Emma’s eyes shoot open a mile wide, and her cheeks go pink. Fuck. I feel my own face turning flaming red.
“What I meant was, let’s do some stretches. I mean, we can help each other stretch.” The words are leaving my mouth in a jumbled rush, but Emma is still looking at me like I just propositioned her for sex in the middle of a public park, so I keep rambling. “Only if you want. It’s just more effective if your legs are spread wide so it opens your pelvis up.” Jesus Christ, Trigg. Just shut the fuck up, already.
I close my eyes, embarrassed as a teenage boy caught staring at a lady’s breasts in the middle of Sunday service, but Emma’s amused laugh comes through to me.
“I get what you’re saying,” she says between giggles. “I have stretched a few times in my life.”
When I open my eyes, Emma has matched my leg-spread stance and has her arms outstretched to me. I huff out a relieved breath and lean forward again, taking her hands in mine. Her skin is warm and soft, a contrast from the chilly morning air. “Want to put your feet on my ankles and push?”
She knows what I’m looking for, using her feet to push mine wider until the pull is just right. “How’s that?” she asks.
“Feels good. Now, relax your back. You don’t have to keep it straight like that. Bend forward. Just let yourself slouch.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. You have lower back issues from sitting at that desk on a wooden chair, don’t you?”
She tilts her head to the side and squints at me playfully. “We’ve already covered my terrible sitting habits.”
And there it is — three strikes in less than an hour. Man, I’m on fire this morning.
“Right,” I say with an apologetic smile. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. My concern for her well-being keeps coming out of me like a reprimanding teacher. I shift a little and move my hands up to her forearms. “Give it a try, just slouch forward. Grab my elbows. It’ll feel good on your back.”
Emma bends forward, her own hands sliding up my arms as she leans into the stretch. The warmth of her bare skin against mine makes the hairs along my arm stand up. The sensation is addictive. For the millionth time, I thank God I was prostate on my stomach when the RPG exploded next to me. I can’t help the hint of swelling that occurs between my legs at her touch. Thankfully, it’s not enough to be noticeable. Still, as she dips forward, I see Emma’s eyes scan the grass between us and then dart up to where the fabric of my shorts stretches over my package.
Her attention just gets me going more. If this keeps up, I’m going to be planted here on the ground for a while before I can safely stand up.
“You know what? You should come up to my penthouse for a yoga session. I can show you some poses that will help with your back.”
She lifts her head, her ponytail sliding across her face. “Is that right?”
“And the practice is great for stress.”
“Stress, huh?”
I swear I see a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. I really did mean the offer genuinely, just to help her with the tension she’s carrying in her back, but I have to admit, a part of me might be hoping for a more... hands-on session.
Emma licks at her lips, but I know it’s not her nervous tick this time, not with the way she’s looking at me, a coy smile playing on her lips. “I’ll think about it.”
“Just let me know — anytime.” I realize I’m rubbing my fingers against her arm, like I did with her knee that night in the club. I decide we’ve loosened up enough, because something else is starting to get a little too stiff.
I stand, keeping hold of her hands so I can help her up, turning my body away as soon as we’re upright so I can discreetly adjust things.
Emma rolls her neck and bounces in place, getting the blood flow going for the faster-paced run around the park.
Watching her is not helping my situation. I need to get moving — to think of something else besides how hot she looks in those form-fitting leggings and how much I want to spank that sexy ass of hers.
“Come on,” I say with a wave as I take off down the path. “Let’s finish our run.”
19
Emma
“I’m sorry for roping you into this.” I pull another serving bowl from the clean dishwasher and scoop garlic redskin mashed potatoes from the pot on the stove.
“You have seriously outdone yourself today,” Zoey says. “And I’m happy to help — after all, this guarantees I’ll have all sorts of sexy hunk stories tomorrow.”
I retrieve another serving dish and get to scooping the regular, buttermilk mashed potatoes. “Tonight isn’t like that. The guys wanted to take me out to dinner, but they’ve been spending enough money on me lately, so I wanted to do something for them.”
