Page 55 of The Check Down

The three of us stare in awkward silence. Griffin’s gaze drifts down to my chest and lingers, his Adam’s apple bobbing. When he looks away, catching his brother doing the same, he smacks him on the back of the head. “Quit looking at her.”

“Shit. Sorry.” With his hands in the air, Tucker tips his head back and groans. “I’m so hungover. Make me breakfast before I die, Griff.”

His brother huffs, though it’s a mostly good-natured sound. “Fine. But put on a fucking shirt.”

Tucker nods, then he blinks at me. “Brynn. It’s nice to meet you. Sorry about the naked stuff.” The way his cheeks go pink and the sheepish smile that tips his lips only make him more adorable.

“Oh.” A nervous laugh escapes me as cool air hits my skin, causing me to shiver. “Um, yeah, no worries. I guess.”

Griff’s eyes flash a stormy gray as his brother walks away. “Seems shower privacy is hard to come by in this apartment.” With a quirk of his lips, he’s gone.

I slam my eyes closed, and the fire of a thousand suns burns me from within.

Holy hell, he knows.

Yep, death by mortification.

Oh God, I’ll never admire his gorgeous eyes again. And forget that relationship conversation I have all worked out in my head. Maybe I should feign an illness to skip the game. Go full stealth-mode. He’ll come home to find I’ve moved out like a thief in the night.

When I finally coax myself back to reality, Tucker’s voice echoes in the stairwell. “I’m telling Mom you’re living with a woman.” His statement is followed by a breathyoomph—no doubt a result of his brother’s physical response.

From below, Griffin’s deep baritone commands, “Join us for breakfast, Brynn.”

So much for my plan to avoid him at all costs.

I go through the motions of blow drying and styling my hair, applying makeup, and dressing like a dead woman walking, a deep sense of dread weighing down my limbs. With a fortifying breath, I descend the stairs, ready to face my fate. But when I make it to the main floor, the sight of a two-time world champion dishing scrambled eggs onto his younger brother’s plate softens every tense muscle in my body.

“Scrambled okay, professor?”

Nodding, I take the stool next to a still-shirtless Tucker.

“You’re a professor?” the younger Lacey asks through a mouthful of eggs.

Griffin answers for me. “She’s working on her doctorate.”

“Cool.” His brother nods.

We eat in silence—Tucker and me at the bar, and my roommate propped against the counter, one ankle crossed over the other. He doesn’t take his eyes off me as he scoops forkfuls of eggs into his mouth. His intense scrutiny makes me twitchy.

“You got a tattoo last night?” I study the intricate shapes and patterns etched into Tucker’s skin. There are so many colorful details, it’s hard to decide where to focus first.

“Yeah, had this bottom part of my sleeve finished.” He holds up his right arm where what looks like a strip of plastic wrap circles his wrist. I survey the design beneath it, then work my way farther up Tucker’s arm to the wing that’s inked onto his shoulder and left pec.

The sound of a plate clattering to the granite countertop startles me, and I spin to face my roommate.

Griffin storms into the living room and snags the T-shirt that’s crumpled in a chair. He balls it up and chucks it at his brother’s face. “Shirt, dickwad.”

“All right, asshole.”

A giggle breaks free. “Do all siblings call each other such endearing names?” I turn to Tucker. “I’m an only child, so I have no experience in this department.”

Shrugging, he gives his brother a fond smile. “Shaw’s way worse than we are. I can’t remember the last time he called me by my given name.”

“True.” Griffin rubs a hand along his short beard and checks his watch. “I’ve got to get changed. Tuck, take care of the dishes.” He points at his brother. “And don’t bug her.”

Dutifully, Tucker salutes his brother. Then he hops up from the stool. As he rinses the dishes and loads them in the dishwasher, he tilts his head and asks, “So what’s with that?”

The white board on the pantry door was probably hung to be used for grocery lists or reminders, but Griff and I have given it a new role.

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