Unconditional by Cherie M. Hudson

someone meant to be having an early start, right?
    “C’mon, Plenty, Ohio,” Brendon’s voice came from the other side. “Time to get sweaty.”
    “What the hell?” I grumbled, shoving my head under my pillow. “Go away. Come back when it’s later.”
    He laughed at my grumpy rejection and then started to knock what sounded like Imagine Dragon’s “On Top of the World” on the door.
    Five minutes of that, plus his insistence he wasn’t going anywhere until we worked up a sweat together, finally propelled me out of bed. Part of me suspected he was doing it to irritate Raph in the room opposite to mine. I may have had a few too many umbrella drinks, but I did remember what Heather had told me about Brendon and Raphael. And what Heather had told me about the way Raph looked at me and the way he’d looked when I left with Brendon. I didn’t know Brendon well at that stage, but I also remembered the glint in his eyes when he was talking to Raph before we departed.
    They might not be enemies, but they were definitely competitors. I still hadn’t decided how I felt about being the object of that possibly friendly rivalry. If indeed I was said object. I’ve never really had that big an opinion of myself, but I couldn’t deny having two hot Aussie guys interested in me was a bit of a buzz.
    “Okay, okay,” I grumped at the door. “I’m up.” I dug out the gym gear I’d packed from my suitcase—Adidas. Tsk, tsk . What would Heather think?—pulled it on, swished my mouth with mouthwash, realized I had nowhere to spit it, scrunched up my face and swallowed it, grimaced, yanked my hair back in a ponytail and hurried to the door.
    Brendon stood grinning on the other side. “Morning.”
    I was about to return his greeting when movement behind him caught my attention.
    Raph’s door was opening.
    Wide enough for someone to step out of it.
    The perky little blonde who’d plastered herself all over Brendon last night, to be precise. Wearing nothing but the skimpy thong and bra set and a satisfied expression.
    My heart smashed into my throat. A hot, sour taste filled my mouth.
    Jealousy slammed into me. Pure, undiluted, totally unjustified jealousy.
    I must have pulled some kind of face, because Brendon twisted around to see what I was gaping at.
    The blonde flicked us both a quick smile, wiggled her fingers at Brendon, pulled the door shut without making a sound and hurried away on tiptoes, as if afraid to wake people.
    I blinked, unsettled.
    “Well, that was unexpected.”
    Jerking my stare back to Brendon, I tried to force an air of indifference to my face. “What was?”
    He frowned. “I could have sworn Claudia had a tattoo.”
    As it had before, his relaxed sense of humor pulled me from my unsettled state. He was making a habit of it. I liked it.
    With a grin, he jogged a couple of times on the spot. “Race you to the gym?”
    I laughed. “Seeing as I have no idea where it is, you’d win.”
    “Oh well, in that case…” He held out his right arm like an elderly gent. “Let me escort you there instead.”
    Smiling, I slipped my fingers around his bulging biceps—holy smack, did he feel incredible. “With pleasure.”
    Ten minutes later, we were at the gym.
    Brendon unlocked it, hit the lights, turned on the music and spun to face me. “Ready?”
    I nodded.
    He slapped his hands together, eyes twinkling. “Let’s do this.”
    Twenty minutes later, I swore I was going to kill him. Damn, my body had never worked so hard. Or sweat so much. I groaned my way through a session of cardio and weights designed—I’m sure—to make a professional athlete curl up and cry.
    If I wasn’t so determined to show I was capable of doing it, I would have burst into tears somewhere around the twentieth burpee.
    While I worked out, Brendon talked to me. Most of it was casual chatter, but every now and again he’d ask an obscure question he pretended was him being silly but was what I knew was him trying to learn