18. Meggie

18

Meggie

I sleep restlessly, not used to my new room. At midnight, I give up, rearrange the pillows on the bed, and finish unpacking my last two boxes. Then I try to sleep again. Can't. So at three, I rearrange the furniture. Everything still feels off. I desperately want to take my blanket and sneak up to the nest to sleep there, but I keep myself in check by rearranging the furniture a second time.

Eventually, I crash out of sheer exhaustion. By the time I wake up, it's well after nine. Late for me. I usually get up early and hit the pool by seven.

I can hear noises coming from around the house. A shower is on somewhere. A door opens and closes. Someone is walking down the stairs. The sounds of a pack waking up. Still tired, I shower, dress, take my suppressants and blockers, then decide to find something to eat.

A contented feeling settles in over my restless night as I run my hand along the banister on my way downstairs. Their house is really nice. And it smells so good—like all of them. Their scents have this disconcerting way of immediately putting me at ease.

I feel less antsy knowing I'm heading for the communal living space of the house. The opposite should be true, given the level of deception I'm working here, but I can't help how comfortable I feel around these men, even after only one day. That's not a feeling I want to examine.

Rounding the corner into the kitchen, I freeze. The smell of bacon sizzling is glorious, but it's the sight that stops me in my tracks. Oz's bare ass.

Standing in front of the stove without a stitch of clothing on, Oz snaps the tongs in his grasp before turning down the burner. He's an Olympic athlete, and his body is muscled perfection. I've seen him in the pool before, but now I know exactly where the tattoos stop and tender bare skin remains.

The pan of bacon gives a pop, and Oz swears as the hot grease hits his flesh. When he turns away from the stove, his front is on full display. My eyes aren't under my control as they shamelessly travel the length of his body. And the length is impressive.

The dark swirls of his tattoos blend from intricate blooming roses to skulls and ocean waves. His ink seems to highlight the contours of his body rather than detract from all the time he spends in the weight room. Bringing my gaze back up his shins and thighs, that impressive length is no longer flaccid. Just like swimmers, water polo players shave everything.

"Mornin', baby girl." His tone is honeyed glee.

I jerk my gaze away from his body, certain my cheeks must be scarlet. "Wha-what's for breakfast?"

The man has no shame, but I have enough embarrassment for the both of us and stay rooted to the spot.

"Anything for you, Meggie." I know he isn't talking about the meal. "Strawberries. Warm biscuits. Sausage."

The way he says sausage tells me this man knows exactly the impact he's having on my morning. How can my mouth be so dry and other parts of me be so wet? Why can't it balance out so I can act normal?!

"Ozren." Harrison's tone makes me jump. I didn't hear him come up behind me. "We discussed this."

I spin to look at Harrison and find him glaring at Oz from behind a pair of dark framed glasses I've never seen him wear before. They make him look studious and softer somehow, although it would be pretty hard to make Harrison seem soft, the man is all alpha.

Oz only shoots him a lazy grin as he pulls open a drawer beside the stove and picks up an apron. Shaking out the black fabric, he ties the strings around his bare waist and a white "Kiss The Cook" scrawl covers the front.

"Oz." I can hear the exasperation in Harrison's voice as he slides past me and goes for coffee. "Put the kettle on for Meggie. And I thought we talked about being on our best behavior?"

"This is my best behavior," Oz replies, his eyes still on me. Why haven't I moved?

Giving myself a little shake, I follow Harrison and pluck a blue mug from the cupboard.

"Naked isn't best behavior. It's a health code violation." Pointing out the sugar and honey, Harrison runs a hand over his chin before turning to pull out bar stools for the two of us.

"Lucky for us the health department isn't here," Oz beams. "Bacon?"

Admitting defeat, Harrison nods. "Crispy, with—"

"With a yolky egg and avocado toast," Oz finishes. "I know." Turning back to the stove, his backside is still fully on display, only now it's decorated with the apron ties.

I've never been much of an ass girl. Guy butts are…they are butts. Kinda funny in a really immature way, never exceptionally sexy. But seeing Oz in all of his glory gives me a new appreciation for weighted hip thrusts and whatever else he does that creates such a glorious backside.

