Something New (3 page)

The open interest in Braden tugged Rodrigo closer. “It’s strange. I never thought of myself as having a father somewhere, even though I know I wasn’t an immaculate conception.” Shaking his head, Rodrigo let out a rough chuckle. “Gotta say, I never looked in the mirror once and saw a…a…”

Braden quirked a brow. “A redneck looking back at you?”

“A white man,” Rodrigo clarified, “
period
, let alone a rural good ol’ boy.” Nothing in Rodrigo’s physical appearance, except perhaps his height, bore any resemblance to the man he’d met with multiple times now. “I always figured he must have been another Colombian who maybe got deported or something. Shit, I don’t know. I’m thirty-four years old. It’s”—Rodrigo gestured with his hands, as if the motion would help find the right words—“bizarre and surreal to look at this person I never knew existed and know that half my DNA is from him.”

Braden dipped down and made eye contact with Rodrigo. “Are you okay with knowing him?”

Rodrigo shrugged. “Getting there. It’s still awkward a lot of the time. We have the blue-collar, hard-labor thing in common, so that helps some.”

“You have plenty white collar in you too, Rodrigo. Don’t downplay your accomplishments for anyone. Long-lost father included.”

Braden didn’t move a muscle, but Rodrigo swore he could feel the man’s hand gently run down his back in support.

“Believe me”—Rodrigo reached up and undid the button suddenly choking him—“every time payroll and taxes come around, I remember just how much white starches this thing around my neck.” He flashed an alpha-dog smile. “Got too much ego to ever forget that I’m the boss, remember?”

One step and Braden nearly rode Rodrigo’s front. “That’s right. You are.” The man curled his hand around Rodrigo’s neck, and Rodrigo jerked at the contact. Braden stayed with him, gazes locked in laser mode, as Braden manipulated the necklines of Rodrigo’s shirt and jacket. “Just straightening that white collar for you,” Braden said. He slid his hand around to the front; before he moved away, the tips of his fingers lingered against the column of Rodrigo’s throat. “Looks good now.”

Holy shit. That is totally the kind of flirty move I would put on Abby. Isn’t it?

A whole lot of blood rushed south, killing Rodrigo’s ability to think rationally. “Th-thanks.”

“I’ll tell Christian and Jonah you had to leave.” Braden loped up the steps to the porch. “Good night.”

“Yeah. Later.” Rodrigo spun and strode to his truck, climbing in without looking back, just as Abby had done with him.

The truth was, that clever son of a bitch Braden had been right. Rodrigo had intended to go check on Abby. Rodrigo hadn’t lied, though. He had exchanged a “maybe we can grab a burger together later” conversation with his father, but Rodrigo easily could have dropped in on Abby first.

Rodrigo figured it was damn near impossible for Abby to be anything less than beautiful, but he knew what tired looked like on a face. Knew what fear looked like too. He’d seen it in Abby more than once in the last few weeks. Nobody who was tired and scared should be left alone to sit and dwell on the things making him or her exhausted and afraid. Rodrigo just wanted to help, even if he could only do it by distracting the woman with conversations that infuriated her.

Braden might have figured me out, but I still can take a quick peek.

Rodrigo would just drive by Abby’s building. She had her business on the ground floor and made her home in the rooms on the second level. He would just take a look. If the lights were off, he would leave her to her sleep. Simple as that.

One friend keeping an eye on another.

Once Rodrigo settled on his course, half the tension eased out of his frame.

Braden was responsible for the portion that remained. Rodrigo didn’t know what the hell to do about the fucking strange reactions the man conjured up in him. Half the time Rodrigo sported wood these days, it was for Braden Crenshaw as much as Abby Gaines.

He had to get the fuck over it before something happened and someone got hurt.

He’s not quite ready.

Braden closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, still able to scent both Abby’s and Rodrigo’s unique notes of strawberries and almonds mixed in with the nip in the air.

Abby is close, but Rodrigo still doesn’t understand what he’s feeling. Or that it’s okay to feel it.

