Page 55 of Lost and Lassoed

After he put Riley to bed, he walked past the living room—again without looking at me—and slammed his bedroomdoor. I tried not to let my heart sink. I enjoyed the timewe usually spent together after Riley went to bed. I likedtalking to him, hearing about his day, laughing with him.

Something was seriously wrong with me—like I must be sick—if I was missing Gus Ryder’s company. But take me to the hospital, because I was.

I waited for a while, but he didn’t come back out. I texted Emmy.

Teddy:Dude. What the hell is up with your brother?

Emmy LOML:Like in general? Or like today?

Teddy:Today. He’s being more of a shit than usual.

Emmy LOML:Probably just one of his moods. It’ll blow over.

Emmy LOML:You won’t believe what he said to me yesterday, though.

Emmy LOML:He saw you flirting with the vet and said you could do better.

Teddy:I wasn’t flirting with the vet.

I actually was flirting with the vet, but not because I liked him or wanted to sleep with him again—because I wanted to make sure Maverick was getting the best care possible.

Emmy LOML:Yes you were. And you were very convincing. Jake is cute, but I don’t think his biceps deserve that much attention.

Teddy:It was all for Mav!

Emmy LOML:Well, duh. I knew that, but Gus didn’t. I was hoping the fact that he was even paying attention meant you two were getting along.

By “getting along,” I was ninety-nine percent sure my best friend didn’t mean the kitchen kiss yesterday, but I didn’t know for sure.

Teddy:We are. Well, I thought we were.

Emmy LOML:Okay then go talk to him.

Emmy LOML:You’re Teddy fucking Andersen and you don’t take shit from anyone.

Emmy LOML:Especially August Ryder.

Teddy:You’re right.

Without thinking too much about it, I threw my phone down on the couch and started toward Gus’s room. Once I was outside his door, I took a deep breath, then called out, “You better not be jerking off in there, August, because I’m coming in.”

I opened the door to Gus scrambling off his bed and saying, “What the fuck, Theodora.” His flannel pajama pants hung low on his hips, and he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

My mouth went dry.

Get it together, Teddy. You’ve seen a lot of men without shirts.

But not Gus Ryder—at least not for a long time. He wasn’t as free with his nipples as Brooks was. The planes of his stomach were defined, and the muscles in his chest and arms were toned by years of hard work. He had two swallow tattoos—one under each collarbone—and what looked like a sun on his ribs. I’d never seen those before.

“Why the fuck are you in my room, Teddy?” Right. I was in his room. I looked around, quickly taking in my surroundings. It was dim in here—there was a lamp on his nightstand and one by the entrance to his bathroom. His bed was big—king-sized, with a lot of blankets. More blankets than I ever thought Gus Ryder would have on his bed, honestly. There was a stack of children’s books on his nightstand, and a thick woolen rug covered the hardwood floors.

It was…nice in here. Simple. Masculine.

“Teddy.” Gus’s voice hit me again. Firm. Low. Annoyed.

“Why are you being an asshole to me?” I asked, not beating around the bush.

“I’m not,” he said, once again not making eye contact with me. “Also, stop shouting. There’s a kid asleep upstairs.”

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