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“Who the fuck—” The voice cuts off, and I hear rustling. There’s grunting and what sounds like a table being knocked over.
“Move, motherfucker,” I hear Landon’s deep voice.
It sucks that he has that voice, honestly. A man who looks like that shouldn’t be allowed to have a sexy, sonorous voice, too. A moment later, the door opens, and I see Landon’s bright smile.
“Well, if it isn’t our hellcat neighbor. Good morning, darlin’,” he drawls. “What can we do you for?”
I push past him, stomping into their house.
“You,” I point to Shane. I realize, all too late, that he doesn’t have a shirt on.
My eyes go wide. Holy heck. I was right. Without a shirt on, Shane is an absolute work of art. He’s definitely got gym muscles, but they go for days, and I have the strongest urge to feel how firm they are…
“Can we help you, woman?” a voice growls.
I look from Shane to the corner. The third one is standing there. He has on dirty jeans, and he’s tugging a dusty Coors t-shirt over his head. I don’t get to see his abs, which is a shame, because his body…
“Take a picture,” he barks. “It’ll last longer.”
“Wow. You are as unpleasant as I remember.” I narrow my eyes at him.
“Clint’s just grumpy before he’s had coffee,” Landon says.
Clint shoots him a glare, which leads me to believe that Clint is just grumpy all the time.
I turn back to Shane. “Show me the lease.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” he says primly.
“The. Freaking. Lease,” I snap. “Show it to me.”
“I can give you a hard copy,” Landon says from behind me. “So much better than that weird, eggheaded tech shit that Shane has…”
I spin and snatch the document out of his hands. I stomp back out onto the porch, settling on their front step before I flip the document open. I start reading.
Behind me, I can hear their voices as they murmur to each other. Landon’s musical rumble, Shane’s low voice. The occasional bark that sounds like Clint.
I really shouldn’t be shocked by the fact that two out of the three of them were shirtless. Really. It’s early in the morning, and men basically never wear clothes…
Focus.
I sigh, turning my attention back to the document. The more I read, the more I realize there’s no way this is a regular lease. When I’m done, my chest burning, I stand. I stomp back into the house, not bothering to knock this time.
All three men are sitting at the table. Three cups of coffee sit in front of them.
For a minute, I stop in my tracks. Two of those cups look like lattes. Do they have a freaking latte machine? My eyes slide to the countertop, and sure enough, there’s a shiny, expensive espresso machine there.
Fake cowboys.
“Have a seat,” Shane says, pulling up a fourth chair.
I sit. I smack the lease down on the table. “This is garbage.”
“It’s a standard lease for us,” he says with a raised eyebrow.
“If someone signs this without fighting it, they’re dumb as rocks,” I say back to him. “You essentially put in a lease-to-own stipulation at the end. I’m not signing it.”
I’m angry and disappointed. The hope I had coming in here is fading. I wanted to give them a piece of my mind on my way out, but I can’t sign this. I stand to go, but Shane grabs my wrist. “You want to negotiate it?”
