Quarantales: The Complete Contemporary Romance Box Set, page 30
Yes, he’d be happy at first. But then this baby—after he was finally convinced it was his—would become just one more thing he would use against me for leverage. He already made me give up my job and my friends. What would he make me do to keep our child safe?
As happy as I wanted to be about this pregnancy, it felt like the final lock on the cage Tommy had been slowly constructing around me for the three years we’d been together.
I didn’t have any money of my own, any freedom, or any friends I could easily turn to without endangering them. That’s why I ran after my hair appointment, with nothing but my passport, my mother’s birth certificate, a hastily withdrawn five hundred dollars from my old bank account, and the clothes on my back.
And that’s why I’m here now. In a cabin in the middle of nowhere, offering to prostitute myself to hang on to the beater car I bought for three-hundred bucks off one of the daytime shift Magic Peaches bouncers. He hadn’t been surprised at all when I showed up, asking if he still had that…ahem…acquired car business on the side because I need one fast.
“You ain’t the first Peach who den found out that Prince Charming fantasy ain’t nothing but a trap,” he told me an hour later when he handed me the keys to the only car from his unregistered lot that I could afford.
That car is the only possession I have. The only thing that will get me to Canada. A place where Tommy doesn’t have any jurisdiction.
That Jeb guy hates me, and the blond one doesn’t trust me much either. But maybe the nice one? All I need is for one of them to want me bad enough to pay for the repairs.
That’s all I need.
I wait in the cold room, silently begging for that wish to come true. And trying not to think about how far I’d fallen since my mother’s death.
I can hear them out there talking. Too low for me to discern what they’re saying, but loud enough to know it’s some kind of argument.
Suddenly a voice yells, “Fuck it, do what you want. I’m out!”
Then comes the stomp of boots, followed by the slam of a door.
I’m pretty sure that’s Jeb who stormed away. And though that cuts my odds down to two, I can’t say I’m mad about not having to service him. After three years with Tommy, I don’t know if I could handle being constantly insulted and judged by someone else.
There’s no more low conversation after that. The door opens, and the dark-haired man comes back inside the room. Alone.
“Sorry for the wait.” He dips his head down to talk to me, in the way tall guys sometimes do with shorter girls. At least the nice ones. “I should introduce the three of us. I’m Nico. The blond guy was Mitch. And Jeb was the one with the gun.”
“Hi,” I answer, not sure how else to respond to those introductions. “Does this mean you’re the one who’s taking me up on my offer?”
He looks down and rubs the back of his neck. “Not exactly, mija. Hold on, Mitch is getting some paperwork for us out of the truck. He’ll be right back.”
Paperwork? Is that some kind of euphemism for condoms?
Mitch comes through the door before I can ask that question out loud. And whoa! He’s actually got a file folder in his hands.
“Sorry, to keep you waiting,” he says, going over to a bureau made of a slighter darker wood than the cabin. “I’ve got a few things we’re going to need you to sign. Oh, by the way, I’m…”
“Mitch, I know,” I fill in. “Nico told me. So you’re the one who I’ll be…”
He gives me a quizzical look, then raises an eyebrow at Nico. “You told her our names, but you didn’t tell her the whole deal?”
Again, Nico looks embarrassed. “You know I’m not great at explaining that stuff.”
Mitch shakes his head at Nico, then turns fully to me. God, he’s pretty.
Everything from his hair to the precise lines of his nose and face could be described as immaculate. It’s like whoever created him was trying to meet “an All-American god” challenge.
His eyes are the same color as the sea off the Georgia coast. Maybe blue. Maybe grey. I get the feeling I could stare into them all dang day and still not be for sure certain. But those mesmerizing eyes are also sharp and cynical. I sense he doesn’t trust much of anything or anybody. Especially not me.
And even though he’s just as tall as Nico, he doesn’t dip his head to address me like his nice teammate did.
