by Shae Banks
I was out of practice in this type of situation. I’d been used to being picked apart like an experiment when I worked, albeit six years ago now. The legal profession was obviously a male dominated environment, and I regularly spent my days in meetings and on conference calls with overbearing gentlemen who liked to exert their power over us weak little women.
Francis’s constant scrutiny was usual to me, and I’d learned to do things his way to avoid his disappointed head shakes, but it had been far too long since someone studied me with the raw intensity Ryan was. It felt different. He wasn’t leering like a particular co-worker used to. I wasn’t comfortable under his attention, not by a long way, but despite that I couldn’t pick up any malice towards me. It was more playful. Testing. Challenging.
It’s what I came to expect from my brother’s friends when I was much younger.
Only back then, my brother’s friends were annoying teens, not ruggedly handsome army chefs.
“Have you lived here long?” I asked, in a vain attempt to ease the building tension.
“Two years, give or take,” Ryan answered, finally sitting back in his seat. “Lloyd threw out an ad and we jumped on it.”
Two years? Why hadn’t he mentioned it?
The answer came to me quickly—Francis. Whatever he was charging them, Francis would insist I took half as the secondary partner in the ownership of the property. The fact that Lloyd never asked for money from me toward maintaining the place, or making improvements, would be irrelevant to him.
I didn’t blame Lloyd for keeping it to himself. I was grateful, one less thing for my husband to pick at me for.
“Lloyd never did like being alone all that much,” I remarked. It was true, with our parents busy with work, he’d glue himself to me or invite his friends over. He’d always complained that the house was too quiet.
Thom put down his cutlery, only two thirds of his dinner eaten, and took a sip of his wine. “We were living on camp. It’s cheap enough, but being behind the perimeter fence gets to be a little much after a while.”
I nodded. Although he was choosing his words carefully so that a civilian would understand, I could kind of relate to that. Free to come and go but always aware of the security measures surrounding you. Them having to produce a pass at the gate every time they went somewhere seemed much the same as me being at the house in time for Francis to arrive home from work.
Knowing your movements were monitored, however subtly, becomes suffocating. In their case, being signed in as present, while in mine, the security cameras on the exits to the house telling my husband my departure and arrival times, not to mention the incessant phone calls when I wasn’t back within what he deemed a reasonable period.
“What about you?” Ryan questioned, with a tilt to his head. “How long did you live in London?”
Christ, how much did Lloyd tell them about me? After another sip of wine, I responded, “Ten years. First uni, then I stayed for work.”
“Which uni?” Thom asked, now sitting with his arm over the back of his chair again. He’d angled himself so he was facing Ryan a little more, making it easier to talk to both of us.
I smiled nervously. “London School of Economics. I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to study law when I applied, so I chose somewhere with the option to switch courses to something else that interested me if I wanted.”
Ryan’s mouth turned down in the corners as he picked up his glass. “Fancy.”
“Did you always want to be a chef?” I countered, not rising to the bait of being called fancy.
He snorted before taking a drink. “Nah, I didn’t want to be anything.”
I looked to Thom, not understanding what Ryan meant.
“He was a lazy waste of space,” he explained, giving Ryan a side glance. “Until he got himself into trouble stealing to pay for his video game gaming problem.”
My eyes slid right back to Ryan. So, he started out as a bad boy? Interesting. “Naughty.”
He laughed, his eyes lighting up with mirth. “Yeah. Well, I got off with a slap on the wrist and my mum gave me six months to get my ass in gear or get out.”
I frowned. That seemed overly harsh, but our mum hadn’t been too strict. “So you joined the army?”
He shrugged. “Signing up called my mum’s bluff. I trained hard, applied as soon as I could, moved out of the family home, and it was better than still running a paper route in my twenties.”
“His parents own a newsagent,” Thom clarified, drawing my attention. “Ryan was a little prick back then, while his parents are very nice people and have always been very supportive of him.”
