Through the glass-fronted doors, she could see flames ignite in the fire pit and the whole crew gather around. The moment someone set down a huge cooler and popped it open, greedy hands fished out cans and bottles.
Okay, let’s see what they’ve got. After a quick scan of the refrigerator and pantry, she got a sense of what she wanted to cook and grabbed the butcher-wrapped paper of fresh fish, a couple packages of corn tortillas, and some limes from the fruit bowl. Setting her ingredients on the granite island, she set off to find a cutting board and the right knives.
The French doors opened, and a man burst into the kitchen, heading for the stairs. A moment later, music blasted from an upstairs bedroom. When the guy came back down, he left the doors wide open.
Which gave her a view of a couple kissing against a table. The man gripped her bottom and lifted her onto it. Her ankles crossed at the small of his back.
Things are heating up. Maybe she’d set out all the ingredients and let them make their own. Get out of their way.
Yeah, that’s a good idea.
A bark of laughter drew her attention outside again. Ryker stood with a few others in a small circle, having a private conversation. Nearby, the lean guy—the one who’d called out his friend for referring to women’s “tacos”—was sprawled out in an Adirondack chair. Long legs stretched out, head tipped back, he gazed up at the sky.
He kind of intrigued her, though she didn’t know why. Just before she turned back to the cutting board, a woman in a red swimsuit sat on the arm of his chair. When her fingers glided up his chest, he lurched forward. Another woman plopped down on his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck.
Where his teammates laughed, drank, and flirted, this guy seemed tense and…well, pissed off at the world.
Lord, though, he was handsome. She was such a sucker for the clean-cut look and athletic build.
Right then, his gaze found hers, sending a bolt of energy through her.
Caught staring, she could feel her neck and cheeks burn, and yet she couldn’t look away.
She just couldn’t.
The man was intense, everything about him reeking of power and unshakable confidence, and she felt ensnared by his attention.
Giving herself a mental shake, she turned back to her work. What was I doing? Right, a marinade for her fish tacos. Using the flat of a blade to crush a garlic clove, she blocked out everything going on around her.
A familiar sadness settled over her. The thing about being an introvert was that she loved her life, loved cooking, loved great talks with close friends. She didn’t mind working twelve to fourteen hours a day as a chef, because she got to make delicious food for a living and, when she got home, she could just zone out. She didn’t need a social life to be happy.
But the other side was an acute sense of being alone. Because most people didn’t want to have meaningful conversations all the damn time. They wanted to have fun. They wanted to go to bars and clubs, have big dinner parties.
Cutting a look to the handsome man in the Adirondack chair, she wondered if he felt the same way. Even though he was flanked by two gorgeous women and his teammates, he didn’t smile, didn’t flirt. He seemed like a loner, too.
Oh, no you don’t. Don’t go there. Classic Lulu. Seeing what she wanted in people, inventing some kind of magical connection.
But it was too late. Longing clenched from deep within.
All she’d ever wanted was to find the one person in the world whose soul mirrored hers.
My match.
For years, she’d thought it was Griffin. She’d crushed on him for most of middle school and all the way through high school. She’d convinced herself that, if he’d only look her way, take the time to talk to her, he’d find his kindred spirit. He’d have the connection he didn’t even know he craved.
And look how wrong she’d been.
The whole time he’d been in love with Stella.
Okay. She wasn’t going back to the horrible, soul-crushing night in high school when she’d finally worked up the nerve to confess her love for him—only to find him making out with her younger sister.
But she was a slow learner, because she’d done it again with Trace. Bought the whole soulmate thing once again. He’d pretended he wanted to be alone with her at frat parties, that he didn’t mind the deep conversations that fueled her. Ha.
She’d thought she’d found The One in him, when all he’d wanted was to be part of her celebrity-rich family.
“X-Man,” someone shouted. “Wait up.”
Ah, so the guy in the Adirondack chair was X-Man? Alexander Wilder was Cassian’s backup quarterback, which explained the lean physique. He headed around the fire pit, ignoring his friend.
The big guy caught up with him right before he stepped into the kitchen. “Which one you takin’ upstairs?” Drunk, he spoke loud enough for Lulu to hear him over the music. “Or you want both tonight?”
“Marcus.” X-Man sounded gruff, almost annoyed.
“‘Cause I got my eye on the one in the red bikini.” He grinned big and wide. “And I know you like blondes.”
Irritated, X-Man pushed past him and strode to the refrigerator. Grabbing a water bottle, he twisted off the top and then turned to watch her.
Oh, Lord. She was acutely aware of him standing at the other end of the island, that gorgeous man with bulging biceps, ripped abs, and dark blue board shorts. He didn’t say a word, which only frazzled her nerves.
Well, she might be an introvert, but she wasn’t shy. “Hey. We haven’t actually met. I’m Lulu. Gigi’s sister.”
“Xander.” He tipped his head back and drank, eyeing her over the bottle. “You need help?” He had a guarded look about him, like a man who lived in the shadows, keyed into everything going on around him.
“No, thanks. Actually, can you see if there’s any chorizo?”
He went back to the refrigerator, opening and closing drawers. “Nope. But there’s Italian sausage. If they’ve got smoked paprika and apple cider vinegar, I could add it, get that chorizo flavor.”
Now, how would he know that?
When she didn’t answer right away, he said. “Or I could run to the store.”
His unrelenting stare unnerved her in the worst way, because it was equaling thrilling and scary. He seemed to look beneath the surface…and what if he didn’t like what he saw?
She tore her gaze away. “That’s okay. I can work with whatever we’ve got.” Focus on food. As she diced the jalapeno pepper, she thought ahead to the sauce. She’d keep it simple. Sour cream, hot sauce. Cilantro, if they had it. Unlikely.
“Were you going to do breakfast tacos?” His voice pulled her out of the fog she always fell into when cooking. “With the chorizo?”
Right. “Yeah, thought I’d make two kinds since there’s not enough fish for everyone.” She smiled. “I don’t think Cassian and Gigi were counting on the number of friends you guys would make.”
He stiffened. Oops, she definitely hadn’t meant to sound judgmental. She truly didn’t care what these guys did. Anyone could see they were having a blast.
Then again, maybe she cared a little bit what he did—considering she was invested in whether he’d be having a threesome tonight.
But instead of going back outside to the waiting women, he went to the refrigerator. “I can make some breakfast tacos with scrambled eggs, bacon, and avocado. Does that sound good?”