Page 48 of Tangled Like Us

Maximoff follows my gaze. “My sister could sleep through a stampede of rhinos. I don’t think she’s dead.” He stiffens, brotherly concern sharpening his cheekbones.“We should go check—”

“You two,” Farrow cuts in, “she’s fine. You checked on her an hour ago.”

“That, we did.” I nod and wrap two palms around my mug.

She was sleeping peacefully. I’m almost positive she stayed up late last night FaceTiming Eliot and Tom, my brothers. Her best friends.

Our bedrooms are on the second-floor, and with both doors cracked, I could hear them talking passionately about my plight. Which includes all the suitors that have now parked their asses on our street.

My brothers think I should change the requirements of the ad. Make “twelve-inch dick” a prerequisite and weed out everyone, and while funny, it’d only cause more headaches and bad press.

Maximoff tries to roll out his stiff neck. “So you saw Thatcher?” He reroutes the topic back to me.

“Oui.” I sip my lukewarm coffee. “We just naturally ran into each other, but he was…a little…well, he was slightly naked.”

“Naked?” Farrow repeats, his brown brows spiking. “Moretti? The fucking hall monitor?”

Maximoff scrunches his face. “What the fuck is slightly naked?”

“Chest high. He was in a towel,” I clarify. “I think I must’ve caught him after a shower.”

Farrow stares up at the ceiling, then looks at me. “You sure you saw Thatcher and not Banks?”

My forehead crinkles in hurt. “Of course I’m sure it was Thatcher. I can tell them apart. Easily.”

Maximoff turns to Farrow. “How’d you even know she ran into Thatcher?”

I’m curious about this too.

He drops his foot off the cushion. “Man, she’s hot and bothered, and there’s only one bodyguard who makes her turn that red.”

Very true.

“But the towel is news to me,” he adds.

Maximoff and Farrow are the only two people I ever told that I’ve been attracted to Thatcher in the past…and the present.

I scratch behind Ophelia’s ears as the fluffy white cat prances by. “It’s nothing, really. Thatcher lives next door, and I went next door, so the probability of an intersection was high.”

I can’t read the room that well at the moment.

So I keep talking, what I shouldn’t do. “It’s not as though I’d ever act on my hot-and-bothered feelings. I don’t trust any dick near my vagina.”Not after Nate.“…although, that’s not completely true because I do trust Thatcher. Naturally. He’s my bodyguard, but he’s off-limits, unattainable, just a man who turns me on. That’s all.” I stop myself.

Thank God.

Maximoff and Farrow are staring at me with piercing concern.

Possibly because I’m speaking about someone they’re not fond of, and I don’t want any of what I just said to feel like betrayal. Like I’m not with them.

I’m with them.

Always.

“You both know my feelings, and they haven’t changed.” I meet their toughened gazes. “I spend so much time with Thatcher, and I want to believe that what he did back in May isn’t who he is. He still shows deep remorse when he’s not as guarded.” I pause. “It’s been four months since he hit you, Farrow, and I don’t think he’s even forgiven himself yet.”

Maximoff and Farrow exchange a strong look together that I can’t understand. Maybe they’ve discussed all-things Thatcher recently without me.

Farrow combs an inked hand through his hair. “I don’t love spending this much energy on a guy that I really don’t give a flying shit about.”