As I wind through the tables with Emma, she asks under her breath, "Is that the ex?"
"No, that's Mark's sister—the ex's lover."
"Ahhh, she didn't look like Heath's type."
Stopping abruptly, I realize I've never seen Heath's wife. Admitting as much to Emma, I continue walking, "You know, I don't really know Heath's type."
"Oh that's easy, I do," Emma says.
"You do?"
"Sure. Five foot five, buxom, brunette goddesses," she says with a wink as we reach the tasting counter where Mark waits.
"Why are we describing Josie?" he asks, coming around the counter to plant a possessive kiss on my lips. "You must be Emma. Welcome."
"Thank you, and I was describing Heath's type, because Emma said she didn't know what kind of woman he's attracted to."
"Yeah, she said you were sharp." Mark laughs. "Josie is smart, too, but she's a little blind when it comes to her bombshell factor. We're trying to change that."
"Oh, I like you." Emma grins. "Buy me a drink."
Scanning the crowd, Mark catches Salvatore's eye and gestures to us. "Have a seat, ladies."
* * *
"That was amazing! Mark, do you have any sexy friends you can point my way? I'm building a harem, and a chef would be a great addition," Emma asks.
"Oh, Lord, here we go." I hide my eyes with my hands as Mark leans across me.
"A harem? What does that mean?"
"You know, pretty much what you and Josie have with Heath. But I'll need a few more guys for mine."
"Ok, how many are a few?"
"I think at least four," Emma says.
"How many do you have already?"
"None right now, but I'm open to submissions. Throw them at me."
"That could be a problem. Most of my friends are doms not subs," Mark deadpans, sending Emma into a peal of laughter. "Josie, are we building a harem?" Mark's hand on my shoulder pulls me closer to him, his chest warming my back, as his other hand wrapped around my waist links with my fingers.
"Definitely not."
"Technically, you're a ménage," Emma chimes in. "But if you added Simon, you could have a harem."
"Simon?" Mark's eyebrows raise in question as the hand around my waist tightens. "Are you interested in Simon?"
"No!" I bluster, heat flooding my cheeks as I look at Emma. "Knock it off, Em. Stop baiting Mark."
"I'm not baiting him! You know I think what you have is great. I'm just saying that if you added Simon, you'd have a harem instead of a ménage."
"You've never even met Simon, and I don't want a harem, you do! Why don't you try adding Simon to yours if you're so excited by the idea?"
"Yeah," Mark pipes in. "Why don't you start with Simon? He's a good guy."
Avoiding my eyes, Emma takes a sip of her wine before answering. "Simon's not my type. Besides, from what Josie says, I don't think he's on the market."
"Really? What makes you think that?" Mark asks, spinning my chair slightly so that we're face to face.
"Just something he said about being able to get a shag any time he wants. I got the impression he's not into commitment. Besides, you're the one who told me he's into groupies."
"I didn't say he was into groupies. I just said he was used to them."
"Well, whatever. He's not into groupies or he's not into harems. Either way, Emma needs some fresh targets."
"Ok, let me think about it for a few days," Mark promises. "Maybe I can come up with a few names."
"Only if they're as sexy as you are," Emma teases. "I won't settle for less."
"Well, now you're out of luck," I say smugly. "I've already grabbed all the sexy ones."
"Greedy bitch," Emma replies. "Better keep them close, or someone is going to try to steal them."
"I'm trying to do my best. This one," I nod toward Mark, "keeps slipping my leash and disappearing to New York. I don't know what I'll do when he becomes a big star."
"Baby, you can yank my leash any time you want. If it hadn't been so late when I came back last time, I would have called. But I know you turn your ringer off, and I didn't think you'd appreciate me pounding on your door at that time of night."
"You don't have a key?" Emma asks, surprised.
"I don't think we've quite reached that stage yet, Em."
"Why not? What's the big deal?" Emma turns to Mark. "Don't you want a key?"
