Last night will just be a distant, dirty memory.

  That’s fine. It’s totally fine. It’s not like I expected anything to come of my sleepover in sex paradise. And I’m not looking for anything. I’m only two weeks post breakup with Jasper. No one wants a girl on the rebound either.

  I should find my clothes, wash my face, brush my teeth, and get out of here. Let them return to their regular lives too. Phone in hand, I pad to the en suite bathroom and freshen up, squeezing some toothpaste onto my finger.

  When I’m done, I leave, and hunt around BedroomLandia for my shirt. I think I left it somewhere in the northwest territory. Ah, there it is—many feet away. I head over and grab a small pile of blue fabric from the floor.

  I pull it on, grateful it goes to the top of my thighs since I have no panties in here. It’s going to be seriously gross to pull last night’s on anyway when I leave Chase’s home. Maybe I should just go commando? Except, denim up the vajayjay might be worse.

  I’ll deal with that later. For now, time to bolt. I pad out, stomach dipping with nerves.

  This is going to be awkward. The thanks for last night moment. The good luck with your hockey games, those Os were real fun, and it’s time for me to call a Lyft of Shame.

  Quietly, I walk down the hall, peering at my phone as I go.

  Oh! There’s an email from one of the apartments I applied to. A studio! It’s available next week—nine days from now. I can’t wait to tell Aubrey. Also, there’s another email from Jasper, begging me to let him fill in for me at the Hockey Hotties calendar kickoff portion of the VIP experience.

  With an eye roll, I delete it, but it also serves as a wonderful reminder to upload the pool pics from last night to my social feed.

  Me and my new hockey besties, I write, then I post the pic and the caption.

  “Suck on that, Jaspie,” I say under my breath as I close the screen.

  “We should start the coffee,” Ryker barks.

  “There’s time,” Chase says calmly.

  “Hardly. It loses its flavor after you grind it,” Ryker warns, and they’re interacting like it’s normal to argue about how to make coffee the morning after they double pleasure a woman.

  But maybe it is normal? Maybe they do this often. I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to know in the heat of the moment. Maybe I’m one of many women they perform this service for.

  Need an O? Call The Hockey Guys! For whenever you need a double team to take care of your peach problems!

  Come to think of it, that’s a hell of a service. Maybe if I were more ambitious, I could start it. Become a madame and run the Hockey Double Team. On the other hand, I could just mention it to my book club, and someone would post a vid demanding someone write this now.

  But in the real world, no one wants a hookup overstaying their welcome.

  Which means, I need to fly so they don’t think for a second that the recently jilted girl who stole her cheating ex’s tickets is going to latch onto them like a barnacle.

  Anti-barnacle mode activated, I enter the open-concept living room. But my breath catches annoyingly when I see them. They’re both shirtless. Chase is wearing gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips, his V-cut in full view and even more drool-worthy in the morning light. Ryker’s wearing his dark blue slacks from last night, but that’s all. His tattoos snake along his massive right arm and across his huge pecs, and I can’t catch a break with my hormones. They’re doing a little jig at the sight of the two men.

  Plus, to make matters hotter, they’re making pancakes.

  That’s just unfairly sexy.

  “Allow me to remind you,” Chase says as he grabs a skillet from a gorgeous wall-mounted pot rack that makes my mouth water, “the three commandments of pancakes are—one, don’t overmix. Two, let the batter rest. And three, always use butter.”

  Ryker scoffs, and without seeing his face, I know he’s rolling his eyes. “You forgot the fourth amendment. It was added to the covenant of breakfast last year and it’s this—use real syrup.”

  “Thou shalt drown thy pancakes,” I call out from several feet away, light and breezy, like I’m not totally wanting another night with them.

  But what if it sounds like I’m angling for breakfast?

  The guys turn their gazes to me. Ryker’s unreadable, but Chase’s lips tip up in a grin. “Hey, sweetness,” he says, using the nickname he gave me last night all while looking and sounding like sunshine. Stubble lines his jaw. It’s coming in golden brown, and I want to run my thumb across it.

  Except I should go. They want me to go.

