Men of Courage. Jill Shalvis

shook her head. They’d all known each other forever—with the exception of Riley who was late to the group, but had quickly become a good friend. They lived to give each other a hard time, so presumably, they were letting Ethan off the hook this time because of her. Since she and Ethan needed to talk, she didn’t object.

      Without a word, she set a cup of strong black coffee in front of Ethan. He drank half of it, cursed when he burned his tongue, then glared at her. “You’re not my housekeeper or my cook.”

      “With the way you live, you couldn’t pay me enough to be either.”

      Harris snickered. Buck held his breath.

      Riley said, “You are a damn slob. When was the last time you cleaned?”

      “What’s it to you, Mom?” He drank the rest of the coffee and Rosie silently refilled his cup. He muttered his grudging thanks.

      Riley lounged back in his seat. Because his censure was so obvious, his silence was more annoying than chatter would have been.

      Rosie served the men. When she started to take her own seat, Riley stood to pull out her chair. Ethan growled at him, and Riley growled back.

      Men. They could be so unaccountably strange. “Dig in, fellas.”

      The next few minutes were filled with sounds of appreciation as the men practically inhaled the enormous amount of food she’d set on the table.

      In all the time she’d known Ethan, she’d seen him drunk twice—this being the second time.

      It amazed her that Ethan could eat such a hardy meal after a hangover. Other than his bloodshot eyes and listlessness, you wouldn’t know he’d been so miserable just half an hour before.

      Harris finished first. “Damn, that was good, Rosie.” He patted his flat stomach. “If I come back tonight, will you cook dinner, too?”

      Ethan pierced her with a direct stare. Rosie smiled. “Sure, Harris. Come on by my house around six. I planned on making stew today.”

      His brows shot up. “Really? I mean, I was kidding, but hell, I’m always up for your stew.”

      Buck pushed back his empty plate. “If that sorry sack is invited, then naturally I’m coming, too.”

      “I’ll make plenty.” Rosie loved to hang out with the guys. Because she’d had a tendency to tail her older brother wherever he went, she’d grown very close to the lot of them. She had very few female friends, thus the guys had become the sum total of her social circle.

      Riley shook his head. “You’re both mooches. But what would one more matter? Count me in.”

      Ethan’s chair scraped back across the floor. He snatched up his empty plate, caused an awful clatter as he roughly stacked the rest of the empty dishes, then moved to the sink. He kept his back to them all as he scraped the plates before nearly throwing them in the dishwasher.

      The men looked at each other, shrugged, then prepared to leave. One by one they gave Rosie a hug and a hardy thank-you, with Riley choosing to go last.

      He tipped up her chin. “I’ll be back by three. You want to come by the gym? Maybe work off some tension?” He gave a meaningful nod of his head toward Ethan’s rigid back.

      “I suppose that’d be better than killing anyone, huh?”

      Riley laughed. “You’re getting good, sugar, but not that good. Not yet.”

      Ethan jerked around. “Just what the hell does that mean?”

      Harris and Buck hunkered out, muttering to Riley that they’d meet him in the truck.

      Riley crossed his arms over his chest and faced Ethan. “She’s taking lessons.”

      With an expression of incredulous disbelief, Ethan looked from Rosie to Riley and back again. “What kind of lessons would those be?”

      His tone was so suspicious that Rosie laughed. “Self-defense, mixed with some knife fighting.” She took a stance and chopped the air with a fist. “I’m going to be lethal.”

      Rather than appeased, Ethan appeared more livid. “What the hell are you doing that for? Has someone been bothering you?”

      She resisted the urge to say you and shook her head. “I just like staying in shape and knowing I can take care of myself. I’m single, remember?”

      Ethan’s face turned red and he strangled on his reply.

      Pulling the tiger’s tail, Riley said, “Don’t worry, Ethan. I’m real gentle with her.”

      Rosie thought Ethan’s eyes might cross. Instead he fumed in silence for nearly a full thirty seconds before stalking out of the room.

      “Oh, boy,” Riley rumbled under his breath. He gestured for Rosie to precede him as he headed to the front door. Ethan waited for them there, holding it open, his impatience to be alone with Rosie plain.

      Riley walked out into the hallway. “Be good, kids.”

      “You know I’m always good. But I can’t make any promises for Ethan.”

      He winked at her. “You’ll keep him in line.”

      Ethan snapped the door shut, then turned both locks with a dreadful sense of finality. When he faced Rosie, she decided a strategic retreat was in order; he did not look like a happy man.

      In fact, he looked very unhappy. Or maybe “riled” was the word. Yeah, he looked downright riled. She supposed Riley’s teasing flirtation hadn’t helped matters.

      Ethan was used to Harris and Buck razzing her. After all, they’d all grown up in the same neighborhood. The three of them had been best buds with her brother—until her brother had slipped off with Ethan’s fiancée.

      Riley was new to the mix, and while they all liked him a lot, Ethan apparently didn’t take Riley’s teasing the same at all.

      She’d made it all the way to the bathroom when Ethan caught her arm. “Rosie.”

      There was so much warning in the way he said her name, she kept her back to him. “Hmm?”

      His sigh parted the back of her hair. “Don’t play games.” He caught both arms and turned her around. “What were you doing here this morning in my bed?”

      “Sleeping?”

      His jaw worked, his eyes narrowed. Reaching inside the neckline of the housecoat, Ethan fingered the collar of his shirt. His gaze settled on her mouth. “Why aren’t you wearing your own clothes?”

      Very slowly, realization dawned on Rosie. “Oh, my God. You don’t remember, do you?”

      An arrested expression crossed his features. His pupils expanded until only a thin ring of light brown remained. His straight, dark brows pulled together. “Just what am I supposed to remember?”

      Indignation reared up, followed by humiliation. “Ethan Winters. You have no idea what happened last night, do you?”

      He blustered with his own dose of exasperation. “I know damn good and well we didn’t have sex.”

      Rosie gasped, not because he was wrong, but because he was so sure that he hadn’t touched her. What was she? Chopped liver? She felt just contrary enough not to reassure him. “Yeah, and how do you know that if you don’t remember?”

      Muscles tensed, Ethan let his smoldering gaze take a leisurely trip over her—but he only got as far as her breasts. “You were wearing a shirt. And panties. When I have sex with a woman—” his gaze rose and locked on hers “—she’s buck naked. Not half-dressed.”

      Rosie dropped back against the wall with a thud. Her heart had started bouncing around with his first hot look, and his words had nearly brought her to her knees. Oh, she could only imagine what Ethan did when he had sex, but she believed him: the woman wouldn’t