Quarantales: The Complete Contemporary Romance Box Set, page 31
I dry my hands on the Death Buddha t-shirt he gave me to wear before I took the pregnancy tests. It’s so large it extends halfway down my thighs, like a dress. “I honestly have never heard of you.”
But I’m curious to know more. “How did you go from foster brothers to sharing one woman in the middle of the woods.”
Nico leans against the only part of the sink that isn’t covered in pregnancy tests. “It’s kind of a long story.”
I give him a wry shrug. “I’m not doing anything but waiting for these tests to confirm what I already know.”
“Okay, well…” Nico scratches the back of his neck like he’s embarrassed to be talking about himself. “I guess it starts with how Mitch, Jeb, and me all ended up in the same foster home. I was just a kid when I lost my single mom, but other than that, I’ve always been lucky. Unlike Mitch and Jeb, I ended up in a good foster home right away. This older man named Coach Granger took me in.”
His smile turns fond at the mention of his foster father. “Coach Granger had a first name. It was Saul. But me and everybody else in Muskego called him Coach Granger. He decided to take me in for emergency foster care after my mom died, and he never sent me away. His wife had been a businesswoman, and he considered his players his kids. But then he retired, and his wife died, and he said he got tired of living alone. When I landed on his doorstep, he told me he wanted to make himself useful again. And I believed him. Anyway, he’s the one who got me into football, and I was pretty good at it. I grew up stronger and taller than expected. And by the time I’d played a year of middle school football, I was already being looked at by college scouts.”
“Wow…” I say. “That’s impressive.”
Nico waves it off. “Like, I said, I’ve always been lucky. And my freshman year of high school, I got even luckier. Mitch’s parents caught jail sentences, and he came to live with us. We got along from the start, and it turned out he had a hell of an arm. We just got each other on the field. Whatever he threw, I caught. It was a natural fit.”
I nod. I’d notice their easy camaraderie the night before. This foster brothers’ backstory makes complete sense. But I have to ask, “So how does Jeb fit into all of this?”
Nico lets out a dry chuckle. “Jeb never told us what happened with his mom or dad, but one day when we were sixteen, Mitch and me walked out to the living room to find him sleeping on the couch. He’s two years younger, but he was already just as tall as us. And he took to Coach Granger’s football lessons even easier than Mitch and me. During neighborhood pick-up games, he’d block anybody who tried to come at Mitch or me. And if Mitch passed him the ball, we knew it was going to make it all the way to the touchdown line. I swear that guy could swat off a T-Rex and still hold on to the ball. Mitch was the quarterback. I was the running back. And Jeb was the tight end. By the time Jeb joined us on the high school team, we’d established our bro block, throw, catch strategy. Or, as one local newspaper reporter called it, “The Click, Click, BOOM!”
I can tell how much delight playing high school ball with his brothers must have given him. And his nostalgic mood makes me feel lighter too—despite this unorthodox and extremely awkward situation. “Coach Granger must have been so proud of you guys.”
“He was, but then he started having some health problems my senior year in high school.”
Nico’s easygoing smile caves in a little, as if it can’t stand up under the painful memory. “But I was still lucky. I had Jeb and Mitch to help me take care of him. Between the three of us, we managed to keep our grades and our football rankings up. He held on until Jeb’s junior year in high school, which was our freshman year at the University of Wisconsin.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I say. But I can see why Nico considered himself lucky. My mom died a few years before I won the Princess Georgia state beauty pageant, and it felt like my life had been unraveling ever since. I can only imagine having the kind of support Nico did.
“I’m glad you guys had each other to lean on after your dad died.”
Nico nods. “Yeah, I don’t know what I would have done without them. Coach left us his pension and the house in Muskego. The pension was enough to pay for Mitch’s and my expenses at the UW. But Jeb had to do about six months in a group home before he could move back into the Muskego house. Mitch and me visited him as much as we could, but it wasn’t enough, I guess. Instead of going to UW like we did after he graduated high school, he enlisted and eventually made it into the Army Rangers. Guess he had some stuff to work out. Meanwhile, Mitch and me both got offers to play for the Wisconsin Bears’ second string team right out of college.”
