Flirting with the Frenemy (Bro Code #1)(35)

“And I’ll tell them you threw a log at me when I tried to help.”

“Perfect.”

Before I can limp out of the room, he snags one of my hands. I glance up at him, suddenly aware that I’m standing here in nothing but my bare breasts, soaked panties, and the mangled scar on my left leg.

But he doesn’t look down.

Nope, not Wyatt.

He simply presses a kiss to my forehead. “Friends?”

“Can I still tell you not to tell me how to do things?”

“And definitely give me your wrong opinions when I’m doing something not your way.”

I ignore the sarcasm. “Only if you agree to do the same.”

He snorts softly, and I’m pretty sure it’s a snort of laughter and not utter and complete frustration. “You’re one of a kind.”

“And thank god for that. Beck would never keep up if there were two of me.”

I swear he’s smiling when I leave the room.

Mostly because I’m not sure my ego could take the hit if he was vehemently agreeing with my awful attempt at a joke.





Thirteen





Wyatt



The sound of the house alarm buttons being pushed wakes me from a dead sleep at 4:30.

Someone’s breaking in.

I fly out of the bed and land on soft feet, and I don’t bother pulling on a shirt, because it’s not going to be any protection against an intruder. I hit the bottom of the stairs when the lights flicker on, blinding me.

“Freeze, asshole!” Ellie barks. Something whizzes past me and thuds against the door.

The dark figure next to the alarm panel sighs. “A guy drives all night to answer a distress call, and what does he get? He gets a dildo launched at his face. Nice, Ellie. Real nice.”

“Davis?” she shrieks.

The slender, man-bun-wearing, bearded intruder bends over and grabs the massive purple thing from the floor. It’s longer than his tatted-up arm. “Fucking hell, does that even fit? Put your fists down, Wyatt, it’s not about her honor. You see the size of this thing?”

Ellie snatches it back, but once she has it, she grabs it by the base with her other hand and wipes the first one on her shirt.

“Go put pants on,” I hiss at her.

“It’s like a swimsuit, Morgan,” she snaps back. “And this isn’t mine. It was in the drawer in the guest bedroom.”

All three of us momentarily stare at the two-foot-long, six-inch-thick dildo dangling from her fingers. I try not to look at the mangled, leathery scar on her thigh, but my stomach still dips thinking about what she’s been through.

“You should mount it,” Davis says, nodding to the dildo.

Ellie goes stiff like she’s going to beat him with it, and I’m about to slug him when his lips twist in a familiar smirk.

“On Beck’s bedroom wall,” he finishes.

His dark eyes flit between us. “And you two should be more careful when you’re having sex. Looks like you had a threesome with a boxer.”

Ellie’s eyes bug out.

“We weren’t—” I start, yanking my hand away from where it instinctively went to test the tender skin around my eye, but Davis pops a rare full grin and turns to the door to the basement.

“What’d you do to fuck up Frogger? And where’s the coffee? If I’m gonna fix this, I need fuel.”

“Screen went out, so we pulled the plug to reboot.” I jerk my head back at Ellie. “Please go put pants on before Tucker comes down here and sees you walking around like that, because he’ll tell his mother and I’ll never hear the end of it.”

I can deal with the guilt of seeing her scars.

But I really don’t want Tucker thinking about women in underwear any younger than hormones finally make him.

“And don’t forget my coffee, wench,” Davis calls.

“Oh, go cut your hair,” she replies good-naturedly with a smile.

She heads to the kitchen, swinging the dildo of indeterminate source, and I’m pretty sure she’s going to at least wrap it in a garbage bag, if not take it all the way out to the trash herself.

I follow Davis into the basement. He was the youngest in our group growing up—of the guys, so excluding Ellie—the slowest to warm up to people, and he was the first to want to call it quits on the boy band thing. I don’t know exactly what he does for a job now, but I know it involves computers, coding, and the nuclear reactor a couple hours south of here.

“Should’ve told us you were coming. We would’ve left the light on.”

“Three calls in an hour, and you thought I wouldn’t come?”

“Three?”

He smirks again. “I don’t know what you told Beck, but he wanted photographic proof that his score’s still the highest.”

“I kissed Ellie. On video call with him.”

“About fucking time, dude.”

“Shove it, Remington. Not going there.”

He flips on Frogger and whistles low. “You wiped it.”

“Can you write a new high score on it?”

He gives me a don’t be a dumbass, of course I can look. “Gonna take donuts and coffee. Wouldn’t mind pretty company.”