“You said you were willing to sleep with one of us to get the money to fix your car,” he says. “How about all three of us?”
He asks the question in such a brusque business tone, it takes me a few moments to fully process it.
And when I do, I feel fixed to faint.
But maybe I’m not understanding right.
“Wait…you want me to sleep with all three of you?” I ask, trying to get further clarification. “Even the one who doesn’t like me, like at all?”
Nico smirks. “Who, Jeb? Oh, Jeb likes you just fine. Not sure why he’s so pissed off that we’re doing this. But don’t worry about him. He’ll come around.”
How could I not worry about him? And perhaps more importantly, “How would this work? Would you guys take turns? Would I be expected to um…”
My cheeks heat. The truth is, as sexy and businesslike as I’m trying to act, I have to admit I’m way out of my league here. There wasn’t a lot of talking at Magic Peaches. Most exchanges I’d seen went something like.
Dancer: Hey, baby, you want a lap dance?
Client: Yeah.
The money was figured out, then they did this kind of twerking move right in the guy’s face, picked up the money, and walked away. And from what I could tell, even the strippers who went further only referred to the grinding sort of lap dances as “having some champagne in VIP.”
But I doubt there’s any champagne in this cabin in the middle of nowhere. So now I find myself struggling to find the words to properly describe this situation. “Would I um…be expected to service you all on the same night?”
Mitch’s blue-grey eyes darken. “Sometimes. Nico and me like working together. But Jeb does some stuff that we prefer to just watch. Sometimes it’d be all three of us, but we like to take turns alone too. I really can’t say how it will go each and every day.”
“It’s kind of a different vibe night to night, depending on how we’re feeling,” Nico chimes in. “But for the first couple of days, it’ll probably be you and the both of us until Jeb gets with the program.”
My stomach somersaults at their explanation.
Guys have been coming on to me since the age of twelve. But I’ve never in my life received an offer like this.
However, I can’t say the thought turns me off. Just the opposite in fact…
The sexual desire I’d learned to deny and tamp down over the years awakens with a vengeance.
To think I was cold just a few moments ago. Now, it feels like I’m burning up with heat. My nipples are so budded, I can feel them scraping against the material of the suddenly sweltering coat. I’d take it off if not for the fact that I was naked underneath.
Maybe Tommy was right, I think, a little short of breath. Maybe I really am a slut. Shouldn’t I be more upset?
“So, what do you say?” Mitch asks, tearing me away from my confused thoughts. He looks me straight in the eye, and I feel a little weak, staring back into their ocean depths.
Stop, Gina! His eyes have nothing to do with this. I drop my gaze and force my mind back to the main subject. “So I have sex with the two—possibly three of you for a week. And you give me the three thousand dollars I need to fix my car?”
“No, that’s not the deal. We’re not going to pay you three thousand dollars for all three of us to sleep with you for a week. That would be unconscionable,” Mitch answers, his voice firm and hard.
My heart sinks. So they weren’t going to take me up on my deal after all?
But then Nico says, “We’ll pay you fifty thousand for the week. You can consider us making the arrangements to fix your car the down payment.”
My heart freezes mid-sink. Did he just say fifty thousand dollars? That might just be enough to set myself and this baby up in Canada until I can find some kind of job. Oh my God….
Inside I’m so shocked, but luckily there’s still enough Magic Peaches left in me to play that off and tell them, “You’ll need to pay me in cash. And I’m not signing anything until I get my car back.”
Mitch doesn’t even exchange a look with Nico before answering, “No problem.”
Oh God, they agreed. They agreed to my terms! Do not faint, Gina. Do not faint.
I make myself swallow hard to get enough liquid in my throat to speak. And somehow I manage to keep my voice strong as I say, “Okay, then. We’ve got a deal.”
Chapter Five
NICO
“You know you two are living in a goddamn fantasy, right?”
I hear Jeb, but I act like I’m too busy stirring the pot of oatmeal I’m making for breakfast to answer.
