Page 74 of Light My Fire

I would actually consider jumping in the lake to cool my overheated ass off if the damn thing wasn’t frozen still.

Yanking the refrigerator door open way too hard, all the condiments and beer bottles inside rattle aggressively.

Sixteen more hours, then we can leave this cabin and I can forget all about Brooke Wilder. I’ll text a hookup, I’ll hit the gym, and I’ll stop eating guacamole because now I’ll never be able to see an avocado again without thinking of the way she expertly removed the pit today on a half dozen of them and proudly showed us how she makes guac.

Fuck avocados. I don’t need them. Salsa is just fine.

But I like guacamole better and therein lies the whole damn problem. I can’t have the guacamole or Brooke and I’m stuck with salsa and a potential warm body next to me that I won’t be able to stop comparing to Brooke.

Which means I have no business being anything other than celibate for the near future until I can get a handle on my goddamn head.

I grab a beer and slam the fridge door shut again.

Then I unscrew the cap on the beer even though it’s not a screw top, scraping the skin on my palm, and toss the cap onto the island in a general “fuck you” to everything.

“I’m going to bed,” I announce.

Not that the three of them will care. They’re already talking about getting in the hot tub one last time, and I’m not doing that.

“Bed?” Wyatt exclaims. “It’s eight o’clock.”

“He’s old, remember?” Jackson grins as he strips out of his sweatpants. “Next thing you know, he’ll be eating dinner at four.”

“We’re just dropping trou in the kitchen now?” I ask, gesturing to his pants on the floor.

“We told you we’re going in the hot tub,” he replies. “Come on. It’s our last night here since the runway has been cleared for the plane, and hot tubs are good for aging joints.”

Something on my face must give him a clue it’s not a good time to mess with me because he just shrugs.

“Okay, then. You do you.”

It’s just an expression that has nothing whatsoever to do with sex and yet all I can think is that they’re bothdoingBrooke and I’m doing nothing.

Brooke peels herself away from Wyatt and comes over to me. “Join us. Please? It will be fun.”

I shake my head. “No.”

She knows why. I explained it to her yesterday.

She’s far too tempting.

“I don’t want you to be in here by yourself,” she murmurs.

“I have the dogs.”

“I’m going out,” Jackson declares.

“Me too. Brooke, you coming?” Wyatt asks.

“Not yet,” Jackson says with a grin.

They all laugh. So now we’re just joking about them fucking her? What are they going to do, share her tonight?

Jesus, I donotneed that thought in my head.

Brooke shoots me one last look but follows them.

I stand in the kitchen for ten minutes, nursing my beer, debating what to do with myself and all my frustration, when Brooke suddenly comes back into the kitchen.

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