I nod along, but… “I’m still not understanding how this story ends up with you guys hiring escorts to service all three of you.”
Nico’s smile turns wry. “That’s where even more luck comes in. Mitch and me partied pretty hard at UW, and we kept finding ourselves on opposite sides of the same woman. We didn’t tell Jeb about it, and we never talked about it to each other. But the reason neither of us had committed to a long-term girlfriend in college was that we preferred sharing from the start. We tried dating one-on-one a few times—especially Mitch. But it just didn’t feel natural. So we settled into sharing. And it was even easier to find girls willing to get with the both of us after we became pro-ballers.”
Now it’s my turn to chuckle. “Wow, you really are lucky.”
“Yeah, I am,” Nico agrees with a grin before continuing on with his story. “So I’m playing professional football with my brother from another mother and partying like a rock star. I figured I couldn’t get any luckier than that. But then Jeb joined the team after he was done with the Army Rangers. Mitch had convinced the head coach to give Jeb a walk-on tryout. And get this, he was better than any of the tight ends in that year’s draft.”
“That’s another reason I would have known about him if I was a groupie,” I say, putting it all together.
“Yeah, but other than that, Jeb kept a low profile. He didn’t do ads or appearances or what he calls ‘any of that PR nightmare shit.’”
“Jeb sounds like the walking definition of that S.A.T. word ‘cantankerous,’” I say before I can think better of insulting the beloved foster brother of the guy who’s planning to pay me a lot of money for one week of sex.
But Nico just laughs and says, “Yeah, cantankerous is exactly what he was. He didn’t party. Didn’t flirt. Didn’t socialize outside of us as far as we could tell. He just did his job and went home—either to the house we still share in Muskego or his hotel when we were out on the road. So Mitch and me were real surprised when Jeb walked in on us while we were with the same girl one night…and decided to take a turn with her too.”
My mouth drops open. “Holy shit.”
“Right?!” Nico agrees. “That was the first time, but it wasn’t the last. We had a good thing going with hotel weekends for a while. But suburban living is tough. Especially if you’re well-known like Jeb. Also, constantly switching out girls got old. I didn’t want to give up sharing—that’s a non-negotiable for me. But I also wanted to settle down with a wife we could call our own. Start a family.”
Nico’s expression sobers. “Mitch agreed it was time for us to settle down. His parents might have been inmates for most of his life, but at least he had them for a while. And he wanted the chance to do better by his kids without giving up his brothers. Jeb preferred working girls, and never for more than a couple of days. But he agreed to share a wife if we could find one. That’s how strong our brotherhood is, even though we’re not related by blood.”
My heart pangs, thinking of my two best friends, Cynda and Billie, who I used to call my sisters from other misters. But I didn’t want to get two other black women caught up in my mess with a cop who could make their lives hell, so they don’t even know where I am right now.
I must have let some of the torn emotions I’m feeling seep into my expression. Nico says, “Don’t worry. I know this thing with you is going to be temporary. We’re not planning on keeping you here and making you our wife or anything like that.”
“I didn’t think you were,” I assure him. “I know I’m not wife material.”
He crooks his head. “Why do you say that?”
“Why wouldn’t I say that?” I scrunch my brow, surprised at the follow-up question. In my experience prior to Tommy, guys who just wanted to have sex with you never asked personal questions. They didn’t care about what you were thinking or how you felt. They just wanted to smash.
Is Nico different from most guys? Does he look at me and see someone who would make a good wife, despite my circumstances? My heart secretly thrills at someone seeing me as the kind of woman I wish I could be.
But then Nico says, “I don’t know if you’d make a good wife. You haven’t told us much about yourself, Goldie.”
Understanding dawns. He’s not trying to compliment me. He’s fishing for information.
The momentary thrill withers away. But I can’t say I blame him. After everything he’s told me, it feels like I owe him something more than a fake name.