"Sure, if Josie's willing to give me one, but I wouldn't want to push her until she's ready. I didn't even think to have an extra made for you, but Emma's right. There's no reason you shouldn't have one for my place to come and go. It would make life easier. I'll get one made up tomorrow."
"See how easy that was? Josie, give Mark a key to your place."
"Well, it's not like I have an extra one on me right now, Em." Staring her down, she knows I'm annoyed by her meddling. What is she thinking?
"Here." Taking out her keyring, she slips off the spare key to my apartment, then hands it to Mark.
"Why don't you have an extra made for Josie's place while you're at it, then you can give her mine back. Oh, and you might as well have one made for Heath. I'm sure she wants him to have one, too."
"Anyone else?" I ask as Mark palms my key, high-fiving Emma in the process. "Maybe I should have offered one to the guy at the newsstand, too."
"Oh, Josie," she chides. "The guy at the newsstand might be interested in Mark, but I don't think he's your type. You might send him Nate's way though. But hey, maybe make an extra in case you decide on that harem after all."
"Please don't make me muzzle you, Emma."
"Hah! I'm not into muzzles. Although, I did read this really hot book recently that had vampires and ball gags."
"Please stop!" The sudden squeeze of Mark's hand at my neck makes me wonder whether he's appalled or turned on by that thought. Shifting my eyes to his suddenly hooded gaze, I shake my head firmly. "Nope. Not gonna happen."
"That's the spirit, Mark! Ok, I'm out; I've got an early morning. Thank you for dinner. It was an incredible experience. Now I know why Josie won't shut up about your food."
"That's my girl." Mark squeezes me to him. "Thanks for joining us, Emma. You're welcome any time."
Gathering up her belongings, Emma hugs me, a smile blossoming across her face as Mark kisses her cheek. Pulling me back into his arms, my back hits his chest as he rests his chin on my shoulder. I'm getting used to this position. It feels good and is comforting in its repetition. Like this is our signature pose.
"Just take care of my bestie, and you'll never get rid of me," Emma says.
"She meant that as a threat, just in case you were wondering." My tone is dry.
"Message received. Have a great night, Em. It's time I take my girl home." Mark's arms are tight around me as he rocks me side to side. "I promised her one of my best bedtime stories."
"Make sure it has a happy ending."
"Don't worry. I never make promises I can't keep."
Chapter 31
What's Love Got to Do With Brit?
There's an art to getting into the rhythm of doing something new. You struggle to wrap your mind around a situation or a task, when suddenly, you get flow, and you realize how much harder you've made everything that came before.
It's not that everything comes easily, but where I used to balk at the thought of restrictive routines, I now find comfort in building my days around certain expectations. Having lived the single life for so long, and not having to consider anyone else's immediate needs, trying to integrate two men into my world seemed like an exciting but daunting undertaking.
Instead, you learn that life happens, and it's up to you to decide what's challenging or not. Choosing to care about someone else's needs can be just as rewarding as fulfilling your own. You're not just along for the ride, you're the copilot, bearing the shared weight of responsibility for everyone's happiness.
The move from scheduling designated nights together to something more natural and organic was something
I didn't expect to happen so quickly or seamlessly. Mark gets called to New York, but Heath is unexpectedly free. Heath ends up with Tracey for an extra night, but Mark lets his new chef take the helm to spend time with me.
The biggest surprise was Mark giving Heath a break for a night when Shana and Lori went away for a week. That's one rule we've stuck to—no sleepovers when Tracey's in the house. It seems that Mark excels at playing the cool uncle, and Tracey adores spending time with him.
The resulting family dinner the following night was an impromptu success. Heath and I were relaxed from our alone time, Tracey and Mark showed off their pasta skills, and even Simon and Brutus were invited back for some fun.
Occasionally, reality throws you a speed bump. Like finding out that the man you're sleeping with snores, or that they don't like when certain foods touch each other on the plate. So far, we've managed not to let little things get blown out of proportion. God knows I have enough of my own quirks.
