Page 182 of How to Lose at Love

Thick brows. Thick necks.

Thick muscles.

Tan skin.

Duke looks expensive, like a man who can walk into a high-end department store and buy whatever he wants because he can.

Expensive sneakers.

Joggers that probably cost more than my entire outfit.

Hoodie with fabric so fine I can see the sheen from here.

His face hasn’t been shaved, but I can see that his hair has been freshly cut.

It’s shorter than his brothers’ hair, but it’s the same color as theirs, and I wonder if they resemble their mother or father or both.

When they laugh, they smile the same. Sound the same.

Same accents.

When they grin, I can’t help noticing they all have the same straight white teeth.

It’s nauseating how good-looking these men are, and for a brief moment, I don’t blame Tiffany for shooting her shot, despite the horrible timing.

I said abriefmoment.

Verybrief.

I’m finding it increasingly hard to concentrate on the words coming from their mouths as I fixate more on their commonalities and their devilish good looks. I find it impossible to believe Duke and Dallas had little previous dating experience before Posey and I came along, but it doesn’t sound like they were fuck boys, either.

Before Duke leaves, he asks if any of us want to go to dinner; none of the boys are in the mood to go out in public, exhausted from their game, although I think Dallas was the only one who had playing time.

“You want to spend the night?” Drake asks their older brother when he rises. Stretches this way and that, arms above his head.

Duke shakes his head. “No, I’m gonna catch a flight back. I have Monday Night Football, so Posey and I are going to spend the day on the couch tomorrow. Lazy Sundays are kind of her thing.”

He winks at me.

“You’re going to go hop back on a flight?” Dallas scratches the back of his neck. “You just got here.”

His brother shrugs into a black puffer coat. “Told Posey I’d be back tonight, so I’m gonna jet. Not a big deal, little brother.” He ruffles Dallas on the head, mussing up his hair. “All I was really doin’ here was checkin’ up on y’all. I know you had a dramatic week and wanted to make sure y’all were stayin’ sane.”

My heart squeezes.

Makes me wish I had a sibling; I always wanted an older sister. Heck, I’d take a younger one, too, now that I’m watching the four of them hugging in a huddle, saying their goodbyes.

“Keep out of trouble,” Duke warns before stepping out onto the front porch. He turns to me. “Keep your wits about you, Ryann. You’re gonna need them. But mostly have fun—and don’t let this dipshit do anything stupid.”

I smile, giggling like a fool. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Just as quickly as he appeared, Duke Colter, the legend, is gone, climbing into a rented pickup truck and pulling away from the curb, taillights fading when he gets farther down the street.

We watch as he turns left and disappears.

Dallas puts his arm around my waist, pulling me close.

Kisses me on the top of the head. “Hungry?”

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