Oriana and the Three Werebears

by Tia Fanning

  “So I’ll accept my punishment gracefully, ponder my actions, regret and repent, make amends the best I can, and try hard not repeat the same mistake in the future.”

  “Um, Ori—”

  “It’s fine. I’m standing in this corner because I withheld information from your brother. I was worried he’d think I was crazy if I told him the whole truth. But I should have just told him. If he loves me as much as you and Jonathan claim, then it wouldn’t have mattered what I said. It wouldn’t have changed how he felt, right?

  “Either way, Jack’s done nothing but encourage me to be open and honest and forthcoming. He told me to be myself. Hell, he even made me promise I would—” A small, vacant laugh escaped her lips, and died just as suddenly. “Well, lookie there. I guess I did lie after all. I said one thing and did another.”

  Opening her eyes, she stared at her feet. “I want this to work between us…all of us. So from now on, I’m going to give your brother what he wants. I’m going to be me. Candid. Completely honest and forthcoming… Which reminds me. You and Jonathan need to come clean about the plane thing. The longer you wait to tell him, the more blame he can place on me for not sharing the knowledge. I don’t want to end up in the corner again because of you two.”

  “You won’t.”

  Oriana swung her head around, but found Jordan was still sitting on the bed. But didn’t I hear…? Her gaze darted to the doorway. Unfortunately, she wasn’t mistaken about who had answered her.

  With arms folded across his chest, Jack leaned against the doorframe, and he was looking none too happy.

  Jonathan, now dressed, stood next to him, displaying the universal sign for “please tell me you did not just do that” —a hand covering his eyes in baffled disbelief and shaking his head in disavowal. She could almost hear his thoughts: Gee, thanks, Ori. Appreciate that.

  “Oh, shit,” she whispered.

  Chapter Eleven

  Oriana listened to Jonathan’s story with half an ear, too busy shifting positions in the wood seat, trying to get comfortable. But it was useless. Three days after receiving her ‘punishment’ from Jack, her ass was still sore.

  “You okay, honey?”

  She looked across the dining room table to Jonathan, who was trying to hide a smirk behind his coffee mug. “I’m fine, Jonathan.”

  Shaking his head, he tsked at her. “Lying and copping an attitude. Wait until Jack gets up.”

  “Ha, ha. You’re so funny.”

  “Ha, ha. Maybe I’m not kidding.”

  “For your information, I’m not lying. I am fine, considering the circumstances. And I’m not giving you an attitude. Not all people are as chipper as you are in the morning. Once I finish my coffee, I’m sure I’ll be in a much better mood.”

  “Should I find you a pillow?”

  Cocking her head, she bestowed him her most innocent smile. “Shouldn’t you be finding those keys instead?”

  “Oh, now that’s just rude. I was actually being genuine when I offered to help. And hey, at least you didn’t have to spend three days scrubbing the tunnel with a toothbrush.”

  She expelled a frustrated breath. “I’m sorry. You know I love you, I’m just…uncomfortable right now and it makes me irritable. And while I really do appreciate the offer, pillows are not an option. That would be just too embarrassing for me.”

  Though, if she really thought about it, aside from the humiliation of being placed in the corner, Jack’s ‘punishment’ had been anything but. When he’d finally pulled her out of the corner and into his arms, she was already wet and ready. Then he’d drawn her across his lap and delivered a series of smacks that had her screaming and writhing against his hand. All in all, she remembered a lot more pleasure than pain in connection with the experience.

  Now Jonathan smiled at her, placing his coffee on the table. “Come here, love.”

  She went around to the other side of the table and crawled into his lap.

  Jonathan pressed his lips to hers, and she yielded instantly, melting into his embrace as his hand slowly slid up her bare thigh and slipped under the hem of the t-shirt she wore. He stroked her softness as he continued to kiss her, stirring her passion until she was moaning into his mouth and practically weeping for his touch.

  When he pulled his hand and broke their kiss, she sighed in disappointment

  “You’re going to make me beg, aren’t you?”

  “I love to hear you say the things you want me to do to you.”

  “I really need to go home and pick up some clothes. I haven’t worn panties in forever. Maybe if I was wearing them, I wouldn’t be so eager to let you touch me at your every whim.”

  He chuckled. “Is that a threat?”

  “No, I really do need to get clothes. How long am I supposed to wear your stuff?”

  “I think you look beautiful in my clothing. And I happen to like that you have no underwear.”

  “I have one pair here, but they seem to have disappeared.

  Jonathan winked. “I’m sure they’ll turn up.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Did you ask Jordan? Maybe he has them.”

  “It doesn’t matter. The point is I have to go home sometime. I have to… I have responsibilities. My father’s business for one, and the clients I’ve been putting off who’ll take their business elsewhere—permanently—if I don’t return soon. I can only use the ‘sorry, my plane is broken’ excuse for so long.”

  “Working means a lot to you?” he asked softly. “Running your father’s business?”

  “Working as a glorified taxi and delivery girl? No, it’s not exactly my dream job. But I need to bring in an income, and there’s no real market for a vet without a clinic in a city of 6,300 people. So I fly. It pays the bills…which I’ve been neglecting since I’ve been here. I probably won’t have electric when I return home.”

