“Be right there!” she calls, leaning past me. Then she gives me her attention once more. “Look. I’m sorry to inconvenience you—but I can handle myself. I’m really sorry I put you in that…position last night, but it won’t happen again. I can do this job, and now that I know what to expect, I can handle whatever issues arise on my own going forward.”

I can feel the argument trying to escape my mouth, but she’s already pushing past me to bound down the stairs. I move to brace myself on the banister as I watch her throw herself at one of the men, feeling a prickling sensation in my skin as I watch them take turns hugging her tight. Just watching them makes my stomach churn for some reason.

Am I…jealous?

No. Absolutely not. It’s just my fucking instincts and hormonal bullshit. Besides, I reason—to myself or my alpha, I can’t be sure—these have to be her brothers. Her beta brothers, she said. They pose no threat to me.

Not that there would be any reason for them to.

I know I should go introduce myself and play nice or whatever, but right now…I can’t seem to muster up the desire to do anything more than push off the banister and skulk back to my room. My room, which still smells completely saturated with her.

I tell myself that in a day or so, these urges will abate. Everything I’m feeling is just a direct result of what happened. It’s a natural response, that’s all.

I take a deep breath, letting her sweet scent fill my nostrils, only realizing what I’ve done when I feel myself start to harden in my sweats.

Natural response, I scoff at myself.

Right.

“Today we’re going to be tearing up this old carpet. I think once it’s gone the room is going to look like an entirely new space already!”

Kyle pans around to show the entire floor, and I go through the motions of explaining everything we’re about to do as I try not to focus on the fact that I watched Hunter walk through this room to the back deck not half an hour ago.

Which is a problem because…I can’t look at him.

It’s been three days since the Incident, as I’m calling it in my mind, and every time I catch a glimpse of Hunter, be it passing in the hallway or sitting across the dinner table, I can’t seem to look him in the eye.

I tell myself that this is a reasonable response to approaching a veritable stranger while being high on sex hormones and begging him to touch you only for him to outright reject you, but it doesn’t make it any less awkward. I know deep down that Hunter didn’t reject me—I know that. If anything, I’m grateful for the way he…handled things. Had he actually given me what I begged for, I’d probably be halfway across the country right now, wallowing in my mortification.

I can smell how fucking wet you are.

God. Is that a wolf thing? They really should print up some better pamphlets.

I can’t remember everything that was said between us that night, but the flashes I do remember are…a lot. Fuck, I can’t even lie down in bed at night without scattered memories of Good girl and Touch yourself flitting through my thoughts.

It’s enough to make my current working conditions…strained.

Beyond my mortification is a sense of overall aggravation at having been seen like that—vulnerable, needy—for the first time in a long time. And in the most carnal way, I needed someone. I can’t pretend I’m not grateful to have lucked out, to have that person be Hunter, who took care of me in a way that minimized my humiliation as much as he could. Come to think of it…I haven’t thanked him for that. It really seems so ludicrous, thanking someone for what happened.

“You gonna just stand there looking at that carpet or do you wanna help tear it up?” Chase asks when we’re done filming.

I shoot a scowl at my brother, but Chase only gives me his usual lopsided grin. He’s the baby of the family and looks more like me than Thomas, which means it’s like looking at a less-stressed version of myself currently smirking at me.

“I was thinking,” I tell him.

He chuckles under his breath, handing me a hammer. “Been doing a lot of that the last couple of days.”

“Well, I have a lot on my mind.”

“Both of you shut up so I can get a good clip of this,” Kyle grumbles, steadying his camera.

Kyle is a mix of all of us—my brown hair, Mom’s blue eyes, and Dad’s stubborn brow. He’s also the only one who knows his way around the camera, so we try not to piss him off.

“Hey,” Thomas cuts in, entering the room from the foyer. “Anyone seen the boss? I swear that guy is like a vampire or something.”

Thomas looks more like our mom; his blond hair has the same slight waves that hers does, and his blue eyes are to die for and a constant source of my envy. Much prettier than my dirt-brown ones.

I cock my head. “A vampire?”

“Yeah, dude only seems to come out of his room at night. Think I caught a glimpse of him hanging from the rafters while I was checking out the pool table last night.”

“He’s not a vampire,” I say, rolling my eyes. “But he’s not very keen on this project.”

Not to mention the fact that I begged him to fuck me three days ago.

But of course I don’t say that.

“I need the green light on what color stain he wants for the new mantel,” Thomas says.

“But we’re not supposed to start that until next week,” I point out.

Chase is frowning. “What do you mean, he isn’t keen on the project?”

“I mean…” I trail off, throwing up my hands. “You talked to him. Did he seem very excited?”

“I just thought it was a vampire thing.”

“Vampires aren’t real,” Kyle says matter-of-factly.

Thomas’s brow wrinkles. “Wolf people are real, why can’t vampires be real?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. I love my brothers, but sometimes herding them through a job is like taming feral opossums. They’re too much like our mom—which is to say that they take free-spirited to new heights. Of course it would fall to me to be our dad’s carbon copy—too serious, a workaholic, and, if any of the Tinder dates I’ve had in the last year are to be believed, no fun.

“So, can you get his opinion?” Thomas asks.

I stiffen at the idea of seeking Hunter out. “Can’t you ask him?”

“No way,” Thomas says, cringing. “I’m not talking to the might-be-a-vampire dude.”

“He’s not a vampire,” I groan. “Kyle already said they aren’t real.”

Chase leans in conspiratorially. “But if wolf people are real, then it begs the question, right?”

“Don’t call them ‘wolf people,’ ” I chide.

Especially since I’m apparently one of them.

I wince. Definitely still not ready for that discussion. Especially after the whole begging-for-sex fiasco.

“You know Hunter is a shifter, right?”

Thomas’s brows raise. “Really?”

“Yes,” I tell them. “Jeannie too.”

“Wow, that’s so cool. I wonder if he’d shift for me,” Chase says.

“Please do not ask him to do that for you,” I groan.

Kyle shoots me a look. “Wait, how do you know this?”

I feel my neck heat. “It came up in conversation when we were talking about accommodations.”

“Ah.” Chase bobs his head. “Makes sense.”

“Anyway.” Thomas waves two sample cards at me, fluttering his lashes. “You’re the boss, right? Go do boss things.”

“Fine.”

I snatch the cards from him, grumbling under my breath as I dust off my jeans. The last thing I need is to talk about wood stain with the guy I tried to not quite dry hump. I catch a glimpse of myself in an old mirror hanging outside the great room, frowning when I notice the state of my hair. My bangs are sticking straight up again; I tell myself at least once a day to stop running my fingers through them, but it’s a futile effort. I do my best to straighten them before catching myself, realizing that it’s silly to try to make myself presentable for Hunter. Especially after I gave him that whole speech about keeping things professional.