Page 8 of My Instant Karma

“What are your names anyway?”

“Oh, now she asks!” Chuckles huffs and throws his hands in the air dramatically.

Hot-as-sin frowns at me. “What are we to you, just a couple of good-looking meatheads?”

“You got the meatheads part right.” I smile innocently to soften the insult.

“Did you know that you have a bad attitude?” Chuckles asks.

“And that would be a rhetorical question.” I shrug. “Also, I requested your names.”

Chuckles chuckles once again. “Bad attitude and tenacious. I think you might fit in here with your snark.” He sounds sincere in his comment, a touch of a Midwestern accent popping through. “I’m Asshole Number One, and he’s Number Two.”

I burst out laughing. “So let me get this straight. You are an ass, and he is shit?”

“Theshit,” Rude-as-sin, formally known as Hot-as-sin, argues.

“Keep believing that.” I pat Rude-as-sin on the shoulder.

He catches my wrist and holds my palm against his stupid muscles. “See? She can’t keep her hands off me!”

I wrench my hand back. “If you don’t tell me your names, you will forever be known as Asshole and Shit. Wait, you know what? Never mind, those names might fit you better anyway.”

“I’m Kurtis,” Chuckles says, giving in. “This asshole is Dante.”

Dante turns around, flashes me a sexy grin, and winks with his thick lashes, his vibrant sky blue eyes sparkling in the foyer lights.

Holy guacamole.

He has the whole So-Cal, model surfer thing down pat, complete with the swagger and laid-back drawl. The poser from the bar has absolutely nothing on Dante.

“Abandon all hope, ye who enter here,” I mutter, quotingInferno.

I divert my attention before I get caught being mesmerized by his gaze. Why are all hot guys such asses? I look over at Kurtis. Even just attractive guys are insufferable. Hell, that can be said about males in general. I mentally slap myself. Nope,allhumans can be dickheads.

“So where’s my room?” I ask as I shake my luggage for emphasis.

“Yourroom?” Kurtis chuckles. Will I ever get his nickname out of my head? “Precious, you are sleeping with us.”

“Yeah, no.”

“Leave her alone,” another male calls out.

I glance up the stairs to find the equivalent of a covertly sexy professor’s assistant. He wears a soft yet masculine V-neck sweater with a white tee underneath and has clean-cut, brown hair and intense, chocolate-colored eyes. Standing at roughly six-foot, he also wears an air of authority—likely their group’s leader.

Is it a basic job requirement that all of Karma’s dudes have to be good-looking?

“We are just properly hazing her.” Kurtis playfully shoves my shoulder like we are old pals.

“Consider your job done,” the new guy states with no room for argument. He tilts his head in greeting. “I’m Evan. Welcome to your instant karma life.”

Dread hits me in the stomach. I don’t want this life.

“Thanks?” I close my eyes and wish myself away. Nope. That isn’t working, so that isn’t a thing instant karma agents can do. Bummer, that seems like a wonderful trick to have in one’s arsenal.

Evan descends the stairs, and my eyes snap open. He’s staring at me with the same intensity as Karma did.

It’s the same technique I use when reading a rich client and I’m trying to understand their strengths and weaknesses to manipulate them.

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