by Lexi Ryan
“Mmm.” I swallow. “My favorite.”
“Did Mason and Bailey leave?”
“Yeah. What’s up with them, anyway? She said she’s not the girlfriend, so what? They just hook up?”
“Not anymore. They’re best friends, but Mason decided the friends-with-benefits thing wasn’t working for him anymore, so he put a stop to that part of their relationship.”
I frown. “What guy ever in the history of guys wouldn’t want a friends-with-benefits arrangement with a girl who looks like Bailey?”
Laughing, Chris pulls a premixed protein shake from the fridge, twists off the cap, and chugs half of it in one go. “A guy who wants more than the benefits. Mason’s got it bad for Bail. He wants the love story. The planning and the promises.”
I’m impressed and more than a little swoony. Who wouldn’t cheer hard for Mason knowing all that? “Wow. What’s her holdup?”
“No idea.” He shrugs and takes another drink from his shake.
I wrinkle my nose. “My food isn’t food, but that is?”
He inspects the bottle. “It’ll do until I have a chance to make us some dinner. Do you want chicken or steak?”
“Neither.” Yuck. “What do you mean, make us dinner? Are you my personal chef as well as my babysitter?”
“I’m not your babysitter, but I’d like to make you dinner. It’s the least I could do after the crappy way your visit started. Tell me what you want, and I’ll run to the store and get it.”
I hate/love the way his kindness makes me feel warm from the tips of my fingers down to my toes. I hate/love the way those dimples make the butterflies in my stomach dance. I hate/love that he can walk in here and turn on the charm and make me completely forget that ten minutes ago, he was making me feel lower than the dirt on his cleats.
“I’d love to go to the store,” I say. “I need to buy some of my own groceries, and could we swing by Target or something to get some sheets that would fit on the couch?”
He drains the rest of his protein shake before tossing it into the trashcan. “You’re not sleeping on the couch.” He tucks his hands into his back pockets and sighs. “I’m really sorry about the room confusion, but we’ve figured it out.”
“Mason’s rooming with you?” Why didn’t he say so when Bailey asked?
“No. He needs his own space. You can have my room, though. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“I don’t feel right about that.” If I were a bigger person, I’d point out that there are two beds in his room, and there’s no reason we can’t each take one. But I’m not a bigger person. I’m a small person whose inner Slutty McSlutterson would probably crawl into Chris’s bed while he was sleeping if she had the opportunity. And anyway, even if it is irrational and a bit hypocritical, his reaction to the possibility of us sharing a room earlier still stings, so if it’s going to happen, I want him to suggest it. “Let me take the couch.”
“Absolutely not.” He shakes his head and sets his jaw in a way that tells me it’s not up for debate. “This is my mess. You don’t need to suffer because of it. Maybe Mason’s right and I assumed. Honestly, I don’t actually remember a specific conversation. Things have been so crazy around here.” He inhales, slowly. “I’m sorry, Grace. I feel like I really fucked up.”
I bite back a smile. It’s impossible not to like this guy. “Okay, remedial.”
“Did you just call me remedial?”
“I did.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“If this constitutes a fuckup, I don’t think you’ve ever truly screwed up in your life. I mean, other than that time you felt up your stepsister—that was kind of twisted. But aside from that, your fuckup skills are remedial at best.”
Chris looks offended, his brows scrunched together to match his frowning mouth. He drops his gaze to the trashcan and stares at his discarded shake. “I screw up as much as anybody else.”
“Yeah?” God, he’s even more adorable frustrated. “Okay, give me some evidence—aside from assuming that your roommate is as selfless as you and was willing to give up his own bedroom for the summer for a girl he doesn’t even know. Tell me a time you fucked up. Just one.”
A shadow crosses over his face and takes his frown with it. “Just trust me,” he says. “I have.”
I truly doubt that, but because I can tell he’s serious and he thinks he did something terrible, I let it drop and toss my foil wrapper into the trashcan. “So, grocery shopping?”
