Page 17 of Comin' in Hot
I think it’s called“This day can go to hell.” By:My pride.
My hands stay in place as I bravely lift my eyes to the three formidably sized lookers smiling back at me.Why do they have to be so good-looking? Whyyyy?
“Guys, this is my sister, Margot…but you already know that.”
Yes, they know who I am because Wells has already warned them about the predator on the property.
I don’t know if I frown, or smile, or what, because I’m trying like hell to disassociate.
Wells crosses his arms, accentuating his muscles. I like it, but I’m trying not to stare at him until he says, “How was your movie?”
Now I smile, but not the bright, full-of-life kind. It’s more goofy and sheepish. Because I’m mortified.
I’m standing here with my hands behind my back, sans cover-up, in front of three men half my age, who I’ve either been a Peeping Tom to or made a complete fool of myself in front of.
This is rock bottom. This is hell.
“Nice suit,” he adds.
What?My eyes lock with Wells’ before his eyes dip down my frame, then back up.
Oh.My brain feels scrambled. He just checked me out. Or maybe he’s checking for wounds since the last time we met, when I was tangled up in a fucking tree.
Still, it’s enough to impair all my functioning brain cells because heat starts to crawl up my neck.
My sister’s right. I do have an affliction.
“I…um…” I whisper, unable to string anything coherent together.
Not that I get a real chance because the blond from the shower duo steps forward, nabbing my attention. The one I called Balboner. He’s got a smirk that’s oscillating between on and dirty.
God, he’s even hotter up close.
Blondie glances at Wells as he speaks. “You didn’t do her justice.”
My eyes spring open.How was I described? Wait, they talked about me?
The smile trying to grow on my face only gets to smirk level before it dies as the reality of my thought sinks in.
Duh, they talked about you. He told them your dirty little secret. And probably about the hair cream.
“Brooks,” Blondie says as an introduction of himself, but I say nothing, just stare wide-eyed back into his libido-enhancing blue eyes.
He knows I watched him. And that I have a hairy ass.
Brooks steps in closer. That’s when I notice he’s holding his hand out for me to shake. But before I can redirect, he reaches out, his fingertips dragging from my elbow to my wrist in one quick motion, and tugs my arm out from behind me.
“Don’t make me beg for your attention…or do,” he teases with a wink.
To say I have goose bumps from my hips to my thighs is an understatement because when he grabbed my wrist, he brushed my bare bottom. Coupled with the fact that he just told me to make him beg. I will now die if anyone ever finds out how warm that made my stomach.
My eyes dart to where he’s touching me, but it leads my gaze right back to his because he’s lifting my hand to his lips before he presses a kiss to it, then says, “Wells said you’re pretty. But you’re a stunner. I’m gonna call you mine, ’kay?”
I have no idea what my face is doing, but I do know that my mouth is still not working.
All I make out is “Thank…”
What the hell is thank? Thank god? Thanksgiving? What is wrong with me?
