Page 7 of Hard Ruck

Although, I was already losing track of the amount of times Dallas and I fucked when Doctor Stuart wasn’t around. We were lucky no one had walked in on us.

So far.

Movement in the doorway caught my eye.

“What the fuck?” Frost asked.

Chapter Four

Frost

I didn’t givea shit about Atlas or his broken nose. If I was honest, I actually headed to the infirmary after training to see how hard Chelsea kicked his ass. He was a sullen prick, even worse than Storm and Dallas. Not that I gave a shit, like I said. The guy was hot, but he was a stone cold asshole. If you ask me, he had the perfect name. He walked around like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Some people had to be too literal.

Not me though. My last name might be Frost, but I’m never cold with anyone, especially Chelsea and Storm. Let’s be real here, ifIlived up to my name I’d be an absolute prick.

Standing in the doorway, trying to wrap my head around what I just witnessed, I could easily be one. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Atlas gave Chelsea his number. With her knowledge and consent. What the fuck was he playing at?

A little voice in the back of my head asked,What is she playing at?

Atlas turned slowly, ice pack pressed against his annoyingly attractive face. “None of your fucking business.”

I smirked and turned my attention to Chelsea. “I wasn’t asking him, I was asking you. Why did he need your phone?”I was hoping she’d have some response that made sense. Something that wasn’t what I thought I saw.

“He was giving me his number,” she said easily.

“What for?” I asked.Please tell me it’s a medical situation. If it wasn’t, it might become one.

“He asked me out on a date,” she replied in the same tone.

“You needed his number so you could tell him no?” I guessed. That had to be it, right? “You can tell him no right to his face.” Without glancing at him, I gestured toward Atlas.

He was built about the same as me. In a fight, I’d have the advantage that he was already injured. Otherwise, we’d be relatively evenly matched.

“I’ve got a better idea,” Atlas said. “It’s called ‘mind your own fucking business.’ If the good doctor wants to go out with me, that’s her choice. Right, Chelsea?”

I slowly turned and gave him half an eye. “Did I mention I wasn’t asking you?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t listening,” he said. To Chelsea he said, “I look forward to your text. Thanks for the ice pack.” He held it up, to toast her with it before shouldering past me and heading out into the corridor.

I pinched myself.

“Not dreaming. Why the hell would you want to go out with him?” In this case, being good-looking was no excuse. Neither was having a big cock. The chip on his shoulder was bigger.

“Why wouldn’t I?” She pulled off a pair of rubber gloves and flicked them into the rubbish bin. “I’m not committed to anyone.”

I have to admit, that stung. I was totally committed to her and to Storm. Not formally. We hadn’t talked about it yet, but in my brain we were solid.

“I don’t see it that way,” I said.

“I thought you might not.” She turned on a tap and started to wash her hands. “That whole, ‘you guys own me,’ thing.”

“You didn’t seem to have a problem with that before.” I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against the wall beside her. “Storm is going to be pissed.”

She turned off the tap and grabbed a towel to dry her hands. “Storm is going to have to deal with it. We’ve already discussed the possibility of me seeing other men. Other men might include Atlas.” She lifted her chin, all defiance, asking for her ass to be smacked in punishment.

I ran a hand through my hair, which was still damp from the thirty second shower I’d basically run through. “What does this mean?”

She tossed the towel in the rubbish bin, turned to face me and crossed her own arms.

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