His shoulders relax marginally. “Sure. Then dinner. Whatever your favorite meal is, I’ll make it.”
I grab my purse and throw it over my shoulder. “I mean, if you insist, but I’ve gotten pretty good at pouring my own cereal over the years.”
Chapter Sixteen
Grace
Bailey picked me up at Chris’s apartment a little after eight, handed me a driver’s license for a twenty-two-year-old named “Beatrice”—who could totally be my twin if you only look at her hair and eye color, but who looks nothing like me if you consider little details like facial structure and weight—and drove me to a bar called Tracy’s. The guy at the door took one look at Bailey and waved us both in, not even bothering to check my fake ID.
We’re already two shots in and sitting in a big booth at the back when a beautiful Latina comes up to our table and slides in next to Bailey. “Is this our new friend?” she asks. She grins at me and offers a hand. “I’m Mia Mendez.”
“Mia,” Bailey says, “I’d like you to meet Grace, Chris’s new stepsister. Grace, this is my best friend in the whole wide world, Mia.”
“Sorry if I’m a bit of a spaz,” Mia says. “I’m just so excited to meet you!” There’s practically a giggle in her voice.
I look at Bailey, who bites back a grin. “I might have told Mia about what went down at the apartment today,” she says. “We’re both really excited to meet someone who can frazzle Chris like that.”
“That was frazzled?” I ask. Really, considering our situation, I thought he did a pretty decent job keeping his cool.
“Did you see his face the moment it sunk in that he’s going to be sharing a room with you?” Bailey squeaks and claps her hands as she looks at the ceiling. “It’s the best thing ever.”
I’m still confused. “It didn’t feel like the best thing on my end. That boy is probably two feet longer than the old-ass couch, but he’d rather sleep there than in the same room as me.” I frown. I blame the shots for my diarrhea of the mouth. I was in middle school when I discovered that a little buzz made my stutter disappear, and since then the amount I drink is directly proportional to the amount I overshare. I shake my head. “Not that I care. Whatever.”
Mia and Bailey exchange another look, and then Bailey leans over the table and says, “It’s not that he doesn’t want to share a room with you that we like so much. It’s why.”
Mia nods vigorously. “Exactly.”
“I’ll bite. Why?”
“So, I suspected as much before I talked to Mason—I mean, come on, the sexual tension between you two is off the charts—but then Mason confirmed my suspicions.” She waves the waiter over and points to Mia. “She’s two shots behind, so we’ll need those and another round, of course.”
The waiter grins at her. “Sure thing.” He winks at her before walking away.
Meanwhile, I’m dying of curiosity. “Mason confirmed your suspicions about what?”
“About how Chris feels about you,” Bailey says, as if it’s obvious.
My slutty stomach butterflies usually reserve their dances for when Chris is in my presence, but they hop to attention now. “What did he say?”
Mia grins. “Mason called you his sister, and Chris corrected him quickly.”
My shoulders sag, and the butterflies give my new friends the finger. “Oh. That doesn’t mean anything.”
Bailey slaps the table. “It means he doesn’t think of you as his sister, and he wants to make damn sure the guys don’t, either. That�
�s not nothing.”
“That’s not because he’s interested or anything.” I can’t believe I’m still talking. The smart move here would be to say nothing. But there’s my mouth, still running as if she has a mind of her own. “It’s because we screwed around before we knew who our parents were and he’s feeling all weird about it.”
Bailey’s jaw drops, and Mia throws a hand over her mouth.
“The plot thickens,” Bailey says, recovering before Mia. “So when you say screwed around . . .”
I shake my head. “Nothing too scandalous. We made out at a friend’s house. I’d been drinking and the power went out.” I sigh at the memory. “Bad judgment on my part, so now I’m just this thing he regrets.”
“Are you buying what she’s selling?” Bailey asks Mia, who shakes her head.
“Nope,” Mia says, “but I think she might be.” She grins. “This summer is going to be fun.”
I’m only digging myself deeper by trying to explain, so I’m grateful when the server shows up with our shots. He puts three in front of Mia and two others in front of Bailey and me.