  “Did you sleep okay?” Chase asks, all thoughtful and caring.

  “I did. It was great,” I say, then shift my gaze quickly to Ryker. Is he going to ask how I’m doing too?

  For a second, his blue eyes look almost soulful. Vulnerable, like they’re searching mine. Trying to read me.

  But that’s ridiculous. He’s been arguing about how to make coffee and pancakes, not about me. I will not be clingy, so before he can even say a word, I add, “Anyway, last night was super fun. Thanks so much. I have to go. So, have fun with your breakfast,” I say, breezily, making it crystal clear I’m not trying to crash their morning plans. They’re probably going to make pancakes and then bench press small cars or something.

  That soulful look in Ryker’s eyes vanishes so fast I’m sure I imagined it, especially when he grumbles, “Your alarm is awful.”

  I flinch. Well. The grump has officially returned. Gone is the flirty side he broke out last night, but it’s weirdly reassuring, Ryker’s return to form. It’ll make it even easier for me to go. “Yes, it is. But I don’t wake up easily without it, and it worked and woke me up, and I should clearly take off.”

  Chase tilts his head, seeming confused. “What?”

  “Leave. That thing where people say goodbye and go,” I say, trying to make light of my pending exit. “I just need to find the rest of my clothes.”

  Ryker points. Like, aggressively points. “Living room.”

  I bristle. Well, that’s clear. He wants me gone, and he doesn’t even live here. He’s one of those guys who’s a beast in the bedroom, and a beast in life too.

  No thanks.

  Chase smacks Ryker’s arm. “Asshole.”

  “She said she wanted to go. I’m fucking helping,” Ryker says defensively, then clears his throat and turns to me. “Your jeans are on the coffee table.” Then he looks back to Chase. “That better?”

  “Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?” Chase asks.

  Ryker cracks his neck so loudly I wince on behalf of his bones. “Yes. I did. There were three of us in the bed, jackass.”

  And you wrapped your arm around my waist and spooned me, you beast.

  “Aww, poor baby. Go see the trainer,” Chase says, and clearly I am not needed in their bro banter.

  I power walk to the living room, beelining for the coffee table. Huh. My clothes are neatly folded. And warm, I discover when I grab them.

  A second later, there’s a hand on my arm. Chase turns me around, his deep brown eyes exploring mine, like he’s reading the room before he speaks. “Don’t go yet. We’re making you breakfast.”

  That does not track. “You are?”

  “Stay. Let us feed you, at least.”

  “I don’t think Ryker wants me to stay.”

  Chase smiles and whispers in my ear, “Let me tell you a secret. He woke up early to wash and dry your jeans and undies. I discovered him in the laundry room, hunting around for dryer sheets, and then he asked if I had flour and eggs and all that food stuff.”

  Is that my heart fluttering? Yeah, I think it is. Dryer sheets and pancakes.

  “I like pancakes,” I say, loud enough for Ryker to hear.

  “Everyone likes pancakes,” Ryker grumbles, but I can translate his pissy mood now, and his words mean I thought you were leaving when I wanted you to stay for breakfast.

  I return to the kitchen, nudging Ryker’s side. “Yes, everyone does, even the big bad wolf.”

  The wolf harrumphs, but then says, “Do you like coffee?”

  “As long as it hasn’t lost its flavor,” I say, with a mischievous grin.

  “Course it hasn’t,” he says.

  Because you started it right on time for me.

  I don’t say that though. He knows what he did this morning, and so do I now, and I feel fifty million times better than I did when I thought they might have wanted to kick me out right away. Plus, these pancakes smell so good. I offer to help, and Chase lets me, so I show off my cooking skills. When the first batch is almost done, I say, “Want to see my party trick? I can flip a pancake five feet in the air.”

  “Show us,” Ryker demands.

  I slide a pancake onto the spatula, and flip it toward the ceiling, catching it a few seconds later. I take a bow.

  Chase whistles. “And I thought jerking off two dudes at once was your party trick.”

  A laugh bursts from me. “I guess I have two party tricks now.”

