Too Stupid to Live(Romancelandia) Read Online Free PDF Page A

though he laughed and pretended otherwise whenever Sam brought it up.
    Nik got on Dave like a hawk on a mouse. A very small hawk on a very big mouse. A mouse completely unconcerned with any size disparity.
    Ian and Dave were sitting on the couch, nursing beers and talking. Sam lurked near a doorway, holding up the wall and looking nonchalant (he doubted), studiously not watching them out of the corner of his eye. He noted with satisfaction that Ian hadn’t smiled at Dave once. Or laughed. Sam had made Ian smile and laugh when they’d first met.
    It didn’t really matter that Ian had been smiling and laughing at him rather than with him, right?
    Sam’s thoughts were interrupted when Nik insisted on sitting between Dave and Ian. He started chattering, his simpleton smile on his face. Sam watched Nik a minute, and then his eyes drifted back to Ian.
    Ian was watching him. Smiling a slight, sort of smug smile.
    This is your chance. Smile back .
    Sam felt his face flush red, then he looked at the floor and slunk out of the room. God he was suave, wasn’t he? He hid in the little hall between the living room and the bedrooms, right off the kitchen. It was deserted for now, but party sounds surrounded him.
    “Where’s Nik?” Jurgen’s voice behind him startled Sam into almost jumping.
    He whirled to face Jurgen, instead. “Talking to the guests.”
    Jurgen narrowed his eyes slightly. “Is he talking to Ian again?”
    Was Jurgen jealous? It didn’t seem possible, but why else would he care? Sam nodded, trying to figure it out.
    “Why is he trying to cock block Ian?” Jurgen’s voice was low and compelling.
    Sam had sudden sympathy for suspects Jurgen might question. But . . . cock block ? Really? “I don’t know?” It was kind of true. He didn’t know why Nik was bothering.
    Jurgen crossed his arms over his chest. “Sam, stay away from Ian.”
    “What?” Like Sam should stay upwind of him, or something more along the lines of “don’t let him stick his dick in you”?
    “He’s not your type. He’s a manwhore. He’s more likely to fuck you than date you. You deserve better than that.”
    “Uh . . .” Wait, wasn’t Jurgen Ian’s cousin? “I do? I mean, I know, but it’s kinda weird—”
    “He’s not ‘relationship material.’”
    “He’s my future husband.” Did I say that out loud? Sam clapped a belated hand over his mouth.
    Jurgen stared at him a minute before dropping his forehead into his palm, growling to himself and massaging his temples. “Ian’s no one’s future husband.” Jurgen pulled his head up wearily. “He’s got . . . the fuck are those ‘issues’ again? Nik’s always going on about them.”
    Sam dropped his hand from his mouth. “Commitment issues?” Nik had issues with commitment issues.
    Jurgen snapped his fingers. “Commitment issues. He’d use you, Sam. He’ll force himself to find some suitable woman and start producing children any year now, and he’ll still be fucking guys on the side.”
    Sam gaped. “Seriously?”
    Jurgen rolled his eyes. “Probably not,” he admitted, then made a face like he’d licked a toad. “But he might . I’ve seen him try to do it before. And if he does, you don’t want to be his convenient fuck on the side.”
    Reformed rakes make the best husbands . Sam managed to stop himself from blurting that out.
    Jurgen gave him a long, silent look. Then he sighed. “Fine.” He turned and walked away down the hall.

    The rest of the party was semi-torturous. Sam was sure he would have to watch Ian going at it with some guy, somewhere. Ian was a flirt, in spite of not laughing and rarely smiling. Guys threw themselves at him.
    Probably Ian was better described as a flirt-magnet. He was also a bastard. Toying with Sam, doing subtly sexy things to make him nuts that no one else seemed to notice. Did a normal guy need to lick that many drops of beer off his lower lip? Did a normal guy wait until each droplet hovered on the point of