Page 46 of Gorgeous

Do I want to rush him and squeeze those eight-pack abs until he begs for mercy?

You bet your ass I do.

“Are you offering to hang out with me tonight, Major Jameson?”

Cade’s eyes go crossed, and he pushes past me on the way to the dimly lit living room, calling over his shoulder, “Goodnight, B.”

I stand in the kitchen with a ridiculous grin on my face as Cade turns on the TV and settles on the sofa.

He’s warming up to me.

I let Cade get comfortable before I join him in the living room. A fleece throw is draped over the arm of the sofa, and I grab it, bundling up into a cocoon on the other side of Cade. He doesn’t look over, scrolling through the channels before stopping onTransformers.

Bumble Bee comes on the screen and my ribs feel tight as I think of Bennett and this movie. It was his favorite.

I yawn, absently admitting, “I love this movie.”

Cade turns and cocks his head to the side. “I thought you only liked hero movies?”

How ‘bout that? He pays attention.

“This is a hero movie,” I correct him, slouching into the cushions, the adrenaline of hunting a mythical creature earlier wearing off.

“How so?”

Cade honestly seems curious as his gaze flicks back and forth from the screen to my face.

I give him a tired smile, yawning once again. “Apart from the military and the alien beings, the true hero is the awkward high school kid.” My head lolls to the side, inching closer to Cade’s shoulder. “Sam gave awkward kids like me and my brother hope that one day we would find purpose. A place amongst the heroes.”

“Huh,” is all Cade responds with, turning back to the movie. Bumble Bee attempts to hide behind the flower pot and I feel my eyes closing, my body drifting down as if strong hands are pulling me into a lap, my face colliding with the softest flannel. I snuggle down with a content hum when my scalp tingles under his touch. I feel the safest I’ve ever been when I hear, “Go to sleep, baby. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

B,

Eight weeks! We’re coming home in eight weeks. I hope. You never know, but it’s soooo close I can almost taste it. I miss you, loser. Oh! I almost forgot. I heard one of the guys say his daughter has a VLOG. Maybe you, Jess, and Milos should look into it? Kind of goes with your movie review … you still suck though.

#butsomeonehastoloveyou #weneedmorecookies #majoreatsthemall

Bennett Brannon

Washing dishes sucks about as much as a menstrual cycle. Anniston said the guys would wash them, but after seeing how hard they work all day with their jobs and workouts, I feel a little guilty staying home and watching them scrub pots and pans after a long day.

I only offered once, and they jumped on the idea like I was selling Girl Scout cookies—the caramel ones.

Vic dashes past me, throwing, “See ya later, B,” at me before I can respond. He’s obviously running late. Mason clomps down the stairs about five minutes later, dropping the F bomb as he hurries past, snagging a protein bar off the counter, Killer right behind him. “We overslept,” he tells me, shoving half the protein bar in his mouth and dropping a piece to Killer, who doesn’t even chew it.

Come to think of it, I didn’t hear them going for their morning run. I’ve gotten so used to the early morning noise that I’ve learned to sleep through the grumbling hotties. “Where’s Cade?” I holler at Mason’s back as he runs for the back door.

“Don’t know. Gotta go.”

Something feels off, and it’s not because I fell asleep on Cade last night and woke up tucked into my bed this morning like that’s where I fell asleep all along.

Something feelsreallyoff.

Maybe it’s that their routine is broken or maybe because it’s silent in the house. I assumed everyone was outside. Turning off the water and wiping my hands on the towel, I head upstairs, checking Tim’s room first. It’s not locked. I knock, and he opens the door, looking out of sorts. His sandy hair is sticking up, giving him that freshly fucked look. I know that’s not the case, the empty room confirms it, but still … how unfair. Hair that naturally looks good when you wake up should only be saved for women. Men don’t deserve freshly fucked hair.

“Everything okay?” I ask with a smile, trying not to look at those yankable golden locks.

He nods and rasps out a broken, “Woke up late.”

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