Mia's Men

by Lucy Felthouse

  At the same time, she crooked her finger in Elias’s direction, hoping he was still there, and still looking. Apparently he was, because she felt movement on the mattress beside her, then the sensation of additional body heat. She reached out and found naked skin, then groped blindly around until she cupped a lightly-stubbled jaw and drew it towards her. When it was close enough, she released Alex’s mouth and turned to kiss Elias, again hoping to say with her gesture what she couldn’t possibly articulate.

  After a couple of minutes, Alex clambered off Mia and disappeared, presumably to ditch his condom. She shuffled closer to Elias and they continued kissing for a little while. By the time Alex returned to the room, Mia and Elias were beneath the covers. When he drew closer to the bed, she lifted one side of the duvet and invited him in with what she hoped was a sexy smile.

  As they cuddled up together, their sated bodies relaxing, Mia’s capacity for coherent thought gradually returned. Inevitably, she contemplated the future.

  She, Elias, and Alex might have figured out a scenario which suited them all, but what on earth would Thomas make of it? Despite her current feeling of contentment and happiness with the two men either side of her, she couldn’t possibly imagine giving Thomas up. He’d been her rock since she’d lost her father, a rare person that truly understood what she was going through, and although the sex was amazing, her relationship with Thomas meant so much more to her than that.

  Would he, though, agree to share her—and not with just one other man, but two? For although she vaguely remembered Alex mentioning at the fundraiser that she could choose one of them, it was obvious to her now that really, they came as a package.

  As the melatonin flooding her bloodstream took over, she allowed herself to slip into unconsciousness, with her last thought before sleep being:

  How the hell is this happening to me?

  Chapter Seventeen

  It was Monday evening before she saw Thomas—which was an entirely deliberate move on her part. After the weekend she’d had, she had a lot to think about, and a lot to talk about with Thomas, which couldn’t possibly take place during the day—they both had work to do, not to mention James and Betty were buzzing about, going about their own daily business. So although they’d exchanged text messages, they’d agreed not to meet until after they’d both finished work, and the butler and housekeeper were safely tucked up in their own homes, well away from the estate.

  It was with a not-inconsiderable amount of trepidation that she knocked on the door of Thomas’s cottage. A huge part of her was excited to see him, and spend time with him, but the rest of her dreaded the discussion they needed to have. She’d had way too many serious conversations of late—but then, she reminded herself, although some of them hadn’t had favourable outcomes, the ones she’d had with Elias and Alex definitely had. So serious conversations weren’t all bad—it was just the fact she couldn’t predict what Thomas’s reaction to theirs would be. There were just so many variables.

  The door swung open to reveal Thomas’s handsome, smiling face. “Hi, Mia,” he said, quickly stepping back. “Come on, get inside, quick. It’s cold out there!”

  She entered the cottage with a grateful smile—it was cold, and she foolishly hadn’t put on a coat before leaving the house—then waited until he’d closed the door. “Hello, Tom,” she said when he turned to her. They embraced, then kissed each other on the cheek. “Good weekend?” She removed her trainers and left them on the doormat.

  He shrugged, then indicated she should sit down, which she did, taking her favourite place on the sofa. “It was all right. Quiet, relaxed. As you can see… I put the Christmas decorations up.”

  In her state of worry, she hadn’t actually noticed. She looked around at the glitz and sparkle. “So you have,” she commented with a smile. “They’re beautiful, well done. You should have said—I could have helped you.”

  Shrugging again, he replied, “I wasn’t sure if you’d be up for all that, to be honest. The first Christmas after losing someone is pretty bloody rough, and I didn’t know if you’d want all that festive cheer malarkey shoved down your throat. Sorry.”

  Mia gave a small smile, her heart clenching at his thoughtfulness. “Tom, don’t be silly. You’ve got nothing to apologise for. You were just being considerate—as usual. Anyway,” she said, forcing brightness she didn’t really feel, “you putting the kettle on?”

  He winked. “One step ahead of you, there. It boiled a millisecond before you knocked on the door. Tea, coffee, or hot chocolate?”