  “But keep the first one just between us,” Ryker says, without cracking a grin as he comes behind me, then slides a possessive hand up my back, curling it around my neck. Like he’s sending me a message. He doesn’t want any other men to share me.

  I shiver from his touch. From the ownership in it. Then from the way he drags his fingers against my skin, pressing hard and firm. Like he’s marking me as theirs.

  But the thing is—I don’t know if they want to share me again either.

  And honestly, why would they? I’m just the jilted book nerd who poured out her bedroom troubles to a couple superstar athletes, and they’re the competitive guys who wanted to prove they could fix me between the sheets. They won that contest, and now it’s time for a victory breakfast.

  That. Is. All.

  And I’m here for sweet revenge on my philandering ex. I make a mental note to post the pool playing video later today so Jasper the Wonderless can cry in his oat milk over that one too.

  When I finish a small stack of batter-y goodness dripping in decadent syrup, I say, “These are the best. And I’d know. I’m in my pancake era.”

  “My whole life is my pancake era,” Chase says.

  Ryker leans back in his chair. “Didn’t you say the same thing about your chocolate chip cookie era? And your waffle—”

  “Hey now,” Chase chides.

  “Don’t forget your acai bowl phase,” Ryker adds. “And there’s also your daily devotion to coffee at Doctor Insomnia’s.”

  “I like my rituals,” Chase says, raising his chin.

  “And Doctor Insomnia’s coffee is life-giving. I will attest to that,” I say, then push back in my chair so I can clean up.

  But Chase sets a hand on my arm. “What are you up to today, sweetness?”

  My chest warms. It’d be far too easy to get used to him calling me that. “Well, I got good news this morning. I found an apartment.”

  He offers a hand to high-five as I tell him about my email. “So after work, I need to sign the paperwork before Aubrey’s landlord finds out she has a dog in her place, and then I only have nine days left of hiding my pup from him.” I cross my fingers.

  Chase’s jaw falls open. “You have to hide the dog?”

  I frown. “We sort of have to smuggle him in and out. But Nacho’s quiet and doesn’t bark much. He’s a very good boy—well, except for his taste for undies. And he’s at doggie daycare now anyway. Aubrey dropped him—”

  “Stay with me,” Chase says, like he’s brooking no argument. “Both of you. For the next week.”

  I stare at him, bug-eyed, I’m sure. “My dog and me?”

  He sweeps out a hand to indicate this space. He has a lot of it. “This is a three-bedroom and there’s only one of me. I have a guest room. The designer set it up,” he says as Ryker takes a sip of his coffee. I bet he drinks it extra scalding. With salt added to strengthen his ire.

  But I focus on the guy making the kindest offer. “Chase,” I reply, since I truly don’t know what else to say. It’s so generous. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?” Chase asks, a little demanding. Or really, a lot.

  “I just…that’s too nice,” I say.

  “He is nice. He means it,” Ryker says, like he’s protective of his friend, and holy hell, that’s…sexy too. Like when he offered to fuck up Jasper. Like when he said my trick was between us.

  “I know,” I say.

  “He wants to help you, Trina,” Ryker adds, making Chase’s case.

  With a guilty as charged smile, Chase just shrugs. “You should not have to hide Nacho away. Also, I love dogs. And my landlord”—he stops to point at himself—“is very dog friendly.”

  “I got that feeling,” I tease, since Chase asked me to show him photos of my little guy last night. That was no hardship.

  “I’m dying to get a dog someday,” he adds. “Did you know I spearheaded the Hockey Hotties calendar? It raises money for dog rescue. We have the kickoff event in a couple weeks, and pretty sure you’re going to that?”

  Butterflies flap in my chest, since thinking of that event—the final piece of the VIP experience—feels presumptuous after last night. But then again, Chase seems hellbent on being the world’s most chill host, so I say yes.

  “Excellent. And a bunch of my teammates are doing it—Erik, my goalie, who’s marrying my cousin next weekend. Ledger, who’s been on the team forever, and is the most sarcastic dude I know. Ryker will try to back out of it, but you can help me work him over, Trina,” Chase says, making a pitch even though I’m already sold.

