18. Be Our Guest

Briar

Before I can answer him, Donut perks up from the living room floor, floppy ears lifting. She rushes to the front door and springs into the air, attempting to unlock it once again with a jump.

I snap my gaze toward my pup then peer out the window, spotting a sleek cherry-red car. I don't recognize the make or model, but it sounds electric, since, well, it's silent. But the crunchy gravel driveway is not.

Donut launches herself up again and again. Hollis looks at her curiously. "She jumps?"

Translation: how does a Dachshund spring two feet in the air when she's not even one foot tall?

"She thinks she can jump-open a door."

He seems to take that in as we stride to the door together, and it occurs to me I should answer him.

He's been polite.

Kind.

And ridiculously generous in his shirtless-ness. But three sexy hockey studs and me sharing a house that's really for three? "You don't think it'll be awkward if I stay here?"

It's already awkward this morning. There's so much weird tension. Which is understandable. But still, it's there, like the lingering scent of garlic in the kitchen long after you've cooked a stir-fry.

A line digs into his forehead. "Because of?—"

Before he can say last night, I wave that off. "Because of the house situation."

"We're good at sharing," he says casually, advancing ahead of me toward the door while I chew on that.

We're good at sharing.

He can't mean…

Or does he?

No, he's just talking about square footage and stuff. Not other kinds of sharing.

I try to dismiss the thoughts racing through my head as Hollis swings open the door. I tell Donut to stay by my side and she complies, parking her butt on the floor.

"Thanks but we don't need any solar panels, security systems, or window washing," Hollis calls out to the guys, wasting no time diving into the taunts.

"Then you can come get our bags and carry them in," Gavin says, not missing a beat either as he steps out of the driver's side, aviator shades on, brown hair wavier than usual, stubble coming in thicker than it was last week. It's a good look on the strapping guy. He's really got the whole strong-sturdy-man-who-can-scale-mountains thing working.

Rhys gets out a second later, unfolding his body from the passenger seat. He's so handsome it's like looking at the sun. Feels like it too. I'm just warmer in his presence. There's something so GQ about him, but the scar on his eyebrow humanizes him. The imperfection amidst his perfection. He wears khakis and a black Henley that hugs his strong pecs. Gavin's dressed in gray joggers and a dark blue T-shirt that's nice and snug.

My gaze swings back to Hollis now, roaming up and down the hockey player next to me who's wearing nearly nothing.

The thoughts tango once more in my brain. All new possibilities. Configurations. Yoga poses.

That I really need to snap out of.

Gavin turns his focus to me, nodding in a cool, slightly distant hello. "Hey there," he says, voice dry, tone inscrutable.

I don't feel inscrutable though. I feel a little transfixed as Gavin whips off his shades. Our eyes lock. Or is it just me thinking they lock? Me feeling some sort of pull? A charge sparking in the air?

"Hi," I say. My pulse stutters, and I try to get a handle on these reactions I'm having.

I turn to Rhys again, like that'll cool me off. But his lips are curved in a playful grin. Has his smile always been so…sexy?

"Lovely to see you, Briar," Rhys says, and that accent. That word. Lovely. It's even more delicious said by him.

"You too," I answer, and I should say something more. How was the drive? What's going on? Great game last night. Really I should. But I feel kind of syrupy. A little slow as I try to figure out what's happening inside me and around me as the tension between Hollis and me warps hotly into something else—something I don't entirely understand.

Hollis nods to the tiny house next to the garage. "That's yours. Enjoy."

Gavin scratches his face with his middle finger.

Rhys rolls his eyes as he grabs a duffel from the backseat. "I believe I arranged the rental with the festival organizer, so you can enjoy the little bed, Goldilocks," Rhys says to Hollis.

Hollis shakes his head defiantly. "I was here first. Shotgun."

Gavin arches a brow, then tosses out nonchalantly, "I'm happy to take you on in poker if you want to settle it that way."

Hollis blanches. Well, I guess Gavin is formidable with cards. "Fine, fine. You two can sleep on the living room floor," he says.

As Rhys strides along the stone path cutting through the mustard flower lawn, his dark eyes hold mine. "And are you our guest for the week, Briar?"

My name now sounds like lovely. What kind of sorcery is that English accent doing to me? A zing rushes down my chest. An answer. But am I saying yes to Hollis's demand too? Is that what a dependable, reliable, focused woman would do?

"Well, as long as I don't have to sleep on the carpet," I say, finally, finally finding more than a few words to say. I'm not sure they'll cut the awkward tension between Hollis and me though. Or resolve what exactly I'm saying yes to.

Hollis turns my way, flashing that generous, easy grin that melted me last night. That still…melts me. "Ladies' choice."

There's something a little naughty in those words. A little sexy, like he's undeterred by my issue last night. Did Hollis insist I stay because he's planning something for me? Does he want…another chance? A beat of arousal pulses inside me at the thought. Then, it intensifies when I look at the other men heading my way.

As they reach the steps, Donut greets each one, saying hello to Rhys, then Gavin, then Hollis again.

She's got the right idea. Sharing her affection.

Get a grip. Your dog is not sending you subliminal sex messages. She's a dog. That is all.

When we're all on the porch though, my cheeks heat. A splash of warmth rushes down my chest.

Why am I so flushed?

It's not just because they're all handsome, though objectively they are. And yes, of course I'm attracted to Hollis. I knew that last night. But now, as I stand between the three men, forming a circle around me, a new reality dawns, like the sun rising bright and clear on the horizon.

That chemistry I felt for Hollis last night? It's even more intense with his teammates here. I feel something floaty in my chest. A warm, hazy sensation of…attraction. To all of them. All at once.

