Triple Team- Reverse Harem Series

by K. C. Crowne

  Eli stood beside his car and right away, just by his bearing and demeanor, you knew you were in the orbit of someone famous. Eli wasn't exactly a major superstar – he hadn't been in anything major since he was a teen – but he still looked the part. My teenage self had fawned over his photos while my friends argued whether we would choose his character or his rival to marry and spend our lives with. It had been a silly little show, one that only ran for a couple seasons and appealed mainly to the teen girl demographic, before getting cancelled – but it had earned Eli a few Teen Choice Awards before the end of its run.

  His hair was the same shade as Milo's – a chestnut brown – but that's about where the similarities ended. While Milo looked a little rumpled and disheveled, Eli was clean cut, polished, and well put together. He had silky hair that wasn't too long, but long enough to style in a trendy fashion. His eyes were vivid green, and it felt like he could pierce your soul with them. The leanest of the brothers, he was still strong as hell. He was all lean muscle underneath his tight ass jeans and button-up shirt. He walked over to us, his sleeves rolled up, revealing those strong, powerful forearms of his.

  “Sawyer, Jacklyn,” he said, giving me his best made-for-TV smile. “Nice to see you again.”

  He shook my hand with a firm grip and smiled – there were no hugs from Eli. He wasn't as affectionate as his younger brother, nor was he as familiar with me as his older brother. We were cordial but had never really moved beyond that.

  “Nice to see you too, Eli,” I said. “You look well.”

  He smiled. “Thanks, as do you.”

  Internally, I was telling myself to calm my heartbeat, to make it stop thudding so hard inside of my chest. He was just a guy. He was just Eli. Milo and Sawyer's other brother. Nobody big and important, and I wasn’t a damn teenager anymore. I repeated those mantras in my head over and over again, hoping it didn't look so obvious from the outside.

  Eli looked past me and stared off into the distance, toward his brother. Milo had at least stopped just standing there like a statue. Now, he was swinging an axe – apparently taking out all of his angst and frustration on some poor remaining tree stump or fence post.

  “Jack says he's been out there all day,” Sawyer said.

  “No surprise there. He's just like Dad,” Eli said.

  In some cases, that might be something of a compliment. In Eli's case, it was a grave insult – and not one either Sawyer or I wanted to debate at the moment. Eli and his father hadn't had the best relationship – which seemed to be something of a thing with him – but I never knew the details. No one ever talked about, and it wasn't my place to ask.

  “I'll go get him,” Sawyer said.

  I had the choice between going with him or hanging out with Eli, my childhood crush. The heat flared in my cheeks – I'm sure they were an unnatural shade of red – just thinking about hanging back with the middle Bucknell brother. I didn't think I could do it without making a blabbering idiot of myself. Besides, Milo was my friend, and maybe Sawyer and I could talk some sense into him together. “Right behind you,” I said, jogging to catch up with Sawyer.

  I glanced over my shoulder and watched Eli stalk off toward the house. I watched him walk up the stairs, his movie star body looking hot as hell in those jeans, as he crossed the porch and disappeared inside. He might not be a big name, but he was a big name to anyone in my age bracket. My childhood self would have been so disappointed in me right then for tucking tail and running, but my adult self knew that I had to get my shit together. We had a ranch to rebuild and I couldn’t let my ridiculous giddiness get the best of me.

  How many times had I told my older sisters, Mal and Sarah, to stop treating me like a kid? I needed to act like the adult I was constantly reminding my family that I was..

  Milo was in the field with an axe, taking down some burnt stumps. Or maybe he was just hacking them to pieces in a rage, I couldn't quite tell which. When we arrived, sweat dripped down his face and rolled into his eyes, his hair clung to the sides of his neck, and his breathing was labored. His cowboy hat was less about aesthetics or style right now, and more about keeping the sun out of his eyes. He had his back to us, but before we even got close, he threw down the axe and turned to face us, a red rag in his hand as he wiped down his forehead.

