Page 4 of End Game

“I’m Cooper.” The quietest one offers his hand to me, and I shake it, startled by his strong grip. “That’s Dollar.” He points at the muffin man.

“Dollar?” I ask, my voice weak. What kind of name is that?

“Frank Dollar,” the guy formerly known as Muffin Man clarifies. “I go by either name.”

“Dollar, Dollar Bills, yo,” Cooper says with a smile, and I paste on a polite one, my gaze sliding to the only guy whose name I don’t know yet.

He’s watching me carefully, his gaze skeptical. I don’t think he’s 100 percent on board with the idea of me moving into their house, so I choose to ignore him, allowing the other two guys to take me on a complete tour.

“The kitchen is small,” Cooper says as he waves his hand toward the narrow space. “But it’s got everything you could need, and the fridge is pretty big.”

“We need the space since we’re growing boys,” Dollar adds, patting his stomach.

If that’s another hint he wants me to cook for him, I don’t know what to say. It’s best I remain quiet, pasting on a smile and nodding politely.

We make our way down the hallway, pausing to pop our heads into each open doorway.

“There’s four bedrooms total, which is pretty rare in this neighborhood,” Cooper explains as he points toward one of the rooms. “And there are two bathrooms. One of them is attached to the primary, though.”

“Which means you’ll have to share a bathroom with these assholes.” Mr. No-Name jerks his thumb in Cooper and Dollar’s direction. “Don’t know if you’re ready for that.”

I can’t help but wrinkle my nose at the idea. “I’m guessing you’ve got the primary bathroom?”

“Yep, I sure do.” There’s that smile again. The one that most likely makes women all over this campus drop their panties for him. “But I also pay a little more rent for the privilege.”

“How much are you renting the room for, anyway?” I mentally brace myself for the amount, heading for the last bedroom, which they haven’t shown me yet. I peek inside to find there’s a bed already in there, as well as a desk and a chair. But that’s it.

No problem. That’s good enough. The other room I rented had a similar setup.

I enter the room and check out the closet, which isn’t very big. But I don’t have a lot of stuff, so I can make it work. The bed is stripped and isn’t covered in gross stains, so that’s a good sign. There’s no dresser, but I could buy those cheap storage-bin drawers at Target or Walmart.

This has tremendous possibilities. Living with three guys, though? Will that be an issue?

I can’t worry about that. I need to take my opportunities where I can, and this one basically landed in my lap.

Moving away from the bed, I walk over to the window and push back the vertical blinds, making them clack noisily against each other. My breath catches when I take in the view.

It’s nothing but the ocean. The Pacific is right there, seemingly only a few feet away since the house sits close to a cliff. Which might be a little disconcerting if I think about it too hard, but beggars can’t be choosers in this moment.

“Rent for the room is fourteen hundred a month,” Cooper says, and I whirl around, shock coursing through me at the amount.

“But I was only paying eight hundred at the other place,” I protest weakly.

“That was just a bed,” Cooper reminds me. “Here you get an entire room.”

“I have to share the bathroom.” With two big burly men who probably aren’t very clean.

Ew.

“Maybe you can convince Nico to share his bathroom with you.” Dollar waves a hand in Handsome’s direction, and I turn to look at him, frowning a little at the revelation.

Of course his name would be Nico. Sounds and looks like he walked right out of a rom-com or a romance novel. I mean, look at him.

Tall, dark, and handsome barely covers it. He’s also broad and muscular, with a disarming smile and eyes that seem to see right through me. It’s a little disconcerting, if I’m being real with myself.

“Yeah, that’s never going to happen. I’m not big on sharing.” Nico crosses his arms in front of him, his expression turning stern, his biceps bulging. I don’t know what’s more distracting, his face or his muscles. “It’s why I pay extra rent.”

“Would you guys take a thousand a month?” My brain is scrambling, trying to process if I can even cover that much.

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