  “Jordan has taken care of all that. You’re fine.”

  “What?”

  “He’s paid the bills for you.”

  “Oh, God. Please tell me he transferred the money off my credit card.” Because if he pulled it from my bank account, I’ll be buried by the overdraft fees alone. Shit, the credit card might not even cover them all.

  “No, honey. He paid all your bills, including your credit card balance.”

  “Let me up,” she said, squirming. “I need to call the bank.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll tell you later, after I’ve called them.”

  “I’m not going to let you go until you tell me why.”

  “Because,” she strained, trying to break his hold. “I need to put a stop to those payments immediately. I don’t have enough money in my account to cover everything.”

  “I think you misunderstand what I’m saying.”

  It took a moment for the words to register. Oriana froze. “I had better not be ‘misunderstanding’ anything, Jonathan. Because if Jordan paid my bills from his own money, then I will be going home today.”

  He was carefully considering his reply. That did not bode well.

  “Let me up,” she demanded.

  “It wasn’t his money,” he said slowly.

  “Oh.” She nearly went limp with relief. “Shit. You scared me. I still need to get up and call the bank though.”

  “It was our money. From our joint account.”

  Oriana rubbed the bridge of her nose, trying to remove the tension headache that was forming. “Let me up,” she reiterated quietly.

  “Hon, we—”

  “—had no right to invade my privacy like that. Now let me up.”

  “Do as she says,” Jack mumbled as he shuffled passed, still sleep tousled.

  Jonathan reluctantly released his hold, and she shot to her feet. She was going to lay into both them, but held her tongue, instead watching Jack move about in the kitchen, seemingly unconcerned with her outrage or the argument transpiring.

  Did he even know why she was upset? Did he even care?

  He retriev
ed a tall cup from the cabinet, then went to refrigerator and poured himself a glass of milk before returning to the dining room and taking a seat across the table from Jonathan.

  “I’m very angry, Jack,” she finally said, breaking the silence.

  “I can see that. Please sit down and we’ll talk about it.”

  “I prefer to stand.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’d prefer if you sat.”

  “No,” Jonathan interjected. “If she wants to stand, let her.”

  Jonathan’s vaguely expressed concern for her sore ass redeemed him a little in her eyes, especially since Jonathan was now at the receiving end of a very dark look from Jack.

  But then the two brothers did that silent communication thing she so hated.

  “Sit with Jon then,” Jack amended.

  “Unbelievable. Do you all do Morse code with your eyelids or something?”

  “Would you prefer to sit with me?”

  What she would prefer to do was have a hissy fit, bitch them both out for their interference in her personal finances, then walk away. But it was hard to throw a tantrum when they were being so fucking reasonable.

  Rather than choose from the options listed, she moved toward the chair next to Jonathan’s. The youngest waylaid her plans by pulling her into his lap, whispering caution into her ear before she could protest. “Pick your battles.”

  She stayed put, but hoped her rigid posture reflected her resistance to the arrangement.

  Jack looked to his brother. “What’s the problem?”

  “Oriana is upset that we paid her bills.”

  “Damn right I am,” she muttered.

  Jonathan nudged her thigh gently, but she ignored the warning.

  “What you all did was utterly intrusive,” she continued. “I’ve been pretty tolerant about everything else, but I won’t be moved on this. I will leave here, go back to work, and pay you back every frigging cent. I won’t be your—”

  “Choose your next word carefully,” Jack warned.

  Snapping her mouth shut, she folded her arms across her chest and stared him down, refusing to be intimidated. But while her tongue yearned to fling the word in his face, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. It had nothing to do with his anger, or a punishment later—and using the damn word didn’t offend her any, but it was a respect thing. She loved him and respected him.

  After a moment, she said, “It’s what I feel like. I came here, forced you all to take me in—a stranger, then I slept with you both. Now you’ve paid me.”

  “We know you didn’t expect anything from us,” Jack said. “We did it because we wanted to. And we do not expect anything from you in return.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want this. My father would not have wanted this. If he knew that I’d allowed you to pay for his…” Just the thought alone made her bow her head in shame. “God, he’s probably rolling over in his grave right now. He was a proud man.”

  “A trait he passed on to you.”

  “Yes, he did. I’m not ashamed of that.”

  “Nor should you be.”

  “Then you’ll understand why I can’t take your money. Why it’s something I have to handle on my own.”

  She’d used the life insurance money she received to pay off the majority of her father’s medical bills, but it didn’t cover all of it. Rather than sell any of her father’s possessions as she’d originally planned, she decided to work it off. It would have taken her some years to pay the rest, but that was better than giving up that which her father had so desperately wanted her to have—especially the plane. The memories attached to that…

  “Your father didn’t know about the medical insurance, did he?”

  The table blurred as tears welled in her eyes. She wasn’t surprised Jack would figure that out. “He wouldn’t have taken anymore cancer treatments if he knew his insurance was capping out,” she whispered. “He wasn’t eligible for assistance, not while he still possessed assets—assets he wanted to pass on to me. It was important to him that I have them after he was gone.”

