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The line grows quiet.
“Okay.” She sounds hurt, and I feel bad.
Bad enough to run my dumbass mouth. “I’ll ask, but I can’t make any promises. He seemed weird about you coming for some reason.”
“He’s just being overly protective,” she replies. “You should remind him of that.”
I laugh softly. “I’ll try to slip into the conversation.”
“Good.” The hurt has alleviated from her tone. “Text me or call me if it’s a yes. I’ll keep my phone by me.”
“Okay.”
We say goodbye then hang up.
It takes me about five more minutes before I can work up the courage to go downstairs. What I really wish is that I was high. It’d make this a lot easier. But, unfortunately, I don’t have anything on me. So, totally sober, I trudge down the stairs.
When I reach the bottom, I spot Hunter and Jax standing in the living room, arguing over where to move the sofa.
They’ve both changed and, holy hell, they’re both … hot. There’s really no other way to put it.
Jax has on a long-sleeved black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, dark jeans, and thick boots. His inky black hair hangs in his eyes, leather bands ornament his wrists, and his facial piercings glint in the lighting. Hunter has on all black—black jeans and a short-sleeved shirt that shows off a couple of his tattoos. His boots are similar to Jax’s, a chain dangling from his belt loop, and his blond hair is sort of messy, like he just dragged his fingers through it.
“We should just put it in the basement,” Jax is saying with his arms crossed. “It’ll be easier.”
Hunter gapes at him. “How the fuck do you figure that? We’d have to take it downstairs. If we put it into the garage, we can just walk in there.”
“But the car is in there,” Jax reminds him. “We’d have to pull it out.”
“Then go pull it out.” Hunter continues to stare at him like this is the most obnoxious conversation in the world.
“It’s snowing,” Jax says likeduh.
Hunter looks at him the same way. “That’s the dumbest excuse ever. Seriously, bro …” He trails off as his gaze drifts in my direction.
He does a double-take, and then his lips part. “Holy fucking hell. That’s all I’ve got to say.”
I scratch my wrist nervously as I make my way into the room.
Jax is looking at me, too, but he’s not saying anything. He swallows audibly and stares at me. I don’t speak guy code well, so I’m not sure what that means.
“Is it too much?” I self-consciously tug at the hem of my skirt then reach up and fiddle with the ribbon in my hair.
“Absolutely not,” Hunter says without removing his gaze from me.
Jax keeps his eyes on me, too, as he approaches. “You look beautiful.”
It takes me a moment to speak, because I know if I do, my voice will shake. “You think maybe I should at least take the ribbon out?”
He shakes his head then reaches up and lightly touches the ribbon with a half-smile on his face. “No way. It looks so good on you.” He moves his fingers and plays with one of the few strands of my hair that I left out of the ponytail and are framing my face. “God, you’re so damn gorgeous.” He offers me an apprehensive smile then, like he’s not sure if that was okay to say or not.
I’m not even sure if it is. Not because I’m taking what he said offensive. It just makes me feel a bit out of my element. Plus, it’s things like this that seem to upset Hunter.
Still, I manage to mumble a, “Thank you.”
Hunter steps up beside him then, appearing relaxed, which is a good sign. Then he rests his arm over Jax’s shoulders, another good sign.
“Please, please, let me take some photos of you,” he says, his gaze sweeping up and down my body. “Like pretty fucking please.”
