Winners (2 page)

Heading for the attached bath, he
stripped off his shirt and thought about the confrontation he’d had with
Candace’s daddy.
The one that might lead to an upcoming
meeting between her and her father.
Oh, he’d be there, too. She could
lead the conversation, but he’d have her back.
Always.
 

Emerson Grant didn’t deny his
actions, or attempt to rationalize. In fact, he’d shrugged when Reece put it
out there.

“I
kept my end of the bargain, Grant. I left Barrister, gave Candace six months to
consider her feelings for me, made something of myself. All the things you
insisted on. And then you let her continue to think I’d walked out on her.
Intercepted her mail.”
And left Reece
despairing of ever touching Candace again.

“I
thought it was best for my daughter,” the man had said, but not with any true
affection or caring that Reece could determine. “She could do better. I thought
it then, and I think it now. But she seems to feel differently.”

“Candace
doesn’t want to hear your name, let alone see you again.”

“Unfortunate,”
Grant had murmured, but this time there was something behind the impassivity.

It was the man’s wife who’d stepped
up, although Reece suspected it wasn’t from some kind of newfound maternal
feeling. Nope, Roslyn was worried about something, and he had no clue about her
agenda. But Reece didn’t like to think Candace was losing out on family, on any
kind of connection, and he’d have moved heaven and earth to arrange a détente,
if it meant something positive for her. So his job was to support her through
any kind of reconciliation or ensure a clean, safe break. He didn’t trust his
future father-in-law at all. There were the stepbrothers to consider. He knew
them, although hadn’t connected in years, but to his knowledge they’d treated
Candace okay, even if they were favored by her daddy. Not for the first time he
wondered how it was that all the money in the world hadn’t made for a good
family life. His family had had nothing, and while they were now scattered
across the country, they were still close. In fact his mom was getting anxious
for a visit, having accepted his news about Candace with approval.

He’d been abrupt with Roslyn, but
didn’t close any doors.
“I’ll talk with
Candace, Mrs. Grant. If she wants to meet, I’ll set something up.”

And so it had gone. Reece pulled off
the rest of his clothes and cranked on the shower. He stepped in and washed
quickly and efficiently, before whisking his razor over his five o’clock
shadow. Candace hadn’t used the blade on her legs or any other body parts,
because he didn’t draw blood. Shit, he’d gladly bleed for her, share his
toothbrush, anything. It was probably that kind of intensity that convinced his
little miss to agree to meeting with her daddy, although she’d exhibited that
feisty side while they’d discussed it, the one that had drawn him to her in the
first place.

Dressed in a pair of black jeans
and a long sleeved black shirt, he grimaced ruefully at the picture he made as
he folded the cuffs back. Man in black. Well, he was no white knight, but
Candace made him feel that way. He swore his heart hitched a little, dead
center in his chest, and he shoved his disgust and rage at her father out of
his mind. He’d keep his eye on the prize, his woman with him, in his home.
Besides, Candace had lived at her father’s estate, and now she was homeless. It
had made sense for her to move straight in with him, although it was nothing
like she was used to. Poor little rich girl, and that was a fact.

The bedroom already reflected her—a
little bench thing reposed at the low dresser, its top strewn with feminine
things. His side of the closet wasn’t yet compromised with women’s clothing,
but once she retrieved her belongings from her own place he suspected that
would change. A figurine caught his eye, posed on the edge of the dresser, and
he made his way over to move it closer to the mirror. It was a beautifully cast
statue of a nude man.
Wearing a cowboy hat.
Lord, the
things his woman ordered for that shop of hers. He picked it up and examined it
closely. The star badge sculpted dead center in the hat made him blink, and
then grin. He hoped his male appendage was as impressive as the Sheriff cast in
bronze.
 

The unmistakable chatter of female
voices emanated from the kitchen as he left the bedroom and headed in to the
living room. He picked up the remote, deciding to find the game channel before
heading to the fridge for a beer. The bell rang as he clicked on the TV and
then went to open the door.

