Theirs to Keep

And beneath it all, the unexpectedly smug satisfaction of knowing I’d outscrewed them both.

Fourteen

KARISSA

I woke in my own bed, unsure of how I’d gotten there. Someone had carried me. I’d been so exhausted they’d laid me down and covered me with my own blankets, still warm and naked and reeking of sex.

Holy shit.

I grabbed my phone, and was alarmed to see it was well past seven o’clock. I rushed into a scalding hot shower. Cleansing my body was a double-edged sword; on one hand the lather felt amazing as it slid all over me, washing away the evidence of my own debauchery. On the other, I was losing them. Washing away the hard-earned scent that clung to me, reminding me of the glory of last night.

Hurriedly getting dressed, I tied my hair back and ran downstairs. The crews would be here soon. Some of them would already be outside, plugging in their tools. Setting up for the day’s work, which by Newport county noise abatement laws couldn’t begin until the stroke of—

“Hey speedy,” someone laughed. “Slow down.”

I stopped mid-stride, halfway through the brilliant, sunlit kitchen. The smell of fresh coffee lingered in the air. The scent of food was even stronger.

“Eggs?”

Camden was standing at the stove, a frying pan in one hand. Sitting at the table, drinking coffee with his feet up, Bryce put down his phone.

The moment should’ve been awkward. Like I was being pulled over in the middle of the walk of shame, but times two.

Instead, I slid into my usual spot and took up the cup of coffee already poured for me. It was fixed the way I liked it. They must’ve heard the shower.

“Scrambled,” I said. “Thanks.” I took a sip and immediately passed the mug back to Bryce. “And heat this up for me? I like it hot.”

My gorgeous blond employer threw me an obligatory smirk before heading over to the microwave. Camden was cracking eggs into a bowl. It gave me a few seconds to breathe.

“HVAC guys here yet?”

Camden shook his head. “No.”

“What about the plumbers?”

“They’re unloading,” said Bryce, smirking again as he waited out the microwave’s thirty-second timer. Or was it the same one?

“I’ll need to sign off on the new layout today,” I said casually, “if one of you wants to take a look at it first.”

“Nah,” Bryce said, crossing his arms.

“We trust you,” said Camden, without turning around. The hiss of the egg mixture hitting a hot-buttered pan punctuated his sentence.

I let out another breath, staring at those magnificent forearms. The guys were dressed for work. In construction, that meant ripped up jeans and steel-toed boots. Flannel shirts with sleeveless T’s beneath, and the cuffs rolled up to their elbows.

Camden’s hair was still wet — presumably from his own shower. Bryce had a flat pencil already tucked behind his ear. It was little details like this that had made everything that much hotter, whenever I’d indulged in fantasizing about them. And lately that had been often.

“So…” I said, with my most dismissive sigh. Small talk was never my thing, really. “Are we gonna talk about last night, or are we—”

My sentence died abruptly as Roderick strode in, his hair still wet from his own shower. Bryce cleared his throat, a split-second before his entrance. Camden continued sifting the eggs.

“Are we ready?”

He’d been talking to the others. Upon seeing me he was taken aback for a moment, then smiled appreciatively.

“Oh, hey. Good morning.”

The microwaved beeped. Bryce extracted my coffee and handed it over.