  “You coming out here to help?” Milo asked, his gaze fixed on Sawyer.

  Sawyer flinched as if he'd been hit. Since his injury – which was still a fresh and painful memory for him – he had to be careful when it came to manual labor. It was hard on him and I knew he struggled to take it easy. He wasn't the type who enjoyed sitting around doing nothing and would usually be the first one out there, trying to help with things he couldn't.

  “You know I can't,” Sawyer said.

  “Sure you can,” Milo said. “There's plenty you can do still. You're not an invalid.”

  Milo meant well. He always did. He had a soft spot for his baby brother, and while he urged him to take it easy, he never once treated him like he was incapable of being a man. Sawyer still struggled with it, but Milo was always there, encouraging him, nudging him forward, and treating him like an equal. It was one of the many things I loved about Milo Bucknell – as hard-headed as he might be at times.

  His golden eyes turned toward me, and he smiled. “You can help too, if you don't mind getting your pretty little dress dirty.”

  I wasn't really dressed for manual labor, and for that, I felt bad. Since the ranch wasn't technically open for business, and there were no horses for me to work with, I hadn't come prepared to work. Instead, I'd settled on a light blue and white sundress and ballet flats. Practical, considering the weather, and since we were technically just moving back in, I thought it would be okay to actually dress like a girl for a change. “I can change,” I said, motioning back toward the house. “I have my clothes up in the room already, just need to unpack –”

  “I'm messing with you,” Milo said, his lips pulling back even farther into a smile.

  His smile was something to relish. It wasn't often you got a genuine one from Milo, since he tended to wear a blank mask most of the time. Especially these days – after the fire. Yet, spending time at the ranch always brought out the happier side of him, and I was so grateful to see it return; if only temporarily. I was also grateful to note that for the first time in a while, there was no whiskey on his breath. For the first time since the fire actually, he seemed to be handling things pretty well for someone who'd lost almost everything. That hadn't been the case before his brothers had arrived, but I knew the three of them shared a special bond. Even if they were hesitant to admit it themselves.

  “Milo,” Sawyer said, clearing his throat, “Eli is up there, waiting. We need to get this over with.”

  I looked between Milo and Sawyer, unclear what he meant by that. Get what over with? Milo's face fell, and he shook his head, turning back to the burnt stump. He stared at it like it might suddenly sprout into a new tree before our very eyes.

  “There's nothing to get over with,” Milo said. “We've been through this.”

  “Just listen to him, Milo. Hear him out. Please?” Sawyer said.

  I continued standing there, feeling like a third wheel – a third wheel that was totally in the dark. Sometimes, it felt like I was part of this family, but I had to remind myself that I wasn't, and this was one of those times. I wasn't privy to their conversations, or the goings-on between them. They had always treated me better than well, but I wasn't a Bucknell. I was an employee that they treated with respect and kindness, but an employee nonetheless.

  With my head down, I muttered, “I'm going to go check on Eli.”

  Neither Sawyer nor Milo acknowledged me. As I walked away, Milo raised his voice, making me flinch.

  “I said, I'm not gonna sign, and that's final,” he shouted.

  The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. Milo may not have always been the most chipper guy, but he rarely ever raised his voice. Especially to his baby bro
ther. I fought the urge to slow down and listen to the rest of the conversation, intensely curious about what was happening.

  Instead, I quickened my pace back across the field toward the house that had been my home for the last four years of my life. It had been freshly painted and the front porch stairs had been fixed. If you hadn’t known what had happened in the past year, you’d never have guessed that there had been any fire damage to the house at all. They'd done a damn good job cleaning up the mess and fixing the damage the fires had done. Milo wanted everything back exactly the way it had been. Just like it had been when his father had built all those years ago.

