Chapter 4

Chapter

Four

GRACE

Placing the last box inside, I spin around slowly to take in my new room and smile at the sight of the space. It's not just a room. This is a home. It's inviting and comforting, even if it's plain. It's waiting for a personal touch.

I don't know what that personal touch is going to be yet, but I'll be the one to put it there. My last place, I was just a visitor, really. It wasn't anything I cared much about. It was a room to sleep in. This is different. I feel it deep in my bones.

This is bigger than going away to college.

This is huge.

I know it is.

There is a quiet knock beside me. Turning my head, I look over my shoulder and see Brooklynn standing in my doorway. She is smiling, although it seems almost sad. Frowning, I start to ask her what's wrong, but she speaks before I can.

"This was Lorelai's room," she whispers.

I thought she had said this girl had gotten with one of the guys across the street, but her sadness and melancholy fill the room, and I'm suddenly unsure if I heard her correctly. I open my mouth again to ask her if everything is alright and if her friend is okay, but she speaks again and cuts me off.

"I'm being sad, which is dumb. Everything changes, and she's so happy with Reid. They're perfect for one another. But seeing someone else move in here made me sad for a minute."

Brooklynn shakes her head a couple of times, then, as if flipping a switch, her entire face transforms, and she's wearing a happy expression—almost excited even.

"I'm glad you're here, though. I think this is going to be fun."

I smile. I don't tell her it won't be fun if I can't get my shit together and think of some kind of career to strive for that doesn't involve a four-year university degree because I doubt I'll get accepted into anything after that whole fiasco.

And that it really won't be fun if my father decides to cut me off before I have said career and job to pay my bills. My father would do that. As much as he claims he wants to help, I know him better than that.

"I hope so," I say. "I need to focus on a plan."

Brooklynn's teeth sink into the corner of her bottom lip, and I can tell she's thinking of something. I'm just not sure if I'm going to like what she has to say.

"I can't offer you anything huge because our salon is brand new, but we do need someone to answer phones, sweep up the hair on the floor, and clean the wash stations. It won't pay much at all, minimum wage, and really, we can't hire you full time or anything…"

I know she doesn't think she's offering me anything special, but she doesn't realize that she's offering me everything right now. Sure, I won't be able to pay for my own rent, or anything else on that, not in this economy, but it is giving me something I need—a start.

"I would love that. I'll take it," I say instantly. I don't even need to think about it. I know it's exactly what I need right now. "When do I start?"

Brooklynn claps her hands together a few times, then squeals with delight. I almost laugh at her, but instead, I just smile because her good news is infectious, to say the least. She takes a step toward me, then another, and wraps her arms around me in a hug.

"I'm so excited," she whispers against my ear before she releases me and takes a step backward. "Dinner tonight, charcuterie and drinks to celebrate."

"We already celebrated last night," I call out.

She turns around, then looks back over her shoulder at me, wearing what I can only describe as a devious smile before she speaks.

"Tonight, we celebrate with the neighbors. You get to meet the whole crew."

With a wink and without saying another word, she turns and walks out of the room. I stand in the middle of the bedroom, staring at the empty doorway, wondering what the hell I'm going to do next.

Anxious energy slides throughout my entire body. I cannot tell these guys who my dad is. There is no way that will go over well. They'll see me as different and treat me differently, too.

I decide to keep the fact that my father is essentially their boss to myself. Nobody needs to know. I'm here to change my own life, to better myself, to figure out what happens next. It doesn't have anything to do with him. And it's not like we're close, anyway. They will probably never figure it out.

I'm grateful to him because I would be living in my car right now if it weren't for his help. But I'm still going to try to do as much as I possibly can without asking for any more. And I certainly am not telling a soul who my father is.

Not the girls, and especially not these guys.

OTTO

"Don't get too comfortable," Forrest calls out as soon as I walk into the house.

Tossing my gym bag on the floor beside the front door, I move farther into the living room. The guys are all in different positions—sitting, standing, leaning against walls—but they are all together as if they're getting ready to go somewhere.

"Why's that?" I ask, walking into the kitchen and heading straight for the fridge.

Tugging the door open, I scan the contents. Every week, one of us shops for the house in an effort to keep things fair. Last week was Lev's, and it's obvious. The man has never heard of a snack in his whole fucking life. He buys ingredients for meals and cooks food but nothing to snack on—ever.

