Page 53 of Don't Go Breaking My Heart
I do the same before sliding onto a barstool, my plate clinking against the stone countertop, trying to suppress a grin; clearly these two are like fire and ice. Polar opposites. Responsible and…
Well.
A complete tool.
Nugget flops down dramatically at my feet with a huff—like he’s exhausted from our introduction.
“So,” Cash says, dragging his stool out with his foot and plops down beside me. “I just got back from the most epic snowboarding trip of my life.”
I glance up from my eggs, biting back a smile. “Oh yeah?”
It feels good being included in this post-trip tea.
“Totally.” Cash leans forward, elbows on the counter, talking with his mouth full. “Picture this: Colorado. Bluebird skies. Knee-deep powder. I shredded the gnar so hard Red Bull is thinking about erecting a monument in my honor.”
Turner mutters something suspiciously close to “Jesus Christ” into his coffee mug.
I stifle a laugh. “That so?”
Cash winks again. “Totally. Not to brag—except I’m definitely bragging—but I only biffed it once. One time, bruh—do you know how often that happens? Almost never. And that one fall wasn’t even my fault. Some fucker’s skis almost sideswiped me at full speed. Took me out like a goddamn bowling pin.”
Turner snorts again, louder this time.
Cash ignores him, grinning. “Twelve stitches in my hip, baby.”
“Oh wow,” I say, nodding solemnly. “So brave.”
Turner coughs to cover his laugh—and fails.
Cash grins. Chews. “Thank you. Iambrave.”
I shovel a bite of eggs into my mouth, glancing over at Turner. He’s watching me again. Watching Cash and me as ifhe’s studying the interaction, like he’s trying not to interfere.
Cash reaches for another piece of bacon and bites into it.
“Anyway, we’re going out tonight. You should come.”
Turner stiffens. “Who is we?”
“Me, Clark, Stashes, and Will.”
Stashes?
I’m too afraid to ask how Stashes got his nickname.
Instead I raise a brow as if I know the men he’s speaking about. “Go out? Where?”
“Bar down the street,” Cash says, still gnawing on his bacon. “Chill place. Good drinks. Pool tables. Dartboards. Hot single people.”
Hot single people…
As if there weren’t enough of them in this house?!
“Thank you for the invite, but I still have to set up the office in my bedroom.”
I’m in no rush to bond with this guy. He’s tooBrofor me. Cash probably thinks “emotional intelligence” is a brand of deodorant.
“You’d rather put together your office than go have drinks with your new roommates?” Cash clutches his chest like I physically wounded him. "Brutal. Shot to the heart."
