Page 1 of Don't Get Me Wrong

Chapter One

Nick

I’m hot, tired, dirty, and hungry when I park the car in front of my house.

It’s been a long ten months. Productive—fascinating—but long. The China dig was a once-in-a-lifetime chance for me, a dream dig really. My inner Indiana Jones, the reason I became an archaeologist and a professor in the first place, is happy. I didn’t get to fight Nazis or save a chick and bang her. But I also didn’t steal any local culture for a colonizing government’s warehouse.

I didn’t realize I’d miss teaching as much as I did, though. The adventure was thrilling, but I have a new appreciation for my home in Brazen Bay. And cheeseburgers. I missed cheeseburgers a lot.

My eyelids have turned to sandpaper, and the Uber driver drives like he’s getting paid by the minute. I just want to get home. My own bed. My jetted shower. Hell, I’ll be lucky if I make it to the couch before collapsing.

I let myself into my house and call for my brother, not surprised when he doesn’t answer. He hasn’t returned very many of my calls over the last few months. What does surprise me is how clean the house appears. I pay a weekly cleaning service, but my brother can be a real slob. I had reservations about even letting him stay here while I was gone, but I didn’t want the house to sit empty for ten months.

I call his name again to no answer, and I’m hoping that means he got my message and moved out already. More likely, he’s out picking up a new one-night girlfriend from the coed population in nearby Hamilton. Hopefully not one of my students. I think he uses my name to get laid. My brother is an ass. And now he’s an ass with money after our dad died, which I’m sure he’s burning through at a pace only a little slower than the rate he goes through college girls.Myinheritance went into investments. His is probably nearly gone.

I take a shower, long and hot, and make a sandwich from the fully stocked fridge. Another mystery. My brother doesn’t usually keep more than beer and condiments in the kitchen. Maybe he instructed the cleaning service to stock some food before he left. That’s not how Devon rolls, usually, but I suppose it’s possible. He was a better brother when he had a girlfriend for a few months, but he and Stella broke up, and he went back to being a dick.

Ham on rye with mustard hits the spot. Tomorrow, I’ll get that damn burger I’ve been craving for months. My bed calls, and I shamble into the bedroom and strip my clothes off as I go. I’ll pick them up later. Tomorrow. Hell, maybe the day after that. I slide into the cool sheets. Either the cleaning service switched laundry soap, or Devon had a woman in the bed and didn’t change the sheets before I got home. That fucker.

The floral scent is soothing, reminding me that I haven’t been soothed by a woman in a long time. Too long. I’ve been too busy looking for bones to bone anyone. Unlike my brother, I’m not a manwhore, either.

I need to find that idiot tomorrow. Figure out why he’s been dodging my calls. It isn’t because my house has fallen down around him unless the damage is in a room I haven’t seen yet.

Tomorrow. I’ll deal with him tomorrow. All that matters now is sleep.

I’m too tired to even rub one out, though the floral scent teases me into a sweet dream of soft skin and full curves...

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Katie

ILET MYSELF INTO THEhouse after a long day of school and a short shift at Ironwing. All the shifts at Ironwing are short. I think Nash McKendrick only hired me to make his girlfriend happy. He still doesn’t keep the bar open any later, even though I wouldn’t mind more hours. I might have to get a second job when this house-sitting gig is up since I’ll have to pay rent.

I’ll miss this house. It’s perfect for me. The bungalow has been updated, but it still has the charm from the 1930s when it was built. Custom woodwork, gas appliances, and oh my God, the shower. I will never be able to take a regular shower again without thinking of the heavy rain showerhead that cascades perfect temperature water in luxury. Also, the handheld has a setting that gets a girl through a lonely night, if you know what I mean.

I even love the furniture here. It’s masculine, but very cozy. It’s not really Devon’s style. Frankly, he seems like he’d decorate with sports posters and beer can pyramids. I’m guessing he had someone else pick it out, and whoever that person is, I would like to get to know better. I’ve never felt so at home before in my life. Like I was meant to be here. Meant to snuggle on the couch with a glass of wine and a good book. Which is the extent of my night life when I’m not working.

The minute I open the door, I know the house isn’t empty. It’s just a feeling, but the hairs on my neck stand up. There are a couple bags by the door, and I let the air out of my lungs. Not a burglar. It must be Devon back early. I wish he would have told me he was coming back. He’s a little on the creeper side, and I don’t really want to spend the night in the house with him alone.

“Devon?” I call out. No answer. He’s not in the living room or kitchen. Damn, he’s not inmyroom, is he? He told me to use the bedroom. He told me the house was mine until he got back from wherever it was he was going. I feel like a heads-up should have been in order.

The door is open, so I poke my head in. “Devon?”

No answer. I turn the light on. Sure enough, there’s a man-shaped lump in the bed. Damn it. I’m actually a little pissed off. Make that a lot pissed off. If he would have told me he was coming and wanted the room back, I would have cleared my stuff out. This is a total invasion of privacy.

“Devon!” I say with more force. I don’t care if I wake him up now.

He grunts.

I’ve been warned he is a prick, and now all those things I heard he said about Stella, his ex-girlfriend and one of my favorite bar customers, race through my head. I march over to the bed, intent on giving him a piece of my mind. I poke him. “Devon.”

He turns over. Shit, that’s not Devon. I open my mouth to scream, the stranger reaches for me and pulls me onto the bed with him. Fuck. He’s strong. I try to push him, but he rolls me under him. I’ve got a few self-defense moves I’m ready to unleash when I recognize a few things at once—he’s Professor Sanders, he’s still asleep, and he’s naked.

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