  “Ooh.” She widened her eyes. “I think it’s got to be hot chocolate. Please.”

  “Marshmallows?”

  “Is the sky blue?”

  “That was a stupid question, wasn’t it? Be right back. Make yourself comfortable.”

  She tucked her socked feet up beneath her bottom and tried to relax. The heat billowing from the fire helped in that regard, as did the mellow glow given off by the strings of fairy lights on the Christmas tree and positioned along the mantelpiece. When her gaze landed on the cardboard greetings card holder, already half full of Christmas missives, it suddenly hit her that she hadn’t even bought any Christmas cards this year—much less written them or sent them out. Shit!

  “Hey,” Thomas said as he reappeared. “What’s wrong? Just then you looked horrified, as though you’d walked naked into a room full of strangers.”

  Mia spluttered out a laugh at his choice of words, then shook her head. “Oh God, you crack me up. I was horrified—I mean I am. No nakedness or strangers, though. I just looked at your Christmas cards and realised I haven’t sent any.”

  Thomas handed her her hot chocolate, then sat down beside her. His expression was kind. “Mia, nobody is going to expect you to do all that crap this year. You just lost your dad. You’re dealing with a lot, adjusting, finding your new normal. I know you’re amazing and super efficient and all kinds of awesome, but Christmas cards just aren’t all that important in the scheme of things, are they? If you feel that strongly, you could always call the people you actually feel badly about not sending a card to. They’ll just be pleased to hear from you, and won’t give a shit that you haven’t done cards this year.” He paused for a moment, then raised his eyebrows as a thought occurred to him. “Alternatively, because I know what you’re like and that you probably won’t let this go… why don’t you do a digital card? Even your dad’s old fogey friends are bound to have email these days, aren’t they? So send one of those funky animated things with a cute animal and they won’t even notice the difference. Boom—job done.”

  “Once again, you are a genius,” Mia said, smiling. She blew on the surface of her drink, watching as the mini marshmallows scudded across the milky-brown lake they floated on. “Yes, I’ll do that. Brilliant idea. More environmentally friendly, too. Thank you.” She reached out and took his hand, then lifted it to her lips and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. Then she squeezed his hand and let it go. “I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.” She meant it, too. Her heart pounded at the idea that she might have to, if the talk didn’t go her way.

  Flashing her a grin, he then took a sip of his hot chocolate, and made a sound of intense satisfaction. “Mmm, delicious. So!” He gave a little bounce on the seat. “Come on, tell me all about your weekend. I got from your messages that the Aventador was amazing, but I want to know all about it. And I also want to know what happened with Elias and Alex. Are they still keen on sharing you? And are you any closer to knowing if either of them fit the bill to get hitched so you can inherit?”

  “Bloody hell, Tom, give me chance to answer one question before you fire more at me! Christ, you’re like an excitable teenage girl.”

  He stuck out his tongue, then wiggled his eyebrows comically. “Just dish the dirt, girlfriend,” he replied in a deliberately camp tone. Then he straightened his face and said seriously, “Come on, Mia. I care about you, and what happens to you. If you don’t want to talk about the other stuff,
fair enough, but you have to tell me about the car.”

  “Better get yourself comfortable, girlfriend, because I’m going to tell you everything.”

  Thomas’s eyes widened. “In that case, hold that thought.” He got up and headed into the kitchen. A moment later he returned with a bottle of whiskey. Retaking his place on the sofa, he trapped the bottle between his knees and undid it with his free hand, then poured a liberal amount into his hot chocolate. Then he wiggled the bottle at Mia, a question in his eyes.

  “Yes,” she said wryly, “I think that might be yet another genius move on your part. Much more of this and I’m getting you into Mensa.”

  Once he’d added a splash of whiskey to her mug, she blew on the liquid yet again, then took a chance that it had cooled down enough to drink without burning her tongue. It had. She managed to nab a couple of mostly-melted marshmallows, and closed her eyes in bliss as their sugary sweetness caressed her taste buds, followed by the taste of chocolate, then the smoky burn of the whiskey.

