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But it’s ridiculous. There’s no way they would both go for it. They’re typical men, full of their own egos, pride, all of that. Add on top of that their backgrounds, how fierce and tough they are, and what would have been uncomfortable on a good day turns into a disaster. I wouldn’t want to spend the rest of my life with them in a constant competition to see who could make me happier.
Though maybe it wouldn’t be so bad in bed, giving them a little competition to keep them on their toes. The idea leaves me biting my lip. Okay, so there are upsides to the arrangement.
What am I thinking? I have no business thinking about either of them that way when the fact is, I’m keeping secrets from them. There’s something between us even bigger and more powerful than my brother. The timing is all wrong, plain and simple. One of life’s little jokes.
Getting up from the bed I move to the bathroom. Catching my reflection in the mirror, I frown. I don’t know what I was thinking last night, going to sleep with wet hair. It’s an absolute mess this morning. But I was tired, and holding a brush and a hairdryer at the same time probably wouldn’t be possible right now with my wrist like it is. I have to settle for brushing it and pulling it into a ponytail before heading out to the kitchen.
“Good morning.” Griffin pulled on his jeans this morning but stopped there. I can’t say I’m upset. I don’t think he’s ever been sexier than he is now, cooking with his waistband hanging low on his hips, teasing me whenever I get a glimpse of his happy trail. Like when he turns my way, gesturing to the coffeemaker. “There’s coffee for you if you want.”
“I love it when you talk dirty.” I pour a cup, and the aroma instantly perks me up before I’ve taken a sip.
“I figured I’d make omelets.” There are vegetables sautéeing in the frying pan, and I watch as he pours eggs on top. “How did you sleep?”
“Like the dead.”
“Same here.” It’s only another minute or two before he carries two plates to the table. Mushrooms, onions, tomatoes, plus a generous sprinkling of cheddar cheese on top.
“If you ever decide to change careers, you should think about becoming a personal chef.” I look him up and down, smirkingbefore cutting off another bite of the omelet. “You should always work shirtless. Make a lot more money.”
“It’s not even eight in the morning, and I’m getting sexually harassed.”
“You don’t have to be here.” He only inclines his head like he gets the point. We share a smile before going back to our food. It really is delicious.
It’s a good thing he got up as early as he did and took the initiative, since we’ve barely finished our last bites when our phones vibrate in unison.
“Great. I was really hoping I could see my brother first thing this morning.” I lean back in my chair, groaning at Mason’s group text. “I’m sure he’ll be in a great mood.”
“It’ll be fine,” Griffin assures me as he picks up the plates. “I’ll be there.”
It does make me feel better hearing him say that, but I’m not naïve enough to think it will solve everything. Mason is still Mason, and he’s still a pain in the ass. I go through the motions of getting changed. I’m not about to dress up in my full glory for his sake, and by the time I’m finished, Griffin is fully dressed again.
“Ready?” he asks.
I can only roll my eyes before we head up to Mason’s apartment together. I have to pretend it doesn’t irk the hell out of me that he has to use his code since mine doesn’t work.
“I’ve got you,” Griffin murmurs before the doors slide open. He puts another few inches between us, waiting for me to exit before he does. Can’t be too close to me. Wouldn’t want anybody to know he spent the night in my bed. It’s fucking absurd.
I can’t worry about that right now, anyway. Why is Mason calling this meeting out of nowhere? Does he know about the texts I got yesterday? Would he wait this long to tell me if hehad? Of course not. He can be a bitchy drama queen when he feels like it, but he wouldn’t be able to hold off this long.
“Hi,” I offer to Teagan when we reach the conference room. Trent is already sitting at the table, as is Mason. I feel like we just interrupted a conversation.
“Hi,” she murmurs before quickly looking away. Somehow, that hurts worse of all. After all I did to try to help her feel welcome here, I thought we were better than this. Obviously, my brother has influenced her.
“Where is Dallas?” I ask, if only because it’s obviously driving Mason up the wall, hearing my voice. He keeps flinching like he’s in pain, and his jaw ticks like there’s a lot he wants to say, but he’s holding it back. I would call him a coward if I didn’t suspect it had to do with Teagan, wanting to keep her out of it. I get the feeling it’s a little late for that.
Mason’s eyes meet mine before narrowing into slits. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”
“Keeping him away from me?” I ask in a sweet voice before taking a seat. I shouldn’t antagonize him, but dammit, when he gets that know-it-all tone in his voice, there’s only so much I can do to control myself.
Maybe it’s easier to screw around with his head than it is to reflect on my next steps. He’s never going to believe I was never against him unless I find a way to make him believe me. I need to prove somehow that I was doing the right thing.
I could report that Mom reached out to me. That might buy me a little trust.
No, on second thought. That would be the easy way out, and it might only end up blowing up in my face, anyway. It might end up getting somebody hurt badly, or worse.
It’s up to me to fix things with Mom. I have to find a way. I have to convince her Mason isn’t the reason Jonathan died.That she’s been twisted up by people with ulterior motives. Tricked into believing what they wanted her to believe.
Otherwise, this will never end.