“Wait,” I say, putting my hand over Bailey’s drink. “Who’s driving us home?”
Mia smiles. “A girl after my own heart!”
“Mason agreed to DD for us tonight,” Bailey says. “He’s coming with some of the guys in a bit, and he’ll drive us home in my car.” Bailey hands her phone to our server, who seems more interested in eye-fucking Bailey than in tending to his other tables. “Would you take a picture of us for me?”
“Sure.”
“Say ‘cheers,’ girls,” Bailey says.
We all hold up our shot glasses and smile for the camera.
“What do I owe you for the drinks?” Bailey asks when he hands her back her phone.
The waiter shakes his head. “This round’s on me.”
“Aww!” She beams at him. “You’re the sweetest.”
His cheeks turn pink, followed by the tops of his ears. “Let me know if there’s anything else you need.” He walks away slowly.
“He’s cute,” Bailey says, loud enough so he can hear. “Damn cute.”
I frown, giving our server’s retreating form a quick appraisal. “Cute, yes. But Mason is hot. Like, H-A-W-T. What’s going on there?”
Bailey shrugs but I can’t help but notice—even a little buzzed—that some of the joy that seems so much a part of her personality drains away. “It’s complicated.”
“It’s really not,” Mia says. “He’s not going to wait around forever. One of these days, you’re going to need to admit to yourself that—”
“Not tonight, okay?”
Mia covers Bailey’s hand with her own on top of the table and squeezes before she turns to me. “Tell me about your first day in Blackhawk Valley.”
“Well, it was pretty uneventful. Chris took me to the grocery store, looked at me like I said I ate small children for breakfast when I told him I was a vegetarian, and then I went around submitting job applications.”
“What a drag,” Bailey says. “Anything promising on the job front?”
“Plenty of places were happy to let me fill out an application, but no one really indicated they were hiring.”
Mia draws in a breath through her teeth. “It’s tough finding summer work around here after BHU has let out. All the college kids who want to stick around gobble up all the jobs.”
“I guess that means you two don’t have any leads?” I ask.
“I work as a nanny,” Mia says.
“Oh, my best friend is an au pair. She got a position with this Hollywood couple.”
“Mia works for her boyfriend,” Bailey says.
I put my shot down untouched. Those first two hit me too hard, and my head feels heavier than the rest of my body and doesn’t want to stay upright. “Your boyfriend needs a nanny?”
Mia rolls her eyes. “I work as a nanny to my boyfriend’s infant little sister and am employed by my boyfriend’s father.”
“Oh,” I say. “That makes more sense.”
“It’s a cushy job,” Bailey says. “We all hate her.”
Mia rolls her eyes. “You love me.”
“What about you?” I ask, turning to Bailey.
“Yeah,” she says, smirking. “If you want to work with me, you’re welcome. We’re always looking for new ‘talent.’” She uses her fingers to put air quotes around the word “talent.”
“Bailey’s a stripper,” Mia says.
Bailey arches a brow and stares at me, as if waiting for me to make a face.
I shrug. “No judgment here. Is the money as good as they say?”
“Oh, hell yeah,” she says. “But I’m about over it. After this summer I’ll have enough in savings that I should be able to feed myself and pay for my last two years of college. It’ll be tight, but I’m so ready to stop shaking my ass and letting dudes stare at my tits.”
“I can imagine.” I laugh, imagining what Chris would say if I started stripping. Hey, maybe he’d come watch. More likely, he’d come and carry me off the stage. That could be interesting. I enjoy the image way more than I should.
“So I want to know more about your night with Chris, episode: ‘They Don’t Know They’re About To Become Related,’” Bailey says, and Mia jabs her in the side with her elbow. “Ow! It’s a fair question.”
“Stop being so nosy,” Mia says. She turns to me. “Sorry. Bailey skipped the days in kindergarten where we learned about personal boundaries.”
“No,” Bailey says, grinning unapologetically as she messes with her phone. “My favorite soap opera was just canceled, but this has the potential to be even better, so excuse me while I fill the void.”