But telling him who I really am would be dangerous. For both these guys and myself.
“So how does this cabin figure into your ‘find a wife’ plans again?” I ask instead, changing the subject.
He gives me a knowing look but answers my question. “When Mitch got the opportunity to buy back his parents’ old cabin and land from the government, he jumped on it. We started renovating it during our last off-season. Getting it ready to fill with a wife and children. We thought maybe this year we’d have someone to bring home. Even managed to land a girlfriend.”
A stab of jealousy goes through me at the mention of them having an ex-girlfriend they hoped to make their wife. Stupid and completely unwarranted. I was their whore for the week, after all, not somebody they’d ever consider fulfilling the role.
But some masochistic part of me has to ask, “Then why am I here instead of her?”
“She broke up with us halfway through the season. She liked Mitch and me well enough, but Jeb never grew on her like we hoped he would. Can’t say his personality helped matters. He doesn’t have it in him to be charming, and I guess you can’t blame Charlotte for preferring one guy who adored her to two guys who liked her and one who acted like it was a chore to even talk to her.”
As someone who’d found herself on the wrong side of Jeb’s accusations, I have to side with Charlotte. Who would want to get with someone who spoke to you like that? Especially in front of other people? At least Tommy pretended to adore me in public.
“Truth be told, I thought my good luck might have run out after Charlotte dumped us,” Nico continues. “But then look at who we found when we came back to the cabin…”
He hits me with a lopsided grin, and my belly flips.
“A real life Goldilocks. Beautiful, naked, and willing to indulge our lifestyle for a week. Thanks for taking this so well, by the way. I don’t mind getting turned down, but a few women have acted like we were weird creeps. I like that you asked me a bunch of questions instead of rushing to judgment.”
My cheeks heat at his positive description of me. I’m seriously not used to getting this many compliments behind closed doors and when I’m not even performing. And beautiful? Really? I can only imagine how I look right now, standing in the harsh daylight without any make-up on and only an oversized t-shirt for a 90s era heavy metal band to wear.
“I think we can look at the pregnancy tests now,” Nico says, interrupting my long list of why I’m nobody’s prize.
Okay, here goes. The literal test of my honesty.
But instead of looking down, Nico steps closer and says, “Hey, Goldie?”
“Yes?” I ask, raising my eyes to meet his. They’re deep and brown and filled with a kindness I can barely comprehend. Probably fake, but it’s nice to pretend to myself that he’s really as kind as he’s pretending to be. My heart races at his sudden nearness.
“Can I kiss you? Just once before we look at the tests? If it turns out you’re lying, I want to know what I’m missing out on.”
Smart Gina knows that strippers don’t kiss. And if we do, we’re supposed to negotiate a price.
But Dumb Gina says, “Okay,” without any fight before Smart Gina can even start making a calculation.
He leans forward like we’re in some kind of teen movie, sliding a hand over my neck and tilting my jaw up. His eyes search mine, sweet and curious. Then he smiles right before he takes my lips.
The kiss is no joke, though.
A wave of lust hits me, so instant and all-consuming, it makes my head spin. As nice as he seemed before, his tongue strokes into my mouth now, hot and demanding. And dark desire pools in my belly, wanting to give in. I’d been grateful to receive the t-shirt a few minutes ago. But now I hate it. It’s a barrier between him and me, and I want it gone.
Desires I haven’t dared to acknowledge in years volcano through me. I want to feel his skin on mine. Want him to claim other parts of me the way he’s taking my mouth. I want—
The hand on my neck suddenly slips away, and Nico groans. “We’ve got to stop…check the pregnancy test.”
The pregnancy test…
How had I forgotten about that? My skin heats again. This time with shame. One kiss and I’d completely forgotten why I was in this situation in the first place.
I exhale a long breath. Then we both look down to check out the readouts on the tests.
Chapter Seven
JEB
Nico whoops so loud, we hear him all the way up front where we’re fixing the window.
A huge grin spreads across Mitch’s face. “Looks like she wasn’t lying.”
