I know you want us.
Me: Please, don’t bring it up again.
I wince at my own words. I mean, I had felt it, and I almost forced it out of them in my line of questioning, but wanting something as forbidden as both these men’s hands on me is more than I’m willing to risk if it means sacrificing my sister.
Knox: Good night, Avery. Regardless if we sweep it under the rug, it doesn’t diminish the chemistry. We want you. Don’t ever forget that.
There are no more dots underneath his name, and my stomach twists all over the place. I turn off my light, but sleep never takes me, and when my alarm sounds at six thirty the next morning, I’m both tired and grumpy because he wasn’t wrong. I’m a woman, and I want them both very much.
I’m hauling my tired and annoyed ass in from my garage, seething mad over my latest line being turned down on account of someone who knows nothing of today’s styles saying it’s too chic and popular. Little girls understand fashion, and all my designs follow the latest trends. Girls don’t want their dolls to look like their mama’s doll collection. I’ve been in this market long enough to know what the fuck I’m doing. And I must be mad because fuck isn’t a word I say, even if I think it in my mind.
I’m stomping into my house, still a little put off by Knox’s honesty at three in the morning. I cross over to my walkway leading to my front door, unlock it, and slam the door behind me.
A loud voice streaks through the house. “Who pissed in your Fruity Pebbles today?” It’s my sister, and sure as shit, I’m not in the mood for her teenage angst. I cross through the living room and grab a bottle of wine from the rack I moved in there a couple of days ago. I’m over the threshold to the kitchen to find not only the scrutinizing eyes of my sister but also the handsome azure blue ones of Rowan and the softer bluish-gray eyes of Knox.
I can’t form the words because Knox’s text has stayed with me all day. I simply reply, “I’ve had a hell of a day and can barely keep my eyes open. I think this will be my dinner.”
I bypass him and Rowan, picking up my red wineglass, the one with the large rim. When I turn around to uncork the wine, Rowan has already done it for me. “Here you go,” he offers, and I grab glasses for them, too.
“Help yourself. I’m going to rest my feet in my favorite room in the house. Come join me if you’d like. Not sure if I’ll be good company, but you never know. With this…” I lift the bottle before I continue, “I just may be.”
Both follow me into the room I coin as my favorite, and my sister somehow disappears, knowing to leave me be.
“So, what was wrong with your day?” Rowan asks, sitting in a chair opposite me.
“Well, first I didn’t sleep very well, but then I went to blows with my bosses for the next line for this particular doll company we’re contracted with. They think my designs are too trendy, but research shows little girls from three to ten know what’s in and out with fashion. So now I’m back at the drawing boards, literally.” They both look at one another, and I don’t give them much time to respond. “I know it’s not fast-paced LA or New York fashion, but my work matters to me, and I’m just as passionate about my job as you two are.” Oh, I’m in bitch mode today.
“No, it’s not that.” Rowan is the first to speak. “Your job is important. You create happiness for kids. You’re a toy maker—our toy maker. We would never disrespect you in this way.”
I’m both a drama queen and a bitch at the moment. “I sound like the world’s biggest bitch. I’m sorry, guys. I’m a little on edge.”
Rowan grabs my fingers. “No, you’re not a bitch. You’re passionate, and we should all be lucky enough to have jobs that provoke that sort of hunger to do what we love.”
I look down at his hands, still holding my own. He stops immediately as though he has more to say. “We wanted to check on you.”
He doesn’t say why, and I understand he won’t. Not with what Knox texted me last night. “And anyway,” Knox