Zoey retrieves the sliced almonds and begins sprinkling them over the French-cut green beans. “I get it, but damn girl,” she pauses and looks around at the spread of food across the counter. “This is Thanksgiving on steroids. You do know there’s only five of them?”
My nerves got the best of me. It had seemed like an easy enough offer at the time, but then I got more nervous as the day went on. Suddenly, normal mashed potatoes weren’t good enough, so I picked up the redskins. Then, I couldn’t decide on the Worcestershire meatloaf or the cumin one, so I made both — and a big roast chicken, because what if they don’t like meatloaf? And the later it got, the more vegetable dishes I made, since I don’t know their preferences, and not everyone likes lemon butter asparagus or spiced carrots or toasted almond green beans or stuffed squash.
But now I’m looking at the spread, and it’s apparent I’ve cooked enough to feed the entire cast of Game of Thrones. “I made too much.”
“You? Make too much food?” The jovial sarcasm drips from Zoey’s voice as she shakes her head in wonderment.
“Hardy, har, har. I can always bring whatever we don’t touch to my next rotation at the soup kitchen. Mr. Zapata said the last meatloaves went over well.” I poke at the savory dishes, which have turned out perfect this time. “So, if the guys prefer the roast chicken, I’m sure we can make some good sloppy joes or something out of these for Hungry Helpings.”
A knock sounds on the door, and panic sets in. I check the clock, and sure enough, time got away from me. Zoey practically skips to the door, and I resist the urge to tell her to stall as I reset my ponytail and run a clean dishcloth across my forehead to remove the shine of sweat from standing over the steaming hot dishes.
“It smells amazing in here.” Gunner’s deep voice booms through the sparsely furnished apartment.
Practically before I have time to turn around, Jax is at my side. “It does. Wow, Emma, this looks fantastic.”
“Where would you like this?” Daniel asks. He presents me with a potted plant I actually recognize this time.
“That’s an aloe plant, right? Aloe goes in the kitchen, doesn’t it? My mom keeps one on the windowsill over the sink.”
“Mine did, too,” he says, warmth in his voice. “She did a lot of cooking as well. But, she’d burn herself on the oven rack or a pot every once in a while. I’d come in for dinner, and a slice of the aloe plant would be missing.”
I tap an empty alcove over the sink. “That’s a very Average Joe sort of memory, Mr. Mercedes Benz.”
Daniel places the aloe on the recessed shelf, and it fits perfectly. “It might surprise you to know that I come from very humble beginnings. My family didn’t even have a car growing up, much less a luxury sedan. It was public transportation or nothing. Most often, it was nothing.”
“You’re right, I wouldn’t have guessed that.”
“Now that I can afford it, I like having a nice ride. Some would say I’m over compensating,” he says then leans toward me and lowers his voice. “but I don’t care much what some people think.” He gives an unapologetic shrug.
“I don’t blame you,” I tell him. “What’s the saying? The envious die not once, but as oft as the envied win applause.”
Dan
iel repeats the saying to himself and then nods. “I’ve not heard that one before, but I like it.”
Jax’s voice catches my attention. “Can I help? Looks like a table needs setting.”
I grimace. “Uh, about that.”
Zoey and I tried every which way to figure out a plan to get all five of the guys plus myself seated around the table comfortably, but it’s just not going to happen. We put the leaf extension back in the hallway closet because with these big guys, there’s no way they’ll all fit without getting elbows in one another’s plates.
“Technically, my kitchen table is supposed to seat six with the leaf extension, but the manufacturer must have meant six kids, because there’s no way more than four of us are fitting around that thing,” I explain to Jax. “I think I need a new table.”
Jax looks past the other guys filing into the dining area and takes a quick glance at my table. It barely fit into the dining nook at our old place, but it looks like doll furniture in this spacious apartment. He turns to look at Jude, and they share about half a second of eye contact, one quick nod, and Jax starts reaching for dishes, picking up the stuffed squash and the steamed asparagus.
