Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 119852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Reacting instantly, Riggs strides across the room, picks Kayla up out of the broken shards on the floor, nearly tossing her back and trusting that I’ll cover her, and raises his fist to pummel this intruder.
“Wait!” Kayla exclaims, fighting me as I try to shield her with my body. “No!”
Riggs glances back, both of us surprised at her outburst.
“Yeah, wait,” the guy says. But instead of looking shocked by his current predicament and impending death at the hands at one of the league’s toughest defensemen, he seems bored? And is that a shit-eating grin stretching across his face? “This is gonna be good.”
“Shit,” Kayla whispers under her breath. But in some weird, debutante final boss—manners or death demonstration, she introduces us all. “Guys, this is Kyle, my brother. Kyle, this is…”
“Riggs Patrick and Maddox Brooks. Yeah, I know,” he quips sardonically. “I installed their pool last year. Some of my best work.”
Oh, yeah. We did have a pool installed when we bought the house. The realtor handled most of it, and we never met the actual installation crew because we were in the city, focusing on finishing out the season and dealing with stuff via email. We played the last game of the season and came ‘home’ to a reward of an amazing back yard and a decorated house that we had very little to do with.
“What are you doing here?” I demand, wrapping a blanket around Kayla’s shoulders. Now that she’s said they’re related, I can see a general resemblance in their blond hair and blue eyes, but where Kayla is elegance personified, Kyle is heavily muscled and rough-looking in dirty jeans, a T-shirt, backward ballcap, and work boots.
“Scheduled maintenance check. The confirmation for the appointment said to let myself in the back yard,” he answers easily before cutting his eyes to Kayla to drawl out, “Didn’t expect to find my sister, naked with her morning coffee.”
Okay, that explains the puddle in the floor and the scream. But I have no idea about the appointment, nor do I like his accusatory tone.
“What day is it?” Riggs’s brow furrows as he runs a hand through his hair.
“The twentieth,” Kyle replies.
“Fuck.” So yeah, I guess the appointment is cleared up too. Just one of those automatic things we didn’t even think of after it happened.
“Look, let’s all…” Kayla says, stepping out from behind me like she’s taking charge of this whole encounter.
Kyle holds a staying hand up. “I want to hear whatever it is you have to say. I do. But I’m gonna need these assholes to put their dicks away first.” His points at my crotch, then Riggs’s. Most guys would probably cover themselves, but we grew up in locker rooms full of swinging dicks so nudity is nothing unusual for us. Plus, we’re in our own damn home. “Especially Patrick. Jesus Christ, man. Why do you even need a hockey stick when you’ve got that fucking thing hanging there?”
“Do you really want to know?” Riggs deadpans.
As if the implications of that only just occurred to him, Kyle’s eyes comically widen as they jump to Kayla. “Seriously?” And then he starts putting more pieces together, like that there are three naked people in front of him. “Hol-ee shit!” he exclaims and then instantly begins pacing as he rambles. “Oh my God, are you like a menagerie? No, that’s not right. What’s the word?” He shakes his head, his shaggy hair flopping around, and then he taps his forehead with his palm like he can force the word to the surface, which seems to actually work. “A throuple! That’s it. Kayla, are you throupling?”
I think that word hits all of us hard. I know it does me, opening a yawning pit in my stomach, and I’m the most chill of the three of us. Because labels are a touchy thing in the best of circumstances, and let’s be real, surprise naked family introductions aren’t exactly ideal.
Riggs swallows so thickly, the sound is audible. And though Kayla is standing right here with us, her entire demeanor is that of someone facing a firing squad of one.
“Let’s all calm down,” she finally says, her voice even as she talks to her brother like he’s a wild animal on the verge of a rabies-fueled rampage. Or maybe like she’s about to run for the hills. Either-or, fifty-fifty.
“In my experience, telling someone that usually makes things worse,” I suggest helpfully, remembering the time those words came out of my mouth before she’d made sure I thought again.
Not heeding my advice in the slightest, she whispers, “Could you excuse us for a minute, please?”
Is she actually asking Riggs and me to leave her alone with her brother?
I don’t want to do it, especially when she hasn’t said yes or no to the whole throuple question, but I guess wearing pants while meeting her family does seem like a better idea than standing here with my dick out. “I’ll get you a shirt,” I offer, and she nods. “And be right back.” I give Kyle a warning look, but it’s completely wasted because he and Kayla are mid-glarefest.