Page 41 of Until I Own You

“Oh, my god,” Jack says. “You guys only have one thing on your mind, don’t you?”

Nate shrugs. “Kind of.”

Mason lifts his hand for a high five, which Nate reciprocates.

With an annoyed look in my direction, Jack sighs. “Do they annoy you like they annoy me?”

“No comment,” I say. I’m not going to rain on Nate and Mason’s parade. Their proposal went exactly to plan. Laney said yes and now they’re engaged, date of the commitment ceremony to be determined.

Anyway, I don’t care about whatever innuendos Nate and Mason make or really anything about anyone at all. I’ve got a one-track mind.

I get onto my feet. “Anyone want anything? I’m gonna grab another beer.” I shake my empty bottle.

“Yes, please. Beer.” Jack gets into a ready position as Mason starts the game.

“I second that,” Mason adds.

I give Nate a look. You wouldn’t know from the way he is snuggled up in the couch under a blanket that he’s actually a buff surfer dude who most of the time can’t be made to sit down. This is going to be harder than I thought. “Nate?” I prod.

“I’m good, man.” His eyes stay glued to the screen.

I stand there and gnaw on my lip.

Fuck.

“Could you…”

Nate looks at me, obvious confusion on his face.

I groan to myself. “Could you come help me?”

Mason smirks, eyes on the game, fingers clicking on the controller. “You can’t carry three beer bottles?”

I grunt. “Yes, I can carry three beer bottles.”

“Okay, good. Because I’m super cozy.” Nate buries himself under the big blanket.

I continue to stand there. I’ve never been good at asking for help.

Nate blinks. “You good?”

“Can you…” I gesture over my shoulder, at a loss. There’s no getting around just asking the question. “Can you just come with me? I want to talk to you. In private.”

Jack laughs. “You gonna talk shit about us?”

“Yeah, that’s what I need to do,” I say in a dry tone.

Nate groans and pushes the blanket off of himself. “Fiiiiiinnnne.”

“Thank you.” I jet out of the living room and into the hall. Thank god the kitchen is at the other end of Jack’s Financial District apartment, so we won’t be overheard.

Not that Mason and Jack seem to care since they’re pinned on their tag team round of Call of Duty.

Nate’s padding feet follow me, and I can’t resist a small smile. Just a year ago, he was still learning to walk after his surfing accident. Now, he’s the same old Nate.

Once I enter the darkened kitchen, I head right to the fridge for the beers.

“What’s going on, man?” Nate prompts.

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