Leah

People are always asking how to get a guy, but I already know the secret.

Garlic.

I started sautéing my green beans with freshly minced garlic minutes ago, and now it sounds like a herd of elephants above my head. I listen as the four Wrighting brothers thunder down the stairs then spill into the kitchen. It’s a good-sized room until we all try to cram in it. They are not little.

All of them are at least three inches taller than my five-foot-nine frame, and have varying degrees of muscle. Steven, the oldest, beats me to the microwave. I set my plate of chicken and mashed potatoes back on the counter then call out that I’m next.

While I’m waiting, I walk over to nudge Sebastian, my boyfriend. “Hey.”

He doesn’t even look up from his book.

“Sebastian!” I poke my head between him and the pages.

His hazel eyes widen as he registers my face. “Leah! Hi.”

I grin back, and the microwave beeps. Steven removes his food, leaving the door wide open. Of course, his chili exploded everywhere, leaving a horrendous mess. Grumbling, I grab a paper towel and scoop out most of it, then pop in my chicken.

When I turn around again, Sebastian has pickles, cheese and mayonnaise on the counter. His eyes are glued to his book, though he holds a mayo-slathered knife in his other hand, about to spread it all over a piece of still-wrapped cheese.

Without a single slice of bread nearby.

I sigh at the familiar sight. “Trying to make a sandwich?”

“Hmm?” He follows my pointed stare and frowns. “Oh.”

Silas, the youngest and closest to my twenty-two years, passes me the bread as we exchange exasperated looks. The microwave beeps, and I bring my plate to the stove only to find half my green beans are missing.

I know exactly what happened. After living in this house with all of them for almost four years, I only have one complaint, and I can sum it up with a single word.

Shawn.

I whirl around to find the bane of my existence with a bowl in his hands. And he’s chewing. I storm up to him, snatching away the bowl.

“Those are mine!” I growl when I see only five beans left.

He shrugs, giving me his most infuriating smirk. “Sorry, thought they were fair game. If it helps, they were delicious.”

Fury sears through me, a constant whenever he’s around. “How many times do I have to tell you to ask before you just start eating?” I don’t bother waiting for a response before I stomp back to scrape what’s left of my beans onto my plate. Then I hurry to the table before anything else can go wrong.

I grew up with the Wrightings. Our parents are close and I had no siblings, so they became my family. Even Shawn. We haven’t always hated each other—that came later—but our rivalry has always been there.

As the brothers file in to sit around the table, I marvel at their differences. Sure they all have brown hair, but the shade varies. Their noses are all the same, regal and straight, and there is a resemblance in their smiles.

Steven scrolls through his phone as he eats his chili. His hair and eyes are the darkest but his skin is the palest. Sebastian is the tallest of them, with close-cropped hair, hazel eyes and glasses. Even he is tanner than Steven, since his love of plants often takes him outside. He absently sets his plate next to me then almost misses his chair because he’s so focused on his book.

Silas keeps his dark brown curls on the longer side. His amber eyes and easy smile lend to the Golden Retriever air he exudes. His normal exuberance is missing today as he slumps in his seat, his blank stare focused on the two cold slices of pizza on his plate. A sure sign he was out too late last night.

If I had to choose one brother to call the most attractive, I’d have to pick Shawn. Reluctantly. And I’d refuse to tell him because his ego doesn’t need any more fuel. His green eyes, sandy brown hair and sculpted physique all combine into one delicious package that even I can’t deny.

But looks definitely aren’t everything. I glance over at my boyfriend—steady, dependable Sebastian. My heart may not flutter when he enters the room and my stomach may not flip, but the safe routine of our relationship is exactly what I need right now.

Shawn takes the chair to my right, setting his heaping plate of casserole on the table. Comfortable silence fills the air as we all dig in, only to be broken when Sebastian bites into his sandwich.

Or tries to.

He pulls back, confused, and I hold back a snort at the still-wrapped piece of cheese with teeth marks impressed upon it. He sighs as everyone starts laughing, then he peels back the layers to actually unwrap the cheese.

Shawn shakes his head. “Sebastian, man, how many times do we have to tell you? You gotta pay attention when you’re making food.”

“Look who’s talking,” I say with a glare. “Paying attention is important, especially to key details like whose food it actually is!”

“I said I was sorry,” he huffs. “Yeesh.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that I no longer have a good chunk of my dinner.” I stab at the last green beans on my plate, shoving them in my mouth. One thing Shawn and I agree on, the beans were delicious. Too bad I don’t have more of them.

“It’s not like you don’t have other food.”

I keep chewing as I try to resist retorting, but my tongue refuses to listen. “You know, if this was the first time, it’d be one thing. You do this all the time! Yester—”

“Seriously, guys,” Steven grunts, setting down his phone. “I’m trying to eat.”

