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Gabe strides into the room, and I suck in a breath.
He knows I kissed Alex. Is he going to say something? How did this get so complicated?
“I need to go talk to them,” I murmur.
“Text me. I want regular updates, missy.”
“Will do.”
“Don’t make me come out there, Kay. I might not leave,” she teases.
“That’d be amazing. Don’t tempt me. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I end the call and stride across the worn wooden decking. This house was obviously well-used and well-loved.
Inside, the guys are in the living room. Alex has his phone in hand, and Gabe, now dressed in a pair of jeans in a hoodie, is sitting on the pile of lumber, laptop teetering on his knees. His hair is damp from his shower, and his concentration is absolute as his fingertips fly over the keyboard.
What would they feel like on my skin? Teasing my clit?
My body flushes, and I squeeze my thighs together. Nope. Don’t think like that, Katherine.
I can get a hold of myself. I will.
I lick my lips and take a deep breath, clutching my phone as I step into the room. The large space has aired out a bit and now smells of wood and something chalky.
Alex pauses, his gaze lifting from the phone. Peace and heat sweep through me.
Gabe’s fingers stop tapping, and I glance his way.
His blue eyes meet mine.
Shon’s right. How did I keep to myself last night with these two? My stomach is in a tangle because they look as delicious in casual clothing as they do in tuxedos.
Moreso really. Knowing that the chemistry I’ve always felt isn’t one-sided is. . . heady. Which means they were true blue gentlemen last night. And probably have blue balls because of it.
What now?
There are the dates, obviously. But then what? I don’t think I can go back to sitting across the boardroom table from Gabriel and not want him. It’d kill me to attend events, seeing Alex and not knowing if we could have been something more. There’s no way to win here. Someone’s going to get hurt.
I’m tired of getting hurt.
None of that matters right now. Last night was a circus, and we need to deal with the fallout, not feelings.
So, first things first. See if we can go home without bringing all the performers to our doorstep and inconveniencing everyone in our building.
“So what’s the plan?” I ask.
They stare at me, then each other. It’s like they communicate without words. An entire conversation that I’m not a part of.
But it’s oddly sexy, and I don’t feel left out.
“My PR team has put out a statement,” Gabe says.
“Mine too. First thing this morning,” Alex adds.
I nod. That makes sense.
