Eight Brothers Fiancee (Love by Numbers 7)

I pressed the small button to the right of the door and jumped a little when a large gong, much louder than I was expecting, roared through the house. Both men in the pool stopped and looked over towards the door and I could clearly see it was Jett and Rogan. When they noticed me, I waved my hands and I had never seen two men jump out of a pool faster. It was actually flattering to know they would jump up and come over so quickly.

As they were walking around the pool, headed towards the door, Jett suddenly turned on Rogan, put both hands on his shoulders, and pushed him into the pool. When he turned back towards me, he had this huge grin on his face. It was so childish and innocent that I instantly felt warmed towards them. At the end of the day, they were just brothers. They’d been through so much and were just trying to enjoy a life that, statistically, neither of them should have had.

Jett opened the front door, still dripping wet. “Hey.”

“Hi,” I said with a chuckle. “Cheap shot.”

Jett waved his hand. “He’ll be alright. How are you?”

“Lots to take in, but I’m doing okay. I, um, was wondering if I could hang out for a while?” Jett’s eyes widened and his smile got even bigger. “Yeah. Come in.”

He stepped aside and I walked past him, into the clean, bright house, and continued through to the back yard. Rogan was sitting on the edge of the pool, slicking back his blond hair. He looked over at me. “I want you to know that he got the jump on me. I could kick his ass any day.”

“Sure you could,” Jett said. “Can I get you a drink?”

“I’d love one.” I pulled my phone, wallet, and Huxley’s keys out of my jeans pocket and set them on a nearby table and then started to roll them up from the bottom. “I didn’t come prepared for a pool party.”

“We can fix that.” I only heard Jett’s voice behind me for a second before I was thrust forward, falling face first towards the water’s surface.

I crashed into the pool with a massive splash. I heard a commotion above the surface, followed by a sploosh next to me, and an arm pulling me up a few seconds later. When I finally got my bearings and got all the water wiped out of my face, I saw that Rogan had a hold on me. His blue eyes were filled with concern.

“Are you okay?”

I sputtered out a few snickers and then started laughing outright. I put a hand on Rogan’s cheek. “I’m okay.” I pointed at Jett. “But you will pay for that.”

Jett held out his arms. “I look forward to it.”

Rogan’s arms around me, floating amongst the warm water felt nice, but I knew I was too close. I pulled away a few feet and then grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it up and over my head, chucking it at Jett. He ducked just out of the way with a laugh. I unbuttoned my jeans next, and worked them off my legs and tossed them over to the edge of the pool. Were my back lace bra and matching underwear a swimsuit, no, but they would have to suffice. Last time I checked, walking around in soaked jeans wasn’t comfortable.

“And you said there were consequences for my actions,” Jett commented, looking at me with a hungry gaze.

“This is a consequence,” Rogan replied. “It’s just a good one.”

Jett used the nearby stairs to step down into the pool, handing over a small glass with a single, perfectly round ice cube, filled with a light brown liquid.

I tipped it to my lips and winced at the taste of straight whisky sliding down my throat. I wasn’t typically a hard drinker, but when in Rome, er, Venice.

“What brings you to our neck of the billionaire’s estate?” Rogan asked.

Both he and Jett standing around me in nothing but swim trunks was almost sinful. The Foxx brothers each looked good on their own, but when they teamed up, it was downright unfair. I tried to keep my head cool, but my body was already heating up, and not from the pool. Jett and Rogan were looking at me like I was a walking t-bone steak from a cartoon, and if I was being honest with myself, I didn’t hate it.

“I guess I just wanted to get to know you guys a little more. I was talking to Huxley about your… history.”

“Oh yes,” Rogan said. “We are sad little orphans who were scooped up by the billionaire.”

“You guys made a family out of several broken ones,” I responded. “There’s nothing wrong with that.” Both Jett and Rogan’s more confident expressions dissipated into surprised ones. “What? Did I say something wrong?”