Ryan scowled at Thom’s reprimand.
I smiled and drank. “And yours?”
“Mine ran a hotel in Devon throughout my childhood,” he replied with a smile. His eyes lit up at the mention of Devon, softening his chiselled features. “As soon as my brother and I finished school, she sold it and bought a house just outside of Newquay. My brother runs a surf school, and my parents now run a smaller bed and breakfast—it’s more manageable. I wasn’t really cut out for hospitality, so I went to college to study sports science. After struggling to find a suitable career once I was certified, I signed up as a physical trainer, and here I am.”
No wonder he’s so physically… perfect. It’s his job to be fit.
I couldn’t seem to stop myself from looking at his arms—the defined veins and clear outline of his biceps. He was wearing a white t-shirt that clung to his physique. My eyes began to roam over his muscled shoulders and defined pecs.
Ryan cleared his throat and I forced my eyes away from Thom. When I gave him my attention, he had his head cocked, and his eyes narrowed into slits. “Eyes up, sweetheart.”
I was ogling without shame.
I put it entirely down to the wine, but why would Ryan care? Would he rather I ogled him? Thom gave him a reproachful glare then looked to me, his expression softening once more. “He has no manners. I won’t apologise for him, but don’t hold your breath waiting for one from him.”
Despite my embarrassment, I laughed. “Noted.”
A ringtone interrupted our conversation, one I recognised all too well. I debated answering it, but the curious expressions on both Thom’s and Ryan’s faces kept me firmly in my seat. I knew who it was and what he wanted—for me to come home and play housekeeper—and I knew if I spoke to him, he’d start trying to talk me around. I wasn’t sure I had the strength to fight him. Not yet. I’d used what was left of my energy walking away.
The ringing stopped and immediately started back up. Annoyed, I stood to get my phone. I had no plans of answering it, but I could at least turn the bloody thing off.
I’d left the guys at the kitchen table while I dug my phone out of my purse—six missed calls flashed on the screen. I must have slept through the others. I didn’t bother to check who they were from. My friend, Betty, said she’d give me a few days when I called her from the motorway services the day before, so it definitely wasn’t her. I didn’t want to hear from anyone else.
With it turned off, I threw it back into my bag. Hopefully with the mobile turned off, Francis would get the hint and not call Lloyd’s house phone through fear of Lloyd answering. Their altercation at our last meeting left Francis under no illusion that his status in the city would protect him should my brother hear he’d treated me with such a lack of respect a second time.
When I returned to the kitchen, they were deep in murmured conversation. Ryan’s head was close to Thom’s, but I couldn’t make out anything they were saying. Ryan’s hand, which was almost touching Thom’s on the table, moved for his glass when I stepped farther into the room and they realised I was there. When their eyes locked on me, Thom smirked.
What had they been discussing while I was out of the room? It briefly crossed my mind that Ryan was trying to flirt during dinner, but I wasn’t bold enough to believe it.
“Can we do anything else for you, Lyla?” Ryan asked, his lips twitchi
ng in the corners as his eyes found my chest.
He was definitely flirting. I couldn’t say I minded too much. He was handsome, in a rugged way, and I was flattered, but it had been a long time since anyone had paid me any kind of attention, and I really wasn’t sure how to react to it. The way his eyes sparked, I knew he’d realised I’d finally caught on to his attempts. Thom relaxed in his chair with an arm slung lazily over the back and an easy smile on his face.
My face heated under both their gazes. “I, um… I was going to head to bed actually.”
My mouth snapped shut when I realised how my words could be taken out of context. I waited. My answer was going to be taken either how I meant it or the wrong way. I fully expected it to be the latter, and was relieved when Ryan left the opportunity to embarrass me again untouched.
“If you need anything else from us, just knock.” It was the lazy wink, followed by the subtle purse of his lips, that got me.
I wasn’t imagining it. He really had been showing me he was interested. What did surprise me, however, was my response to such a subtle gesture.
