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“Nope. Two’s my limit now,” I said.

“This mornin’, you didn’t drink beer,” Andrew said. “You sure you don’t want another?”

“I’m sure. Have to keep myself under control,” I said.

“You know we got your back, right?” Andrew asked. “If you get rowdy, we got ya.”

“Doesn’t mean I should be,” I said. “But thank you. That means a lot.”

“You’re important. You should know someone’s lookin’ out for you.”

The comments kept coming all night long. Flirting and bantering. Drinking and laughing. It was more fun than I’d had in years, and it came as no shock to me that the brothers would be at the center of it all. Things felt natural with them. Fluid and familiar. I found myself floating around to each of them, feeling their hands somewhere along my body before I floated over to another. It was the first time I’d felt any other man’s hands on my body but Michael’s, and I found myself enjoying their attention and their light touches and the caresses of their fingertips.

But I could tell Whitney wasn’t happy one bit.

And I knew I’d hear about it in the morning.

CHAPTER 5

ANDREW

Holy fuck.

The hot tub party got fuckin’ nuts. Girls in bikinis slinging back beers and bottles of wine. It was fuckin’ paradise. And, the best part was Katie.

Man, she looked fuckin hot. Hotter than I’d ever seen her. Her blonde hair had been piled high onto her head, leaving her long luscious neck exposed. What I wouldn’t have given to run my tongue along it’s curve.

Her breasts were high and full and I’d wondered how the weight of them would feel in my hands. It was all I could do to keep myself from running my fingers along the generous curve of her hip when she’d come to sit with me. Dammit, I was in trouble.

She was relaxing and enjoying her time, though I could tell her friend Whitney was a little on the irritated side about her opening up some beers. What was the issue? Katie slung them back all the time in high school with us. Her tolerance was through the roof. And even if Katie did get rowdy, what country girl in daisy dukes and boots didn’t?

In all honesty, I didn’t like Whitney. She seemed to be too controlling of Katie. The way she was looking at her in the hot tub when Katie was drinking those beers didn’t sit right with me. It was like she was shaming Katie for getting back to her roots.

That rubbed me the wrong way, and once Whitney started draping herself over all the guys, that was the last straw for me.

But I wasn’t going to tell Katie that.

Work hard, play hard was my mantra.

And Katie deserved to fucking party it up.

We all helped the girls stumble to Katie’s suite. Figured they’d all want to crash together. When I woke up early that morning with a pounding head and a desperate need for water, I knew the girls would wake up in much the same condition.

After popping some medicine and chugging two bottles of water, I made my way to their suite. It was my damn day off, and I was going to make the best of it. Katie was in town with two friends, and they were celebrating Katie not marrying some asshole she met in the city.

That was an occasion I wanted to celebrate, too.

I stole some food from the kitchen and made my way to their room. I set out juice and water as well as a full bottle of Tylenol for them to have when they woke up. I started frying up some bacon and sizzling some sausage, boiling some grits and scrambling some cheesy eggs. Katie ate the shit out of cheesy eggs. It was always her go-to breakfast want. Their suite was filled with the sweet sounds and smells of breakfast as I heard them stirring, stretching, and bitching about their heads.

They were pretty drunk the night before. Wyatt had to carry Lizzie to the damn elevator, and Katie was draped around my shoulder. Whitney was volleying herself between Dylan and Caleb, which made for a lot of giggling fits as we rode up to their room. The night had been fun, but this morning, the consequences reared their ugly heads.

The girls were hungover as fuck and begging for their lives.

“Lord help me, I’m dying,” Lizzie said.

“Shut up. Your voice hurts,” Whitney said.

“There’s a man in our kitchen,” Lizzie said. “The fuck’s that?”

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