  “Ryker, do it,” I say, batting my lashes in an over the top fashion.

  Ryker crosses his arms.

  “Anyway,” Chase continues, “I want to adopt a dog someday and teach him to surf. Well, when I retire. Does Nacho like to swim? We could take him to Crissy Field,” he says, lighting up like a kid on his birthday. “Or a dog park.”

  Wait till I blow his mind. “He does dog agility,” I say, like it’s a secret confession.

  Chase’s jaw drops. “Shut the fuck up.”

  I hold up a hand as if taking an oath. “I solemnly swear he’s most excellent at pole weaving and the seesaw.”

  Chase lets out a salacious groan. “You’re killing me, sweetness.”

  He’s killing me with kindness. “You really don’t mind?” I ask just to be sure.

  Ryker groans with exasperation. “Could he be any more clear, Trina?”

  “Be my roomie for the next week. Till you can move into your new place,” Chase says insistently, putting on his bedroom tone, like he’s going all alpha on me again, then he looks to the guy across from him. “And you should stay here too.”

  Ryker pulls a face. “And why’s that?”

  “You’re having your floors done, you said. You were going to get a hotel room. Just stay here. I have three bedrooms.”

  Was this planned? Are they trying to seduce me again?

  Please let them seduce me again. Like, say, tonight.

  Ryker’s brow knits, and he legit seems as shocked as I was. I don’t think this offer was planned. It’s not designed to get me in bed.

  “You spend enough time in hotels. We’re both in town this week, and we both have road trips at the end of next week. After Erik’s wedding.”

  “Aww, you know my schedule,” Ryker says.

  “Yes, because I pay attention to my job. Anyway, come hang with Trina and Nacho and me,” Chase says, like that’s that and there’s nothing more to be said.

  Meanwhile, I have questions.

  Like, are we doing the sex thing again? Are we going to use three separate bedrooms? Where will we sleep?

  Ryker sighs deeply, looking a little lost in thought. “I am a bit tired of hotels,” he finally admits. But then he looks to me, his gaze vulnerable like it was for those few seconds when he first laid eyes on me in the kitchen this morning. “You cool with that?”

  Is this the gentleman side of the beast asking me? “Sure. I mean, you did wash my clothes and all. Wait. Does that mean you’ll do my laundry for the week? Because I always wanted a laundry valet.”

  I swear he breathes fire as his answer. And I stoke it.

  “But you have to separate the lights from the darks, Ryker,” I say, wagging a finger. “Oh, can you do my delicates too? In cold water, please.”

  Dragging a hand through his thick, dark hair, he mutters, “Why did I do something nice?”

  “Also, I’d really like blueberries with my pancakes tomorrow morning. Thanks so much.”

  Ryker rolls his eyes from here to the other side of the world. As Chase laughs he wiggles his fingers at me. “Gimme your phone.”

  I take it from the back pocket of my jeans, and we exchange numbers, then I do the same with the wolf man.

  I check the time, wincing. I want to help clean but… “I should go,” I say, apologetically.

  “I’ll take care of cleaning. I don’t have practice till this afternoon.”

  “Is there a game tonight?”

  Chase shakes his head. “Nope. Ryker doesn’t have one either.”

  Which means they’ll both be here and we’ll do chores? Play Monopoly? No idea.

  Chase walks me to the door, and before I can leave, he says gently, “Hey. No expectations tonight. Or for the week. I just want to give you a place to stay. Don’t feel at all like there are any strings.”

  Too bad. I’d like the strings. I’d maybe like ties too. Like being tied to his giant bed. But I also am not in the right headspace to get involved, so it’s for the best that we have zero commitments.

  “Of course.”

  “But I do have one expectation,” Ryker calls out from the kitchen.

  “What’s that?” I ask, intrigued.

  He doesn’t tell me. He shows me when he strides across the floor, hauls me into his big embrace, and kisses me deeply, thoroughly, tasting of coffee and pancakes and him.

  It’s a dizzying kiss, and my stomach is flipping, and my skin is tingling, and I feel knocked off-kilter in the best of ways.