Page 51 of Donovan's Men

“Yes to the lockbox and thanks for the assist.” He exited the SUV and headed toward the porch.

The lights burned bright in the dark.

Hamish turned to me. “Are we crazy?”

“I don’t know.” I let out a long sigh. “I just don’t know.”

With that, I headed into unchartered territory.

Chapter Eleven

Hamish

The luxury of the interior of the cabin effortlessly matched the outside. Easily the size of a regular house, the edifice sat cozily in the forest almost like this was the original plan. Well, it probably had been.

Donovan insisted I take the largest bedroom. With the biggest ensuite bathroom. Jetted tub and shower that, yes, would fit four people easily.

The bedrooms he and Tyson shared also had ensuites. This place just had wonderful amenities at each turn.

After washing our hands, we set to work in the chef’s kitchen. Donovan carved the precooked rotisserie barbecue chicken he and Tyson would share. I cut up tofu and then made a stir-fry. I made enough so the others could have it as a side dish. We worked together quickly and efficiently—probably prompted by the fact we were all likely damn hungry. Lunch was, at least for me, a distant memory.

Soon, we sat at the large dining table. Donovan insisted I sit at the head of the table with him to my right and Tyson to my left.

This constant insistence I be given preferential treatment overwhelmed me at times. Not so much because I felt Donovan should be in the alpha position—he was running the show, after all—but because I wanted us to be equals.

Yeah, but with your total lack of experience in the sexual realm, there’s no way things can be equal.

“This stir-fry is amazing.” Tyson made the comment even as Donovan’s mouth was full with the concoction. He hadn’t even touched his chicken. “I know tofu is healthy—but I rarely touch the stuff.”

I chuckled. “I have an entire recipe book. I can give it to you.”

“Oh no, it’s your book.” His expression was that of horror as his eyes went wide.

“I’ve cooked all the recipes multiple times. I’m certain I could accurately replicate them.” I offered a smile. “Or I can just go to my local bookstore and have them order one for me.”

Donovan chuckled. “Or you can lend it to him. Eventually, you would have to ask for it back—another excuse to meet.”

Tyson snorted. “Why would I need to come up with an excuse? You’ll just do it for me.” He arched an eyebrow.

This time, Donovan met that stare with what I could only term a wicked grin. “That’s true enough.”

“You have plans.” I eyed him. “You’re up to something.”

“He’s always up to something.” Tyson gazed back and forth between the two of us. “The question is whether or not we’re going to allow ourselves to be manipulated all the time.”

“Well, we’re here, aren’t we?” I speared a bean sprout.

Donovan stuck his lower lip out in a clear attempt to pout. “I needed you.”

Tyson snickered.

“Hey!” He appeared to attempt to be incensed.

“Tyson’s right—you manipulated us.”

Now Donovan pursed his lips. “I am having trouble sleeping. Might be because you’re not in my bed—” He gestured between the two of us.

The third man in this awkward equation rolled his eyes. “You wanted to be with Hamish, and you thought if I was along for the ride that would make it okay.”