Page 24 of From Wink to Kink

But it’s not housekeeping.

It’s a certain redheaded, younger sister of one of my teammate buddies.

What. The. Fuck.

Ruby Brooks, my teammate's little sister. Ruby Brooks, the bookworm who always looks at me like I'm something she scraped off her shoe. Ruby Brooks, who is currently gaping at me with an expression that's equal parts horror and... something else I can't quite identify.

I just know it’s not good.

For a second, we stare at each other, frozen in what has to be the most awkward tableau in the history of awkward tableaus, like something out of one of those Lifetime movies my mother loves so much. I'm suddenly acutely aware of every bead of sweat on my body, every ache in my muscles, and the fact that I'm standing here in nothing but clingy, sweat-soaked boxer briefs.

Am I surprised to see Ruby? On one hand, I guess not. After all, it was her brother who told me she was coming here. But to have her barge into my room?

If that’s a coincidence, it’s a pretty fucking weird one.

Maybe the team is punking me. Yeah, that’s got to be it.

So I decide to play along and do the only thing I can think of.

I strike a pose.

"Well, well, well," I drawl, leaning against the bedpost in what I hope is a casual, sexy manner, and not a 'holy crap my muscles are on fire' manner. "If it isn't Ruby Brooks come to see the gun show!"

The guys might think they’re pulling one over on me, but I’ll show them I can’t be rattled. They’ve been hazing me since I joined the Aftershocks. It took me some time to get used to their antics, but these days I’m ready for whatever they throw my way.

Not surprisingly, Ruby’s face swivels through about fifteen different contortions in as many seconds, finally settling on a mix of embarrassment and annoyance. The guys briefed her well.

"I... this isn't... oh, God," she stumbles.

She’s good. Very good.

She's clutching a book to her chest like a shield, her knuckles white. Her eyes, which I've always thought were annoyingly pretty, are wide with shock. And is that a blush creeping up her cheeks?

"You know," I continue, because apparently my mouth has a death wish, "if you wanted to see me naked, you could have just asked. No need for the whole breaking and entering routine."

Take that, you fuckers.

Ruby snaps out of her fake-daze. Her eyes narrow with that familiar look of disdain settling over her features, the one I’ve been on the receiving end of one time too many. "What are you doing here? What are you doing in my room?”

I pick up the packet of materials they handed me when I arrived. “Same thing as you, I’m pretty sure.”

She looks from the packet, back to me, then at the one in her own hand.

Hell, I almost wish I were filming this, she’s so on point.

She clears her throat. “In your dreams, Newcomb. This is clearly a mistake. I must have the wrong room," she says indignantly. “Or you do.”

"No, you are in the wrong room," I agree, not moving from my pose.

“Don’t think so,” she snaps, dangling a key from her hand. “Why would the front desk have given me a key to this room, if it wasn’t my room?”

She rolls her eyes so hard I'm worried they’ll get stuck. "Trust me, if I had known you were here, I would have booked a different week at a different resort. On a different continent."

"Ouch," I clutch my chest in mock pain. "You wound me, Brooks. And here I thought we were finally bonding."

Ruby's gaze flickers over me once more, and I swear I see something other than disgust in her eyes. But it's gone so quickly, I figure I imagined it.

“Why are you even here? I saw you get into a fancy limo back at the airport,” she snaps.

---