“She’s still keeping secrets,” I grumble. I don’t like the way my heart surged when I heard Nico’s whoop. It’s not like I’m going to be taking part in the deal they made with her.
“But she’s not lying. Wasn’t that your big hang up?” Mitch asks.
No, it wasn’t my only hang up.
But Goldie isn’t the only one keeping secrets. So instead of telling him the real reason I don’t want Goldie here, I answer, “You two have fun with her. And when you wake up to find the too good to be true pregnant stripper has robbed us blind, remember I told you.”
Mitch just laughs. “Okay, whatever, man.”
Unlike Nico, he doesn’t try to change my mind. Good. Cause I’m not changing it. Even if little Goldilocks is hot as hell with curves to match. I only caught a glimpse of her naked. But that was enough to put a few images in my head.
Images of her bent over, ass up and ready for the taking.
Images of me grabbing on to those two blond braids of hers as I take her hard from behind.
Images of her….
The buzz of my phone in the front pocket of my flannel shirt interrupts the fantasies I shouldn’t be having about the intruder who shouldn’t still be in our house.
I pull the phone out. It’s a message from my agent. “Prelim meeting’s all set up for next month. Just want to double check you’re sure about this. I’m putting your needs first, but I know Mitch and Nico are not going to take it well.”
This was what I get for signing on with the same agent as my brothers. Even more guilt than I’m already carrying over my decision. But I know it’s one that has to be made.
I text back, “yeah I’m sure” and put my phone away just as Nico enters the living room. He’s walking hand in hand with Goldie like she’s his high school sweetheart, not somebody he met two seconds ago.
The sight of them should disgust me. I take privacy and security very seriously, and them welcoming Goldie into our sanctuary pisses me off. But what Goldie’s wearing is even worse than that.
One of my Death Buddha concert shirts.
“What the hell is she doing wearing my shirt?” I demand. My voice is tight. Not just because she’s wearing my shit without permission. But also because of the sudden eruption inside my jeans. I swear my dick bangs into my zipper, it gets so hard so fast.
Nico smirks. “Oh, is that one of your shirts. I just grabbed the first one I found in Mitch’s room.”
I grit my jaw. Yeah, I keep half a bureau in Mitch’s room. But I don’t believe for a second Nico gave Goldie my shirt by mistake.
Every man is aware that there is nothing fucking sexier than the sight of a hot woman wearing your t-shirt. Saint Nic probably gave her my favorite tee on purpose in the hopes I would suddenly be okay with his and Mitch’s plan to keep her here.
Goldie looks between us, her pretty brown eyes big and wide. “Is this your shirt? I’m sorry. I’ll…I’ll take it off.”
Great, now I’ve got the image of her stripping out of my t-shirt planted in my head. This damn woman acts way too innocent for somebody who offered to sleep with us for money last night. It makes me want to punish her, which downloads more images I don’t need into my mind.
“I’m going to the shed. You two can fix the window she broke yourselves,” I grit out to Nico and Mitch.
Then I stomp off before either of them can protest. I feel bad about abandoning them when we were supposed to be bringing the supplies upstairs today to start our second floor project. But Mitch and Nico don’t get much work done that morning anyway. They’re too busy showing Goldie around our property like she’s royalty they invited over for tea, not some damn home invader we found in Nico’s bed last night.
Last year when we renovated the cabin, we tore off the roof, installed concrete pillars, and framed out a second story. It was my idea to make the entire rear wall floor to ceiling windows. That way, we could enjoy the view of the old pot fields, the lake, and the forest behind the house. Big mistake. When I come into the kitchen to make myself a couple of sandwiches for lunch, it’s too easy to see Goldie walking back through the old pot fields with Nico and Mitch on either side of her.
She’s wearing Nico’s Wisconsin Bears coat again, and her hair’s down now, tumbling in soft golden waves to her waist. Damn if she doesn’t look like the radiant brown version of those country songs Mitch likes so much with the lake and forest framing her from behind.