Heat pooled between my legs and I fought the urge to clench my thighs to relieve the ache I hadn’t felt in far too long. The problem was, Ryan seemed all too knowing at the effect he was having, and by the smug expression on his face, it pleased him. I wet my lips and turned my attention to my wine glass.
It was empty, but my mouth still felt overly parched. Rather than down the water in the glass beside it, I composed myself enough to say, “Thank you. Night.”
“Good night, Lyla,” Thom replied, glancing at Ryan. There was something in his eyes—caution, perhaps?
Ryan didn’t notice Thom’s warning, because his eyes burned into my back as he tracked my retreat to the doorway. When I stopped to look at them over my shoulder one last time, I was greeted with a smug grin from Ryan.
He must have finally remembered to use his manners, because he murmured, “Night.”
Entirely flustered by Ryan’s flirting, I left them in the kitchen and went directly to the bathroom to wash up, before entering Lloyd’s bedroom and shutting the door firmly behind me. Ryan’s teasing played on a loop in my head. Was he flirting, or was I so unused to any friendly male attention that I was reading far too much into it? Not able to work it out, I stripped out of my clothes, dressed in the shorts and t-shirt I’d worn the night before, and climbed into bed.
A short time later, their voices could be heard directly outside the bedroom door, but their tone was too low to pick up what they were saying. A bedroom door creaked down the hallway and clicked close behind the occupant. A thump against the wall made me jump, quickly followed by another muffled sound.
One person couldn’t make that amount of noise, could they?
Then came a voice, so low I couldn’t make it out, closely followed by another. They were in there together. Already unusually turned on by Ryan’s suggestive comment, my mind went haywire as I contemplated what they were doing. It was difficult not to, but the more I focused on the possibility of them being together, the more I thought of myself with them. Thom’s arms. Ryan’s smile. Thom’s abs. Ryan’s mouth. What it would feel like to touch, to kiss, to—
That was quite enough.
Frustrated for allowing myself to think of my brother’s housemates like that, I grabbed my headphones from my suitcase with a huff and listened to smooth jazz—a guilty pleasure of mine—while I tried to get some sleep. If only I thought to have one of Francis’s classical music stored in the library, it would be a sure-fire way to turn me off and bore me to sleep.
4
Thom
Dinner with Lyla hadn’t taught us much more about her than what we’d already knew from Lloyd. She seemed guarded and that was only made worse by Ryan’s piss taking.
It was clear he was attracted to her, it was hard not to be with her beautiful brown eyes and full, pink lips. She was soft, feminine, and there was an underlying gentleness in her nature that called to me. It was the opposite of what drew me to Ryan. Something I hadn’t realised I was missing until I came face to face with her that morning.
We watched her leave the room in silence. I tried not to notice the sway of her hips as she walked out of the kitchen. Once I was satisfied she wasn’t within hearing distance, I shoved Ryan’s shoulder.
“That last one wasn’t fair of you,” I griped, as I gathered our plates and opened the compost bin to scrape them clean. “Inviting her to your room was a step too far.”
Ryan cooked, so I cleaned up. When the other two were home we took turns, Sam having a flair for pasta dishes, and Lloyd’s contribution usually being something ordered through an app. We saved that for Fridays.
He ignored me as he went to the fridge and took out two beers. He raised the bottle to his mouth and popped the top off with his teeth before doing the same with the other. He’s going to break a tooth one day doing that.
“She loves it,” he assured me, while tossing the lids on the worktop and putting my bottle on the table. “And you didn’t protest.”
“She doesn’t need it,” I argued, even though I knew it would be futile. Stubborn bastard always does what he wants, damning the consequences.
To my annoyance, my dick twitched as I watched his throat work on several swallows of the cool liquid before he replied, “You know as well as I do that she needs more than a few innuendos. She looks like she hasn’t had a good seeing to in years.”