“Evening, Reece.” Ashton Russell
passed over a twelve pack, and Reece stepped back to allow him entry. His
younger brother Craig shouldered past with a wide grin and carefully toted a
square pan covered in foil toward the kitchen.

“Sinclair forgot the dessert.”

Reece followed with the beer,
leaving Ashton to shut the door, and watched Craig settle the pan on the
counter before scooping Sinclair up. She squeaked, but very obviously melted
into his arms, and accepted a smacking kiss.

“Missed you,
honey.”

“I saw you at lunch,” Sinclair
protested, but Reece could see she was teasing. Her pretty face was alight, and
she stared at Craig with such warmth Reece wondered if they needed to get a
room. He exchanged a glance with Candace, who winked, probably remembering his
groping not twenty minutes earlier. He’d seen her at lunch, too.

Ashton tugged Sinclair away from
Craig and kissed her soundly while his brother looked on, a smug, satisfied
look on his face. Sinclair cuddled against Ash with the same enthusiasm she’d
shown his brother. Reece had no issue with any sexual configuration of adults
as long as things were consensual, and from what he heard from Candace—and
observed—Sinclair most definitely consented to both of these men. When she cast
a quick peek his way, he made certain to show his support and approval. The
citizens of Barrister and the surrounding area weren’t as likely to be so
accepting, but he had faith in the Russell brothers, and he’d do his part to
settle folks down.

He’d already checked the laws, and
while Sinclair couldn’t legally marry both brothers, the three could live
together without legal censure. In his mind that was only a small part of the
battle, but he recognized true, committed love when he saw it. Maybe because he
saw it reflected back from his inner self each and every day in the mirror—and
when Candace looked at him, now they’d worked things out.

“You guys want a beer before
dinner?”

Ash and Craig chorused their
agreement, and Reece retrieved three cold ones.

Both girls made a markedly similar
face when offered a brew, and Candace slipped past him to reach for some wine
glasses. Her sweet ass grazed the front of his jeans, and he was instantly hard
for her, something she was hardly oblivious to if the sly look she sent him was
anything to go by.

He watched her head over to the
table and
pour
two healthy servings of the robust red
she preferred, offering one to Sinclair. Candy focused on the task as she did
everything, and he figured he could watch her graceful movements forever.
Ashton cleared his throat, and Reece dragged his gaze to meet the other man’s
eyes. Both Ash and Craig were visibly concealing smiles, but he read the same
thing on their features. Whipped, the three of them—and it was fine.

She straightened one of the
platters gracing the center of the table, the beef resting as he’d directed. “I
think everything’s ready.”

“The game’s starting shortly,
Candace. We
gonna
eat here or in front of the TV?”

A slight narrowing of her eyes told
him everything he needed to know, and he hustled to hold her chair for her.
Craig and Ash nearly fell over one another getting to Sinclair, and they were
all settled at the table in short order.

Reece carved the roast and reveled
in the feeling of being the head of the table, hosting friends with the love of
his life at his side. Candace passed the other dishes, and aside from some
muted requests for condiments, the only sounds initially were those of
silverware chiming against plates.

“Great meal.”
Ashton spoke around a mouthful of beef.

“Reece is the chef,” Candace said,
smiling his way. “I don’t have a clue.”

Shrugging, he said, “It was either
learn how to cook or eat out or rely on the pity meals of others.”

“Candace can probably figure it
out.” Craig shot up in his chair and widened his eyes at Sinclair. “What?”

“You’d better not be slotting women
into stereotypical roles, Craig Russell.”

Candace was smiling, and Reece
recognized how strong her friendship was with Sinclair. He made a mental note
of that fact. If he fucked up, and he probably would, Sinclair would be the
person Candace would turn to in lieu of him. He never wanted her to feel alone
and unsupported, although the idea of any discord between them grated, even if
he was being realistic. He would likely be the worst offender when it came to
slotting his woman into a stereotypical role, but he’d keep her safe, even from
herself. Which was why her car was still off-limits, and wasn’t there some
make-up sex after that showdown?

