“And risk being called a soft cock because I couldn’t seal the deal?” He scoffs. “Hell no. He would judge the shit outta me for that.”
“You’re a coward.” I push away from him and pick my purse up from the floor near the end of the couch.
Spencer watches everything I do with an amused glint in his eyes, and such a pretty smile on his lips that it almost seems… wrong.
Spencer is massive, gruff, grumpy, and crude. But when he smiles, it almost appears to reverse-age his face. His scars remain, but where they made him scary and older yesterday, they’re justtherenow, and make his constantly inquisitive brow seem funny and cute.
“Jerk.”
I snatch my phone out of my bag and groan at the missed calls. It’s bad. It’s really, really bad, and makes me want to curl up and die. I don’t have to worry about Jay anymore, because I probably won’t survive the phone call I’m about to make.
“Abigail?” Spencer follows me to where I stand, and presses his chest to my back. His hand comes up and rests on my far shoulder. Then he brings his fingertips up and scratches the nape of my neck in soothing circles. Leaning over me – though he barely has to try – he reads over my shoulder and makes the mock hissing sound. “Ouch. Those dudes are seriously passionate about keeping you under lock and key, Priss. No wonder you’re a high-maintenance princess, what with all those foot soldiers waiting to grant your every wish.”
“Be quiet.” I push away from him and squeeze the phone in my hand.
Seventeen missed calls from Mitch. Seven from Nix. A handful from Beckett and Corey. And right at the top, the one that spells my doom, a text from Troy. He’s working, so for them to bother him like that means I’m in big trouble.
I turn to Spencer with what I know is panic in my eyes, and when he stalks forward, I press my hand to his stomach and hold him back. “I need to make this phone call, but I’m begging you, I’mpleadingfor you to zip your lips and not say a word.”
“Why can’t I speak?” His dark eyes flicker between mine. “Why won’t you tell them you spent the night with me?”
“Because you and my brothers already get along so well,” I answer dryly. “I’m not playing around, Spencer. I need you to stay quiet.”
Bringing my phone up before it rings again, I read Troy’s text first.
Where are you, Abigail? I’m hopping a flight at 1300 and coming to kick your ass if you don’t check in soon. You know I’m chill. I’m the chillest of all of us, so for me to write this text means the guys haven’t stopped hammering my phone. I told them you’re probably fine, but time is getting on, and you’re still MIA. They’re worried. Fix it, or I’ll see you for dinner tonight. You won’t be able to sit, because I’ll beat you to teach you a lesson.
I let out a deep sigh and hit dial rather than type a lie up. I’d rather say I’m being good and sitting at home, but it would be a bald-faced lie, and I can’t bring myself to do that, so I take my punishment and dial instead.
“Abigail Rosa, I am going to make you pick your own stick from the yard before I smack you with it.”
“Hi, Troy.” I roll my eyes and step away from Spencer when his eyes narrow. “I’m fine. I’m right here. I’m alive.”
“Where are you? Because Beckett is tossing your apartment right now. I have confirmation you’re neither under the bed, nor in the closet.”
“Troy!” I groan and throw my head back. “I swear, you’re all apes. I’m allowed to turn my phone off for the night.”
“That might be true,” he concedes. “And I might believe that that’s all you’ve done. Ya know, phone off, movie on, copious amounts of spicy chicken nuggets and ice cream consumed. But like I said, Beck’s in your apartment right now, and you ain’t there.”
“You’re insane.”
“You also aren’t at the shop, because Corey’s there, hounding Nadia. You’re not at the hospital; Mitch checked. And Nixon is at work, being held down by the guys before he Hulk-smashes the town to find you. Don’t make me ask this again; where are you?”
“I’m at a friend’s house.”
“You’re safe?”
“Obviously.”
“Don’t roll your eyes at me, kid! Are you at a male friend’s house, or a female friend’s house?”
Oh god. The answer to that, that I’m at a male’s house, will mean that Troy and the guys will believe what Jay believes. They’ll assume I slept with Spencer.
I groan. “A male friend’s house. But it’s not what it seems.”
“Did you use protection?”
“Troy! What the heck is wrong with you? Why would you ask that?”