Porterhouse (Grade-A Beefcakes 4)

Tucker and Colton had driven off with her a few minutes ago with a reminder they’d see me Sunday for family brunch… at my house. It was my turn to host. But that was sooo far away and Cash and Bennett were right in front of me. Right now.

I was the last guest out the door, the other women having left about fifteen minutes ago all wound up from close-up baby-oiled abs, gyrating hips and taut ass cheeks. I had no doubt Kaitlyn was getting busy by now with Jed and Duke inside. I had no intention of interrupting that.

There was no way to avoid Bennett and Cash, no matter how flustered they made me. They were my ride home.

“I figured you’d be on a motorcycle,” I said, remembering Ava said he custom made them.

Bennett smiled. “I don’t think all three of us would fit. Got any dildos left?” he asked, peeking in the box.

I did, along with a few extra bath bombs and some romance books. Leftover tissue paper. But I was too tongue-tied to respond.

It was one thing to flirt and banter with guys I thought were strippers, who were off limits because being sexual was their job, but it was another to flirt with two guys who were local. Who weren’t strippers. Who were friends of my friends. Worse, my brothers. Who were working on fixing my truck. Who were H.O.T. Yes, completely strange since I should be flirting with guys I was interested in, but I was defective and had to wonder if I was worth their time.

Or, they weren’t my time. All that was going to happen with them was they would laugh at me when they got me naked or got inside me. Yeah, that would be fun. Completely humiliating.

I looked at the ground, and I knew I blushed. I couldn’t help it. It was in my DNA, a bane of my red hair and fair complexion. Hopefully, it was too dark for them to notice. “You’re off the hook,” I said finally. “I know who you really are, and you don’t have to joke around.”

Cash cocked his head to the side, studied me. I tried not to shift my feet, but I felt like a kid in the principal’s office, trying not to squirm. “We don’t have to talk with you?” he asked.

I rolled my eyes, walked past them toward their truck. Bennett went to the back door—it was a huge four-door pickup—and set the box inside on the seat.

Cash made it to the door before I did, opened it for me.

“No, you don’t have to flirt.”

I didn’t look at Cash as I climbed in, but he stood between the open door and the truck, one hand on the top of each, and leaned in. It was the closest he’d ever been and I could see a small scar on his right cheek, just above his beard. I could smell him, almost like oranges and more of those pheromones that made me hot all over. Bennett climbed into the driver’s seat and Cash began to crowd me. My eyes widened and I realized he was climbing in. I had no choice but to scooch over into the middle as he settled beside me.

“There’s, um, a whole back seat,” I said, thumbing over my shoulder.

Cash picked up my seat belt, crossed it over my body and handed the buckle to Bennett who clicked it into place. “We’ve been thinking about having you between us all night.”

Hoo wee, hot flash! I glanced between them as Bennett put the key in the ignition and started the engine.

“You have?” I asked, surprised. “Why?”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Cash asked, a V forming in his brow.

“Why aren’t we leaving?” I asked instead of answering. I’d made a fool of myself enough for one night.

His mouth tipped up. “We don’t know where you live.”

I closed my eyes, sighed. Why couldn’t the earth swallow people whole? I gave them the address and the nearest cross streets, and Bennett backed out of the driveway. I lived on the other side of town, about two miles away.

“Thanks for fixing my truck. I know it’s old and dilapidated, but it was my grandfather’s,” I explained. “He used to pick me up in it on Sunday mornings, take me to breakfast. When he died, he left it to me. I can’t part with it.”

“No worries,” Cash said. “Pretty sure it’s just a cracked distributor cap. I’ll get it fixed and look her over for any other problems.”

“Gus might be able to perform surgery on a squirrel, but he’s useless when it comes to anything mechanical. I’m not any better. I looked under the hood, but I don’t even know how to change the oil.”

Bennett put on his blinker and stopped for a light. “I like a woman who gets under the hood. You can get under mine anytime you want.”

He glanced my way for a second, the corner of his mouth tipped up.

I wasn’t sure what made my nipples go hard: the thought of what his undercarriage looked like or the way he smiled. I cleared my throat. “Ava mentioned you make custom motorcycles,” I replied.

We turned into my neighborhood from the main road, and I indicated where he should turn next.

“I do,” Bennett said. “I bought the Lansing ranch south of town last year. I had the barn converted into a shop and that’s where I do my work. Miami was tough. Not enough room, too many people, too many regulations. Montanans like their space and it suits me just fine.”