  Oriana swiped angrily at her cheeks. “I convinced him to grant me power of attorney—insisted on it, telling him that it would make things much easier for me to manage until he got better. My father knew he was dying, but I think he agreed to sign it so he didn’t have to hurt me more by reaffirming the truth of the matter, that there was absolutely no hope for recovery. He was trying to protect me as much as I was trying to protect him.”

  “I’m so sorry, Ori,” Jonathan murmured, squeezing her a little tighter.

  “After he signed the papers, I took over handling everything. When the insurance ran out, I began picking up the tab on the medical bills. At the time, I told myself I would sell his house and his plane after he died to pay off the debt. But once he was gone, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

  Oriana laughed lightly, bitterly. “When I was a little girl, I used to make him promise to give me the plane one day. I told him I wanted to be just like him and run the family transport business.” She smiled sadly. “I know that’s why it was so important to him that I got the plane after he died. He wanted to keep his promise to me, even though I had grown up and left home to pursue other dreams.”

  Lifting her head, she met Jack’s intense gaze. “The debt was worth the extra time I got to spend with my father. I have no regrets. But keeping your money… No, my father raised me better than that. I will not take advantage of your kindness any more than I already have.”

  “If our situations were reversed, you would have done the same for us,” Jonathan offered.

  Of course she would have, but she’d never admit that to them. Especially right now. That was the checkmate they were looking for.

  Ignoring the trap, she focused on Jack. “Since you have already settled my accounts, I guess I have no choice now but to pay you.”

  Though Jack didn’t respond, she could read his thoughts. It was all right there in his eyes: It would be a cold day in hell before he took a single penny from her.

  “I will be paying you back. If I have to deliver the checks to your doorstep every month, I will.”

  Again, he said say nothing, but he might as well have replied, I wouldn’t cash your checks, and any money you leave will just be transferred back to your account.

  It was useless to fight. Neither was going to concede to the other. So why bother discussing it any longer?

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Oriana,” Jack said, his voice low. “I won’t pretend to know what you went through. I lost both my parents, but I had a family support system. We had each other. You faced your father’s death alone.”

  “I didn’t share that with you to garner your sympathy.” She knew how bitchy that sounded, but didn’t know another way to say it. “While I do appreciate your condolences, what I really want is your understanding as to why I can’t take your money, and why I must leave here.”

  Why did saying that last part out loud hurt so much?

  “I didn’t know your father,” Jack said, “but through your eyes I can see that he was a good man, a great father, and that he loved you very much.”

  She nodded, swallowing hard. “He was both of those things, and yes, he loved me very much.”

  “Do you love me?”

  The question caught her off guard. “What?”

  “Do you love me?”

  Oriana glanced back at Jonathan to see if he could offer her a clue as to where his brother was going with this. Jonathan just gave her that look that said, ‘go on and answer the question.’

  She turned back to Jack. “Yes, I do. I love all of you. What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Then we are going to give your father exactly what he wanted, and what he would have wanted.”

  Wait a minute. Who was this man in front of her? “Really? We are?”

  “Yes, we are. He obviously wanted what every loving father wants for his daughter. He wanted you to be healthy, happy and w
ell taken care of. He didn’t want to worry what would become of you after he was gone.”

  “I—I don’t understand.”

  “We’re getting married.”

  Her mouth dropped open, shock not allowing it to do much else than hang there.

  “My brothers and I will love, honor and cherish you, and we will make sure you are healthy, happy and well taken care of. This was what your father wanted for you, yes?”

  “No,” she croaked.

  Jack raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think that’s what he wanted?”

  “No—well yes, of course he’d want those things for me, but…” She rubbed her eyes. “You’re confusing me. One minute we’re talking about the money I owe you, the next you’re proposing. This is crazy. No.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it doesn’t fix anything, Jack. Is this your way of circumventing the money issue? I won’t stand for it. I won’t. Or do you feel obligated to ask because I pointed out that I now feel like a whor—”

  Jack moved around the table so fast that it didn’t even register in her brain until after he’d yanked her out of Jonathan’s lap and pulled her into his arms.

  The kiss was consuming. It was all she could focus on—the way her body melded against his, the way his lips moved against hers, the way his tongue swept into her mouth and commanded all her senses. Moaning, she pressed closer, growing dizzy as he ravaged her mouth, her limbs becoming weak and heavy, like she was drunk from the pleasure of him. He tightened his hold, steadying her to the assault, but did not let up. If anything, he deepened the kiss, and she melted—liquefied.

  He pulled back slightly, his breath caressing her lips. “I love you. Please marry me.”

  It was on her tongue to say yes, but she hesitated, trying to remember why she had told him ‘no’ just minutes earlier.

  “Stay with us. Let us love you.” Jack’s mouth met hers again, soft, teasing, coaxing, his hands lifting the hem of her shirt as his fingers splayed upon her hips. The cooler air brushed against her bare bottom, warmth speared her core. “Let us take care of you,” he breathed.