The night had arrived, and I couldn’t be any less enthused. While the thought of my three sexy boyfriends strutting around half-naked probably should have excited me, the circumstances surrounding this one did not. Beyond the idiocy of having me rate their physical attributes, I wasn’t in a good place with Nicholas or Cole. Although I didn’t think Nicholas was upset with me, I hadn’t had a chance to apologize for interfering with the renovation project. And, Cole . . . it was possible he wasn’t even speaking to me.

When I’d finally gathered the courage to call him Sunday evening, I ended up leaving a vague voicemail, and he responded hours later with a text saying he’d catch me the next day. I didn’t hear from him all day yesterday, and my call once again went to voicemail. The text he sent today said he’d been crazy busy with work, and he couldn’t wait to see me tonight. The last line should have been comforting, but it felt more like he was blowing me off than anything.

I didn’t blame him for still being pissed, but I couldn’t make things right if he wouldn’t talk to me. When had my life become such a cluster? Oh, right, when I strolled into freaking Loft25 the first time.

Now I was going to have to walk in there and pretend to have a good time. Or get drunk and actually have a good time. At this point, it was a toss-up which I would choose.

I paused in front of the side door and texted Xavier, as instructed. The door swung open less than a minute later, and he dragged me into the club, his face glowing with happiness. He pulled me into a hug so fierce, I lost my breath for a few moments.

“Thank you, Emma darling, for making one of my dreams come true.”

“Watching Cole, Shane, and Nicholas make a fool of themselves is on your bucket list? We need to reevaluate your priorities.”

He laughed as he led me down a dim hallway. “You can be smug about this since you get to see the three finest specimens of manhood in Vegas naked any time you want. Give the rest of us a break.”

Really, I had yet to see any of them in the buff, but Xavier didn’t need to know that. He would probably turn this already horrifying event into some humiliating seduction spectacle on my behalf.

“Isn’t your boyfriend offended by your ranking my boyfriends’ hotness above his?”

“No, Tad is just as excited about the show as I am.”

“That’s right,” a deep voice said as we entered the main part of the club. The voice was attached to a tall man who looked like he spent more time at the gym than Nicholas, Cole, and Shane combined.

“Told you,” Xavier said with a smirk as he stood on his toes to give the man a kiss. “Emma, meet Tad. Tad, the infamous Emma.”

“Infamous?”

He nodded vigorously. “In all the time I’ve known Cole and Shane, no girl has managed to snag more than a date with either of them. The fact that you have both—and the gorgeous Nicholas—falling all over you?” He shook his head as if in awe. “It’s a fucking miracle.”

I rolled my eyes. “Exaggerate much?”

Tad chuckled. “X, exaggerate? Never.”

Xavier gave him a dirty look until Tad said, “Except, in this instance, he’s right. You’re like a mythical creature, Emma. I’m going with a siren, because I have no trouble imagining those three as sailors.”

“Am I supposed to be flattered?” I knew that was what they were going for, but their overblown reactions to my relationship status only made me feel insecure. I looked in the mirror every day, and what I saw there was a pretty young woman with a solid head on her shoulders. Not a goddess. Not a swimsuit model. And definitely not a flipping siren.

“Yes,” Xavier replied, tugging me toward the bar. “Now, let’s get you a drink. I expect you to have fun tonight.”

“Better make it a double, then.”

There was no sign of the Ts, but the stage was lit by three separate spotlights in anticipation of the event. This travesty had become exponentially worse once they decided to host it at the club rather than the townhouse.

“Do you know where Cole is? I need to talk to him.”

Xavier wagged his finger at me. “None of that. You’re not allowed to see the contestants before the show.”

“This isn’t a real pageant. There are no rules.”

He seized a piece of paper from the bar and waved it in front of my face. “Then, what are these?”

In the semi-darkness, I could make out a typed list with way too many bullet points. “Seriously? You created formal rules?”

“Yep. And number three on the list? ‘Emma is not allowed any interaction with the contestants before the pageant begins.’”

I dropped my head into my hands before mumbling, “I need that drink. Now.” Getting drunk for the win.

Xavier ushered me over to a special table right next to the stage. In front of each of the three chairs was a plate of finger foods, a dry erase board, and colored markers in a custom mug with the silhouettes of three muscular men and the words “Mister Las Vegas.”

I picked up the mug and laughed. “I can’t believe you had these made.”

“Aren’t they a great souvenir? I designed and ordered them the day Cole told me about the pageant.”

“You’re crazy.”

He grinned. “That’s why everyone loves me.” Pulling out the middle chair, he said, “As the guest of honor, you’ll sit here. Tad is to your left and will be in charge of entering the scores.” I noticed a laptop with a spreadsheet already open and ready.

