey fan. He’d never mentioned it before.
“Hey, move over,” Gage said to Logan sitting on the other side of me. Logan shot him a look of irritation, then frowned. Without a word of complaint, he moved down a chair. Gage slid in next to me.
Odd, to say the least. Logan was a tough guy who never backed down, but for some reason, he let Gage have his way. In fact, as I watched the guys, they deferred to Gage by tiptoeing around him and not wanting to set him off. Something had happened recently for them to treat him with kid gloves when normally they were as brutal as hell to each other, like a bunch of rowdy brothers.
Next to me, Gage squeezed my thigh. Instead of removing his hand, he kept it there. “Good spaghetti.”
“Thanks.” I kept my gaze on my plate, not wanting to look at him for fear I’d encourage him. I wrapped my fingers around his wrist, ignoring the electric shock his touch sent shooting up my arm, and moved his hand to his own thigh. “Keep it there.”
He turned his head and met mine. “I’m not giving up that easily.”
“You’re wasting your time.”
“You’ve never been a waste of my time.”
“Gage, there are tons of other women dying to be your sex partner. Leave me alone.”
Logan watched us with interest, finished chewing his food, and threw in his unwelcome two cents. “I hear there’s an entirely new cheerleader squad this year. Time for us to work our way through them.”
Gage nodded curtly. “Yeah, of course.” He sounded as enthusiastic as I did when brussels sprouts were served as the only veggie.
“This spaghetti is the best I’ve ever fucking had. Great job, babe.” Easton winked at me, and I beamed at him.
“She’s not your babe.” Gage growled the low threat.
Easton measured him with his eyes, like a guy would take stock of an opponent to see if he’s worthy. He scratched the back of his neck, glanced at the other guys, who were all digging into their plates and not saying a word. “Maybe I want her to be.”
“Want someone else.” Gage’s blue eyes flashed with anger—kill-you-and-bury-your-lifeless-body-in-the-backyard kind of anger.
“Don’t see where it’s any of your business. Is it, Lis?”
“Not in the least.” I shot Gage a scathing glare. He swallowed and gazed down at his plate.
“Let me take you out Friday night,” Easton offered hopefully.
I opened my mouth to turn him down, but Gage needed to be taught a lesson. “I’d love to.”
Beside me, Gage stiffened. He pushed back his chair with such force it slammed to the floor as he shot to his feet. “I have somewhere I need to be.” He stalked from the room, and no one said a word for the longest time.
Busybody Wayne finally glanced up. “What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s being a dick because he’s spoiled and can’t have what he wants.” Mason rolled his eyes, not having patience for Gage’s bullshit.
“And he wants Alisa?” Easton asked.
“Oh, hell yeah. He’s been really into her since he met her and won’t admit it. This is getting to the point of ridiculous.”
“He’s not into me. It’s all physical with us. That’s the gist of it.”
Mason put his hand to his mouth and coughed. Logan snorted. Wayne and Mason laughed out loud. Easton cocked his head at me. “You and Gage?”
I shrugged. “We’re just friends.”
More coughing, laughing, and snorting.
“Hey, whatevs. So, we’re still on for Friday night?”
“Absolutely,” I said with conviction. Gage didn’t control who I went out with, and he needed to learn that lesson quickly now that we were living under the same roof. I’d made a big mistake moving in here. My family could afford something more private, but I’d been concerned about possible safety issues, didn’t want a bodyguard, and my new family had only agreed after I’d convinced them I’d be surrounded by big, strong athletes. Funny how they hadn’t considered the downside of me living with all these guys any more than I had.