"The girls are inviting us over for dinner and drinks. Got a new one who just moved in today."

That gets my attention.

I want to see the woman with the ass up close and in person. I need to know how gorgeous she is. I have to know. Because without a doubt, if she is half as nice up close as she is from a distance, I'm going to have a hard time staying away from her.

"Girl dinner?" I ask.

Lev breaks out a laugh. "You know that is what it will be. It's what it always is."

"You got any ideas of what we could cook in the time we need to make it so we don't end up with hangovers?" I ask.

"We need carbs," Alexei's voice booms from the top of the stairs.

A few moments later, the grill is on and warming up to make burgers. Lev has cut up all the fixings, and the fries are in the oven. If we don't get some food in us, that little meat and cheese tray the girls try to call dinner will just piss us off, and I'm still on the edge of a hangover from our celebration a few nights ago.

Food consumed, showers taken, and a couple of six-packs in hand, we all walk across the street to the house that has become almost a second home to us. A place we're all comfortable.

It's a place that is always on my radar, too. I glance at it out of the corner of my eye every day, coming and going, keeping an eye on them. The houseful of girls who live there, no matter what, will always be looked after.

I want to make sure they're safe—always.

I feel as if we have a duty, all of us, to them. I know they're independent women. I know they're strong and perfectly capable of taking care of themselves, but at the same time, we all feel a sense of duty to them.

Lifting my hand, I ball my fingers into a fist and start to knock on the door when it flies open, and Brooklynn greets me with a big smile.

"Come inside," she says as she steps to the side.

There is music already playing, and the women are in the backyard. "We decided on a patio party since the weather is nice," Brooklynn announces.

I follow her through the living room and then the sliding glass door. There, the girls' charcuterie is set up on a table, along with an ice chest that's filled with beer and ice. Crouching down, I take the beers I brought out of my carrier and shove them down in the ice. Forrest does the same.

Standing from the ice chest, I look around the yard. It doesn't take me long to find exactly what I'm looking for… or rather, who. She's there. Just a few feet away, her back to me. That ass on display in a pair of tight jeans.

"Grace, I want you to meet the guys," Brooklynn calls out.

Then Grace spins around, and my goddamn heart stops beating in my chest. Holy fucking shit. I recognize her from the arena the other day. I bumped into her after walking out of Coach Burns' office. She's just as fucking stunning now as she was the other day.

Long blonde hair and green eyes that could suck the soul out of a man and hold him hostage. My spine straightens as if someone has picked it up for me and placed it perfectly rod straight.

And those eyes are going to suck my fucking soul out of my body and hold it hostage. I think I would let her, too. I've never seen a woman like her before. I don't know why I'm drawn to her. I don't know why she makes me feel this intense, but I need to find out.

I don't ask her what she was doing at the coach's office. It doesn't matter—nothing does—because she owns me. One look, one smile—she owns me.

"Timberrrrrrr," Lev calls out. "I think we may have lost another one."

Grace breaks eye contact with me and glances at Lev. Her brows knit together, and she opens her mouth, likely to ask him what the fuck he's talking about. But before she can, I introduce myself.

"I'm Otto," I say.

Her eyes come back to meet mine, and she gives me a small smile. Extending my arm, I hold my hand out for her. She slips her fingers inside, and I gently grip her, shaking her hand once.

Sparks fly. I never understood that before now. How you could feel jolts of electricity coming from a single touch. But it zaps throughout my entire body, and I want it again and again. I wonder what it's going to feel like when I slide inside of her because I will be fucking her… eventually.

"Nice to meet you," she whispers.

She seems skittish, so I release her hand and shove mine in my pocket. "Nice to meet you, too. Did you get all moved in?"

I rock back on my heels, wishing I could touch her again—everywhere. Her smile brightens slightly, and she dips her chin once. "I don't have much, just a few boxes, and they're already unpacked."

"Grace doesn't waste even a second," Brooklynn calls out. "She's going to work at the salon, too."

Grace.

I fucking love that name.

Grace's cheeks tint pink with embarrassment. I don't want to make her feel worse, so instead of asking her any more questions, I give her a wink and take a step to the side. I want to get to know her.

I want to kiss her.

I want to taste her.

I want to fuck her—long and hard.

But I'm not sure she is ready for that. It's clear to me that she's shy. And as much as I love a woman who is confident and straightforward, I can't deny that she intrigues me.

I want more of her, and she's standing right in front of me.