“You’re making Tad keep score?”

“He’s an accountant. He lives for spreadsheets.”

I peeked over Xavier’s shoulder to where Tad was still standing by the bar, appearing even more massive from a distance. “He’s an accountant?”

“Yep. You know what they say—don’t judge a book by its cover. And opposites attract. That one’s true too.” He clapped his hands together. “Sit down and relax. The show is starting in five minutes!”

I took a large gulp of my cocktail and bit into some type of cream cheese rollup. Delicious. Maybe as payment for getting Xavier tickets to this show, I could talk him into a few cooking lessons. It seemed like a more than fair trade. I was responsible for making one of his dreams come true, after all.

Once my fellow judges were seated, Xavier explained the rules. Most were reasonable, even if unnecessary—scores must be given in whole numbers, don’t score an individual without comparing him to the other contestants, and only shout positive comments at the contestants—until he got to the end of the list. “Last, but not least, you cannot give the same score to more than one contestant in a single round.”

“Wait, what?” I stammered. There went my plan to avoid making my boyfriends angry with me. “What if they all deserve a ten?”

“Nope. That would defeat the purpose of the competition. You have to rank them.”

“This is going to be a disaster. You realize that, right?”

He scoffed. “It’ll be fine. You know how competitive they are. They’re used to losing as much as winning.”

“This is different. Their male egos are at stake.” I turned to Tad, hoping he would be the sane one in the group. “Will you please fake an illness so we can cancel this debacle?”

“Sorry, cutie, X would never forgive me.”

I spun back to face Xavier. “I need another drink. Stat.”

Since I couldn’t give the Ts equal scores, I would have to switch up their rankings for each round to have any hope of getting through this without upsetting anyone. By the time I’d finished my second double, though, I was well on my way to seeing double and relaxed enough to stop caring. No matter how this competition turned out, the Ts brought it on themselves.

When the first notes of “We Found Love” by Rhianna played over the sound system, I officially decided to let go and have fun. Cole strutted onto the stage and stopped under a spotlight, his head down and hands on hips. Shane, then Nicholas followed, each striking the same pose. They were dressed in fitted black dress pants and white button-down shirts with ties loosely knotted around their necks.

Clearly on cue, all three looked up in unison and undid their ties before twirling them above their heads and tossing them at me, Xavier, and Tad. What was this, Magic Mike? They went for their shirts next, slowly unbuttoning them to reveal gleaming chests. Did they seriously cover their bodies in baby oil?

I started laughing, undecided whether I found this striptease hilarious or hot as hell. As they flung their shirts to the ground and reached for their belts, my breath caught. My gaze kept flying between Nicholas, Shane, and Cole, and I wished this was being recorded so I could go back and watch each of them strip from beginning to end. On repeat.

When their zippers lowered, they rotated so we would see their backs as they shimmied out of their pants to the beat of the song. I’d expected them to at least go with loose-fitting boxers considering Xavier’s and Tad’s presence, but no. They were wearing the tightest, shortest, low-slung boxer briefs I’d ever seen. Instead of black, they were ruby red—my favorite color.

Xavier whooped, and I caught Tad saying, “holy fuck” under his breath. No kidding. The eye candy on stage was worthy of a Calvin Klein billboard. And they hadn’t even turned around yet.

As the last notes of the song played, they linked their hands behind their heads and gyrated their hips, slowly pivoting to the front. With all three of them on stage, spotlights highlighting every inch of their ridiculous bodies, I might have swooned. Not that Xavier or Tad noticed. They were too busy picking their jaws up off the floor.

The lights went out, and I couldn’t resist screaming like a fangirl at a One Direction concert. The Ts had earned it—they’d taken this insane event to a new level, making it as fun as it was provocative. Despite my lingering concerns over their addiction to making bets, I had to admire their dedication to going above and beyond.

After their dramatic entrance, the actual ranking part of the competition was more laid-back than I expected. The music changed, and the guys hopped off the stage and stood right in front of our table. They shot us every manner of cocky grin, wink, and smolder imaginable since they weren’t allowed to speak—another of Xavier’s rules.

He’d sneakily added one to the back of the paper that the Ts didn’t even know about. His voice was filled with glee as he read it. “Each contestant is allowed to choose one round to touch the body part in question for the purpose of determining the appropriate ranking.”

Shane was standing directly in front of me, his package at eye level, and my gaze was automatically drawn there. Those boxers were so, so tight.

Xavier snapped his fingers in front of my face. “That body part isn’t on the list, unfortunately.”

My head jerked up to find Shane, Nicholas, and Cole smirking at me. “I was inspecting his thighs,” I protested weakly and took another long drink of my cocktail.