"So, you're staying with us?" Gavin asks, like he needs to confirm that. Or maybe like he's up to something too?

Rhys moves closer to me, dropping a kiss to my cheek.

Oh. Wow. That's a nice greeting. It catches me off guard, and I'm dizzy once more. For the briefest of seconds, I lift my palm to my cheek, almost like I'm catching that kiss. But then I drop my hand when I realize Hollis is watching us. His gaze is intrigued—curious even. Like he's filing that data point away.

"Hollis mentioned you might be our roomie for the week," Rhys says.

Already? We only just discussed it minutes ago. I look to Hollis again, trying to get my bearings. "You did?"

"I texted them that you were here. I wanted them to know we might have a guest."

There's that word again—guest.

Not roomie. But guest. Like I'm someone special staying with them.

"But I didn't say yes," I point out but I'm not sure why I'm arguing semantics. Maybe because I'm not that sure of anything right now.

"So, are we all sharing this house for the next week or what?" Gavin asks, nodding to the inside, clearly ready for a verdict.

Hollis meets my gaze once more, looking like he did last night when he asked May I. Open, considerate. "It's up to you, Briar," he says, but there's a glint in his blue eyes. It's hopeful and a little naughty at the same time.

Pretty sure he does want another chance with me.

Do I want to take one? I don't know what I want anymore, especially when I feel so unmoored. And so overwhelmed.

I picture the next several days—me shacking up in a house with three hot hockey stars while I pretend I don't want to ride the guy from last night.

While his friends watch.

While his friends touch me too.

I feel like I'm wearing these new potent wishes on my face.

I try to clear my thoughts and my voice, hoping I don't sound husky as I say, "Sure." Then I adjust my ponytail, brush a hand over the side of my sports bra, and check the time. "I should, um, get over to the festival. You guys just let me know where to sleep."

I spin around and race-walk to my room, Donut following. I shut the door behind us with a loud snick, then slump against it, trying to catch my breath.

There's a whole new tension in the cottage now, but I'm not sure I can blame what happened last night…or what didn't happen.

My heart races. I've got to calm down. To focus on the day ahead of me. The classes I'm holding. The promotional opportunities for my fitness brand. The chance to get my name out there so I can launch my app.

Not these dangerous thoughts of the guys on the rival hockey team circling me, prowling around me, touching me.

I rush to the en-suite bathroom, splashing cold water on my face over and over. I stare in the mirror at my pinkened cheeks. "It's fine. You're a pro. You worked with them before. You're not going to do anything more with Hollis. Or the others. You're not attracted to three guys all of a sudden." I look down at Donut. "Right?"

She just jumps—her answer for everything.

Shoving this inconvenient attraction out of my head, I return to the living room where I find the guys in the kitchen negotiating the two bedrooms and the loft. "I'll take the futon," Gavin says, pointing upstairs.

"Gee. Who gets the couch then?" Rhys asks, nodding toward the blue sofa.

Gavin takes a beat before answering drolly, "I wasn't saying you should take the couch."

I'm almost afraid to ask what Gavin was saying.

I clear my throat as I scurry over to the counter to toss the banana rind into the compost bin. "Hi! I'm taking off with Donut. Just let me know if I can get anything for the house. Groceries? Fruit? Cucumbers? Eggplants? More bananas?"

What was that? I shut the hell up immediately.

"I'll get some food and stuff. We can all have dinner tonight. I'll cook," Gavin offers. Then, he smirks. "But I was just saying maybe you and Rhys can share the king-size bed."

He says it so innocently. Too innocently.

But there's no way that's happening. Rhys lifts a finger like he's about to speak, but before any of these guys can say another word, I wave quickly in the direction of the garage. "I'll sleep in the tiny house. I'll move my things later. And I can help in the kitchen," I say, speeding right past the musical beds and into how to stay busy when sharing a small space with three sexy men I'm suddenly fantasizing about. "I like to cook."

Rhys advances closer to me, his dark eyes intense. "Briar, you're not sleeping in the tiny house," he says, an order. A firm one.

"I don't mind," I say, even though I never checked it out. I didn't need to since for the last week I've had the main bedroom and the king-size bed all to myself.

"I looked this place up online after it was booked. There's no toilet in the tiny house. No man"—he pauses, reconsiders—"no decent man is going to let a woman, let alone a woman who's our guest, stay there. We're also not the kind of blokes who are going to kick you out of your room. So I have a plan."

A spark ignites in my chest. This is the Rhys from the cat rescue. The Rhys who devised a strategy just like that. "Yes?"

"You stay in the main bedroom," Rhys says, like he'd never consider me leaving that room. "Hollis can stay where he is, since shotgun or whatever. Gavin will sleep upstairs. And I'll stay on the couch."

I want to protest since no one likes sleeping on couches.

But Rhys offers a cheeky smile and brooks no argument when he says, "I can sleep anywhere. I'm flexible like that." Emphasis on flexible. Like he's leaning into his yoga practice. He tips his forehead to Hollis and Gavin. "Those guys? They're more set in their ways."

"You're a gentleman and a trooper," I say, amused and grateful, too, for the way he's sorted this out.

"I'll go to the store," Gavin says, all business.

Hollis clears his throat. "I'll help with dinner as well." He sounds a little put in his place.

"And I'll get the champagne," Rhys adds.

Just like that we have a plan for tonight.

But it sounds like a date.

I leave with my girl on her leash, hustling toward town, texting my brother about the app and trying desperately to focus on business when my phone pings with a message that makes me want to throw it in the river.