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“Wow. Living there.” Case whistled. “That’s rough. Beck and call and whatnot, right?”

“Right, but it hasn’t been so bad. We’ve come to an understanding, and he doesn’t demand my services at all hours of the night.” I winced. “That sounded awful. You know what I mean.”

“I know what you mean,” Case laughed. “I have a busy couple of days ahead of me, but do you want to have lunch on Wednesday?”

“Ye—oh no. That’s fan day. I was invited to watch the Barons practice and whatever else.” I rolled my eyes. “I should have said no since I’m trading my Saturday to have that day off, but I already invited my friend.”

“Okay. How about Friday night?”

“Friday night would be perfect since I’m staying on the island.” Setting an actual time for an actual date was starting to make me feel better. Case was smart and handsome, and a potential way to escape the ridiculous crush I’d started to develop on Gavin. “Do you need my number?”

“Nah. It’s in the computer at the shop. I’ll snag it from there.”

“Great.” I hefted the bags, backing away and smiling. “Talk soon, okay?”

Case waved and walked to his own car.

I returned to the mansion feeling a little better about the state of my personal life. The buoyancy crashed and burned once I dragged the bags from the garage and into the kitchen.

Gavin was there, and he was tongue-deep in someone’s mouth. A someone who happened to be a man. A man in skintight jeans and a silky black T-shirt, and who had a body that had clearly been sculpted from hours and hours put into the gym.

Holy shit. Gavin Brawley wasn’t straight.

That point was illustrated when his eyes slid open and landed on me. We stared at each other while he ravished the other man’s mouth, and that same tidal wave of heat raced across my body again. Only when I managed to retreat a single step did he pull away. He was wearing a loose pair of sweats and no shirt, his torso and the jut of his hipbones exposed by the sagging pants. He was tousled and freshly fucked, a fact evidenced by his messy hair and the reddened areas on his shoulders and the bite marks on his neck. When the man in the black T-shirt turned to look at me, it became apparent that he was just as wrecked.

Was this why Joe had wanted me to keep an eye on who came and went?

“Oh, hi,” he said, tilting his head. “You must be the assistant.”

“Uh. Yeah.” I looked between him and Gavin. “Sorry, I’ll—”

“Max was leaving,” Gavin said. “You’re not interrupting.”

“Yep.” Max flashed a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Will I hear from you later?”

Gavin shrugged. “Your cab is rolling up.”

“Okay. I’ll just assume you’ll want a repeat.” Max ruffled Gavin’s hair. “It was a good time.”

Gavin said nothing. He just watched blankly until Max sighed and wandered out of the room. At that point, he turned his steady gaze to me.

“I’m bisexual.”

“Okay.”

The only sound, for a solid minute, was the birds chirping wildly outside. I needed to tell the landscaper to stop feeding them. Fuck animals.

“Have a good weekend?” he asked.

“Uh-huh.”

“Good.”

More awkward silence. Why was he making small talk? Why wasn’t I unpacking the groceries? Why couldn’t I stop staring at the red marks and imagining the wild sex that must have been going on all night for him to be so covered in scratches and bites? Given to him by a man.

“You okay?” Gavin ventured finally. “You’re acting stupider than usual.”

“Yeah. Well, I was thinking about uh . . .” Your dick. You moaning. Those bite marks. “I ran into the guy from the car shop. We’re gonna go out on Friday.”

Gavin dragged his teeth over his lower lip. “So you’re going out with Simeon tomorrow, and car dude on Friday.”

“I’m not going out with Simeon. It’s fan day. I’m bringing my friend Jasmine.”

“Right.” Something about Gavin’s tone was off, but I wasn’t capable of dissecting it just then. “Yeah, well, when you go out with your little car boyfriend, make sure you keep my name out of your mouth. Especially about what you just saw.”

“Okay, Gavin. No need to go into dick mode.” I stopped running my eyes all over him and plopped some of the grocery bags down on the counter. “I won’t tell anyone you stared at me while playing tonsil hockey with some other athlete person.”

“He’s a fitness model.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” I muttered.

“Neither do I.”

“Does he take pictures while holding dumbbells or something?”

“Probably. While wearing compression shorts in different colors.”

I snorted out a laugh and looked at him again. His mouth had twisted up into the tiniest of grins. “Dude, we’re seriously gabbing about the guy you spent all weekend fucking like it’s no big thing. I had no idea you were bisexual. Why didn’t you tell me?”

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