Chapter 28

Winnie

A s the days and nights pass, the anxiety I had felt about spending so much time in my childhood home drains away, thanks to my ten gorgeous men. In the span of a few days, my life has shifted and widened in unexpected ways. The relentless rhythm of hammers striking wood, and the sweet symphony of the brothers’ laughter, fills my world like never before.

By day, my boys are the architects of the house’s transformation. By night, they’re the architects of my transformation. If I were to sit down and write my memoir today, I’d call it From Virgin to Vixen: Renovating Winnie Wainwright . This has all happened so fast. I still can’t believe it is happening at all. The time before I started dating my boys, in some ways, seems like a distant memory already.

As I walk out of the Hammer house, I can’t help singing about myself in third person—as sexually and emotionally satisfied women obviously do .

“Winnie has work to do, Winnie has work to do!”

I have the silly, giddy urge to stop in the middle of the street and yell at the top of my lungs, “My name is Winnie Wainwright and I love my life!”

I waltz into the reno house—which is how I’ve started thinking about it to keep myself from getting dragged back into the mire of emotions from the past every time I walk through the door. I expect one of the boys to shout at me about what zones I’m forbidden from entering, as they usually do upon my entry. They’re so adorbs with their secret projects.

Though, I can’t lie. I’m a little nervous about what’s going on in the room that used to be my dad’s. I haven’t been allowed in there at all. One of them even put a padlock on the door.

Today, the house is still and silent.

“Hello?”

I’m earlier than usual, but some of the brothers have to be over here already? I didn’t see anyone in the Hammer house as I left, but sometimes the guys go on breakfast runs.

Not all at once, though.

“Hello?”

I walk through the house. Movement outside a window catches my eye. Taking another look, I see that Gunnar and Cruz are in the backyard. They’re both looking at a phone.

Cruz’s expression is hard to read. Gunnar looks pissed .

Unease prickles through me.

The second I open the back door, they fumble the phone like I’m Anna and they’re twelve and I just discovered them googling big naked boobs . Gunnar jostles Cruz, who drops the phone .

Gunnar catches it mid-fall. He hands it back to Cruz who shoves it in his back pocket.

“Good morning, baby,” Cruz flashes me a grin. “You were up late last night.”

“Um, we were all up late last night.” Binge-watching episodes of some new zombie show, but Jack’s not going to let any of us use that as an excuse to sleep in.

“Still, why don’t you go back to bed for a while? And by bed, I mean my bed. I’ll come with you. We can get it on.”

He rocks his hips back and forth, comically thrusting. His energy is frenetic, awkward. He’s talking too fast, trying to flirt, which tips me off even more that something is up. Cruz doesn’t have to try.

“Morning, Win,” Gunnar says. “Ignore this doucheface.” He elbows Cruz in the side hard enough to make him wince. “Told you putting coffee beans and an energy drink in your smoothie was a fucking stupid idea.”

Gunnar’s stormy blue eyes avoid my gaze.

I march over to Cruz and hold out my hand. “Give me your phone.”

“I–”

I cut him off. “Show me what you two were looking at on your phone.”

“It was a new card game app I found, alright?” Cruz says. “I was going to buy it and surprise you. No big deal and we’ve got to get back up to–”

My eyebrows rise like an elevator zooming to the top floor. “A card game app, huh? What’s it called, Liar Liar Pants On Fire? What is going on? We agreed to open and honest communication, remember?”

Gunnar’s stormy eyes are close to thunderous. “We’re not showing you the phone. Period.”

Which makes me more scared than mad, frankly.

“What is it?” I ask, my voice rising with the panic I feel. “Is it something about us? You know I can just google on my own phone and likely find whatever it is in two point five seconds, right? You might as well show me.”

They exchange a glance and Gunnar, lips pressed together. He gives Cruz an almost imperceptible shrug.

Cruz sighs and pulls out his phone. He unlocks it, but as I go to take it, he seems to change his mind and we have mini tug-of-war with it for a few seconds before he relinquishes it with another sigh.

I blink at the screen.

It’s a post on c-list celebrity scandals. Some blog devoted to people who are famous for being famous; has-beens and reality TV stars. Puzzled, I stare at a picture of a fat girl between two gorgeous guys.

It takes a moment for me to realize it’s me in the photo, between Theo and Leo.

The image blurs before I can stop the tears that well up. That night, I felt so sexy and desirable.

Sexy and adorable is not how I look in the photo. In the split-second captured for all time, it looks like I have three chins. The skirt I bought years ago and dared to wear for the first time, thinking I looked hot, looks like it’s a size too small for my ass .

My ass that Leo was obsessed with.

My ass that Leo and Theo both saw naked.

I blink away the tears. The worst part of the photo is that my face is flooded with pure pleasure. My unadulterated joy. But in a stunning case of bad timing, both Theo and Leo are grimacing like they just smelled a particularly rank fart.

