Page 46 of My Cowboy Trouble
"Me too," Gavin adds.
"It's a rooster, not a three-person job," I protest.
"Everything's more fun with four people," Gavin says with a wink. "As we discovered last night."
My face burns as I corner Sir Clucks by the pantry, but he dodges me with surprising agility.
"Come here, you little terrorist."
"Want help?" Asher offers, but he's not looking at the rooster. He's watching the way my wet clothes cling to every curve.
"I've got it." I lunge for the rooster, who somehowends up in the pantry, knocking over boxes and sending spaghetti everywhere. "Son of a?—"
I finally grab him, holding him at arm's length while he glares at me with malevolent intent.
"Outside, Satan."
I carry him to the door and set him on the porch, where he ruffles his feathers indignantly before strutting off into the rain.
When I turn around, all three of them are watching me with expressions that make my knees weak.
"What?"
"Nothing," Asher says, stepping closer. "Just thinking about last night. And this morning. And tonight."
"There's not going to be a tonight."
"No?" Gavin moves closer from the other side. "Why not? Our rooms are so close. So convenient."
"It was a one-time thing," I insist, backing up until I hit the wall.
"Was it?" Trent asks, and suddenly he's there too, the three of them forming a semicircle around me. "Because one-time things don't usually leave marks."
His fingers brush the hickey on my neck, and I shiver.
"Or bruises," Asher adds, his hand ghosting over my hip where I know Gavin's handprint is.
"Or the kind of memories that keep us up all night," Gavin finishes, his voice low and rough.
"I need to unpack," I squeak, ducking under Asher's arm and practically running for the stairs.
"Want help?" they call in unison.
"No!"
But I can feel them watching me climb the stairs, and I definitely exaggerate the sway in my hips. Just a little.
I actually like the guest room—simple and clean, and it’s way bigger than what I have at home. Although I don’t know how we all fit in that bed last night. I’m trying to put the mess back together when Asher appears in the doorway.
"Yes?" I ask.
"I said I'd help." But instead of picking up the comforter off the floor, he heads to the bathroom. I see him picks up my face cream. "Face products always go on the second shelf."
"According to who?" I ask, joining him in the bathroom, where he moves closer to me.
"According to proper bathroom organization standards." He doesn't move away, his hands rearranging my stuff. "Haircare on top, face products second, body products third..."
"What do you know about beauty products? Don't tell me you use under-eye cream."
