“Me, too?” Tommy sipped from his beer.
“Nope, just Ken.” She wagged a finger at him exaggeratedly while shaking her head. Placing the bottle to her lips, she chugged the rest and smacked the bottle down on the table. “Beer me!”
Both guys laughed raucously as Ken took her second empty. “I’m seriously considering cutting you off.” He contradicted himself, popping the top to her new beer before handing over the bottle.
“Well, you can ride.” Tommy nodded his head, and his gaze looked past them as if he was thinking the nickname over.
“And you can’t?” Ken knotted his eyebrows. “We both attended that particular summer camp.”
Tommy nodded but offered an answer. “True...but by the end of the week, I could trot around and stuff. You could do barrel run type shit.”
“I watched the instructors. I did what they did. It wasn’t that hard.” A hint of irritation lingered in Ken’s voice.
“Says the cowboy!” Trisha squealed excitedly, clapping her hands together. Ken smirked, eventually breaking an actual smile. Truth be told, the nickname had nothing to do with her boys’ home state, but she could hardly admit she came up with the moniker because Ken had the whole sexy, long, lean, strong, and silent rough-rider thing going on. More than once, she had dreamed of saddling up on his lap. She pawed the neckline of her borrowed shirt and fanned herself. Whoa—it’s getting hot in here. She decided to change the subject before she said something mortifying. “Let’s play a game!”
“We have Yahtzee.” Tommy held up the box.
As a new music video started, Trisha pointed to the TV and enthusiastically challenged them. “Montell Jordan—drink every time he says it or it’s!” Ken and Tommy anted up, grabbing their beers and bringing the rim to their lips. Since the name of the song was This is How We Do It, she was off and running, immediately taking her first swig. Not to be outdone, the guys followed her lead. By the end of the video, they all needed a new beer, and Trisha was feeling no pain.
Eyes widening, she jumped to her feet. Ken threw up his hands as if to catch her in case she took a header, and Tommy reclined backward, his head smacking the couch’s padding as he laughed. “What the hell, Trish?”
Dropping back to her knees, Trisha crawled over to the cooler like a little beetle bug and began hunting for a new beer. Grabbing one by the neck, she pulled the bottle out triumphantly, holding her trophy out for all to see. “I beered me!”
Slack-jawed, Ken eyed her with something akin to fear, or maybe he was worried while Tommy clapped. “Fantastic, I give it an eight out of ten.” Ken didn’t comment.
Trisha puffed out her lower lip. Why won’t he pay me any attention?
“What’s that look for?” Tommy cocked his head and rubbed his strong jaw.
“Nothing,” she lied, crawling back to her spot. Tommy’s appeal was completely different from Ken’s. Ruggedly handsome, tall, built, and blond, a virtual demi-god, he put any action hero to shame, while Ken was her delicate-featured beauty. I want them both! A shiver ran through her core even as her face flamed. She pressed her thighs together, attempting to squelch her carnal throbbing.
“Let’s play Shithead.” She handed Ken her bottle. He twisted the cap for her and started to hand the drink back but pulled away. Left hanging with her ready hand raised, Trisha frowned. What was his game? “Gimme!”
“I think she means Asshole.” Tommy pointed at the bottle and then to her as if to encourage Ken to let her have the beer.
“Fucking-A, you are going to be trashed if you keep going at this rate.” Creases formed on Ken’s forehead as he admonished her.
Tommy cackled. “What’s so new and different about that? Give her the damn beer.”
Brushing his bangs to the side, Ken turned up his straight, thin-bridged nose and shook his head as he passed Trisha her drink. “I’m not playing a game where either of you can boss me around and call me an asshole all night.” Ken waved them off with one hand.
“Won’t dance; won’t play fun games. What will you do, Ken?” Trisha snarled at him, scrunching up her face in a childish manner.
“Turn you back over my knee and spank your ass.” Ken’s voice held no indication of a threat, but he wore a sensual smirk.
Trisha’s heart pounded, and her breath hitched. She squeezed her thighs together again in a futile attempt to smother the fire burning between her legs. “Who says I won’t like that?”
Ken sucked in his breath, gazing at her intensely. Brushing a mess of unruly, shoulder-length curls back over her shoulder, she returned his stare, wetting her full, bottom lip with the thinner top one.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, let’s back up.” Tommy narrowed his blue eyes as his brow furrowed, forming angry creases across his forehead.
Trisha drunkenly swayed while pointing her finger at Tommy. “Watch out, Kenny. He’s trying to steal cowboy from you.”
“He can have it.” Ken chuckled.
Trisha turned her face toward Ken and stuck out her lip at him in a full-on pout, but Tommy wasn’t having any of their nonsense. “Wait! What’s all this back over my knee stuff?”
“Nothing,” Ken said, a little too fast to sound believable.
Trisha’s eyes danced as she read the room. This could be fun. “Ken beat me while you were in the kitchen.” Trisha couldn’t keep a straight face, snickering as she fibbed.
“No, I did not!” Ken’s eyes widened as he shouted. “But now I wish I had.” He reached down and grabbed her ankle.
Trisha kicked at him as she squealed. “Don’t you touch me, you brute! You don’t even like the nickname I gave you, and now you’re trying
