too. I heard a huff behind me. Shit. My nerves.
“Sorry. Musta hit the wrong button.”
“Here. You hit it wrong again, the alarm’ll blare.”
I felt the reverberation of his deep voice in the gusset of my panties.
He reached around and his fingers brushed mine as he tapped his fob to the sensor. The light went green.
I swallowed.
I felt his heat at my back. Right at my back. Time stood still. I went into a mini-daze, imagining how right this moment would be if I turned around, looked up into his eyes, parted my lips, and –
“Gonna stand here all night or you goin’ in?” he grunted.
I blinked and laughed nervously and then grabbed the door handle.
He grabbed for the door up high and pulled it wide, his arm arching over my head. I looked over my shoulder and up, way up. He was freakishly tall. Taller than my brother Deacon, even, and Deacon is 6 foot 5.
Christian Forker had the sexiest arm veins I’d ever laid eyes on. Fine blond hair dusted his forearms and his blue eyes squinted at me as he caught my eyes trailing along those arms up his shoulder to his beard, his mouth, and then the rest of his face.
I felt my face go hot as my giggle died. I moved inside. The clubhouse was empty, quiet. Usually at this time of night there were at least a few of the guys sitting in the lounge room, where there was a bar, pool tables, couches. There was almost always a prospect manning the bar during drinking hours. Everything was quiet. Either everyone was gone to bed or out somewhere else.
I headed for the hall, feeling him behind me. Directly behind me, like a shadow. I wanted to say something, make conversation, drag him into my bedroom, something…but his attitude at the door didn’t welcome that. I got to my room and fiddled with my key. I felt the loss of him behind me as he moved to his own door. He was in his own room next door, the door closing behind him before I got a chance to get my key into the keyhole.
Okay, then. Maybe he’d had a bad day. Or maybe he just didn’t see me. Why the fuck did he not see me?
I heard things banging around and slamming. It was coming from the other side of our shared wall. He sure sounded pissed off in there. I wondered why.
2
Thursday:
I was helping in The Roadhouse’s kitchen, loading the dishwasher when someone went through the swinging kitchen door and I caught a glimpse of that man bun. It was unruly. Dark blond and light blond both, wavy, and with pieces loose, framing his face.
I saw them: Spencer, Christian, Scott, Jesse, and Nolan. They were sitting at a table and Christian’s head was thrown back. He was laughing. Laughing hard. Oh wow. Talk about gorgeous. My belly was filled with Jell-O.
My brother Spency was slamming his hand on the table, laughing, too. Jesse had the beer to his lips but even he was smiling and his shoulders shook with silent laughter. And Jesse was pretty much as broody as Christian.
Their server, Leanne, came into the kitchen and clipped an order over the pass.
“Big combo platter, big nachos,” she called out to the cook.
“For my brother’s table?” I asked from the other side of the kitchen.
“Which brother? You got three,” Sharon, another waitress threw at me.
“The cute one?” Rochelle, the cook, answered with a giggle.
“They’re all cute,” Sharon put in.
“I would not describe any of those hunks as cute,” Leanne added. “Sexy. Hot… Not cute. A puppy is cute. The Valentine boys aren’t puppies.”
“They’re twenty years younger ‘n me,” Sharon shrugged. “So, I consider ‘em pups. Cute works.”
“Spence’s table,” I clarified.
“Yeah. I think Spencer’s the only one of Jojo’s hot brothers who is here,” Leanne informed. “What are the odds? Three brothers, all hot. Then again, look at you.” She gestured towards me. “I mean, I’d do you, too.”
Leanne was a hoot. I rolled my eyes.
“I’ll run it out when it’s ready, Lee,” I said. “Wanna speak to my bro anyways.”
“Thanks, sugar.” She gave me a wink and put a waiting basket of fries and wings onto a serving tray.
“Now their father,” Sharon put in. “He’s not cute. He’s a fuckin’ hunk.”
“He’s also your boss.”
Dad was suddenly in the kitchen; his office was at the back of it. Dad had this uncanny knack for turning up with ears wide open at the worst moments. It