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Cindy
Conversationhasbeenlightand uncomfortable. Negotiating dates with my brothers is terrifying. I wish one of them would just toss me over his shoulder.
We’ve barely gotten drinks and sat on the couch when a door slams. Jeff’s voice booms from the kitchen before we see him. He must have just come in from the garage. “Three more fucking meetings. Hopefully, I don’t snap anyone’s neck in the meantime.”
Keys clatter onto the granite countertop.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
I cringe at his harsh tone as he rounds the corner into the living room.
Ballz leaps to his feet. “Fuck off, dude. We won her in the auction.”
Jeff throws his hands up in the air. “Wasn’t your mission to go do a good deed and repair our reputation?”
He seems to make a deliberate motion of bringing his hands down in front of himself as he exhales.
“We donated a million to the woman’s shelter on behalf of our sister.”
Jeff avoids making eye contact with me. “The ChristmasCherryAuction. Rumors will fly.”
“Rumors fly no matter what we do,” Adrian says.
“And it turns out sis was hoping to gain some dating experience by whoever won her.”
“Do you want this to blow up in our faces?” Jeff’s eyes are cold and dark. His nostrils flare.
Hope must reside in my heart, because they both seem to sink. I should set up an online dating profile like everyone else. I don’t need my brothers. “Never mind. It’s too complicated. You’re not the kind of guys I would date anyway.”
Jeff steps closer as I stand, stopping me from putting my drink back in the kitchen. “How do you know?”
“Just look how complicated this already is.” I try to sidestep him, but he blocks me. I crane my neck up.
“I mean, how do you know we aren’t the kind of guys you would date?” The fresh linen scent of his cologne is certainly acceptable. The contours of his chest pressing against his t-shirt are a decidedly positive attribute. The way my body is begging him to scoop me up points at agreeableness.
Perhaps he could be my type. I give myself a mental shake. “I would date someone less obnoxious who doesn’t need anger management classes.”
“Don’t judge.”
“You had a good reason for beating the guy up?” I can’t believe I brought that up, but I’m desperate for an exit plan.
“I did,” he mutters as he lets me pass.
I grow a little bolder at the tiny victory. If I prod a little more, I should be able to bring this mess to a close and avoid embarrassing myself. “And the wild weekend that ruined the hotel room? Are you going to tell me that was for good reason, too?”
He stops me in the doorway. “That wasn’t actually us.”
“The hotel room was in your name.”
“We paid for the whole fucking thing, and we know which friends we’ll never invite back.”
“All the more reason you need to practice dating with us,” Ballz cuts in. “People can be deceptive.”
Is he being protective? My heart is racing. My panties are soaked. My sunken heart beats in my chest again. I want this to happen.
Is my resolve really so weak that I’ve gone from trying to irritate them to exploring sexual desires in three easy steps? No. The plan was to get bought and have sex. I’m adhering to my plan with a minor detour that includes family. Perfect.
I pull out my phone and calculate how many minutes I get with each of them. I hold the phone up, displaying the math. “I get to go on an eighty-minute date with each of you.”