My insides have shriveled into a painful knot. I’d had a brief moment last night, where I’d worried that my boys might be comparing me to the other women they’ve been with. How could I not think that, at least once?

But at least that moment, and the wrenching doubt it gave me, was fleeting. I believe with my whole heart they aren’t thinking of anyone but me when they’re with me.

But just because they aren’t making that comparison doesn’t mean the internet isn’t.

“Win,” Cruz says, making the grabby motion with his hand. “Give me my phone back. Now.”

“C’mon, Winifred. That’s long enough,” Gunnar echoes.

They don’t want me to read the comments.

A lot of meat in that sandwich hahaha!!!!

Guess Theo and Leo couldn’t get real dates!

The bros have always liked fixing hot messes… hopefully this will lead to a serious makeover on that house!

The comments get more and more brutal from there.

Nauseous, I pass the phone back to Cruz. I do not look at him or Gunnar because I don’t care to see how they’re looking at me .

“Win–” Cruz begins.

I hold up a hand. “Don’t. It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m used to the online trolls. Let’s get back to work.”

“But–”

“Cruz, please.”

“Alright…” he says, but the hesitancy in his voice is real.

My face is crumpling, and I hurry back into the reno house before either of them see me ugly-cry. At least here I can pretend that a piece of sawdust in my eye is the cause of my tears.

But the door I close behind me opens a split second later, and Gunnar follows me inside.

I meet his gaze, expecting to see pity, but there’s only fire.

“Don’t you believe that bullshit, Winnie Olivia Wainwright.”

“Oh, you don’t want me to believe I’m overweight?” I roll my eyes. “Because I know I’m overweight, Gun. They are not saying anything that’s not a fact–”

“Bullfuckingshit. You’re perfect just the way you are, and that’s what I want you to believe, dammit.” His jaw works as he stares at me. The anger in his eyes is unlike anything I’ve ever seen from Gunnar before. “How fucking dare anyone on this goddamn planet make you feel otherwise.”

He strides towards me. He takes my face in his hands. I flinch.

My chins in his perfect hands.

Ugh . But still, from the way he’s holding me, I’m expecting the world’s most passionate kiss. Yet, he just looks at me .

And looks and looks. It’s like he’s trying to form a telepathic connection so that I won’t just hear his spoken words, but his thoughts as well.

So I’ll know he’s telling the truth.

“It was an unflattering picture,” he says. “It was deliberately chosen by the paparazzi scum because it looks like Theo and Leo were miserable with you while you were obviously having an amazing time. It’s a bullshit money-making ploy designed and executed by parasites. And people are pouncing on it, and being cruel, because people can be shits. But do you think Theo and Leo were miserable, Win?”

I’m suddenly exhausted. Even my tears are dripping from my eyes slowly, as if they don’t have the energy to go at it whole-heartedly. “Look, Gun, I just need to be by myself for a while. I’ll get over this, okay?”

“Nope.” He lets go of my face to take my hands. He lifts them to his mouth, kissing my knuckles. “You’re hurting and I’m not going to leave you alone. Sorry not sorry.”

“Gunnar–”

“Theo and Leo were with you because they wanted to be with you, Winnie. I will keep telling you this until hell freezes over or it sinks in, whichever comes first, but we all want you. Want you, Winnie. You have a beautiful soul, and it’s wrapped up in an equally beautiful body and I want you so damn bad.”

I swallow hard, my cheeks flushing from his words and his gaze, as he stares at me.

“I want you right this second.” His voice is growing huskier the longer he stares. “I want to show you how much I want you. ”

I shiver and he then nods, as if he’s been having a silent conversation with himself. “Let me show you, Win.”

He dries my tears with his fingertips and kisses me. Then he unbuckles one strap of my overalls. “May I?”

“Um…”

He raises his eyebrows. “That a no, sweet girl?”

“Um…” I look around. “Here?”

His eyes twinkle mischievously. “Well, unless you want to wait until my secret project is done. I’m turning the basement into a sex dungeon complete with shackles on the wall and–”

Despite myself, I laugh. “Gunnar. You are not.”

He unbuckles my other strap and I shimmy out of the overalls. I’m down to my tank top and panties, and he shakes his head, as if he’s in actual awe.

“How do you know I’m not building you a sex dungeon?” His voice sounds like it belongs to a man who would be building his lover a sex dungeon as he leans in close. I can feel his mouth move against mine as he speaks.

I laugh again. “Because this house doesn’t have a basement.”

“Fucking hell.” His fingertips skin my jawline. “Lay down, Win,” he says, his voice somehow deeper, thicker and sexier.

Fucking hell indeed.

“Right here?” I squeeze my thighs together as my panties dampen.

“Right here.”