Men Times Three (12 page)

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Authors: Bonnie Edwards

BOOK: Men Times Three
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She chuckled deep in her throat, sending his nerve endings on a wild tear. She released him with a soft popping sound. “Sorry I woke you, but I missed sleeping with you and came over before dawn.”

“You're welcome anytime.” She slipped out of her clothes and climbed in beside him with a
brrr!
He tucked the blankets around her and held her close.

“Thanks, it's chilly before dawn.” She slid down his body to his cock and took him again by degrees. He strained to hold on to his control but the wild slide toward orgasm rolled through his back and into his balls. He was always fast in the morning.

“This is good, but I'm going to lose it.” He flipped her and she laughed. Then she wrapped her gorgeously long legs around his waist and held him so tight he could slip in unsheathed. He pulled back to look at her face. “Wait. I need a rubber.”

She blinked and a flash of regret flickered in the back of her eyes that made him wonder if she wanted children.

Pained, he let the thought go and focused on protecting them both. By the time he slid back into position, she was herself again: passionate and willing and oh-so-hot she burned the skin of his hips as she rocked him into a raging wave of pleasure.

“Yes, you're deep, so deep.” She panted and rolled her hips to reach for ecstasy as he pressed hard to hold himself tight to her. Her nails dug into his ass cheeks while she screamed her release. A wet track slipped down her temple to her ear. Tears?

“Don't cry,” he murmured. This was new, a first. Release could bring on tears, but not for Holly. She was in this for the fun, for the sex, for the moment.

Tears were for other times. For other men, and the stab of that shocked him. He smeared her tears away and kissed her with the salt on his tongue and the beat of his heart.

Oh, shit.

He rolled off her and gathered her into his side for a moment. “I made you cry?”

“No. Not you. Never you.” Her arms wrapped his waist and she tucked her face out of view. The camper ceiling was beige and he stared into it, reminding himself of their agreement, so he wouldn't ask.

If he pressed, he might invite baggage to fall open and reveal secrets he shouldn't want to know. He didn't want to know. He knew enough. Her tears were not for him. That was enough.

“I want to show you something.” The idea came to him from nowhere. But that wasn't true; the idea came so she'd know there were times his baggage floated to the top of his mind, too. In spite of his best efforts to keep it buried.

She raised her face and grinned. “Sure. What is it?”

“Just a place I haven't thought of in a while. Want to see it?”

In the truck on the way over, he asked how things had gone with Kylie. “Think she'll throw any muck in the works about selling the inn?”

“She'd like to wait before making any decisions. She got excited at the idea of opening for business, until Marnie made it clear she wants to sell.”

“What about you?”

“I don't know. I see the lure of both ideas. Quick money is always nice. I mean, who wouldn't want one-third of a holiday property with acreage? But once we decided to discuss our situation this morning, she seemed more focused on getting to know us. She asked questions about our families. I have two brothers and Marnie has one.”

“She said she's never met any family but Jon. So, it was just Kylie and her mom?”

Holly nodded. “My Aunt Trudy. Kylie didn't know her father. But I don't think she cared much for our grandfather. He made a bad first impression.”

“I can imagine.” Jon Dawson often made bad last impressions, too. “My brother steered clear of a lot of subjects with Jon. Kept to things they agreed on, like fishing, building, woodwork and tools.”

“Guy stuff. Things Jon would consider manly. When he was alive, he seemed to prefer the company of his sons and grandsons to having us girls visit. I can't understand why he'd disown my aunt. What's the big secret? An out-of-wedlock baby isn't the worst thing a daughter can do. And it certainly isn't rare or shocking. Not even twenty-five years ago. She went to college, got knocked up and came home.” She shrugged.

“You'd have to know more about Jon to understand. He had some odd ideas is all.” The subject made him uncomfortable. “TJ was closer to Jon than anyone I know around here. You should ask him. Or better yet, your father. He'll know. Especially if you send him a picture of Kylie.”

She frowned and then her eyes went wide. “It's her looks. It's her—oh, my God—Grandad was a racist?”

