“How long have you and Niles worked together?”
“I’ve only been with the company for five months.”
“Ah, not long. How do you like it so far?”
“It’s nice. Can’t complain.”
“You’re a woman of few words,” Mr. Tall, who’s taken up the rear, says with an appreciative smile.
“My mother always taught me to choose my words carefully.”
“Hiding something?” The one beside me has aquamarine eyes that are full of life, and for some reason, I feel like he’s teasing me again.
“A girl can’t reveal all of her secrets at once,” I say with a flirty wink and smile. They really are handsome guys. Both tall in their own right, with the tallest having less bulk but a nice form that I’d bet money is just as strong as my guide’s thicker, fuller form that speaks to hours in the gym and a healthy diet.
“Where is Niles anyway?” I ask, glancing around as I’m lead through a short breezeway and into an overlarge family room complete with fireplace covered in a glossy black marble tile. An overstuffed black leather reclining sectional is positioned in front of an enormous big screen TV that has a video game paused on it. There’s a shaggy white rug between it all with two video game controllers waiting on standby for their owners to return.
There are a few beers sitting on tables made of driftwood that’s been stained and sealed, giving the finishing touches to what has to be the most bachelor-eqsue pad I’ve ever been in.
“Niles is lurking around here somewhere,” Mr. Tall says, and then turns his head and belts out, “Niles! Company!”
His voice is deep and loud and carries enough bass to reverberate in my chest…and all the way down to places I’d rather ignore just now.
He looks at me again and grins. “He’ll be down in a minute. Do you want something to drink while you wait? Beer?”
“No,” I pass.
“Okay. Well, food will be here soon. Have a seat. I just need a quick minute to finish beating Dean’s ass in this game and then you’ll have our full attention.”
“Don’t mind Shane. He’s competitive and delusional. It’s a bad combination, but we’re working through it. Baby steps.”
I cover a snicker and ease down onto the edge of the sofa, content to wait it out and catch my breath for a moment in what turns out is a surprisingly chill atmosphere.
It’s not much longer before Niles appears, and when he spots me, he leaps right into apologies.
“Elle, I’m so sorry. I intended to be down earlier, but I had to take an important phone call. Business never ends,” he explains.
“It’s okay.” While I wish he’d been the one to open the door, it worked out. My moments of discomfort were brief, and I’ve settled in since then.
“Still, I apologize. I’m usually very punctual.”
I raise my hand and smile as I glance away. “It’s okay. Really.”
He doesn’t appear convinced, but he lets it go. “Are you hungry? Would you like something to drink?”
“Food is coming,” Dean informs him.
Dean glances at his watch. “Actually, they’re late.”
“Then whoever answers the door, make sure to remind the delivery boy they owe us a discount.”
Niles smirks. “Shane is a penny pincher.”
“Hey!” He clearly takes offense to the accusation. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to save money.”
“Shane made a name for himself buying low and selling high in the entertainment field.”
The game pauses as Shane turns to look at me, his expression full of pride. “I shop for sales, especially clearance items, like shoes, games, accessories, limited edition stuff, and resell it all on eBay and other sites like it for a markup. It’s crazy what people are willing to pay for stuff they want.”
“I once bought a Tickle Me Elmo for a niece for three hundred dollars,” I agree. “It technically wasn’t my money, since my aunt paid for it, but she would have gone higher. I was just the mule.”
“See what I mean,” he says, sticking his hand out at me as if I am the poster child for crazy shoppers everywhere.
The doorbell sounds, a happy little chime with the classic ding dong. Dean and Shane pop up from the floor, and with a quick press of a button, the game shuts off and they dash back toward the front of the house.
Leaving Niles and me alone.
“So…” I fold my hands on my lap and meet his eyes. “Your friends didn’t seem to know that I was coming.”
“I mentioned it. In passing.” He grimaces. “They don’t listen well lately. I blame it on the games.” He indicates the television. “They’re competitive, and they just got that new racing game. It’s been a madhouse for the last two weeks.”
“Are they okay with me being here?” I have to ask. I feel a bit like I’m imposing.
“Of course. They ordered food for all of us. See? They listen. Sometimes. It’s more cursory than anything, but they do listen.”
“They thought I was the delivery person,” I say with a laugh.
“You’re kidding.”
I make a show of crossing my fingers over my heart. “I should have asked for the tip.”
Instantly, Niles’ eyes heat, and I realize what I’ve just said, and I feel my cheek flame in response.
“I hope you brought your appetite,” Shane says as he and Dean return with bags packed with containers that they set out on the kitchen counter overlooking the living space. “And I hope you like Chinese because we have a lot of it.”
He goes through a list of what they bought, everything ranging from sweet ‘n sour chicken to mu shu pork. Not sure where to start, I opt for fried rice and sesame chicken, which Dean informs me is just a starter course. They fully expect me to help them work through the entire spread because they “won’t have me leaving here hungry.”
I have to admit, although I’m being pressured, I do feel taken care of. It’s nice to have someone looking out for my well-being besides just myself.
“Do you like action movies?” Dean asks as we all gather around the living room, taking up space on the L-shaped sectional, our plates piled high on our laps as we get settled.