“I don’t do that!” Craig attempted
to extricate himself from suggesting a woman’s place might also be in the
kitchen, reaching down to surreptitiously rub his shin.

“You try.
A lot.”
It was Reece’s turn to smile behind his hand at the mulish look on Sinclair’s
face. Ashton and Craig respected the hell out of their gal, but they’d be the
boss of her, too.
Never a dull moment.
Although he’d
heard from Candace that there had been some difficult discussions about the
brothers’ anxiety regarding Sinclair tending to livestock that could
conceivably damage her. Probably they should have thought about that when she
went away to school, but he could sympathize.
If Candace had
chosen a profession that put her at risk every day…

“And you like it when we take
charge.
At times.”
Ash put his two cents in, and
Sinclair’s face flamed scarlet. She set her lips and studiously avoided both
Reece and Candace, applying herself to the vegetables on her plate. The
brothers exchanged a look that heated the room with the promise of things to
come, and Reece idly wondered what Candace personally thought of threesomes.

She was looking pensive when he
glanced her way, and he questioned if she was reading his mind—or thinking
about ménage. A faint shiver of cold worked its way through his gut before he
focused. They both had sexual pasts, and he figured he was enough for her. Lord
knew she was enough for him.

They adjourned for the game, the
men clearing the table while the women stacked the dishwasher, all talk of
roles aside. Sinclair squeezed in between the brothers on the couch, her head
resting on Craig’s shoulder, her feet tucked up on Ash’s thigh. Reece took the
big easy chair and settled Candace on his lap, his hand slipping up beneath the
hem of her dress to cup her buttock, his possessive touch screened by the
position of her body. She snuggled close and pressed her head beneath his chin.

His team was doing well, a good
thing, considering his inability to exhort them to victory, his attention drawn
to the curvy bundle of woman on his lap. She smelled of carnations, something
that now never failed to trigger his libido, and his fingers slipped to find
their way beneath the scrap of material covering her sex. Hot, wet flesh
greeted them, and she squirmed to give him easier access. Reece was transported
back to high school when he and Candace stole similar moments, the forbidden,
exciting sensations making him impossibly hard. He wondered how long their
guests planned to stay.

“Behave
yourself
,”
she whispered, but he noted she arched into his questing hand.

Withdrawing his fingers, he
couldn’t restrain a smirk at her pout. He rearranged her on his lap, the better
to ease the pressure on his erection, and winced as she shifted back.
Yup, never a dull moment.

Chapter Two

Sinclair didn’t much care for
sports, but she figured she could manage the occasional game, especially if she
could sit between her guys. The man chairs at home had to go—maybe they could
get one of those sectional things with the seats at either end that reclined.
She’d get the middle seat, and do away with the insert to hold the remotes and
drinks. She could hold anything that needed holding, and her risqué thought made
her lips quirk. Candy was right to infer she was turning into someone obsessed
with sex. But it was more than that, far more. She loved her men with every
ounce of her being, and once again thanked the powers that be for them coming
to their senses. Otherwise she’d be someplace else, functioning, but without
purpose. It should be frightening to realize her happiness was directly
dependent on Ashton and Craig, except it wasn’t. She trusted them
wholeheartedly.

Craig’s breath stirred her hair,
and Ash traced lazy circles on her calf. Her entire being sparked
like
a static charge, and the air caught in her lungs with a
delicious hitch. She was intensely warmed by the heat emanating from their big
bodies, all muscled, honed from hard work on the ranch. Maybe they didn’t have
to stay for the entire game, although the guys were focused in apparent rapt
attention on the screen as several large men ran down a smaller man clutching
the football, and jumped on him. The huffing and crunching sounds made her
wince, but one by one the yellow jerseys peeled off the red one at the bottom
of the pile. The announcer babbled in excitement, and Craig said something
about turnover on downs. An imp of mischief overcame her.