The man would have to get right with it soon. Braden didn’t know how much more celibacy he could take. It had been two years since his previous partner had ended their relationship—entirely Braden’s fault. This time, though, he intended to get things right.

He could have pursued Abby months ago and probably convinced the stubborn woman to take a chance on him. It would have been amazing too. He could sense the raw, sensual adventurer living inside the leggy redhead who claimed she didn’t believe in romance or love. Crawling into bed with her, sinking into her wet heat, alternating between fucking her and making love to her… It would be incredible and extremely satisfying. And when it eventually happened, Braden intended to savor it.

This time, though, when he invested his time and heart in a relationship, he wanted it to last.

That was where Rodrigo came in.

When Rodrigo had grabbed Braden and shoved him against the porch, Braden could have thrown Rodrigo off in a heartbeat—if he’d wanted to. He hadn’t. He liked sharing that small space of air with Rodrigo and feeling the man’s hand curled into a fist against his chest. He liked imagining that dominating man bent over and crying Braden’s name just as loudly as he would shout Abby’s.

Because as much as Braden desired the lovely and sharp-witted Abby Gaines, he responded with equal ferocity to the dark, controlled Rodrigo Santiago.

Braden’s appetites went both ways, and from the moment he’d set eyes on Abby and Rodrigo—both at the same time, at this very house where he now stood—Braden knew his friend Ben’s advice had been right.

“
Find a man and woman who can give you what you need, together. Enough bouncing back and forth. Stop thinking that one right person will come along and settle this need inside you. Denying who you are is hurting too many people along the way
.”

For two years Braden had struggled with the pain he’d caused Ben, and with believing it was even possible to find a man and woman who would not only want Braden but also each other. The thought of opening his dual desires to a man and woman at the same time, risking humiliation, rejection, and possibly even disgust, terrified him. It still made Braden sweat a bit when he pictured himself suggesting a ménage to two people when he’d never experienced one firsthand to tout its benefits. If he took a chance and failed, if he tried with a man and woman and couldn’t turn a threesome into a successful relationship… Jesus, Braden didn’t want to think about living with the certainty of a failed ménage. It would take away his abstract hope that it could one day be real. He didn’t want to have a harsh reality crush his fantasy and then have to live the rest of his life bouncing between men and women, hurting people, and always knowing that in the end he would be alone. The fear of killing this newly planted dream had kept Braden from ever taking Ben’s threesome suggestion seriously.

Then Abby and Rodrigo had come into his life. Instantly, Braden has sensed the attraction between them. Just as fast, he’d picked up on Abby’s curiosity in him. Rodrigo’s interest had been less organized, more challenging to read. The guy had clearly never been with another man and undoubtedly didn’t understand that he could desire one while still wanting a woman.

Ben’s words of wisdom had come rushing back to Braden in a torrent while standing in the kitchen in this very house. For the first time in Braden’s life, he started to believe he could have it all.

A man. A woman. Passion between all of us.

Maybe even love.

Braden chuckled. One step at a time. He hadn’t even kissed them, let alone gotten them naked and in the same room together.

Soon, though.

Something in the air had changed tonight.

Thank God. Finally.

Braden was tired of going to bed alone.

Chapter Two

Abby wandered around her store in the dark, flitting her fingers over the clothing, purses, shoes, hats, scarves… You name it, and Abby’s Attic had it, from all manner of eras. She kept a nice range of clothing styles in-house and had a very good eye for what her regulars would eat up the second she hung it on a mannequin in the window.

A locked glass case housed the jewelry Abby offered for sale. Chunky coral pieces, carved Bakelite bangle bracelets, wide filigreed gold chokers, and earrings. Costume pieces sat next to the real thing, and she even had her own funky contemporary designs mixed in.

The place Abby sat to work took up most of the back wall. She sketched her creations and crafted her pieces out in the open so customers could watch her process. Chatting and working went hand in hand for her, and she would in fact feel isolated if she had to create in a room by herself.