“It’s okay, little siren.” Tad patted my arm. “No one blames you for staring.”

“Round one,” Xavier announced. “Shoulders.”

This was one of the easiest decisions, since Nicholas clearly had the best shoulders—impossibly wide and sculpted. He received tens from all three judges. It was a toss-up between Cole and Shane, so I randomly gave one a nine and the other an eight.

As expected, I lost track of my rankings as the rounds continued. Most of the time, it was almost impossible to choose. They all had six packs, but Cole’s abs looked like they’d been etched in stone, so he scored a ten for those. Xavier cashed in his touching allowance for the ass round, so I decided to trust his judgment and copied his scores. Tad forfeited his allowance, and I saved mine for the final round—the V.

When I stood to walk around to the front of the table, my head spun and I teetered on my heels. I must have drank more than I realized.

I started with Nicholas, who smiled at me but didn’t say anything. Gripping his hips, I let my thumbs trace the indentations trailing down his lower stomach, only pausing when I reached his boxers. “Very nice.”

He was staring down at me liked he’d happily ravage me, and the urge to lick his still-slick skin was strong. But when Xavier cleared his throat loudly, I forced myself to move on to Shane.

If Nicholas had indentations, Shane had actual valleys carved into his muscles, and I let out an involuntary moan while my fingers explored them. “Perfect ten,” I said aloud before I could stop myself. I felt more than heard his chuckle, and when he tipped my face up, I plastered my body to his. In the back of my mind, I knew it was something I wouldn’t do sober. Since I wasn’t, I decided to let the kiss happen, audience or no.

When Shane released me, Xavier gave us a round of applause. “You know, Emma, if I didn’t know you were dating these three hotties, I might think you were sexually frustrated.” He paused, then opened his mouth wide. “Unless you aren’t sleeping with them? Say it isn’t so!”

“Shut it,” Cole told him before pulling me into his arms. “Did you have a little too much to drink, Em?”

I nodded. “Do you hate me?”

He gave me a confused look. “For drinking?”

“No . . .”

“Because you gave Shane a perfect ten?”

“No, because I was a jerk to you.”

“Why don’t I take you home, and we can talk about this tomorrow?”

“That’s what you’ve been saying for days,” I whined.

He scooped me up in his arms and headed toward the exit. “I know, but I promise we’ll talk in the morning.”

“What about the last two scores?” Xavier called.

“Flip a coin,” Cole responded without looking back.

* * *

The smell of coffee woke me, and I struggled to pry my eyes open. Why was my head pounding?

Cole walked into my bedroom with coffee, a bottle of water, and toast, and it all came back to me. The striptease. Too many fruity cocktails. Cole carrying me to his car wearing nothing but his boxer briefs. Falling asleep on the way home.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” He handed me the water and two Aspirin. “I know you have class this morning, so I wanted to give you plenty of time to get ready.”

“Where’d you get the clothes?” I was certain I hadn’t seen his T-shirt and jeans the night before.

“Shane gave them to me when he and Nic dropped off your car last night.”

“Oh. Thank you. For all of it.”

“You’re welcome.”

I nibbled on toast and tried to gather my thoughts. I was tempted to beg off this conversation to take a shower, but I didn’t want to leave things unsettled between us for another day.

“I’m so sorry for what happened with my parents. Obviously, I panicked, but that’s not an excuse.”

That same disappointment I’d seen on Sunday crossed his face again, as if merely remembering the event bothered him.

“Honestly, it made me feel like shit. I didn’t know I would feel that way until it happened.” He reached for my hands and linked our fingers together. “You know I don’t usually do the girlfriend thing, but you’re changing all that for me. I think about you all the time. I wonder what you’re doing and when I’ll see you next. I even have to stop myself from calling and texting you too much. That’s never happened to me before. Not even close.”

He shook his head, as if he was struggling to wrap his mind around his own feelings. “When you dismissed me like that in front of your parents, it hurt. I understand why you did it, and I’m not mad, but it has taken me a couple of days to put it all in perspective.”

Tears welled in my eyes, and I choked out another “I’m sorry” before turning into a blubbering mess. Cole pulled me into his arms and held me as I cried into his shirt. “It’s okay, Em. I promise it’s all going to be okay.”

“You don’t know that,” I sniffed.

“Maybe not, but I got to where I am by trusting my instincts, and I have this feeling it’s going to work out.”

Once I got control of my tears, I wiped my face and looked at Cole with amazement. “I was supposed to be apologizing to you, and here you are making me feel better.”

His smile was slow and incredibly sweet. “That’s what boyfriends do, right? I think I’m getting the hang of this.”

If it was possible for a heart to actually melt, mine was now a pile of goo. Goodbye, vital organ. Hello, lovesick Emma.