“You’re going to have to fill it elsewhere,” I inform her. “I’ve got nothing.” I take my shot—because why the hell not?—and warmth trails down my throat and swirls in my belly. This will be it. Another, and I’d cruise right past buzzed and land in toasted territory.
“You need to come to Arrow’s tomorrow,” Mia says. “The guys have practice in the morning, and then they get the rest of the day off because they’re bringing in some bigwig who might take over the head coach position. Not to mention the baby will be with her mom, so I have the whole day off, too.”
I make a face. “You want me to come hang out with a bunch of football players?”
“No,” Bailey says, tearing her gaze from her phone to scowl at me. “We want you to come hang out with a bunch of shirtless football players.”
Mia sighs. “The distinction is important.”
“And us,” Bailey adds before going back to her phone. “Shirtless buff guys and the coolest girls in town.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Well, if you put it that way . . .”
Bailey chuckles. “What’s your last name, Grace?”
“Lee. Why?”
“Put your phone away,” Mia says to Bailey. “What are you doing on there anyway?”
“I’m uploading our pic.” Bailey frowns at the screen then looks up at me. “Grace Lee—L-E-E—right?”
“That’s my name.”
“Why can’t I find you on Facebook?” She turns her phone around so I can see her screen. “None of these Grace Lees looks like you.”
I shrug. “Because I don’t have an account?”
“Oh.” She turns her phone back and taps the screen. “What’s your Insta handle, then?”
I shake my head. “I’m not on Instagram either.”
Her eyes get big, and then she and Mia exchange a look that suggests I’m an alien life form. “Are you Amish or something?” Bailey asks, and Mia says, “Why not?”
“Because people are mean,” I answer, and I’m saved from further explanation when a bearded guy approaches our table.
He points to the empty space in the booth next to me. “Is this seat taken?”
“There’s a two-shot minimum to sit at this table,” Bailey says, and the guy slides in beside me without waiting for me to answer.
>
“I’m Sebastian Crowe.” He offers me a big, work-roughened hand, and I take it. “You’re our fearless leader’s stepsister?” His voice is the sound of liquid sex, low and scruffy like his beard, and he has tattoos on his biceps peeking out from the tight sleeves of his T-shirt. If men were presented to me in a fancy leather-bound menu, I’d order two of Sebastian Crowe—one for now, and one to enjoy at home later.
“Fearless leader?” I ask, since I figure his question was rhetorical.
“Chris is the quarterback,” Mia says. “The quarterback is, like, the one in charge of the offense after the coach.”
I swing my gaze around to her and narrow my eyes. “Thanks for the lesson, but I don’t have to love football to understand that much.” I turn back to Sebastian. “Nice ink.”
He grins and nods at the cat eyes tattoo on my bare arm. “You too.”
“Careful, Sebastian,” Bailey says. “I know someone who might take issue with you hitting on our new friend.”
He grins. “Why do you assume I’m hitting on her?”
Bailey scoffs. “Are your eyes working? She’s hot.”
I grimace. “Because this isn’t awkward.”
Sebastian grins before dropping his gaze to my face and giving me a look I could only describe as a smolder. “Oh, my eyes work just fine.” Not many guys can pull off the smolder, but of those who can, Sebastian’s the champ.
I bite my bottom lip, their conversation disappearing into the din of the bar as a group of broad-shouldered guys make their way toward us from across the room. Chris locks eyes with me immediately, and for a second, my heart squeezes and my stomach flip-flops, and I feel damn special because all of his attention is focused on me.
Then I realize he’s pissed.
“What’s wrong?” Bailey asks, turning in her seat to follow my gaze.
Sighing, I say, “Don’t look now, but my babysitter is here, and I don’t think he’s very happy.”
Chapter Seventeen
Chris
Fucking Bailey. I should have known no good would come of Grace going out with her, but instead of using my brain and trying to change her plans, I was just relieved Grace was already making friends and assumed they’d be hanging at Bailey’s or going out for karaoke.
