The Best Men (The Best Men 1)

Damn, I can’t believe I left that rook exposed. I guess my mind hasn’t been on chess.

Mark: One, you can’t resist sharing your finds so I call bullshit on your threat. Two, I’m definitely enjoying it.

Brett: Define “enjoying.” It better not be that you read some new how-stuff-works book while watching the market.

I snicker. I haven’t even opened a book since arriving at Disney World for Horny Adults. And I’m not going to tell him exactly how I’m whiling away the hours.

Mark: Clubbing, Brett. I’ve been clubbing.

It’s the truth, but he’ll never believe me. I click to Valencia’s text next.

Valencia: Did you know Blackbeard likes to smell my hair? As I tell Zoe, my coconut shampoo is definitely catnip, since it drives her crazy too.

Mark: I guess if I ever want to turn on my cat, I’ll know the trick now.

I’m about to shut down the app when I spot a text at the bottom of the names. And fuck, if it doesn’t make my heart leap.

Asher: Captain Filthy Mind . . . or should I call you Sleeping Babe? (Incidentally, you’re still smoking hot when you’re snoring because now I know all the dirty thoughts running through your dreams are about me.) Alas, duty calls. The groom has corralled me for a drink. I’ll be back a little after midnight. But I have my heart and dick set on 33A . . .

—The superhot wingman

And my chest officially flutters. From the nicknames, from the message, from the everything. I’m fucked now in a whole new way.

Especially since I know I shouldn’t respond.

But I do anyway.

Mark: I don’t snore.

Then I get out of bed, head to Asher’s room, and set down my phone on . . .

I stop in my tracks as the thought finishes, hitting me hard . . . my side of the bed.

Well, it has been my side for the last few nights.

When in Rome, and all.

I take off my glasses and slip under the covers, picturing 33A. And B. And C.

But apparently, hitting multiple list items in a twenty-four-hour period, plus parenting, plus managing my parents, and seeing my ex, tires me all the fuck out. I close my eyes. Just for a minute.

I see the surface of the swimming pool behind my eyelids. I hear Asher’s laugh, and Rosie’s giggle. I float along the surface.

The door creaks somewhere in the corner of my mind. I flip to my side, but don’t open my eyes.

29

A LITTLE APPRECIATION HERE

ASHER

There’s no hot sleeping dad in the den when I return. The house is dead quiet. So I head toward the guest house where a light burns in the living room.

Mark isn’t on the couch, though.

And he’s not in his bed.

Hmm.

I find him in the last place I look. But it’s also the best place. He’s in my bedroom, lying on his side of the bed, possibly reading a book. Huzzah!

“Hi honey, I’m home,” I say. And then I want to kick myself. I can hear Flip’s voice in my head, telling me it’s dangerous to toy with Mark.

I’m not, though. He knows the score. He laid down the rules. I merely agreed to them, since they suited me. No one gets hurt. Everyone gets off.

“Mark?”

He doesn’t stir. My hookup is sleeping.

I tiptoe into the room and circle the bed. His dark eyelashes touch his cheeks. I switch off the lamp, but as my eyes adjust to the dark, I still admire him in the moonlight. Asleep, he looks younger than his twenty-seven years.

Quietly, I unbutton my shirt and then toss it onto the chair. Then I remove my slacks. And, why not, my underwear. Retracing my steps, I slip into bed behind him.

His skin is warm and smooth against mine. I take a deep breath of Florida nighttime air and Mark’s shower soap. It’s a potent combination if there ever was one. Then I press my lips to the back of his neck and lay down a soft, openmouthed kiss.

“Mmm,” Mark murmurs. And when I put a hand on his bare hip, he covers mine with his own.

“You do snore,” I whisper.

“Do not.”

I grin against his shoulder. Then I kiss him slowly right behind his ear. He inches a little closer, his body seeking me out.

“How was your drink with Flip?” he slurs.

Aggravating. I’m not going to share that, though. “We drank a very peaty scotch. I think there might be hair on my chest that wasn’t there before. Feel free to check.”

“Okay.”

I wait for him to roll over.

He doesn’t.

“Baby?”

“One sec. I will rally for 33A.”

“. . . And 33B, and 34A,” I tease. “I’m going to make a bar chart with your data, baby.”

He doesn’t laugh.

“Mark, I just made a spreadsheet joke. A little appreciation, here.”

Nothing. He’s out again.

I hitch my body closer to his, pressing my chest against his back. And that’s when I discover that Mark is starkers under my sheet. He’d set himself up in my bed, naked.