Very quickly after opening her doors, Abby had realized she would need an online presence to balance out the fact that she had a niche business in a small town. Web sales kept her storefront in the black.

She loved her business. Loved it more than just about anything. God knew it hadn’t turned her into a wealthy woman—didn’t even make her merely comfortable most of the time—but it was all hers. Well, technically, the bank owned it too, but she gave them their money on time, all the time, so that partnership thankfully remained a silent one.

Abby knew her store inside and out. Softly colored walls and beautiful things made it a soothing place. She had every nook and cranny memorized, and spent more than enough time in it during the day, certainly to the point where she really didn’t need to walk around it in the dark at night. As much as Abby adored her business, when her day ended, she happily locked it up and walked away every evening until it came time to open again the next day.

Until a few weeks ago, she used to do exactly that.

Then the nightmares had started again. The reemergence of terrible dreams about a day she had spent most of her childhood trying to forget. Successfully so. Up until now. For the life of her, Abby didn’t understand why. The dreams had returned in brief snippets that jerked her out of sleep and left her covered in a layer of sweat. Each night when Abby closed her eyes, the images showed her a different piece of that terrible afternoon and evening, sometimes in a manner that made these nightmares completely different and new. Abby had never before remembered her mother’s voice—so high and squeaky—saying “
Please, baby, no
” right before a deafening explosion rocked through where Abby crouched in the closet.

“
Baby
?” That didn’t make sense. Why would her mother call her murderer baby? If that was a real memory, why was it only coming to her now?

Abby shivered as she moved to the back of her store. She unlocked the privacy door separating her business from her private quarters and looked up the staircase to the hallway and rooms beyond. The steps loomed in front of her, and if she would just man up and let herself fall into bed again, she might find some answers to what these dreams were trying to tell her.

Stop it
. Abby knew better.
They aren’t trying to convey anything
. The police knew the name of the person responsible for her parents’ murders. Some drug addict named Rusty Cormack, looking for some money and valuables to sell for his next high. The DA had not succeeded in a conviction, but they knew he was responsible. Reliving something that had happened almost twenty years ago through fits and starts in nightmares would not unearth some vastly different scenario from what she’d seen and heard in person that day.

Except, maybe it will.

No.

Abby had done as much research as she could on her parents’ murders. She’d even seen multiple mug shots from tattooed Rusty Cormack’s repeated drug arrests over the years, and just because she had some vague suspicions that something didn’t feel right about him as the killer didn’t mean that translated into evidence of anything. Twisting the memories from that traumatic event served only to fill her days and nights with something she could not change or control, thereby distracting her from something
truly
frightening that she could.

Rodrigo and Braden. And her.

For the first time, Abby had sensed chemistry between the men she had previously only visualized in her private fantasies. Something heated. Something volatile. Something most definitely sexual.

Whoa. Yeah
. Abby exhaled as the fluttering in her core started up again. She found it nearly impossible to ignore these men when dealing with them individually. Together, if they were as open to experimenting with each other as they had each hinted at wanting with her, they could bring every one of her newest secret fantasies to full, roaring life.

And since Abby understood that now, she held the power to make it happen.

Change things up from the staid, safe life she’d been hibernating in for the last three years.

Try something very, very new.

Abby closed her eyes without even thinking, and the wave of possibilities rushed through her once again.

Strong, male hands grabbing at hard bodies, thick torsos rubbing up against each other, a sea of intertwined, masculine arms and legs, thick cocks jutting toward stomachs, rubbing between solid flesh. A river of red hair brushing against those bodies, over erect penises, making both men shiver and turn into her for more…

Damn it
. Abby yanked herself out of another one of her visions before it got any more erotic or explicit.
What the heck is wrong with me?

Maybe she had summoned the nightmares about her parents as a way to keep her ever-growing desire for Rodrigo and Braden at bay.

Fighting ghosts from her past was less terrifying than dealing with two very alive men who if teamed up in real life could potentially destroy her.