Page 16 of Well That Happened

I shift in my seat, crossing one leg over the other. I’m still in pajamas—tiny black sleep shorts and a soft gray T-shirt that clings in all the right places. No bra. Because it’s morning. And I live here now. Kind of.

The second I lean forward to grab my coffee, I feel it.

Hunter’s eyes.

Brief, but unmistakable—like his gaze drags over me before he jerks it away, jaw tighter than before.

Caleb’s not even subtle. He does a double-take, eyes dropping to my chest, then catching my smirk and raising his cereal like a white flag. “I like your shirt,” he says, innocent as sin.

Grayson doesn’t say anything. Doesn’tdoanything. But when I glance his way, he’s still looking. Like I’m a sketch he’s halfway through drawing and can’t decide where to shade next.

My skin buzzes.

I should be self-conscious. Should care that I’m practically half-dressed in a kitchen full of guys.

But I don’t.

Because I catch the way they all look at me.

And for once, it feels like power.

Then Hunter says, “We should talk rules.”

And just like that, the warmth fades.

I set my mug down. “Rules?”

“Yeah. You’re living here now. We all need boundaries.”

“Like no fun? Or just no female energy contaminating the air?”

Caleb jumps in. “I think what he means is—let’s figure out stuff like bathroom schedules. Chores. And, uh…” He looks at Hunter. “Guest policies?”

Hunter folds his arms. “No hooking up with anyone in the house.”

My eyes narrow. “You’re seriously making that arule?”

Grayson, still against the fridge, says nothing. But I swear his gaze sharpens.

“Look,” I say, leaning forward. “I didn’t move in here to start drama or seduce your entire hockey team. I moved in because my ceiling caved in and I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Doesn’t mean we don’t set ground rules,” Hunter growls, looking intense.

Caleb tries to defuse. “Let’s just call it a no-hurt-feelings clause.”

“You afraid of getting your feelings hurt?” I tease.

He grins. “Not unless you’re planning to break my heart.”

Grayson tosses him a dish towel. “Can we focus?”

Hunter shoots me one last warning look. “Just… keep things simple.”

I raise a brow. “Then maybe stop making things complicated.”

A long, loaded silence.

Then Caleb lifts the box of cereal like a peace offering. “Breakfast truce?”

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