I try to tame my discomfort when I find out the guys have been talking about me, and occasionally, I have to set boundaries when I'm being pulled for attention and need to write. It turns out compromise is not a four letter word, especially when it ends with sex.
The newly-dubbed 'chapter break quickie' was born out of my need to focus on my writing, and their need to get off. My door is always open, but sometimes, it's better when they come and go. Life can't stop indefinitely just because you have an itch to scratch. Although, I've grown quite fond of these quick interludes as well. Not every cuddle has to end in an overnight bedtime story, and Mark still hasn't passed the Daisy test.
Consequently, Mark is more fond of my chapter breaks than Heath is, but then, Mark tends to be a bit more spontaneous. Heath likes to immerse himself fully in every activity. Still, he's learning to embrace the unexpected rewards of the short story.
"Josie, are you listening to a word I said?"
When did Nate creep up on me?
"Hey, I'm doing all the tedious hiring paperwork, so stop acting like the victim. In fact, please trade places with me. I can't look at these anymore. Where is all of the good seasonal help? This is what happens when they stop teaching penmanship in schools. These applications might as well be written in crayon. Half of these people either missed their calling as doctors or serial killers."
"Stop worrying about it. They're ringing a register, not writing love letters."
"Nate. This person spelled the store name wrong, and it's printed on the top of the application. Do you really want to trust them to balance a cash register drawer?"
"Good point. Hand them over, I'll weed through them first. Are you getting excited about Quill next weekend? Have you picked out what you're going to wear? You need something fierce and that shows lots of cleavage."
"When do I not show lots of cleavage?" I ask dryly. "It's not like I can hide them. But no, I'm not going to flaunt them, if that's what you mean. I want to be taken seriously. I hate when women look like they're trying too hard. We have girls like Kenzie for that."
"I didn't say you had to pimp yourself out, although that would add some drama. At least you'd get noticed…and maybe make some extra bank for some shiny new shoes."
"I need my book to get noticed, Nate. Not me. If I pimped myself out, it would be to make money for a swoon-worthy cover for Lady Sydney's book."
"It's all the same, girl! It's all packaging. When you go to the auto show, are you drooling over the car or the hot blonde draped across the hood?"
"I'm not drooling over the hot blonde, and unless you've recently switched teams, I never thought you were either."
"Good point, and that’s a bad example. Although, I keep telling you, you have it in you, Jos."
"Heath isn't into blondes, so neither am I," I tease.
"Are you sure? Maybe he is if they're big and buff."
"Pretty sure. You're going to have to save those fantasies for someone else, Goldilocks."
"Fine. I'm just saying if you could put a hot guy in tights in front of your table, it would draw attention. And since I'm working to cover you here, we know that's not happening. So as much as it hurts to say it—a little boobs and booty could be beneficial."
"I'll take it under advisement." Sometimes, it's easier not to argue.
"So, how are things going with the sexy lion tamer? Has he been showing you his wild kingdom?"
"Things are great. I see him whenever he doesn't have his daughter, so I get him at least twice a week. We just had dinner on Tuesday."
"I thought you said you had a date last night."
"That was with—" Shit. I really need to be more careful. "A friend."
"What friend?"
"Errrrr…" My mind blanks as I try to come up with a simple answer that will satisfy Nate as he looks at me suspiciously. I'm saved from further questions as a text chimes from my phone. I'm surprised to find it's from Simon, since we've been very carefully avoiding one another lately.
Even though he spends a lot of time hanging out with the guys, I try to make certain that when we're all together, I have Heath or Mark between us. It doesn't stop Simon from flirting outrageously, and the guys don't seem to think anything of it. Perhaps it's the little flare of heat I feel every time we're together that makes me wary. I make it a point to tease him about his groupies, but he always shrugs good-naturedly and denies seeing anyone. Honestly, it makes me sad.
In another place and time, I would be eager to explore the connectivity I feel every time I'm near him.