Without missing a beat, Jude speaks up. “Moving the party upstairs, boys.” He starts issuing directions. “Trigg, grab the dishes by the microwave. Daniel, find a cloth or some other wrap to put over those bread rolls. Gunner, can you — hey, get your finger out of that!” Jude pulls the buttermilk potatoes away from the big guy and gives him a chastising look. “Manners.”
Gunner licks off his finger. “Right, I’ll behave, boss. There’s a foxy lady in the room.”
“You better.” Jude hands the buttermilk potatoes back to Gunner, Jax passes him the garlic potatoes, and soon, there’s an assembly line forming.
Trigg is standing beside me, awaiting dishes to be passed to him, and he touches the tip of my ponytail. “Nice,” he says with a sly grin, before accepting the warm meatloaf pans, balancing one with a dishcloth in the crook of his arm.
An involuntary smile comes to my lips, and behind me Zoey hums, seemingly to herself, but it makes me blush. I promise myself for the umpteenth time I won’t tell her about the next run I take with Trigg, especially not the very naughty thoughts I had about how I’d love to bury my face between those sculpted thighs of his.
I go to grab the roasted chicken as my load for the trip upstairs, but Jude raises a muscular arm in front of me, blocking my way. Jax pops the cork out of a bottle of wine and passes it to his twin silently. Zoey reaches in the cabinet for a wine glass and hands it off to Jude, who fills it with a generous amount of the burgundy liquid.
Jax takes the bottle back, pushes the cork in, then holds it out to me while Jude passes me the glass of wine. I give the twins a squinty look but accept both items.
“There you go,” Jude says. “That’s all you’re carrying tonight. You’ve worked enough today.”
I open my mouth to say something, but I’m pretty sure all I’m doing is creating a fine impersonation of a fish, because nothing is coming out. They don’t wait for my reply, though, they just turn and keep working on gathering up the remaining dishes, scooping up pans and bowls.
“Guys? We need to get this stuff upstairs before I just sit on the floor and dig in.”
I look over at Gunner and burst into laughter. He has one of the overly-large bowls of mashed potatoes in each hand and is cradling the roast chicken on three sides with his chest and arms.
“Let’s not make the man wait,” I say.
Trigg places his free hand on my lower back, guiding me toward the door. “You’ve done an amazing job. It all looks great.”
“I can’t claim it all. Zoey was a huge help.”
“Yeah, I totally helped,” Zoey laughs. “I put ketchup on top of that meatloaf.” She points at the one in the crook of Trigg’s arm.
“I thought it smelt nice and tangy. I love ketchup on my meatloaf,” Trigg replies.
“Do you have any plans for the evening?” Jax asks my roommate.
Suddenly, my best friend, a social butterfly if there ever was one, is a deer in the headlights. “Um.” She shoots me a glance, as if to ask how to get out of this.
I know she’s trying to give me time alone with the guys, but that’s not what this evening is about — no matter how many dirty confessions she’s hoping to get out of me tomorrow. I nod toward the door, giving her a ‘come with us’ look.
Jax notices my nod and flicks his eyes, sending the barest glance in his twin’s direction, and Jude picks it up right away.
“Will you please join us, Zoey?” Jude asks. “It would be wonderful to get to know Emma’s best friend better.”
Looking like a nervous schoolgirl, she intertwines her fingers behind her back, checking in with me again. I give her an encouraging smile, and she accepts. “That would be lovely. If there’s enough food.”
I know it’s a joke, but all the guys immediately look at Gunner.
“What?” he asks. “All I had for lunch were a couple of Trigg’s protein shakes.”
“So that’s where those went, you little—”
“Hey, I’m a growing boy. I was starving.”
Jude nudges Gunner out the door. “Let’s get moving before Gunner decides to have a personal picnic with that chicken.”
20
Emma
“Nope. You two have done enough work.” Jude pulls out chairs at the table, one with each hand. “Have a seat, ladies. The boys know how to set a table.”