"Does he always cook in the nude?" Waiting for the kettle and wrapping my hands around the empty mug, I try to keep myself from thinking of wrapping my hands around Oz.

Harrison replies with a sigh, but there's a hint of a smile as he says, "Breakfast he does, yup. Or he tries to anyway."

McQuinn told me Oz was the newest in the pack, but I can hear the affection in Harrison's voice. I know he isn't sexually involved with the rest of the men, but the camaraderie and sense of family is there.

"It keeps my shoes clean," Oz quips from the other side of the island as he throws two slices of a thick, hearty wheat into the toaster. "And Meggie, you didn't say what you wanted."

"Can I have an egg and bacon sandwich?" I haven't had someone cook breakfast for me in a while. Em is a big cereal girl, so our apartment always had seven open boxes of wheat flakes and crunchy granola. But we rarely cooked.

"You can have anything you want, baby girl."

A zing of energy speeds down my spine right to my core, but then he adds an eyebrow wiggle and hip thrust, and I have to hide my laugh by clearing my throat. Trying to steer the conversation back, I ask, "Can't you cook with pants but no shoes?"

Oz gives me a shrug before shaking his butt. "I like the breeze around my parts. I sleep naked, and wake up hungry, so I cook nude." Turning back to the stove, he leaves us a view of his sculpted ass as the kettle whistles.

Clearing his throat, Harrison grabs the kettle off the stove and fills my cup. "I know you signed the papers before you moved in, but I'm hoping you read them over before you signed. McQuinn mentioned your job."

"Oh, uh, yeah." I busy myself steeping a tea bag into the steaming water.

Talking about money isn't something I'm comfortable with. Since we didn't have a lot of it growing up, money talks always came with a little side order of embarrassment for how tight things were or guilt for how much my swimming lessons cost. "Listen, I don't want to take advantage of you guys. I can pay my own way, chip in on groceries, anything to keep it fair."

I can tell immediately by the way Harrison's eyebrows lift over the top of his glasses that I'm wasting my breath.

"No."

That's all he says. A single word shooting down my attempts at remaining an independent, self-sufficient woman. Well, ok, I'm already living in their gorgeous house but the least I can do is pay for part of the water bill or something.

"But I—"

"Baby girl." Oz slides my crispy bacon egg sandwich across the counter. "Let your daddies take care of you. You just focus on handling our balls in the pool."

Harrison snorts out a laugh and I can't stop the twitch of my own lips.

"No? That didn't land?" Oz glances between us. "Alright, rewrite. Take two."

"Hey!" I reach for my breakfast, but Oz takes the plate away as he resets the scene.

Turning away from us, his shoulders rise with a deep breath, then he turns back around, serving a smoldering gaze. "Baby girl, daddy's home now." He again slides my breakfast plate to me. "Let daddy handle the bills and you just keep things nice and wet for him in the yard."

Choking on his coffee, Harrison's laugh drowns out my own giggles. "In the yard? Is she a dog?"

Oz scratches the back of his neck. "Because the pool is in the yard! Pool… water… wet… It's a double on ton druh."

"You mean a double entendre?" Harrison grins. "Have you ever flirted with a woman in real life? How you land all those women is beyond me." Reaching for a hand towel, Harrison wipes up his sputtered coffee before tossing the soiled linen at the attempted flirt. "Go put some damn pants on and give it a rest."

"One more try." Oz reaches again for my breakfast, but I yank the plate out of his grasp.

"Pants," Harrison says. "Let her eat in peace."

With a grumble as he yanks off the apron, Oz shoots Harrison a scowl before leaving the kitchen. The view as he walks away is still glorious, despite the piss poor attempts at seduction or whatever that was.

"He's usually much better at that," Harrison offers. "Most women have a hard time resisting Oz. Though normally he doesn't have to say much." Picking up his coffee mug, he raises it in a brief salute. "Glad you're on the team, Meggie."

A little bubble of pride swells to life in my chest. "I'm glad, too."