Silas nods, and even Sebastian arches an eyebrow in agreement.

I sigh in resignation, not wanting to ruin everyone’s dinner. “Sorry.”

Shawn, however, says nothing, and it makes me feel better when Sebastian leans forward to address him. “You are in the wrong here, Shawn.”

Shawn’s lips press tighter together, then he bites out, “I said I’m sorry.”

I bristle again, but Sebastian simply says, “Sometimes actions speak louder than words.”

And Shawn deflates, all the fight whooshing out of him. “I’ll do the dishes tonight, Lee.”

My lips part at the offering, and I study him, making sure it’s not some trick. But he is all sincerity, so I nod. “Thanks, Shawn. That’d be nice.”

“So, am I forgiven?”

It’s more of an olive branch than I want to give, but all the brothers are watching my reaction. I concentrate on cutting my next bite of chicken, dragging out the silence.

Except Shawn isn’t done. “C’mon, Lee. Please?” And he juts his lower lip, tilts his head slightly, then turns on the puppy dog eyes.

I hate that expression with every fiber of my being because I can’t resist it. Oh, how I’ve tried. Today is no different, and I finally huff out, “Fine. You’re forgiven.”

His triumphant grin makes me want to take it back, so I turn to Sebastian. “What’s tomorrow like for you? We could have lunch.” His blank stare sends exasperation zipping through me. “You know, to make up for Friday? I had to finish my English paper?”

I’m in my senior year at Southern Michigan University—Smoo, to us students. This is the last semester before I graduate with my bachelor’s degree in history. Not that I know what I’m going to do with it.

Understanding dawns on Sebastian’s face, and he pushes his glasses higher up on his nose. “I believe that would work.”

“Meet at one? Then I can be done in time for my shift at the library.”

He nods, and we have a plan. Conversation starts to pick up as Silas regains his usual energy. Soon he regales us with tales from his date the night before, and we’re all chuckling. My gaze lands on the empty seat at the table, and I wish Meg were here. She’s my best friend, our other housemate, and as much of a serial-dater as Silas.

If anyone could one-up his story, it’d be her, I think as Silas wraps up. I always thought he and Meg might end up together, but that ship has sailed. They hate each other even more than Shawn and I do.

Sebastian’s chair screeches as he pushes back from the table, hurrying to take care of his plate before retreating to the living room with his book. I fondly watch him go. I’m in the middle of a steamy romance about a count and his lady that I can’t wait to get back to. I can’t think of a better way to spend a Sunday night than reading, curled up on the couch next to Sebastian. Especially in snowy February.

One of the many reasons he and I get along so well.

I tune back into the conversation as Steven begins complaining about someone stealing his food at work. Again. The only one of us not still in college, he graduated two years ago with some technical degree, and now works nine to five. I’ve heard about the food thief every day for the last week. And it’s getting old.

“So do something about it,” I interrupt. He frowns, and I feel bad for my harsh tone. “I mean…there’s got to be some way to catch them.”

Shawn leans forward. “Yeah, make your food like normal then chop up a ghost pepper to put it in.”

“That would be awesome!” Silas reaches over to high-five Shawn.

A pensive look crosses Steven’s face. “That could actually work.”

The three of them start plotting, and I push away from the table. I’m sure I’ll hear all the details when it goes down. I make sure to rinse my plate before I put my sauté pan in the sink. Just because Shawn said he’d do the dishes, doesn’t mean I can’t do my part.

More than ready for my book, I hurry through the living room where Sebastian is already engrossed in his reading, then I pop into the mini suite I share with Meg. We have our own little sitting room with a cute couch and end tables. My bedroom is on the right and Meg’s is on the far left, with a bathroom in between.

This house is perfect for all of us. Bought as an investment by the guys’ parents as a hedge against paying for four kids rooming at college, the nearness to campus is an added bonus. The brothers all have separate rooms upstairs along with another bathroom. The rest of the downstairs we share, and it’s nice to have my own space when they get to be too much. Tonight, though, I’m ready for some company.

I grab my book, trotting back into the living room where Silas and Steven already have on a basketball game. I don’t mind, though, knowing I’ll be able to tune it out. But I stop in my tracks when I see the book Sebastian has in hand.

The title contains wombats—his latest obsession. He only has so much capacity to learn about plants, then he has to switch to “fluff,” as he calls it. His photographic memory imprints all the facts on his brain, making him a walking encyclopedia.

A walking, talking encyclopedia.

So far this week I’ve heard a variety of wonderful facts. Yesterday he asked if I knew that wombat feces are in the shape of a cube. No, nor did I need to know that.

