Page 22 of My Three Hometown Hard Hats
Brooks and Conrad are running between the nearly finished ramp at the front of the house and the garage. Brooks stutters his steps upon seeing me standing there.
“We thought we could get it done before the storm rolled in.” He shrugs. Obviously, they didn’t.
His hair is pulled back, but a few stray strands blow around his face. The playful smile he gives me makes my heart leap in my chest.
“Can I help?” I feel like I’m shouting over the rain.
He nods. “All of this stuff needs to get into the garage.”
I run over and grab an armful of supplies, taking them into the garage. I set everything in the far corner where the rest of their stuff is piled.
Conrad is there, putting down their tools. I swallow heavily, seeing his white shirt plastered to his toned chest.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he says with a wink before heading back out in the rain.
That’s the first time he’s called me that since the plane. Butterflies erupt like a volcano inside of me.
Jerking me out of my thoughts, Brooks grabs my hand. “Come on, Trouble,” he says, pulling me back outside.
The guys grab the last pieces of wood, and I haul in the last couple of tools that were lying around. Back in the garage, we look around at each other and all burst out laughing. We’re all drenched from head to toe.
“Let’s go dry off,” I say, still laughing. The guys both follow me into the house, but stop as soon as the door closes behind them.
“We don’t want to get water all over your mom’s floor,” Conrad says, wiping water from his face.
“I guess stripping it is,” Brooks says, reaching behind his head to pull his T-shirt off with surprising ease, considering it’s dripping wet.
I can’t find the strength to look away from his ripped arms and chest, which are both covered in tattoos.Holy bad-boy fantasy.
“Really, Brooks?” Conrad questions, shaking his head at his brother.
Brooks kicks off his boots and undoes his belt, sliding his work pants down his legs with zero care to the fact that he is now standing before me in only his damp boxer briefs.He even has a tattoo on his thigh.
“What? We need to get dry. I’m not ruining Maggie’s floor.”
“Fine,” Conrad huffs, removing his boots. He peels his pants and shirt off.
Watching him, I realize this man has been inside of me, but I haven’t even seen him without his shirt off.
Conrad isn’t quite as ripped as his brother, but his muscles are still impressive. He has a tattoo that snakes from over his heart and across his ribs and disappears around his back. It’s a mix of vines covered in flowers and text I can’t read at this distance.
My eyes dart back over to Brooks, who smirks, catching me checking out his brother. “Your turn.”
“Oh,” I say, looking down at my dripping clothes. I forgot I was even wet standing here. Well, that kind of wet, at least. I couldn’t forget the wetness building between my thighs from the sight of these two standing before me in only their underwear, even if I wanted to.
I never thought I would be into being with more than one guy at a time, but apparently my girly parts are very into this right now.
I take my Converse off. Unbuttoning my jeans, I shimmy them down my legs.Thank goodness you wore regular underwear today and not a thong. Small blessings.
Grabbing the hem of my gray shirt, I pull it over my head. I don’t even want to think about what my hair looks like right now.
I reach down, grabbing my jeans from the floor, trying not to freak out that I’m only wearing a pair of pale purple underwear and a white lacy bra.
“Grab your stuff. We can put it in the dryer.” I finally look up and realize neither of them are moving. They’re just staring at me.
My eyes dart between them. Turning on my heels, I move through the kitchen and into the laundry room.
“Fuck me,” I hear one of them mumble.