  I had to admit, sometimes Milo had a hard time letting go of the past. He clung to it like a drowning man would to a life preserver. If that's what Sawyer and Eli were there about, well, I knew from experience that it wouldn't be good for either of them. There was no way in hell Milo was going to give up the land or the house, and I was grateful for that. This place had become my home too and I suspected that I loved it almost as much as Milo did.

  I pushed open the front door and rushed inside, heading toward the kitchen. I passed the dining room where Eli was spread out at the table with papers in front of him. Several stacks of them. He looked up and caught me staring, his vivid green eyes boring into mine. I hurried past the dining room into the kitchen, trying my best to mind my own business.

  “Would you like some iced tea or lemonade?” I called out from the kitchen.

  “No thanks,” Eli said. “I'm not planning on staying long.”

  I grabbed some cups from the pantry and placed them on a serving tray. I wasn’t a maid by any stretch of the imagination, but I liked cooking and taking care of things in the house. I often made dinner for Milo and me and he always helped clean up the kitchen afterward. I grabbed the pitcher of lemonade from the fridge – Milo's favorite recipe – and hustled back into the dining room. I set things up while Eli continued looking over whatever documents he had spread out before him.

  I jumped as the front door slammed. Sawyer and Milo were arguing, their voices filled with more emotion than I'd heard from either of them in a while – not since the fire had gutted the ranch. I kept my head down as they entered the dining room.

  “Just listen to him,” Sawyer pleaded.

  “No,” Milo said, his voice stern. “Get out of here with that shit.”

  Eli stood up, and while Milo was easily the tallest of the three brothers, Eli’s stature was still rather intimidating. Seeing the two men stand face-to-face like that, their expressions openly hostile, set my nerves on edge; especially considering their history and the nature of the conversation. There was a strained hush in the room, and the tension was so thick you could feel it. I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to like where this conversation was headed any more than Milo seemed to.

  “You're living in a dream world, Milo,” Eli spat. “We can't afford to fix this place up.”

  “We can. It'll just take time,” Milo argued. “You're just scared of getting your hands dirty. Always have been.”

  “Don't pull out that bullshit, Milo. You're starting to sound like dad!”

  “Is that such a bad thing?” Milo yelled back. “Dad made this place what it is.”

  I looked over at Sawyer with wide eyes, pleading with him to step in and stop this before it got even worse. Sawyer was already in between them though, pushing them back from one another as they stepped forward, the promise of violence thick in the air. I rushed over to Milo, taking his arm gently. He yanked it away and glared at me.

  “Calm down, you two,” Sawyer said. “We'll never get anything done if all we do is scream at each other.”

  “Yeah, well, Milo needs a reality check,” Eli scoffed.

  “And Eli needs to pull his head out of his pompous little ass,” Milo said. “I'm not selling this place, and that's final.”

  Milo turned and stormed out of the dining room, his footsteps heavy on the hardwood floors. I flinched as the front door opened and slammed shut. I listened to his boots pound down the steps outside as he left the three of us standing there in the dining room in an awkward, heavy silence.

  Eli started throwing the papers together in a pile, cursing under his breath. “He's going to take all of us down with him. All because of some stupid sense of loyalty and sentimentality. It's fucking bullshit.”

  Sawyer moved to Eli and helped gather up the documents while I hurried out of the dining room. It was not my place to get involved – and I was more than likely to be on Milo's side anyway. I had no financial stake in the game, of course, but I saw potential there. I knew there was nowhere else like it in the area. No other ranches as large. The Bucknell Ranch was a place for those in San Diego and Los Angeles to escape the city life and forget their daily stresses – if only for a little while. It was a place to just be one with the horses and other animals we kept there.

  Yes, maybe I was biased because it felt like home to me, but I also actually saw how much the guests always enjoyed the property. The damage was going to cost a lot to repair and get back on its feet though – likely more than any of them had Even Eli had mostly spent his earnings from his short-lived television career, buying fancy cars and partying instead of putting some back for a rainy day. And insurance would only cover so much. In area prone to fires, coverage was bare minimum.

