Power Drilled (Roommates, #8)(34)

“Be serious.” I smacked his stomach, and was momentarily mesmerized by the hard, flat panes of his abs.

“I’ll be more serious if you’ll be less so. Really, Penny, this isn’t school. No one’s taking attendance. Claire’s not going to care.”

“What about Jeff? If we leave now, won’t he think that we had a fight or something?” I really didn’t want my ex to think that we were leaving because of him.

Jackson studied me. “Do you care what he thinks that much?”

Did I? Sort of, but it was just because he’d hurt me so much. But it wasn’t like before, when I spent hours thinking of how to make him happy. Or at least of what to say to not upset him. “I guess I don’t.”

“Good.” Jackson leaned in and gave me a quick kiss on the forehead. “Let’s go tell Claire we’re leaving.”

Later, back at the house, we found Hunter and Reid in the kitchen, going over some notes at Reid’s makeshift desk.

“Didn’t expect to see you two here this soon. Everything okay?” Reid asked.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m just tired. But I’d like to shoot one more video of you guys tonight. Maybe you can talk strategy and pretend I’m not here?”

Hunter scoffed. “That last part is impossible.” He shot me a grin that made my thighs clench.

“I’ve got a better idea,” Jackson said. “Why don’t you take the video when we’re in our sleeping bags, ready for bed? Chris always makes a video or two like that, and our fans seem to really like it for some reason.”

I bit back a smile. I was pretty sure I knew the reason for why people liked the footage of the three of them shirtless, lying in their sleeping bags. “Okay, I’ll go get set up.”

Hunter started to follow me, but Jackson grabbed his arm. “Stay here for a minute, would you? We need to talk.”

“About what?” I heard Reid ask behind me.

“Strategy,” Jackson said. “And keeping our stories straight. And mushrooms.”

I laughed as I walked back to the little bedroom I was staying in. Though small, the room looked rather spacious with just my things in it.

I grabbed my equipment bag and walked to their room. Their sleeping bags were spread out in a triangle form, and I studied the scene, thinking about what kind of lighting would be best. It would be more intimate to film them talking about the renovation in semi-darkness, but if no one could see their magnificent bodies, that would defeat the purpose.

After some careful thought, I set up a few ring lights in some strategic spots. That should do it.

But as I waited for the guys, it seemed to me that the room needed one more thing. I went back to the smaller bedroom and got my sleeping bag. I took it and my pillow and dragged them back to the guy’s room.

I was done sequestering myself away from them for form’s sake. Maybe I’d be less nervous when I was out with them if I spent more time with them. And frankly… that was something I wanted anyway. There was just something about the triplets that pulled me in. Me and a lot of other people, judging by how popular their videos were.

I was in my pajamas when the guys arrived and saw four sleeping bags, not three. No one said anything but as I looked around the room, I saw three identical smiles.





13





PENNY





On Wednesday, I woke up warm and cozy. A bit too warm and cozy. Someone was pressed up against my back. Even through two layers of sleeping bag, I could feel the heat from his skin. And my outstretched hand was less than an inch away from a bare chest. Maybe Reid’s? It was hard to know.

I sat up trying not to disturb the triplets. Except there were only two of them there. Did that make them twins?

Jackson appeared at the door to the bedroom. At least I was pretty sure it was him. Since I was wedged between his brothers, I accepted the hand he offered. He practically lifted me up, almost off the floor and extracted me from the dog pile. Or maybe we had been snuggled together like hamsters at the pet store.

I smoothed out my pajamas—I was wearing a silky button-down pajama top with matching shorts—and followed Jackson out into the living room.

He headed to the kitchen, but I stopped dead.

Jackson noticed and turned back. “What?”

“The loft,” I said in amazement. “It’s there.”

“Most of it,” he said. “It’s not finished by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s safe to go up there. Want to see it?”

“Maybe a little later,” I said, still staring at it. These guys—and the crews they hired—worked fast. “After I’m dressed.”

He smiled. “Our loft doesn’t have a dress code.” His gaze ran down my body and stayed on my bare legs. A bit self-consciously, I stared right back. He had on a white undershirt that showcased his powerful biceps and shoulders.

I followed him in the kitchen. “No donuts today?”

He grinned. “We try not to let that be a regular thing. But if you want to go get some, be my guest.”

“No car,” I pointed out.

“Right, I forgot. What’s the status on that?”

“The mechanic said I can pick it up this afternoon. Hopefully that means it’s running.”