The Learning Hours (How to Date a Douchebag 3)

I lead her to the stairs, lugging her heavy bag.

“What the heck is in here?” I grunt, readjusting the strap digging its way into the muscle of my right tricep.

“I didn’t know what the weather was going to be like, and I wanted to have options…sorry.”

“I’m just teasin’.”

Her arm reaches around, turns the handle, and gives it a shove so I can walk through and dump her duffle on the king-sized bed.

“Do you have a bathroom in here?”

“Yeah, through that door.”

“Okay. Give me a second?”

“Take all the time you need.”

Laurel is halfway through the bathroom door when she turns, resting her hand on the doorjamb, biting her bottom lip and studying me where I stand in the center of the room. “I’m so sorry I just showed up like this. I really did think there would be other women here.”

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

“I know, it’s just…I don’t want to make this any harder for you than it’s been with your team.” She palms the doorknob. “The look on your face…you looked shocked.”

“I was, but that’s just because I…” Was happy to see her. Relieved, even. Fuck yes I was glad to see her when she stepped out of that car. “Anyway, take your time. Then we’ll go see if any of the guys want to start the grill; I’m starving.”

“Perfect.” She gives me a warm smile. “I’ll be right out.”

“I’ll wait.”

Laurel

My hand lifts to the ponytail in my hair and I ease the rubber band out. Slide it over my red locks, dragging it until it’s all the way out. Give my head a shake, letting the whole mess cascade around my face.

Fluff it.

Run a hand down the front of my shirt, smoothing the hem over the top of my black cotton leggings. Turn this way and that to check out my profile in the mirror.

Stomach is flat. No underwear lines.

Boobs look great.

Bending, I untie both my shoes, kicking them off. Pull off my socks, ball them up, shove them inside my Chucks. Grab a washcloth, dampen it under the faucet, and wipe my stinky sneaker feet with a little soap and water.

Blow out a breath before pulling the door to the bedroom open.

Rhett is seated at the foot of the big bed, legs spread, arms braced on the mattress behind him, backward baseball cap making him look young and carefree with his ears sticking out under the edge.

His crooked smile gives me pause, and before he can rise, I step into his open legs. Lean in, hands sliding to his shoulders, lips pressing against his.

If he’s surprised by my physical attention, he recovers quickly, mouth widening, meeting my kiss with a solid peck of his own. Arms go around me, hands firmly cupping my ass cheeks and squeezing, tongue exploring my mouth.

“Mmm.” I press in closer, bending to press a kiss to his temple. “We can’t get carried away or they’re going to think we’re fooling around in here.”

“Trust me, they don’t have that much faith in me.”

“Then they’re idiots,” I whisper. Rhett’s giant hands span my waist, fingers fanned out, thumbs nearly touching. “Because I…because…”

I like you.

Think you’re wonderful.

Want to be more than friends.

Only I can’t get the words out; they’re lodged in my throat.

“You can’t stay.” His head hits my belly and I take the opportunity to run my fingers along the column of his strong neck.

“I know.” But I’m here now.

He lifts his head. Tips his chin so he can look me in the eye. “During dinner we’ll figure out how to get you home. Maybe Gunderson will let you take his car, and he can ride home with someone else—it’s his fault he put you in this position.”

Us, I silently correct him. Gunderson put us in this position.

“That works.”

“All right. Let’s go find something to eat.”

Rhett stands before I can back away, our bodies smashed together, the rigid length of him distinctly noticeable against my thigh. He lifts an arm, hand sliding to the back of my neck. I rise to my tiptoes, meeting his lips for another kiss.

Sigh.

The house is eerily quiet when we finally crack the bedroom door, emerging into the lofted overlook above the cavernous living room.

The empty living room.

The empty living room with the perfect view of an empty deck and an empty beach.

“Where the hell is everyone?”

“Maybe they went out on the boat?”

I lag behind him, peer over the guardrail of the loft. Stare down into the empty, silent kitchen. No way are twelve wrestlers this quiet.

“Do you suppose…” I can’t even finish the sentence, certain I know the answer. “They left us here?”

“Let’s check their rooms for luggage.”

We find nothing as we hit room after room, not a trace of anyone except us.

“I should have fucking known they were going to pull something like this.” He gets out his phone. Pounds out a message.

His cell dings within seconds and he proceeds to go angrily back and forth several times before I can’t stand it any longer and ask, “What did he say?”

Rhett slaps his phone in my open palm and my eyes scan the messages in the group chat.

Rhett: Where the hell are you assholes? Did you run to town or something?

Gunderson: Gone like a freight train, gone like yesterday.

Rhett: What the hell are you on about? Are you here or not?

Gunderson: No dipshit.

Rhett: So y’all didn’t run out to pick up dinner or what?

Johnson: No dumbass. Like, gone. For the night.

Gunderson: We went home.

Rhett: ALL of you?

Johnson: Yeah. All of us.

Rhett: You fucking left us here? Stranded?

Johnson: Yah, calm down—it’s only an hour away. Thought you’d want to be alone with Fire Crotch.

Gunderson: We like to think we’re doing you a favor.

Rhett: HOW is stranding us an hour from home doing us a favor?

Gunderson: Tonight when you’re banging the ginger, you’re going to be THANKING us. I accept cash and gift cards in any denomination.

Ryker: Don’t worry your pretty little heads—we’ll be back in the morning to fetch you.

Gunderson: And dude, lighten up. Have fun before she wises up and figures out how boring you are.

“They left us here?”

Not going to lie, I’m not broken up about it—not even a little. In fact, quite the opposite.

Instead of anger, a bubble of excitement wells up inside me and I tamp down the happy dance my feet want to do across the hardwood floors.

“So we’re here…alone?”

“Looks like it.”

“For the entire night?”

“Yeah. Jesus Laurel, I am so sorry.” Rhett blows out a puff of frustrated air, hand gripping the back of his neck. “It’s one thing for them to fuck with me, but another for them to involve you.”

I can’t very well say, I’m glad the idiots are gone, let’s cuddle, can I? Not when he feels so guilty that I’m stuck here.

So I go with, “Let’s make the best of the situation. What do we have for food? I really am starving.”

Together we head to the large kitchen, noting a heavily stocked fridge with relief. Water bottles, juice boxes, chocolate milk. Eggs. Vegetables and fruit. Hot dogs and chicken breasts. It looks like someone went to a deli and bought pasta salads.

In the freezer, several frozen pizzas. Popsicles. A container of vanilla bean ice cream. Frozen broccoli and scallops.

“It’s not the burgers I thought we were going to have, but want to toss in a pizza?”

“Or two?”

“Or two.” Rhett smiles, grabbing the pies. “Supreme and a cheese?”

“Works for me. I’ll preheat the oven.”

We set to work in the kitchen together, doing a little dance at the stove, skirting around each other—the one couples do, accidentally-on-purpose brushing against each other when reaching for something, when opening a drawer or cabinet. When we brush hips as I stand lining a cookie sheet with aluminum foil, my whole body heats from the contact.