  I'd only heard Milo and his dad talking about it some time ago, but that's how I knew that Eli was broke. He didn't like to show it and never talked about it, but it was true. Land was valuable in Southern California, and they could sell the place to a developer for a pretty penny. If they sold the place off, all of them would no doubt make out pretty well.

  From a financial sense it made sense to sell, but Milo's whole life was there. Everything he knew and loved was tied to that land. It wouldn't be easy to convince him to just up and sell it all off, and for that, I was grateful.

  I stepped outside, walking out onto the front porch, and watched as the sun started to set in the distance. The sky was a brilliant mixture of pinks, purples, and blues. Milo was once again just a shadowy figure on the horizon. With his axe pulled back and held high, he continued working on that stubborn stump in the field. The muscles in his arms strained as he put everything he had into the swing. His anger was coming off of him in waves that were nearly palpable. I watched him, listened to his grunts and the hollow thud of his axe hitting the wood echoing across the field. I yearned to bring him some kind of peace but knew that nothing would ever do that but putting the land back to rights.

  * * *

  “Milo?” I peeked around the corner into his study. “You okay in there?”

  Sawyer was upstairs sleeping. Eli, not wanting to stay at the ranch, had left. He was staying at a nearby hotel and said he'd come back when Sawyer could talk some sense into him. There'd been plenty of room for Eli to stay, but he rarely stayed did when he came back. He always chose a hotel over his family home. Milo continued staring at the fireplace, which wasn't lit. It remained dark, cold, and empty, but he stared at it as if it was ablaze with a roaring, comforting fire. After what had happened, I wasn't sure any of us would find fire comforting anymore.

  “I'm fine,” he said.

  His voice was rough and gravely, and sheer exhaustion was written all over his handsome face. Not just physical exhaustion, but mental too. The last year had taken a toll on him, and I knew when he said he was fine, it was a bald-faced lie.

  I stepped into the room which was still as warm and cozy as I remembered it to be. Books lined the walls. Shelves that had been custom built by Milo himself held relics from their life on the ranch. Awards, newspaper clippings in frames, and of course, family photos of the Bucknell children everywhere you looked. It was obvious that their father had loved them very much just by looking at the number of pictures that were displayed.

  Along with the photos were trophies – both for Milo and Sawyer. Football trophies mostly, but other athletic awards too. Sawyer had done some track and fi
eld and excelled in it. Milo won a few fishing trophies. It was like shelf after shelf of honors and awards, with only one name missing.

  Eli had not fallen into the same hobbies as his two brothers. He hadn't won any medals or trophies for athletic prowess, but he had won a Teen Choice Award years ago. That was absent. My soul hurt when I noticed that.

  Milo turned to me and tried to smile as best he could, his lips curling up into a crooked, half-grin.

  “Listen, I'm sorry you had to witness that bullshit earlier,” he said. “I didn't mean to lose my mind. It's just – well, you know how much this place means to me.”

  “I do,” I said.

  “And you know how much Elias pisses me off.”

  I laughed. “I do.”

  It felt awkward standing over him, so I took a seat across from him in a chair that was much too big for my petite figure, and better suited for someone Milo's size. I felt like a child sitting in their dad's office chair, but I sat up straight and as tall as I could, doing my best to feel like a grown up.

  “Your father would be proud of you, Milo.”

  Milo rubbed his chin and stared at the nonexistent fire, not saying a word.

  I continued, “No one could have predicted the fire.”

  A wave of guilt passed through me, and there was a sick feeling in my stomach. I tried to forget about the cause of the fire – about the reason we were on the verge of losing the ranch. My heart was sick with grief, and tears burned my eyes as I thought back to how we'd all been duped. Milo included, but especially me. I'd been so blind before. So childish. I didn't see what had been right before my eyes.

  Milo still didn't look at me. There really was nothing else I could say to him, nothing that would make him feel better.