It’s all the command the guys need. They spring to action, unloading armfuls of food onto the long, sleek, black walnut dining table. Trigg, Gunner, and Jax head for the kitchen to gather the table settings while Daniel turns to Zoey.
“Would you like what Emma’s drinking, or can I mix you a drink?” he asks.
Zoey waves a hand. “Oh, the Pinot is fine.” A second later she straightens herself and glances at me nervously. “I mean, wine would be lovely, thank you.”
Daniel retrieves a wine glass from the collection Trigg has already set out, maneuvering around the other guys as they shuttle plates and silverware to the table. I’m surprisingly relaxed for once, and happy to see that my best friend is being taken care of, too. This tight-knit group of guys seems to be keenly aware of how important friendship is.
On my right, Zoey seems a bit flustered, perhaps from the unexpected invitation to join us. I squeeze her hand under the table and give her a reassuring smile. With five guys bustling around me, tending to everything, I feel like a queen sitting in a castle.
Castle indeed — calling Daniel’s penthouse luxurious is an understatement. The open floor plan is similar to Zoey and I’s new apartment downstairs, but at least three times the size and everything is immaculate. The elegant furnishings and impressive art on the wall ooze wealth and good taste. From the fifteen-foot ceilings to the marble floor, it’s the sort of place that belongs in the pages of a high-end magazine.
Daniel reaches past me for the bottle of Pinot Noir I carried up, his stomach brushing against my arm. There’s a knowing smile on his lips as he says, “Excuse me for reaching across,” he says.
“It’s okay,” I murmur. He can brush up against me as much as he wants, I won’t mind a bit. I’m pretty sure he’s doing it on purpose, anyway. His abs are firm and oh-so-tempting. I resist the urge to run my hand across his stomach, instead picking up my own wine glass to give my hand something else to do.
He fills Zoey’s glass and reaches past me again, leaning into it a bit more this time. I draw in a deep breath as his abdomen presses into me. I want to run my hands up his dress shirt and tug at those buttons until they pop off.
Daniel straightens and moves behind me, letting one hand fall on my shoulder. I turn my head into it, letting my cheek graze against the warmth of his hand for a moment.
“Here you are, Zoey. Is there anything else I can get for you?” he asks, his hand still resting on my shoulder.
“I think I’l
l be alright for now,” she says. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure. Emma?”
I divert my attention from his hand to his eyes. “I’m alright for now as well, thanks.” He flashes me a warm smile before moving away to find his own seat.
Jax has already claimed the spot on the other side of me, and the other guys grab a seat around the table, which is now set with a feast worthy of any holiday. Gunner is barely holding himself back from digging in as Daniel sits down at the end of the table, checking in with Jude at the opposite end.
Jude inclines his head. “Let’s eat, shall we?”
Everyone reaches for the food, and the passing of dishes begins. I place a spoonful of garlic mashed potatoes onto my plate and hand the bowl to my left. Zoey mounds some of the potatoes on her plate before turning to Daniel.
“I understand Jude, Trigg, and Gunner were in the service together. How did you meet them?”
“Where to start?” he replies, leaning back in his chair.
“How about with how you became a government contractor?” I suggest. “There’s usually a story there, especially for our type.”
Our type. I hope he knows what I mean. Software engineers and the United States Army aren’t presumed to go together like peas and carrots.
“I walked right into the wolves’ den, you could say.”
Zoey and I both respond at the same time with, “Oh?”
“My family was dirt poor, as I mentioned earlier. I’d hated high school — I mean, really hated it. Kids don’t show much mercy to the less fortunate at that age. So, I decided to skip college — I could never have afforded it, anyway — and try a different path. I showed up at the army recruiting center, and they put me through some tests, and then some more. Turns out, one of the reasons I did so poorly in school was because I was too smart.”
Zoey’s eyes go wide. “Wow, that’s kinda messed up.”
I speak up, nodding. “I’ve heard about this, actually — when kids aren’t challenged enough, they grow bored and tune things out, or sometimes they even act out. Some of the brightest minds have been labeled as poor learners and troublemakers.”
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