Unfortunately, Jeb takes my silence as an invitation to talk even louder.
“There’s no way she’s not lying about already being pregnant.”
“Ssh! She’s still asleep. Don’t wake her up!” I give in and finally turn around to face him. He’s at the kitchen table in his usual position, sitting in the only chair that directly faces the door.
Jeb rolls his eyes and folds his giant arms over his chest. “Yeah, I’d hate to wake up the thief who broke into our cabin and made herself right at home.”
“She was desperate, or she wouldn’t have broken in. We’re the ones who took her car, remember? What other choice did that leave her? I mean, what would you have done in her position?”
“Called somebody to come get me,” Jeb instantly answers. “Hitchhiked. Made a tent out of—”
I cut him off right there. “Not all of us know how to survive out in the middle of nowhere, Army Ranger Jebidiah. Don’t do that thing where you assume everybody should think and act just like you. You know the reception out here is shit, and even if her phone worked, maybe she doesn’t have anybody she can call.”
Jeb raises his eyebrows. “How about the father of that imaginary baby she’s claiming?”
“He’s obviously not in the picture.”
“Either that or she’s lying.”
I can easily tell from Jeb’s tone of voice which option he believes.
“Look, if she’s lying, we’ll give her some money and drive her straight to a hotel.” I set the oatmeal to simmer and turn back around to face him. “But she agreed to sign the NDA and the contract as soon when we give her back her car. And Mitch is out getting a pregnancy test right now.”
Jeb’s hands tighten around his metal coffee cup. Then he asks, “What was her name again? I’ll run a few checks on her when I go out to the shed.”
I grimace. Then admit. “She said she preferred not to tell us her name. So we’re just calling her Goldie for now.”
A beat of stunned silence, then Jeb erupts. “What the hell are you thinking? She won’t even give you her real name, but she knows all of ours? She’s lying. You should have taken her ass to the hotel last night instead of letting her have your bed and sleeping on the couch.”
Okay, I understand why Jeb is the way he is. The foster system, followed by doing God knows what in the Middle East, probably wasn’t the best way to cultivate a general sense of trust within anybody. But the fact is, not everybody’s out to get him. And I trust my intuition about this woman more than I trust Jeb’s instincts.
She’s gorgeous, sweet, and weirdly innocent. The way she tentatively offered to have sex with us, like she thought there was actually a chance of any red-blooded man in his right mind turning her down. It made me want to do things to her. Bad things that would make the other players on the team think twice about calling me Saint Nic.
Also… “She’s got nothing but a dress and a hoodie to her name. You really think a girl in her situation would know how to do enough research on us to find out about this cabin? Then purposefully leave her car on the side of our property road for us to tow? Then lie to us about being pregnant and willing to have sex with us in exchange for money?”
Jeb glowers for a moment as he considers my words. But then he volleys back with, “I wanna know how she ended up pregnant and stranded out here in the first place. And how do you know she’s not an addict? These woods are pot farm central.”
“Mitch says she isn’t.”
That shuts Jeb up. After growing up the son of pot farmers, Mitch can sniff out addicts into anything heavier than weed, better than a K-9. How many times had he nixed a prospective conquest or sent an escort back with just a squint and the word “junkie” as an explanation?
I say out loud what Jeb’s probably thinking. “We both know Mitch wouldn’t have offered her paperwork if he thought there was even a chance of her being on drugs.”
Jeb nods in grudging agreement. But then he says, “I don’t care if she passed Mitch’s sniff test. I don’t trust her.”
I shake my head and turn back to the oatmeal. “Bro, why are you acting like she’s the one taking advantage of us? Considering the position she’s in, we’re the ones taking advantage of her!”
“Yeah, poor little Goldilocks,” Jeb mutters behind me. “Bleeding heart like you, I’m surprised you’re willing to go along with Mitch’s plan.”
