ou both want to marry me?”
Both men nod.
My men.
“As soon as possible,” Grant says.
“But this isn’t our proposal,” Ryan clarifies. “When we ask you to marry us, we’ll have a giant ring, and we’ll try to do it when you aren’t pissed at us.”
“Which might be kind of hard, because you’ll probably be pissed at us a lot once you find out what else we’ve done,” Grant says.
“Really?” Ryan sighs. “We’re trying to win her back from our current fuck-up and you want to bring up the other things we’ve done?”
Grant shrugs. “Might as well get it out of the way now. The sooner she finds out, the sooner she’ll get over it and we can propose.”
I narrow my eyes at Grant. “What else have you done?” I ask cautiously, my eyes bouncing between Ryan and Grant.
Ryan motions for Grant to continue. “You opened this can of worms. Have at it, brother.”
Clearing his throat, Grant sits back on his haunches. “We paid off your student loans.”
I blink, shaking my head. “I’m sorry, did you just say you paid off my student loans?”
“Yes.” He smiles as if he just shit a unicorn and handed it to me.
I shove up from the bed. “You can’t pay off my student loans.”
“Why the hell not? We have plenty of money.”
Ryan nods. “Plenty. Which is why we also bought this house from your renter.”
Oh my gosh. “You two are crazy,” I say, laughing hysterically. “Why on earth would you buy the house I’m renting?”
“Because we knew that you wouldn’t leave Daisy without a place to stay, and we’d really like for you to move in with us.”
I stare open-mouthed at Ryan. “So, you bought my sister a house?” I ask, trying to wrap my head around what they’re telling me.
Grant swallows and takes a step toward me. “We did it for you, but yes, we bought her a house.”
“And you wiped out my student loans?”
“We don’t want you to have to worry about anything but us,” Ryan says.
Grant gives me puppy dog eyes. “We’re needy.”
“But now I have to worry about repaying you, which is a hundred times worse than repaying a loan to the bank.”
“But that’s the thing,” Ryan says, guiding me back to the bed. With his hands on my shoulders, he pushes me until I’m sitting, and then farther until I’m lying flat on my back. “We don’t want you to pay us back.”
“You don’t?”
“No. We just want you. We want your love.”
“And your body,” Grant adds, sliding the hem of my dress up my legs. Out of habit, I lift my ass, allowing him to bunch the gauzy material at my hips.
“So, basically, I’m your whore.”
Grant’s eyes narrow. “Don’t ever call yourself that again. You are not a whore. You’re ours, and we take care of what’s ours.”