I fold my legs into a pretzel and lean against one of two black and taupe plaid throw pillows that I’d bet came with the furniture. The rest of the room is stripped down, simple, not even a picture frame to personalize the space. These men truly are bachelors.
“Sure.” I’ve never been much of a romance movie kind of girl.
All three of the guys grin. Shane speaks up. “Perfect. We have Rambo, Blade, Kickboxer…actually, if it came from the 80s or 90s and has a famous action hero in it, we have it. Choose your poison.”
“Rambo?” I toss the title out there, drawing a blank otherwise. My brain always ceases basic functioning when I’m put on the spot, but they don’t seem to notice and are pleased with my choice.
“Rambo it is.”
While Dean takes care of starting the DVD in the game system, Niles engages me in light conversation. “I’ve been a fan of Stallone since I was a kid. Did you know that he writes all of the scripts himself?”
I shake my head, unable to speak around the fresh bite of chicken and rice.
“He does,” he says animatedly. “It’s just so impressive, how he comes up with all of those storylines and makes you care so much about the characters. They feel like real people. And then when you hear about how he came into the whole production process and all of that… Never mind.” He waves himself away. “I don’t want to bore you with the details.”
“No,” I argue, genuinely interested. Anything that gets a person as hyped as he is by this topic is something I find interesting. And Niles is someone I want to know more about.
“Niles likes to write in his spare time,” Dean tells me.
“You do?” I look to Niles to confirm, and shyly, he does with a minimal nod.
“He’s never let any of us see his work,” Dean continues, “so
it’s probably straight porn—”
“Which would explain those weird animal noises coming from his room at night,” Dean inserts.
“But he’s always analyzing movies and breaking them down into writing stages and taking notes.”
Niles’ face is beet red and he can’t tear his eyes away from his food, which he’s pushing around with disinterest.
I reach over and clasp his wrist, giving it a squeeze and a brief pat. “I think that’s amazing. I’ve never met a writer before.”
“It’s just a hobby,” he minimalizes, but I won’t hear of it.
“Maybe it’ll be more one day.”
“Maybe.”
“If you ever need help bouncing ideas around, I’d love to give it a shot. And maybe later you can tell me more about Stallone’s background. It sounds interesting.”
His eyes brighten, and he nods his agreement. We share a smile and then return to eating as the movie begins.
6
“So you two met at the office,” Shane says with a note of suspicion that I don’t understand.
“Sort of,” I hedge. “We’ve worked in the same office together, but not one on one. We actually met officially for the first time at an office party over the weekend.”
Briefly, I recall that kiss, and inside I die a little. Will I ever remember it without having a visceral reaction?
Shane eyes me over a half-empty Coors Light. I haven’t seen anyone drink light beer since I was twelve and my mother put my father on a forced diet, so I assume Shane is doing the same for himself. Clearly, he watches his figure, which is a bit intimidating, considering I watch mine expand and shrink according to how much chocolate I allow myself to consume any given month. I’ve never really felt the need to diet, but I have a feeling that if I hang around him long enough, he could give me a complex.
“A party huh?”
“Office party. Nothing too racy.” Although I did hear that Mike and Linda were caught mid-act in the men’s bathroom by the janitor after—nearly—everyone left.
“Niles isn’t much for parties.”
Despite his outward appearance, I call his bluff. “I’ve seen the college pictures.”
“Youthful ignorance. He had to try it, right?”
“Are you trying to paint Niles in a bad light?” I ask, curious and concerned. Is this friendly rivalry, a test, or something more?
He winks at me. “Nah. Just stating facts. Niles has always been the studious one of us. If not for him, Dean and I never would have passed calculous. Hell, we maybe might have just squeaked by graduating, but I wouldn’t put much stock into that either.”
“So you leaned on each other,” I surmise.
We’re standing alone in the kitchen, while he nurses his light beer and Niles and Dean tinker downstairs with the furnace, which turned off an hour ago and refused to turn back on. The chill from outside is slowly starting to affect the inside temperature, and I can feel the nip of winter on my skin.
“Ever since freshman year. We were roomies.”
“I bet you have all kinds of bro stories,” I tease.
“Oh you betcha.” There’s an air of excitement in his tone and eyes that tells me I’d better tread lightly if I don’t want to be shocked to death by these stories he has stocked up and ready to share.
“Maybe you’ll share one with me sometime.”
He cocks a light-brown eyebrow and takes another drink from the bottle, staring me down all the while.
Shifting on the barstool I’d claimed earlier, I ask, “So…eBay.”
Interest lights in his eyes, and he sets his drink down on the counter. “It’s a killer business.”
“Buying and selling sounds like a lot of work.” I’m not completely unfamiliar with how the process works. All that running around and pricing and organizing, not to mention the shipping and everything else that goes into it? I can’t imagine it being much fun.
“It is, but I love it. There’s a rush,” he explains with a dreamy look in his eye. “When you find that steal that you can’t pass up, and then you wait for the auctions to end and calculate the profit margins…Man, there’s nothing else like it.”