He should have let it go. “That's an ugly word, Holly.”

Her voice went hard. “He kicked his only daughter out when she was nine months pregnant.” Her face twisted. “If it was just the pregnancy, he'd have done it right away when she told him.”

“I should have kept my mouth shut.” He felt sorry for Kylie. That must have been an ugly meeting with Jon. “And now, we've brought someone else's baggage into what we've got going.”

Holly nodded, but her frown said she was still working things out. “All we can do as a family is let Kylie know that we're not like him.” When she raised her gaze forward, he saw a sheen of tears that threatened to fall. “I'll take care of that.”

 

Deke's revelation took a while to sink in, but Holly did her best to set aside thoughts of her grandfather's behavior. Such a foolish man to cause decades of hurt and loss. Her father and uncle had tried to reach out to Aunt Trudy many times in the early years of separation, but she'd been every bit as willful and stubborn as Jon. As far as Holly was concerned, it was up to her generation to improve the situation.

From what she'd learned of Kylie last night over wine, cheese and female bonding, it shouldn't be too difficult for the family to heal.

The three of them would reach a consensus on the inn. As Kylie had pointed out, they had time to decide and there was no need to rush into a permanent decision. She seemed very willing to dig in deep to get the work done.

Deke pulled into a rutted lane that swung off TJ's driveway and parked several yards in. “This is it. This is where I want to build my own place.”

“It's lovely. Looks like you could build a beautiful home here.” Holly jumped down from his truck and stepped to the center of the concrete pad to judge the four corners. Family sized. “I do believe you're a nester, Deke O'Banion.” She turned in a circle.

He flushed and finally stepped onto the foundation with her. He paced off the distance from one side to the other. “Not anymore. These days I'm all about good times.”

“So? What's the floor plan?” This didn't count as baggage because house plans were part of the future, not his past. It may be a technicality, but she could live with it. His eyes lit up at her question and she was glad she'd asked.

He slipped his hands to his broad waist and frowned. Then he set his arms wide to encompass one large corner. “This will be the kitchen here. With a large window to catch the morning sun, and I figure sliders about here…” He rambled his way through the entire main floor while she watched him in awe.

She hadn't seen Deke quite like this. He was
happy
. She'd seen horny, focused, sated, hungry and even ticked off with work and his brother, but not swimming in joy. It mesmerized and held her and very nearly infected her.

Seeing his plans and dreams for a home designed with a family in mind made her heart race with unspoken dreams. Bad idea, this. She looked away toward the trees and saw the dark cool shade and nothing else.

“What about you? What do you see in your future?” he asked, blowing her thoughts of nothingness to brilliant shards.

She pursed her lips and tried not to bring too much of what used to be into the now. “At one time I thought I wanted children, but I haven't considered a family in a long while.” Jack had been dead set against having a baby. He didn't want to ruin a good thing and told her he wanted her to himself. She ran her hands up her chilled arms. She had always hoped Jack would change his mind one day.

When he'd opted for a vasectomy without discussing it with her first, she demanded a separation. He'd betrayed her trust that they'd always share in decisions. Once she'd left him, she'd felt more optimistic about life. She got her groove back, so to speak, and the separation had moved into divorce.

Except for sex, of course, but even that was over now.

“Are you okay?” He pulled her into his chest and wrapped her in his arms. “Cold?”

“Just a chill.”

“Someone walk over your grave?” But he turned and kept her close to his side as he led her toward his truck.

“More like a memory,” she tested.

“Sorry, I shouldn't have brought you here. I didn't mean to bring up anything painful.” He reached for the passenger door and opened it. He waited while she stewed about mentioning Jack and the reason for their divorce.

“No worries. There's no baggage about a family. I just haven't thought about one for a while. Things didn't work out that way for me.”

“Doesn't mean they can't though, right?”

“Right.” She grinned and, for the first time in over a year, felt happy about her options. “You're absolutely right, Deke. There's nothing to stop me from getting everything I want for myself. My future's bright and rosy again.”

