Page 64 of Pack Plus One

“The food smells delicious,” Mason redirects smoothly. “Can we help with anything?”

Caleb hasn’t moved from his position near the door. Hasn’t spoken since commenting on the lamb. He justlooksat me, his green eyes tracking my every movement like I’m prey he’s afraid will bolt if he blinks.

The air between us crackles with something I refuse to focus on.

Zoe, the traitor, chose this exact moment to text:

Remember, no climbing out fire escapes! xoxo

I’ve been abandoned.

“Drink?” I offer, my voice higher than usual. “I have wine. And whiskey. And... more wine.”

“Wine would be lovely,” Liam says, at the exact same moment Caleb growls, “Whiskey.”

They exchange a look I can’t interpret. Caleb moves to set the lamb down on the counter.

“I’ll take whatever you’re having, doll,” Jude says, already making himself comfortable on my now-broken couch.

I retreat to the kitchen, grateful for a moment to breathe. My hands shake slightly as I pull down glasses. Four males. In my space. Watching my every move with varying degrees of intensity.

This was a terrible idea.

“Need help?” Mason materializes beside me, making me jump.

“Jesus!” I clutch my chest. “Make some noise when you move!”

“Sorry.” He doesn’t look sorry at all. “You seem tense.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” I mutter, shoving a bottle opener at him. “Open that while I check the lamb.”

He complies, his movements efficient and precise. “We can leave if this is too much,” he offers quietly. “We understand this is... unconventional.”

I snort. “Unconventional is using a bagel as your phone holder. This is—” I wave vaguely at the four of them, “—beyond unconventional.”

“Unprecedented?” he suggests, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Despite myself, I smile. “Something like that.”

Mason pours the wine with the expertise of someone who’s spent time in fine dining establishments. But then again, this is what they do for a living. “For what it’s worth,” he says, his voice low enough that only I can hear, “we didn’t plan for any of this.”

“You mean you didn’t set out to accidentally hire a fake escort, sleep with her, then steal her underwear?”

His lips twitch. “Not specifically, no.”

“Well, at least we’re all improvising,” I mutter, arranging salad onto plates with fingers that annoyingly tremble.

Dinner starts with the salad—and the tension breaks when Jude reaches across the table for the salt, knocking over Liam’s water glass in the process.

“Really?” Liam sighs, quickly lifting his napkin as water drips toward his lap.

“My bad.” Jude grimaces.

Mason moves to help, but his elbow catches the edge of the wine bottle, sending a splash of cabernet across the tablecloth like an abstract painting.

“Shit,” Mason mutters, grabbing for napkins as the red spreads dangerously close to Liam’s light-colored shirt.

Liam shifts back so quickly he nearly topples his chair. “Is this a coordinated attack?” he asks dryly.

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