“Paying her the five figures for one week helped me get over my reservations,” I admit, pulling two bowls down from the cabinet above the stove. “And she needs money to set her and her baby up. I figure we’re both making out on this deal. Also, like you said, she’s a total smokeshow.”
Silence from Jeb. And I take advantage of it to ladle oatmeal into the bowls. I pour some honey and a few walnuts into mine and two tablespoons of brown sugar and some craisins into Jeb’s.
I made his oatmeal just the way he likes it, but he’s still gritting his jaw when I set his bowl in front of him.
“It doesn’t matter because she ain’t pregnant,” he informs me as I sit down across from him. “And soon as that pregnancy test comes back negative, I’m kicking her pretty little ass out of here myself.”
I pick up my spoon. “Jeb?”
“What?” he grunts.
“What are you going to do if you’re wrong? Because you know you want her too.”
Silence. And I guess Jeb’s done calling us all sorts of fool for the day. Instead of answering, he fists his spoon and tucks into his oatmeal.
We’re most of the way through our bowls when Mitch comes through the door with a bunch of groceries.
“You made oatmeal. Good, I’m starving, bro.”
I get up and make him a bowl of oatmeal with walnuts and craisins and no sugar as he loads the groceries into the cabinets and the fridge.
“Craig says it might be more than a week before he can get to Goldie’s car. He doesn’t know how long it will take him to find a new engine for that piece of junk.”
Jeb whistles. “That’s going to make shit real awkward when you find out she’s lying.”
Instead of answering Jeb, I ask Mitch, “Did you get the test?”
“Got five different kinds, just to be sure. Let me tell you, Shannon over at the General Store’s going to be gossiping for days.”
I laugh. But of course, Jeb doesn’t even crack a smile.
“Give ‘em to me,” he says. “I’ll go wake her up and make her take all of them.”
“No!” both Mitch and me say at the same time.
“The last thing she needs is you first thing in the morning,” Mitch tells Jeb.
Then he hands me the bag with the pregnancy tests.
Chapter Six
GINA
There might be more awkward ways to spend the morning than having a guy watch as you dip five different pregnancy tests into a cup of your fresh urine. But if there is, let me tell you, I’m having a hell of a time coming up with that scenario.
“So, how did you end up being the one that got assigned this job?” I ask Nico, just to break up the cringey silence. “Did you draw the short straw?”
A smile spreads across his handsome face like he’s just been waiting for me to make some chit chat with him. “Nothing like that. We all have our roles. Jeb’s the enforcer. Mitch is the business guy. And I handle all the intimate stuff.”
I raise my eyebrows at his explanation. “So you guys do this often?”
“We used to,” he answers. “A couple of years ago, we were renting hotel suites in Chicago about every other weekend and hiring an escort to entertain us.”
It shouldn’t matter, but it feels weird to know that when it comes to this kind of sex, they’re so much more experienced than me.
“What changed?” I ask, hoping the answer will make me feel better as I arrange all the pregnancy sticks in a neat row along the counter.
It doesn’t.
“New girl, new hotel suite every other weekend got old. I’m in my thirties now. I wanted to settle down. Have some kids.”
I shake my head, not understanding. “You wanted to settle down, so you moved to a cabin out in the woods with your teammates.”
He chuckles. “Okay, now I know you’re not from around here. Or a football groupie.”
“What gave it away?” I ask as I move to the sink to wash my hands. “My Southern accent?”
Cynda liked to tease me about my soft drawl.
“If I had to say exactly what a Georgia peach sounded like, I’d point to you,” she said the first time we met, as two of the only black state princess contestants in that year’s Beauty Queen of America pageant.
“That and the fact that you never heard of us. Mitch, Jeb, and me are foster brothers. It was all over the Wisconsin sports news a few years ago when Jeb joined the team. Me and Mitch are second-stringers, but Jeb was a walk-on tryout who snagged a tight end spot on the starting lineup, so everybody made a big deal out of our relationship.”