She saw affection in his eyes and it didn't scare her.

Not a bit.

A looming shadow of Jack's comments about wanting her all to himself brought her back to reality with a thump. If she wanted to move ahead, she had to clear her path. “I need to make a phone call, Deke. I doubt it'll be a pleasant one. But it will feel good to have it behind me.”

“Anything I can do to help?” Concern shadowed his eyes.

“Just be here when I'm done, okay?”

“Always.”

She stepped away from Deke and the truck and walked a couple yards into the heavy brush around his foundation. The air in the cool shade turned to a fresh pine scent while birds twittered overhead. She walked in far enough that the trees and bushes would absorb the sound of her voice while she spoke to Jack. She may raise her voice and didn't want to be overheard. She listened to her voice mail messages to gauge his mood.

They were angrier than the last time she'd checked. If she had to shock him into listening then she'd yell loud enough to rattle the trees.

She took three deep breaths to calm her nerves but her stomach still clenched in dread. He answered on the second ring. The roar of traffic told her he was in the car. “Took you long enough to get back to me,” he said without so much as hello. Jack's way of saying he was disappointed. She refused the bait.

“Hi,” she said in a breezy tone. “You called?”

“Yes. I called. Every day since you left. When are you coming home?”

“When I'm ready. This is not the way to make me want to talk to you, Jack. Your messages were nasty and uncalled for. I told you before I left that you've got to move on. Things are different now.”

“Different?
I'll
never be different, Holly.
I'll
never move on. Never. Now when the
fuck
are you coming home?”

She straightened and went still inside. Wary and aware. “I'm not coming home. Not to you. We're divorced.” She'd assumed her voice would get louder if she got this angry. She was wrong. Her words came soft but hard as forged steel. “You signed the divorce papers. I'm free of you. Stay out of my life, Jack. I mean it.” She was shaking when she hung up and shut off her phone. By the time she stumbled out of the brush, she was fighting back tears of anger. She must have looked like hell, because worry washed over Deke's face.

He rushed to her but she put up her hands to ward him off. She got control through sheer force of will. Jack's fury had reached out like a psychic slap. She told herself it was over, but a small voice reminded her Jack hated to lose. Had he been faking when he'd signed the divorce papers? Maybe he'd played her for a fool.

Maybe he'd never intended to let her go. The dark thought came out of nowhere and everywhere at the same time. She shook it off.

“What's wrong? You look like someone died.” Deke wrapped her into his chest and she hung on, waiting for the fear to ease and the shaking to stop. She buried her nose in his plaid shirt and took comfort from his heat.

She shook her head, determined not to bring Jack into this time with Deke. “Baggage has a way of weighing you down, even when you try to leave it behind.”

“Tell me, Holly.”

She wiped her hand down her face, pulled herself together. “No. It's over now. And like I said, my future's bright and rosy again. This should have been dealt with ages ago. My family told me to make a clean break, but I wouldn't listen. I wanted to be nice. I hate confronting ugly feelings and I screwed up.”

He nodded. “You're divorced?”

“Yes, and I let him hang on instead of dealing with leftover feelings.”

“Leftover feelings. Huh.” A frown filled his face as he struggled with what to say next. He'd been hurt. The hurt was in his eyes, the way his shoulders stiffened and the way his arms dropped from around her. “I drowned my leftover feelings in beer.”

She nodded. “I saw the cases. But you haven't had much to drink since I've been here.” One at a time seemed to be his limit. And he drank iced tea just as often. “But then, maybe you've moved on?”
The way Jack should.

“I have.” He glanced over his shoulder at the foundation of his future home. “And it feels good.”

“It's healthy. And that's why I'm concerned about—”

“What spooked you, babe. The ex?”

She shook her head. Some small part of her still held a loyalty to Jack. She didn't want to discuss his inability to cope with their divorce. It seemed petty to talk about him when Deke had never met him. But Marnie knew him and it may be time to share more about Jack with her. “It's nothing, really. Nothing to worry about.”

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