Page 152 of End Game

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.