Page 53 of Gigi and the Gym Rats

“I don’t understand how Ronin isn’t kicking up a fuss about it,” she goes on, turning toward her room. “He’s usually more sensitive to scents than I. I want…” She sighs softly. “Never mind. It’s all good. I’ll grab some sleep. Long haul flights are killers.”

* * *

Lying in my bed, I stare at the ceiling. I can almost feel Casey on the other side of the wall, and Ronin behind the other. I’m sandwiched between them, in a way. I’m thinking about both of them, while Zayne and Grey keep trying to intrude into the picture.

It’s a no-go tonight, though, because Casey has a starring role in my thoughts.

It worries me, that Sophie is so bothered by Casey’s scent. I thought the suppressants and blockers had taken care of the issue. What if she decides we need to kick him out?

It would solve one of your male problems, a small voice in my head points out.Out of sight, out of mind, right?

I don’t like that voice. I don’t like the thought of Casey leaving, and not only because he seems to be out of options.

Examining that thought is a mistake. It has layers—like Casey’s smile, his room with the printouts from videogames, the dark desire in his eyes when he held me, the anger underlaying despair when he’d talked to Sophie.

Even his scent forms a layer, promising sweetness with a bite, sugar mixed with pepper and allspice. Promising a sweet temperament, though that may be a false promise. Scents are linked to bodies, not characters, and…

My God, I won’t get any sleep like that. An herbal tea might help me relax. I think we have mint and chamomile, or some such mixture. Sophie buys them. I’ll buy her a package next time I go shopping.

In my long pajama pants and my thin top, grabbing my phone, I open my door. It’s late, probably past midnight. I don’t turn on any lights and tiptoe through the hall and into the kitchen, using my phone’s light to see where I’m going, hoping not to wake up anyone.

I head straight for the cupboards, flashing my phone light to see what I’m doing.

Something scrapes on the floor behind me and I yelp, spinning around, almost dropping my phone. I lift it like a weapon. “Is anyone there?”

Another light comes on, another phone. “Just me,” Casey says, a rueful smile on his face. “Sorry if I scared you.”

“Me? Nah.” I give a small, shaky laugh. “Nothing scares me.”

Such a lie.

But he only nods. “I believe it.”

“You shouldn’t,” I whisper. As my heart slowly calms down, I gesture at him. “What are you doing up? It’s late.”

“Same as you, I guess.” He nods at a mug on the table. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Tea?”

“Mint infusion,” he says. “Want some?”

“I’d love to.”

So I stand back and watch him prepare me a mint tea, his movements spare and efficient in the light of our phones. I don’t make a move to turn on the overhead lights, and he doesn’t either. The strange angle of the light from the two phones silvers his profile as he fills up a cup and thrusts it into the microwave, then takes a sachet of mint tea from the cupboard.

I find myself admiring his sinewy arms, the play of muscles in his back through his thin white T-shirt, his firm ass in his red pajama pants…

The microwave dings, jerking me out of my dazed contemplation of his body, and he turns with the cup in his hand. He places it on the table and lifts his gaze to me. He looks like an exotic animal, I think, his eyes almost colorless like beach glass in the beams of light.

“Are you okay?” I blurt out.

He lifts his dark brows. “What?”

“Sorry.” I sit, draw the cup toward me, burning my hands. “It’s just… what happened with Sophie last night. It’s been on my mind. How did she smell you from across the hall is beyond me.”

“She didn’t. I was coming out of my room and she literally brushed by me.”

“That makes more sense,” I mutter.

---