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In the end I didn’t even know why I’d mentioned it in the first place. I could spend a single night with the guys and realize the whole thing wasn’t working out. Already it seemed Ryan hated me, or at least disliked me intensely. I had a vague plan for winning him over, but who knew what would happen.
So yeah, if it didn’t work out between us I’d probably lose the renovation anyway. And if it did work out…
If you end up dating these guys, and living there… are you really going to charge them?
“Alright,” I said, shoving it all out of my mind. “That’s it. I’m gone.”
Dawn was beside me already, still wearing her pout. I pressed two fingers into the corners of her mouth and physically forced a smile. She fought me the whole way.
“Chin up while I’m gone, okay? And call me if you need anything.”
She nodded glumly, then hugged me goodbye. It was something she did a lot, but this time she held on just a little longer than normal. As if I were going off to war or something.
Or something…
“Have fun,” she said, forcing a smile. “I’ll hold down the fort.”
I laughed inwardly at yet another Army reference. If only she knew.
“Good girl,” I winked.
Twelve
SAMMARA
I’d taken an Uber back from the house, even though Kyle had offered to drive me. I’d needed some time alone. Some time to think.
I had that time as I packed, too, taking everything I thought I’d need for a week away. It wasn’t like I couldn’t come home and get anything I missed of course, but I wanted to show up prepared and make a good impression.
And that house… Oh my God!
In a way, Ryan was right about one thing: I was incredibly excited at the thought of renovating the old Victorian. But he was wrong about me putting it first. Especially not once I’d seen the rest of the guys…
Kyle. Holy shit, I couldn’t get my mind off of him! Sleeping with him might’ve been a mistake, but it was a beautiful, delicious mistake. One that my body certainly wasn’t complaining about, even as my mind told me I needed to be more careful with the others.
No sex for a week.
It was a hard rule, even for me, but in retrospect it had been a good idea. It gave me a chance to see what I was getting into. To really learn who these men were, and how they interacted with each other, and how serious they were about dating me.
And really, I wanted to be dated. I didn’t want to be only a fucktoy, or a housekeeper, or a general contractor for their big renovation project. No way.
I wanted to be a girlfriend.
I wanted to be adored. Protected. Loved.
I wanted to understand them, and they me. I wanted to get to know these guys intimately, both individually and in the dynamics of a group setting. To know them, I needed to see them in their natural habitat. How they acted and reacted around each other, when having me — or even competing for me — sexually wasn’t a factor.
And yes, I wanted the house too. God how I wanted the house! I wanted to be its designer and its decorator and its borderline architect. And if things worked out between them and me?
I wanted to build my boyfriends something more. To make it not just a house… but actually a home for them.
For us.
You’re dreaming, Sammara, I told myself as I drove my jeep down the winding road that led to the lake. You’re buying into something that can’t possibly work.
I frowned. I was never a defeatist, and that was certainly defeatist talk. But I was a realist above everything else.
At the very least you’ll have fun.
