Page 10 of Four on the Floor: A Menage Romance

Cash

“What,you’re not up for the challenge?” Dalton says, lowering his bass into its case.

He’s the most finicky about his instruments, and while the rest of us have the bad habit of letting them lay around until the next practice session, not Dalton. He always puts his things away exactly where they go, makes sure that they’re protected from the elements. For example, on this retreat he’s already lectured me twice on how the cold affects an instrument’s tuning, so I should really be more careful.

He’s probably right. I should be. But I put my sticks down across my drum kit anyway and stand, done for the day.

“She’s here to paint, not be some groupie,” I tell Dalton, making a face.

“She’s clearly not some groupie,” he points out. “Girl’s got no clue who we are.”

“Of course she has no clue whoweare, Slate hasn’t shown his face yet,” I tell him. “No one recognizes us without him, why would they?”

Slate’s the front man for the Wreckers: singer, songwriter, rhythm guitarist.He’sfamous as hell, because he’s the one who gets the Rolling Stone covers, and he’s the one who gets invited on all the talk shows.

All perfectly fine with me. I just want to play drums and go to the grocery store without getting mobbed. Problem is, Slate wants that too — he loves making music and hates being photographed.

“Maybe she likes classical music,” he points out, carefully snapping his case closed. “Maybe she’s got absolutely no idea who the Wreckers are at all.”

He stands, guitar case in one hand, and grins at me.

“Doesn’t mean she wouldn’t be into it,” he says.

I just snort, though truth be told: I don’t hate the idea. Not completely.

Okay, I hate the idea that Dalton’s teasing me about, that he’s going to get to her first and plant some sort of ridiculous flag on her, declaring that Larkin’s his for the duration of our stay here.

But I onlysort ofhate that idea.

I don’t hate it if she can be mine, too.

It wouldn’t be the first time we’d been with the same girl at the same time. I was born without a jealous bone in my body, and same with Dalton — he’s more than happy to know that when he’s not around, someone he trusts is taking care of his girlfriend.

Honestly, I kind of prefer it that way. We’ve shared a girlfriend, and I don’t just mean that we’ve had threesomes — we’ve done thattonsof times.

I mean, we’ve dated the same girl at the same time. Caroline. It wasn’t just sex, it was a real relationship — dates, flowers, chocolates, long walks on the beach, pillow talk, the whole nine yards. Until we broke up, it wasgreat.

But it’s hard to find a girl who’d be into that, and what are the chances that that girl is Larkin?

Besides, I’d hate leaving Gavin and Slate out in the cold, so to speak. I’m pretty sure that they’d also be willing to share, based on my prior experiences, but four guys?

One girl?

That’s insanity.

“You want to be the one to ask her?” I tease him, heading down the plushly carpeted hall toward the lobby. “Ten bucks says you get slapped across the face before you can sayme and my three closest friends all want to bang you.”

“Right, but what if she says yes?” he asks, still grinning. “You remember Caroline, right?”

“That was a very particular circumstance,” I point out.

“Remember that night in the pool?” he asks.

Jesus, of course I remember the night in the pool. Things didn’t end well with Caroline, butthe night in the pool— the very first time we took her together — is forever etched into my brain.

I didn’t know someone could come as hard as she did, and I didn’t know I’d be addicted to it after that. Justwatchingsomeone in that much pleasure is like a drug.

“There’s a pool here,” he points out casually, like I hadn’t noticed.

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