“I imagine stockbrokers feel the same,” I beg to differ.
“Similar concept,” he concedes.
“Better than doing paperwork all day.”
He shrugs, making a face that says, “Fair point.”
“Are you ever concerned that the markets will change and you’ll lose your shirt in the process?”
He stares at me for a moment, and I witness a wicked little gleam in his eye just before he says, “I’m never concerned about losing my shirt. Have you seen these muscles?” He lifts his arms and flexes his biceps, and I can’t help but laugh at his playfulness. Sobering, he continues. “I don’t have any illusions that this is a risky business venture. I’ve already planned for the eventual and probable downfall. Living with these two doofuses, I’m able to save a ton on bills, so once the bottom falls out, I should be set for life.”
My eyebrows shoot into my hairline. “You mean you won’t have to work anymore? Ever?”
“It’s a possibility. It’s the goal.” He shrugs. “I’m five years into my ten-year plan. If I keep it up, I won’t have any money problems down the road. It’ll just be a matter of managing myself and watching my spending.”
“Sounds amazing.” I consider what it would be like if I’d had the kind of thinking process he has when I was ten years younger. I could have already achieved everything I’m still shooting for. “But wouldn’t you get bored, not having anything to do the rest of your life?”
“Hell no! I want to travel. I want to see the world. The best thing I can think of is affording myself the freedom to do whatever I want in this life before I’m dead.”
I nod. He’s right. I bet everyone in the world would love to do the same thing Shane is working on now, but it’s not always possible. “I wish I had that kind of drive and determination. I don’t have a mind for business.”
“You don’t have to have a mind for it necessarily. Just the want to do it.” He picks up his bottle again and brings it to his lips, those pretty blue eyes spearing me. “Dreams make the world go round, Elle.”
I ponder his words, spoken so smoothly as to be sensual, as he finishes his drink just in time for Niles and Dean to emerge from the basement. They look tired and somewhat disheveled, as if they’ve both been raking their fingers through their hair in frustration.
“Get everything figured out?” Shane asks as he pitches his empty bottle into the trash can.
Niles sighs, glancing at me on his way to the fridge to extract a bottle of chilled water. “I think it’s shot. We need to call a repair guy.”
Shane curses beneath his breath, and Dean, wearing a look of contrition, comes to sit down beside me. I give him a sympathetic look and, reaching over, he takes my half-empty bottle of water and helps himself to a few deep swigs that nearly polishes it off.
“Hope you don’t mind,” he says as an afterthought.
“Not at all.” It’s not as if I can protest now anyway.
Dean addresses his friends. “I’ll call someone first thing tomorrow morning, but it looks like we’re going to have to pile on the blankets tonight because it’s going to be a cold one.”
“We’re expecting more snow,” Niles commiserates.
I know from looking at the weather report this morning that tonight is expected to be dangerous, with temperatures dropping into the negative digits. I can’t, in good conscience, allow them to freeze to death in their own home.
“My place isn’t big, but you guys are welcome to come stay tonight.” The offer is hesitant but genuine. Normally, it’s not something I would offer people I’d just met, or three men at that, but I’ve spent the evening with them and I don’t feel the least bit uncomfortable anymore, and I think if they were rapists or murders, I would have found out by now. Besides, Niles is a straight shooter and an overall decent guy. I’m
comfortable with him…and, if I’m being completely honest, I wouldn’t mind having him in my personal space a bit longer. A sleepover sounds like the perfect opportunity to explore more of that adventurous side of him that he showed me in the storage closet at work.
“That won’t be necessary, but thank you for the offer,” Niles says, shooting me down. I feel a little awkward having offered now, but I don’t regret expressing my care and concern for their well-being, and judging by their expressions, they appreciate it.
“As long as Dean doesn’t sleep with the windows open again tonight, we’ll be okay,” Shane assures me.
“You sleep with the windows open in the dead of winter?” I ask. It’s freezing. I can’t imagine letting that kind of cold into my home.
Dean spreads his hands before him. “It gets hot in my room.”
“And I think we all know what you’re up to in there to make that happen,” Shane comments suggestively, causing everyone to snicker at Dean’s expense. Good thing he takes it on the chin like a champ.
As the easy banter subsides, I check my phone for the time. “It’s getting late. I should head home,” I announce, not feeling much like leaving any more than they look like they want me to, but we all have schedules to keep. “Are you sure you all don’t want to stay at my place? I can make up the couch, and I have an air mattress somewhere I can put out.”
“No, Elle,” Niles says with a sweet smile as he closes the distance between us. “But thank you for the offer. It’s much appreciated.”
“Are you sure you have to leave? The night is still young.” Dean is grinning, and I have no earthly idea why, but I get the sense that he’s not as innocent as his outward appearance would suggest.
“Leave her alone, Dean,” Niles admonishes. He places a firm hand on my lower back. “Here, I’ll walk you out.”
I waggle my fingers at Dean and Shane as I begin walking toward the front of the house. “Your friends are nice,” I tell Niles, who hmms an agreement. “We should do this again sometime.”
Under the Mistletoe: A Reverse Harem Christmas Novel Page 4