  “Right,” she said after a moment. “Are you ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  Mia related what had happened over the weekend, punctuating her story with sips of her drink until it was all gone. By the time she was done, she was thoroughly fed up of the sound of her own voice and her throat felt raw. But on the plus side, Thomas had listened patiently and intently, nodding and asking the occasional question, and now he looked neither horrified nor disgusted. He said nothing for a few minutes, and seemed to be turning things over in his mind.

  Eventually he raised his eyebrows and said, “Wow. Your weekend was a lot more exciting than mine!” He grinned. “And, added to all that, you have a filthy rich tech genius interested in you, too. You could drive his Aventador whenever you wanted!” Running a hand through his hair, he continued, “Christ, I really am the pauper of the group, aren’t I? Mind you, I suppose a harem—if that’s what we’re calling it—needs variety, doesn’t it? We wouldn’t want you getting bored now, would we?”

  Mia shot him a narrow-eyed look, but quickly came to the conclusion he wasn’t being sarcastic, or bitter. In fact, his eyes twinkled with a mixture of amusement and sincerity. Her heart thumping, she asked measuredly, “Tom… what are you saying?”

  He took her empty mug from her and put it down on the end table, next to his. Then he reached for both her hands and squeezed them. He looked into her eyes. “I’ve thought about little else since you first told me about these guys and their… preferences. As we both said, it seemed a little crazy at first, but then when you added the bit about them both being incredibly busy men and not able to dedicate the time to a woman that she deserves, things kind of clicked into place. It’s unusual, to say the least, but it does actually make sense.” He shrugged. “Like Alex, I know damn well I’m not the right man to marry you. Though, also like him, I’m not saying I wouldn’t, if things were different. But at the same time, although I’d willingly let you go if it was what was best for you, I don’t want to. Far from it.”

  He blew out a heavy breath, closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. “I know this thing between us started out as casual, and neither of us expected it, but it’s been really good for me. I love being with you, Mia. Spending time with you, whatever we do. You… make me happy. Incredibly happy. You’re an amazing person. So, I guess what I’m saying is, if you’ll have me, I’d very much like to carry on being with you. I don’t know if being your boyfriend is quite right description in the circumstances, but we don’t have to put a label on it, do we?”

  Mia shook her head as her pulse thundered in her ears. “No. I think this whole thing defies being labelled, don’t you?” She clutched at his hands and shuffled closer to him. “And of course I’ll have you! Are you crazy? I’ve been shitting myself about having this conversation because I thought you’d run for the hills. And although I wouldn’t have blamed you, I’d have been devastated. I truly meant it when I said I don’t know what I’d do without you, Tom. You’ve become my rock, my best friend, and my lover all rolled into one over the last few weeks. I don’t want to live without you.”

  Tugging her onto his lap with a wide smile, he said, “Well, it looks like you won’t have to.” He wrapped his arms around and hugged her tightly, then pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “It won’t be easy, Mia. You know that, don’t you? Elias and Alex have done this before and it hasn’t worked out. I’m assuming just with the two of them. Who knows how it will work with three men involved—or more. How we’ll all rub along together—if you’ll pardon the terrible pun—how we’ll deal with jealousy, what will happen after the wedding, hell, what will happen during the wedding… there are a lot of things to be worked out, questions to be asked. But I loved you first, and I’m in it for the long haul.”

  Mia’s stomach flipped. She tilted her head back and looked up at him, wide eyed. “You… did you just say you loved me first?”

  A bashful expression took over his face. “I… yeah. I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that, but yeah. Yes. I love you. I’m in love with you. I don’t know quite when it happened—”

  “Does it matter?”

  Taken aback by her interruption, he said, “Er, no, I guess it doesn’t.”

  “Good.” She smiled, then looped her arms around his neck and drew him down so they were nose to nose. Her heart was now racing so fast she felt a little dizzy. “Because I don’t quite know when it happened for me, either—the last few weeks have been so hectic—but I’m in love with you, too. You loved me first, and I loved you first. And nobody can ever take that away from us, all right? No matter what happens in the future, and with who—we’ll always have each other.”