I'm like a dancer in a quadrille, waiting for the next couple to complete their pattern. Except I've already got two partners instead of one. But there is no way in hell that I would jeopardize what I have with my guys. The bonds we're building are strengthening, and in my heart, I know that they're becoming more important to me than I ever thought possible.
While no one seems inclined to make any grand declarations of intent, I think it's pretty clear that we're all happy with the balance we've established.
Simon could make up your fourth in the dance, my inner harlot whispers.
It's really too bad. In this, it seems I've become unusually superstitious. At what point does lust just become greedy? Are we really allowed more than our fair share of happiness before the gods come down and bitchslap us for having too much?
Have I tested fate by claiming two amazing guys as my own? What if my 'too much' with Mark and Heath leaves someone like Simon with nothing? Am I at fault for withholding what someone else needs? Especially if I'm equally drawn to them?
Ugh! Sometimes, my brain is written in a foreign language that I only half understand. Is it any wonder I mangle things so badly when I try to pretend I'm fluent in what should probably be a dead language?
Brute's Daddy: I need help.
Concerned by Simon's text, I quickly send back a response.
Chew Toy: Oh no! What do you need?
I wait anxiously, wondering if something bad has happened to Brutus.
BD: Something for a spotted dick.
A flash of relief floods my system, followed by a brief spurt of irritation. Oh, so you want to play now? I wonder what brought this on. I feel the weight of his hope on the opposite end, as if he’s wondering whether I'm going to indulge him or continue to keep him at arm's length. What's it gonna be, Josie?
I do miss the easy banter from when we first met, before everything got so complicated. Surely, a little harmless flirting never hurt anyone.
CT: That can't be good. Sounds contagious. Maybe you need a professional.
BD: It's quite good. Just need you. Fancy a taste?
CT: Pass. Try again. How can I help?
BD: Same as last time. Need more toys. I'll pick up. And you 2.
CT: 6?
Another thumbs up, and I kick myself for being so weak. It's not like I need to leave with him. I can just hand off his purchases and let him ride into the night alone, but that seems childish. We're all adults. This isn't my first rodeo, and I'm mastering the
friend zone.
Swiveling in my chair, I realize that at some point, Nate must have headed back onto the selling floor. Switching channels on the walkie talkie, I reach out.
"Nate, you there?"
The light background noise temporarily muffles his voice as he finishes a conversation.
"I'm here."
"Have you ever had a spotted dick?"
Silence greets my question before a wave of laughter hits me.
"Girl! Did I ever tell you about the time…"
* * *
Maria must have been a secret swinger from the sixties. It doesn't matter what I ask her, she's completely unflappable. I know she has grandchildren, but the younger employees adore her, and not because she looks like someone's grandmother. It's because she knows how to put them in their place nicely while leaving them with their dignity. She never acts scandalized, no matter how many times they try to shock her. And she's a fountain of knowledge.
Since I didn't have the faintest idea of what a spotted dick entailed, and couldn't listen to one more minute of Nate's story about the dick with alopecia, I handed off the task once again to my in-house cooking guru. I did have the sense to pull Simon's last order so that we knew what he already owned. She seemed surprised that he wanted more gadgets, but I never turn away business.
Sales mean dollars toward our store goal, and Nate and I are not above using friends and family to achieve that goal. There's a lot of benefits to running a top twenty-five store. Bonuses are only one. You get the best classes, you get the best products, and your friends and family get first shot at all of these things. When you hit your goals, the corporate watchdogs leave you alone—Hello Pussy notwithstanding.
With quick efficiency, Maria pulls a recipe online and begins stacking a much smaller assortment of items than Simon's last haul, charging them to the card on file.
As much as I love writing, I do love this store. Retail is a terribly fickle business, as stores come and go, merge and morph. How many people remember that one of the most iconic stores specializing in tailored men's and women's clothing today, originally started by selling military surplus, safari-style clothing?
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