Two days ago, he told me that a group of wombats is called a wisdom, and I still don’t know what I’m supposed to do with that information.

I nibble on my lip, not ready for another wombat fact. I decide to grab a bottle of water, if only to prolong the inevitable, but my movement catches Sebastian’s attention. An eager smile lights his face as I bite back my sigh, though I try to keep my expression kind.

“Leah! Did you know that the main defense of a wombat is its rear-end?” He turns the page as he finishes with, “If a predator is around, the wombat will dive into its burrow, using its rear to block the hole. It’s mainly made of cartilage and very resilient.”

So much weird-ass knowledge I don’t need. I laugh to myself just thinking about my dumb pun. Aloud, I say, “Neat.”

But he only hums, back to devouring his book once more. I shake my head, sauntering into the kitchen amidst the clink and thunk of Shawn doing the dishes. He glances my way, but I ignore him, going right to the fridge.

My fingers close around a bottle of water when he exclaims, “Oh, shit,” followed by the sound of glass shattering.

“You okay?” I hurry over as he mutters to himself.

“I’m fine,” he bites out, reaching into the clear water of the rinsing side of the sink to adjust the plug. The gurgle of water draining fills the air then he yelps, jerking his hand away.

I grab a napkin and hand it to him as I glimpse the blood on his finger. He takes it from me, his lips tight, annoyance all over his face. Without another word, I set my book down then go to the end cupboard where we keep a mini first-aid kit for situations like this.

“Everyone all right?” Steven calls.

I peek my head around the corner and nod. “Shawn broke a glass.”

Relief crosses his face before he returns to watching his game.

Armed with antibiotic ointment and a Band-Aid, I cross back to Shawn. “Let me see.”

“It’s just a scratch, Lee. I can put a Band-Aid on myself.”

I grab his wrist firmly, saying in my best no-nonsense tone, “You might have glass in it. Besides, it’s easier with two hands.”

He huffs but extends his hand over the sink. I tug away the bloody napkin, turning his wrist one way then the other to be sure the wound is clean.

“All clear.” I dry off his finger as best I can then open the Band-Aid and smear ointment on it. It takes no time to wrap it around Shawn’s finger, and I make sure the adhesive ends overlap just right. “There you go.”

When I look up, Shawn’s emerald eyes are so intense, they take my breath away. I back up on instinct, swallowing at my suddenly dry mouth. My gaze lands on the dishes. “Um, I can finish these. So you don’t get that wet.”

But he blinks and the hardness returns. “I’ve got this.” Without another word, he faces the sink, a silent dismissal.

I sigh at his stubbornness. “You really shouldn’t get a wound wet.”

He glares my way, his gaze catching on my book. “Why don’t you go bother one of your fictional boyfriends?”

My teeth grind together at the derogatory way he says the words. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“C’mon, Lee,” he scoffs, ripping the trash can from beneath the sink before he starts tossing glass into it. “You and Sebastian are the least romantic couple I know. Don’t you think you might be compensating for something?”

The accusation pierces me to the core. “What Sebastian and I do isn’t your business, especially in our romantic life,” I say coldly. I snatch up my book, whirling on my heel, but I pause before I stomp away. “That was crossing a line, Shawn. I thought even you could understand why we’re taking it slow.”

His head whips up, but his stricken expression does little to mollify me. “Shit, Lee, I didn’t mean—”

“I don’t want to hear it.” I storm toward the door to find Sebastian hovering. The glower on his face tells me he at least heard some of it, and I’m grateful when he glares at Shawn, cutting off any further words from his brother.

Sebastian steps into the living room with me, concern furrowing his forehead. “Are you okay?”

I fight against the memories struggling to surface, and my throat is tight as I answer, “I will be.” Gratitude surges through me when he pulls me into one of his rare hugs, and I rest in his embrace for several moments. Then I clear my throat and move away. Holding up my book, I say, “I’m gonna hole up for the night.”

He nods, and movement behind him catches my attention. Shawn turns away, guilt and remorse all over his face as he returns to the kitchen.

Good. Maybe he’ll think about what he says before he opens his mouth.

I wave goodnight to the others before retreating to the safety of my mini suite. I shove the door closed behind me, but it doesn’t latch. The finicky doorknob is unreliable at the best of times, and I’m used to babying it. I glare at it for a long moment, wishing I was one of those people who lost their temper. I could rage and scream and slam the door until I beat it into submission.

But that’s not me.

Instead, I turn the handle just so, then shut the door gently. The latch clicks into place, the quiet sound taunting my need for self-control. But I ignore it, trudging to my room while trying to tell myself I’m not compensating.

Even if my gut isn’t quite convinced.