  “Sounds like a good deal to me,” he murmured, tilting his head so she felt the faintest brush of his lips against hers as he spoke. “But before we, er, have tea, and maybe some biscuits, if you’re really lucky, can I ask you a question?”

  She fidgeted on his lap to try to assuage the arousal that was building up inside her, mixing with the sudden emotion of their ‘moment’ to create a heady concoction. “As long as you make it quick—I’ve a sudden desperation for some tea. And lots of it.”

  Thomas huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, I’ll make it quick. And it’s a yes or no answer.”

  “Go on…”

  “Mia… will you spend Christmas with me?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Christmas morning

  Mia awoke to the unmistakeable—and incredibly welcome—scent of frying bacon. She let out a moan of pleasure and rolled over, opening her eyes. She looked around the cosy bedroom. Thomas was nowhere to be seen, but that was to be expected—because if he wasn’t frying the bacon, then who was? It was just the two of them, tucked away in his cottage at the rear of the grounds, with no particular plans for the day other than a nice turkey dinner with all the trimmings. In other words, bliss.

  She lay still for a minute, shaking off the languidness of sleep and the reluctance to emerge from the warm embrace of the bed. Then, the allure of bacon spurring her on, she got up and headed for the bathroom. After using the loo, she washed her hands and face. Then she returned to the bedroom, slipped into her dressing gown and fluffy socks, then retrieved the gift-wrapped box she’d hidden in the back of Thomas’s wardrobe and padded down the stairs. She stashed the present under the Christmas tree in the living room, then headed to the kitchen.

  Thomas was in front of the oven, wearing his cute checked pyjama bottoms and a plain white T-shirt. He had bare feet. Her heart gave a thump, which made her smile. As if she needed the organ in her chest to remind her how she felt about him. Pale sunshine shone through the window, which revealed a bright blue sky with only a few wispy clouds. Perfect walking weather—excellent. It’d be nice to get some fresh air before they put the dinner on.

  The hissing and spitting coming from the frying pan was so intense that Thomas didn’t hear her enter the room. Taking advantage of his ignorance, she crept up behi
nd him and slipped her arms around his waist, then stretched up and pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck. “Good morning. Merry Christmas.”

  He stiffened. “Hold that thought.” Thomas quickly turned the dial on the hob right down, then spun in her arms and slung his own around her waist. Pulling her tightly to him, he kissed her hard. Then he leaned his forehead against hers and said, “Good morning, beautiful. And Merry Christmas to you, too. But you ruined your first present. I was going to bring you a bacon sarnie in bed.”

  She made an oops face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I woke up, I smelt bacon. It drew me to it, like a moth to a flame. I was helpless to resist. And it’s not ruined, anyway. I’m still getting the sandwich, aren’t I?”

  He lifted his hands to cup her face, then planted another kiss on her lips—brief this time. “You most certainly are. Now go and sit your sexy arse down otherwise it will be ruined, because it’ll be bloody burnt.” He playfully slapped the arse in question as she turned away, then returned his attention to the frying pan.

  She ignored his command to sit down, figuring he wouldn’t argue when he realised what she was doing. Instead, she headed for the kettle and set about making two cups of tea while he finished cooking the bacon—crispy, just how they both liked it—then forked the rashers onto thick, fluffy slices of white bread.

  They arrived at the table at the same time, sharing a smile as they put down plates and mugs and sat opposite each other. They said “Thank you” in unison, and smiled again.

  Mia reached for the brown sauce that had already been in the middle of the table and squirted some onto the bacon, before putting the second slice of bread on the top and squishing it down. She passed the sauce to Thomas with a grin, then gave a heavy sigh of satisfaction. “Crispy bacon sandwich with brown sauce, cup of tea, and a gorgeous man. This is already shaping up to be an amazing Christmas. Thank you, Santa. You did good.”