We could only go by what Lloyd had told us about her marriage, but it didn’t take a genius to work out how bad things were when he arrived home after his last visit with her in London. Lloyd being angry was a rarity, because he was always so laid back. He was a good guy, but he hated his brother-in-law with a passion, and that told me all I needed to know about what type of man her husband was. I couldn’t remember ever seeing Lloyd as angry as last Christmas. The three-hour drive back hadn’t been enough to cool his temper, and when he arrived home and stormed into the house calling Francis a dip-shitted cock sucker, we knew his time with his twin hadn’t gone well.
No matter how much I didn’t want to admit it, Ryan was right—Lyla hadn’t had a good anything during her marriage. Yeah, she had money by all accounts, but you couldn’t buy happiness.
With effort, I forced my eyes to Ryan’s as I settled my hip against the counter for a moment. “You know that if she’s finally left the wanker something big has happened, and she’s likely very upset. Don’t wind her up, Ry.”
He was already running the water when I got to the sink with the plates, so I put them on the side and opened the dishwasher for him. I wasn’t about to point out he was doing my job.
“Who’s winding her up?”
With a sigh, I glowered at his all too knowing grin.
“She’s a good-looking lass,” he stated with a shrug, as though I hadn’t noticed.
“If you think that, then take her for a drink,” I suggested, “but don’t make her feel uncomfortable in her own home.”
Plates rinsed, he loaded them into the dishwasher. With a lull in the conversation, I brought over the casserole dish and two pans he’d used for vegetables, and allowed him to carry on.
After scrubbing for a couple of minutes, he asked, “You wouldn’t mind?”
“Why would I mind?” I questioned, grabbing my beer off the counter and taking a glug. “As long as we’re open, safe, and clear on—”
“You’re not interested?” he interrupted. There was caution and curiosity in his tone.
I took another drink. “I didn’t say that.”
I’d told him this morning she was pretty. I didn’t bother to mention that my interest was sparked despite her looking like she’d just wrestled a bear while in Lloyd’s clothes.
“I thought she’d look more like Lloyd,” Ryan mused, loading the last few things into the dishwasher and turning it on. Opening the cupboard beneath the sink to retrieve the kitchen cleaner and a cloth, he added, “I thought she’d be… you know.”
I held out a hand, offering to help, but he began spraying and wiping, too preoccupied to notice. She really had made an impression if he hadn’t realised he was doing the cleaning for me. I watched him for a moment, his brows pulled in tightly as he silently worked through his thoughts.
“Why would she look anything like him?” I queried, while placing my empty bottle in the recycling bin by the back door.
“They’re twins,” he answered pointedly, like that should make a world of sense.
“They’re opposite sexes,” I countered, trying not to laugh. “And she’s lived hours away for over a decade. I don’t think they have much in common anymore.”
Lyla was nothing like her brother. Perhaps her eyes and nose were like his, but she had lovely long lashes that made her eyes seem larger, and more pronounced cheeks that dimpled when she smiled.
“The dog was weird with her,” he continued, working his way around the room. “He just lay at her feet. Not a single grumble.”
“And that’s… bad?”
He finally looked up from his cleaning to catch the amused grin on my face. “Fuck off, you know what I mean,” he snapped with a scowl.
Gunner was highly trained, but living with us for a year had allowed him to relax. He behaved like most other dogs now—barking if a stranger came into the house, dragging anything he took an interest in out into the garden and mauling it. The usual dog stuff. Thinking about it, his lack of reaction to Lyla was a little strange.
“Maybe he recognised her scent,” I suggested lamely, before draining the last of his beer. “She used to live here after all.”
“A decade ago,” he scoffed, tossing the cloth into the sink and shoving the cleaner back underneath.
“I’m going up,” I announced, as I placed his empty bottle with mine and turned towards the door. I was done supposing things about our new housemate.
That was all I usually said, and he’d decide one way or the other from there.
His sigh was audible, but I didn’t look back. If he wanted to talk then he would, eventually. At length.
