Page 71 of Fumbled Into Love

“What are you doing here?” I ask Declan, hauling them both into the house and out of the bitter cold November has brought to Seattle.

“Deon invited me,” Declan says, and my heart soars out of my chest as Deon rounds the corner, clasping Declan into a warm embrace.

Well, fuck.

That’s not helping the crush.

“Glad you came.” Deon lowers his voice. “I can’t eat all of this food alone.”

“Deon Adams!” Aaron squeals, and I lose it, doubling over in laughter. I forget how people idolize them. When I think of Deon and Declan, it’s memories of Book Club and drunken proposals, not highlight reels and dollar signs. “What is Deon Adams doing in your living room? Why are there NFL players in your living room?”

“I think we broke him,” Declan whispers to Deon.

Deon leans over, whispering back. “Oh, yeah. He’s a goner. Twenty bucks, he doesn’t say more than ten words at dinner.”

“Fifty says he faints,” Declan responds.

“Enough betting,” I chide, separating my two idiots. “Leave the poor kid alone. He’s probably shitting himself.”

Aaron stares with wide eyes, and I clasp Deon’s upper arm, squeezing. A silentBe nice. I repeat the gesture with Declan.

“Aaron, this is my boyfriend, Deon.”

I stumble slightly on the wordboyfriend,but I stick the landing.

Deon wears a smug smile as he reaches out a hand, and I pinch his left ass cheek. His eyes swing to mine, and I lift a brow. He is enjoying Aaron’s freak-out a bit too much, and I don’t like the way my cheeks want to rise in a lovestruck smile.

You’ll pay for that later, he mouths, and my toes curl in anticipation.

I hope so. It’s only a deal if you act on the deal.

“I’m Declan.” Declan waves sheepishly as Aaron clutches Deon’s hand, refusing to let go.

“Looks like you have competition.” I jump at the sound of Gracie’s voice in my ear, and her chuckle tickles against my neck. A small flush creeps onto her cheeks.

“Hi, Aaron.” Aaron snatches his hand away from Deon, and his eyes roam along Gracie’s skin.

I grab my two goofballs by the arms, pulling them into the kitchen to give Gracie and Aaron privacy.

“Hey!” Declan hisses, “I wanted to watch that.”

I roll my eyes when Deon shocks me. “Me too.”

Good Lord.

“Leave them alone,” I say, but the command falls on deaf ears as they both peer around the corner, whispering to each other when Gracie or Aaron says something.

I fall onto a barstool.

In so many ways, they are wildly different. Deon guards his heart with barbed wire, while Declan is much freer with his emotions. Declan is loud and outgoing, while Deon is reserved.

But I can see how they fit. I’ve always wondered what happened in the room they shared at the lake house in Michigan.

“They’re coming,” Declan whispers, and they both scramble. Declan slides into a chair next to Santi, and Deon gives me zero warning before his lips smash against mine in a sloppy, awkward kiss.

I’m motionless, and my shocked eyes meet Deon’s wild gaze before they flutter shut, reveling in the way his fingers tangle into the hair at the base of my neck.

After the initial shock, the kiss is soft and slow, and when Deon pulls away, the rest of the world returns.

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