Page 5 of Four on the Floor: A Menage Romance

Poppy is already at the door.

“Oh, you sweet thing!” she exclaims. “Aren’t you a gentleman?”

“Just trying to help, ma’am,” says a country-tinged voice that is very muchnotDalton’s, and I’m instantly relieved.

“I told you a hundred times already, just call me Poppy,” she says, fondly scolding again. “Calling me ma’am makes me feel like an old lady.”

“But how could that be when you’re clearly not a day over twenty-nine?” the voice asks.

Poppy just laughs.

“You’re shameless, but you’re sweet,” she says. “Come on in, meet Larkin.”

Just as I step into the other room, the owner of the voice comes through the door behind Poppy.

I nearly walk into a doorframe, but at leastthisone’s wearing a shirt.

“Larkin, this is Cash,” Poppy says, oblivious to the fact that I’ve just about forgotten how my feet work. “Cash, this is Larkin. She’ll be your fifth here over the winter. I’m trusting you boys to take care of her and make sure she stays warm!”

Cash looks like he’s the quarterback of a college football team in the Midwest: blond hair that’s just a bit long, bright blue eyes the color of the Caribbean Sea, and an easy smile that makes me feel flustered and perfectly at home all at once.

He’s tall. He’s wearing a light sweater but from the way it hugs his chest and arms, I can tell he’sripped.

He’s got dimples that sink into his cheeks when he flashes that charming smile at me, and he’s got one of those strong, all-engulfing handshakes that’s warm and powerful without being painful.

“Glad you made it here safely,” he says, dimpling. “It’s a hell of a drive, right? I was convinced the bus was gonna go right over a cliff. Slate practically had to hold my hand the whole drive.”

Then hewinks. It’s fucking unfair, because I definitely had a good retort for that, and it flies right out of my head.

“So intense!” I say, my voice way more enthusiastic and bubbly than usual. “I was just glad I had the snow chains on.”

Cash squeezes my hand one more time, then jerks his thumb over his shoulder.

“I went ahead and got your stuff out of your car and put ‘er in the garage,” he says. “I’ll just grab that for you.”

Before I can protest that I’m totally capable of getting my own stuff, he’s pulling in a dolly piled high with a couple of suitcases, plus all the stuff I brought that I ran out of room in the suitcases for and just jammed into duffel bags. It’s heavy, and I can see the muscles in his arm bunching and flexing even beneath his sweater, but he does it easily.

I don’t think dirty thoughts. Not a single one. I give absolutely no brain space to how he’d look wet and wearing nothing but a towel, and Icertainlydon’t imagine him and his dimples naked in my bed.

More than anything, I don’t wonder how his lips would feel if he kissed me, or whether his strong, rough hands would send shivers down my skin.

Nope. Not even a little.

“Thanks,” I say as he steers the unwieldy dolly into my room.ThenI recall the last thing he said. “Wait, you moved my car?”

He smiles again. He’s gotta stop doing that or I’m not going to make it through the winter.

“You left the keys in the ignition,” he says. “At least you turned it off first, though. Must’ve been pretty focused on getting inside.”

I feel like an idiot, and I can feel my face getting hot already.

“I guess I was,” I say, and try to laugh it off.

Cash just cocks his head slightly, looking at me with those blue eyes that make every thought leave my brain.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, that slight, teasing smile still on his face. “Single digit temperatures are no joke. You need any help unpacking?”

“I think I’m all right, thanks,” I say, finally starting to regain some of my footing.

---