Page 107 of Say It Again

“Really?”

“They seemed pretty cozy when we went to that team dinner after Luc had to meet with the commissioner.”

“I’m pretty sure they were both drunk.”

I shrug. “I dunno. Go ask her.” Shawna is outside hanging out with Naz and Scott, talking about romance books. Naz visited her store a couple of months ago, and they’ve all gotten pretty chummy over their smut obsessions.

“Later,” Will says. “I’m still waiting for my apology.”

“Apology?” I say incredulously. “You want me to apologize to you? For what? For pointing out that the hot guy you made me embarrass myself in front of, the same one you want us to be in the presence of during a party you are planning, is, in fact, hot. Because he is. He’s really hot. And, as it turns out, super nice—” My sentence ends on a squeal as Will picks me up and throws me over his shoulder, fireman-carrying me through the beach house Luc and Jesse rented.

He practically runs through the house, while I beat my fists on his back and call him a caveman. Then, because I’m not actually anywhere near mad about it, I decide to beat on his rock-hard ass instead. Why not, right?

Then, for good measure and because I know it gets him all kinds of worked up, I pull up his shirt and bite him just hard enough to leave a mark but not break the skin. He shouts, and my ass hits the door as he barrels through it.

Into the wrong room.

Will jolts to a stop so fast, he almost drops me. I slide to my feet in front of him and spin around, mirroring the shocked look on his face.

There, on the bed that definitely isn’t the one we’ve been sleeping in, is our manager. Tied spread eagle to the bed, blindfolded, and completely naked.

“Oh, shit,” Will says, quickly shielding my eyes and pulling me backwards through the door. “Uh, so sorry. My bad.”

Will keeps his hand over my eyes until the door is closed, blocking out Blake’s cursing and attempts to explain his situation. Not that he needs to, because as soon as he frees my eyes, we turn to see Emmy standing in the hallway wearing a pair of boxer shorts that definitely aren’t his by the way they’re rolled several times at the waist, wide-eyed and blushing, holding something behind his back.

His mouth opens and closes several times, unable to get any words out. I don’t know what to say, and Will is still frozen behind me.

“Hey, uh, Emmy. When did you get here?”

“Hmm?” Emmy squeaks. “Um… like thirty minutes ago? Mr. Holland forgot his, um… toothbrush. And I was going to be joining you all for dinner tonight anyway, so I… came early?”

“Wow,” Will deadpans. “You might want to work on that before you see anyone else.”

“Oh my God, please don’t tell anyone. You were all supposed to be outside!”

Will holds up his hands. “Not a word, we promise.”

I nod wildly. “Lips are sealed.” Will starts pushing me down the hallway towards our correct bedroom, but I crane my neck and turn around as we pass Emmy. “He’s huge!” I whisper-shout.

Will gasps. Emmy squeaks, then bursts out, “I know right!”

“Dude, what the fuck!” Will says, smacking my shoulder. “You weren’t supposed to look!”

“I didn’t have to! It was fucking looking at me,” I hiss.

Blake’s deep bellow comes from the room we just escaped. “Emerson!”

Emmymeepsand shoos us away wildly.

Will and I push into our room, closing the door behind us and pushing our backs against it. Neither of us makes a sound or even breathes for a long, drawn-out moment. Then I turn my head to look up at him, and we make eye contact before bursting into hysterical laughter.

“What the fuck,” Will says.

“What the fuck indeed. And here I thought Naz and Scott sleeping in the same room but barely talking to each other was the weirdest thing that was going to happen this week. But apparently our manager-slash-band-daddy has an extra limb that he’s apparently using to plow his assistant, who might need to be studied. How someone so little can take?—”

Suddenly Will is in front of me, letting out a deep growly sound as he lifts and presses me into the door. “We’re not going to talk about that.”

“Oh, we absofuckinglutely are?—”

We don’t talk about it. At least not for the next twenty minutes while Will keeps my mouth very, very busy.