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Kayla

For the first time in as long as I can remember, I am happy, but for some reason I have been trying to convince myself I don’t deserve it. While I still don’t know if I can fully trust these men, they are nothing like Aaron or Kyle.

Even though Kyle was only a blip on my radar, I realized after we broke up that he was a convenience, a way to feel secure, and a safe place to live. Aaron messed me up that badly. I try not to think about him, refusing to give him any power over me. It’s why I decided I will do what I want on my own terms, and that I want to be around Vero, to give him a second chance. At least these men wear their reg flags on the outside. Well, except Ares, but he isn’t as smooth as he thinks he is. I’m in control, and I won’t let my parents or any man look down on me for how I choose to live my life.

Rolling over, I find the bed empty. I wasn’t planning on staying the night, but here I am, sunlight streaming through the curtains and coffee wafting through the cracked door. I clamber out of the softest bed known to mankind and pick up Vero’s shirt from the floor. Every time I’m here my clothes seem to vanish, and I know it’s Ares who washes them. He is sweet, even though he likes to compartmentalize every action. I know it well; I lived with the best manipulator once, so I can see that behavior from a mile away.

Looking like a hot mess is something they will have to get used to, as I am not the type to rush to put on makeup or worry about my appearance. An oversized shirt, a messy bun, and that is as good as it gets. I stop at the bathroom on my way downstairs to pee, then finger-brush my teeth to try to avoid death breath.

Downstairs, Vero is sitting on the counter—it seems to be his usual spot—while Brawley is cooking again, and Clay is at the table with his coffee, reading something on his phone. Ares is standing at the kitchen island, eating some toast.

“Why are you ready to leave so early?” Clay asks him, looking up from his phone.

“Have to cover the breakfast shift at the bar. Two of my staff have called in sick.”

“I can help,” I say, making my presence known. All four men look my way as I walk into the room and pour myself a coffee.

“I can’t ask you to do that—you have your own shift tonight.”

“You didn’t ask. I offered. Working keeps me busy, and I like to be busy.”

Vero jumps down from the counter. “If you need to be kept busy, I can think of a few things you could do.” He wiggles his brows at me, and I place my coffee down on the counter as he wraps his arms around me and smiles.

“As tempting as that sounds, I’m sure you have work to do too.”

Vero loosens a hand and looks at his wrist, as if to mimic checking the time. “Not for another few hours yet.”

“I would actually really appreciate the help,” Ares says.

Vero sighs and looks at Ares. “Cockblocker much?” Ares rolls his eyes, and I try not to laugh. “You know he is going to make you relearn everything, because he is a control freak and likes things done his way.”

“I’m sure I will manage.”

Vero unwraps himself from me, and I take my coffee and sit at the table opposite Clay. I meet his eyes, and he looks at my coffee, the corner of his mouth lifting.

“Touch my coffee today and you die.”

Brawley slides a plate in front of me. “Eat first,” he tells me. “You can’t murder anyone on an empty stomach.”

We all eat while Vero tells us he swore he saw Jess go into the cornfield yesterday. Clay isn’t impressed, but Brawley says it’s impossible because she knows better than to go in there.

Ares leaves before I finish eating, telling me to shower and that he left my clothes in the dryer. Clay acts as my personal bodyguard after we finish eating so I can get clean without Vero getting any ideas. As much as showering with him sounds amazing, I am honestly excited to get to know Ares a little better. The idea of figuring the man out had me rushing to get ready.

Once I’m done, Vero and Brawley are nowhere to be seen, and Clay is waiting for me. Ares asked me to be there by eight, and I am pushing it to be there on time without having the complication of Clay and his whole caveman possessiveness issue.

“I don’t need an escort,” I tell him, pulling on my jacket.

“I know that,” he says, falling into step with me as we leave the house.

Why do irrational things about him piss me off? Like why does he have to smell so nice? If he wasn’t a dick eighty percent of the time, I would consider jumping him right here.

“I’m walking to the bar, and I promise not to shortcut through the cornfield.”

Clay shakes his head. “It might be hard for you to believe, but I am going that way too. I have a job to do.”

“Isn’t your job to check the perimeter?”

“Would you believe that I have these things called eyes? It’s amazing that I can see there is nothing going on here. The only person wandering around in a restricted area is you, and you need to be with someone who works here.”