Page 66 of Tempting the Player
“If you won’t stay with me, then I guess I’ll have to stay here.”
21
JANE
On Tuesday morningI arrive at the Holland house with a suitcase, laptop and school stuff, plus coffee, donuts, three magazines, and I downloaded two audiobooks just in case. I have no idea what I’m in for.
I park in the driveway, per my instructions. I’m not sure if I should find it endearing or overbearing that he specifically parked his big black truck along the street to give me a spot in the small driveway next to Archer and Brogan’s Bronco.
The door opens before I can knock. Hendrick does a slow sweep of me standing on the other side before reaching for the coffees and donuts. “What is all this?”
“I brought caffeine and sugar. I figured if I was going to spend so much time with you, I might need both to keep you in a good mood.” I smile sweetly at him.
Brogan laughs from where he stands in the kitchen, shirtless and with some serious bedhead. “Shit, Hen, she’s got your number.”
When Hendrick sets the donuts and coffee down on the island, Brogan reaches for one only to have his hand batted away. “Didn’t you hear her, they’re all for me.”
“You couldn’t even if you tried.” Brogan comes sauntering out of the kitchen toward me as I set the rest of my stuff down at the dining room table. Though maybe it’s more just a table in the dining room, since it’s obvious from the various items littering the top, it hasn’t been used for anything but storage lately.
“This guy lives on oatmeal, grilled chicken, and veggies.”
“That’s not true,” Hendrick says.
“He had a cheeseburger and fries yesterday,” I counter. “And I saw him eyeing the milkshakes.”
“Well, that explains why you were up half the night hitting the bag in the garage,” Brogan says to Hendrick, then pats his stomach. His very flat, very muscled and defined, washboard abs to be more specific. “Had to work off those extra calories.”
“That’s not...I wasn’t...” Hendrick trails off with a laugh. “Take a damn donut and get out of here.”
Brogan grins as he flips open the box and chooses a vanilla frosted donut and a glazed. “Thanks,” he says after he’s taken a large bite out of the vanilla. “One for Arch too.”
“There’s extra coffee,” I tell him. “But don’t take the one with the HH on the side.”
He finishes off his donut before getting a coffee. He lifts it into the air in a salute to me as a door opens and Archer steps out. His eyes are half open as he shuffles out in his boxers. He adjusts himself while he lets out a loud yawn. Brogan smirks as his buddy finally looks up and sees everyone staring at him.
“Hey, Archer,” I say, trying to diffuse the awkwardness.
Archer doesn’t look my way, but he sees the coffee and donut in Brogan’s hand and asks, “Where’d that come from?”
Hendrick meets my gaze. “He doesn’t have his hearing aids on yet.”
Brogan points at me and Archer swivels around.
“Oh shit,” he says when he spots me. He drops one hand to cover his flannel-covered crotch and waves with the donut in hand. “Hey, Jane. Didn’t know you were here already. Mornin’, roomie.”
I glance back at Hendrick. Of course, he already told them I was moving in before I agreed. He’s always so damn confident. He eyes my suitcase as if to say, “well I was right, wasn’t I?”
“Morning!” I chirp back and then busy myself with pulling out my laptop and getting set up at the table so I can work on school stuff while Archer and Brogan disappear, presumably to put some clothes on.
“Sorry.” Hendrick comes over to help. He shoves a stack of clothes over, then picks up a remote and mutes the TV. “Mornings around here can be a little chaotic. They’ll be out of here soon.”
“I don’t mind,” I say honestly. “Actually, aside from the slightly awkward encounter with your brother in his boxers, it’s all sort of endearing.”
He arches a brow in disbelief.
“I’m serious. It has such a different vibe than our house. We’re all quiet and considerate, coordinated furniture, wine stocked in the fridge, gowns in the coat closet, and dance music always at the ready, and you guys are sports, empty beer bottles, half-naked guys, and—”
“A mess,” he finishes for me.
