by Tawna Fenske
They’d been back on the road for fifteen minutes when he finally spoke. “I’ve been thinking about what you said.”
She looked over to see his eyes glued straight ahead on the road. “Can you be a little more specific?”
He nodded but didn’t look over at her. “You’re right. I avoid difficult stuff. And it’s probably a self-defense mechanism, sure. But I still think it’s probably smart if we keep our hands off each other for now. We’re trapped together in this Jeep for the foreseeable future. If we take things to the next level and it all goes to hell—”
He stopped there, shaking his head.
Kayla felt a sinking in her chest. He was right, dammit. She didn’t have to like it, but he made sense. “I know,” she said finally. “We’ve got a good thing going. It’s best not to screw it up.”
He broke into a grin, and he looked over at her with relief in his eyes. “I knew we’d be on the same page.”
Kayla forced a smile, grateful they were at least talking again. “We always are, aren’t we?”
“Yep. That’s why we’re such good friends.”
Friends.
That’s what they needed to be. What they should stay for the time being, no matter how much her lips ached to feel him again.
…
Tony scanned the upscale bistro, grateful to have Kayla by his side. “Quite a bit swankier than the last place, huh?”
The room was ringed with tall tables, each topped by a linen tablecloth and three candles flickering in a sand-filled dish. Sexy jazz drifted out of the sound system as a well-dressed couple slipped past, their bodies so intertwined they practically carried each other. Tony shifted his weight from one foot to the other, oddly nervous. It wasn’t the idea of seeing his ex. That didn’t bother him a bit, honestly.
But the tension bubbling between Kayla and him—that was new. And Tony didn’t like it one bit.
Why did you have to kiss her?
Okay, yeah. She’d kissed him first. But he didn’t have to like it so much.
Kayla touched his arm, jolting him back to the fancy Jackson Hole eatery. “Remind me again about Courtney. You dated before or after Carrie?”
“Before,” he said. “Maybe two years earlier? We haven’t kept in close touch.”
Also, their breakup had come with a fair bit of drama. For a mild-mannered schoolteacher, Courtney sure could yell. For the life of him, Tony couldn’t recall what she’d been so worked up about. Something about him not paying attention?
Still surveying the room, his gaze landed on a busty redhead. He kept scanning, trying to spot the petite brunette he remembered from years ago.
“Tony! Over here. It’s me.”
He swung his gaze back to the redhead, blinking when he saw her. This definitely wasn’t the Courtney he remembered. Struggling to regroup, he grabbed Kayla’s hand and tugged her toward the table.
“That’s her?” Kayla murmured softly.
“Apparently.”
Courtney was on her feet, swinging toward them on impressively high stilettos. He’d teased Kayla for wearing her own mile-high shoes but could see now she’d had a better read on things than he had. Who knew the little Wyoming ski town had turned so posh?
Kayla, that’s who. One of many reasons he was damn glad they were doing this together.
Not the only reason, he mused as Courtney launched herself at him, squeezing tight enough to cut off his airway. “It’s so great to see you again.” The breasts pressing against his chest were definitely not the ones he remembered. No way was it socially acceptable for him to comment on the boob job, but holy crap—she’d added at least three cup sizes.
Don’t stare, don’t stare, don’t stare.
Since he was motivated more by curiosity than by lust, it wasn’t hard to do. He kept his gaze on her face as he drew back to look into her eyes.
Which definitely used to be brown, not green. Were those colored contacts?
“Courtney,” he said, needing to confirm it was really her. “It’s so great to see you.”
“Man, it’s been ages.” She beamed, tossing her fiery hair. “Did you ever end up getting that tattoo you’d talked about right here?”
She traced a hand over his groin, erasing that one question and raising a few more. “Uh, no, actually.” He stepped back just a hair, not used to being greeted with a crotch grab. “That was just something I kicked around that season. Totally a silly whim.”
Beside him, Kayla touched his arm. “Okay, now I’m dying to know.” She smiled at Courtney. “What was the tattoo idea?”
“Oh, you must be Kyle!” Courtney threw her arms around her, and Tony watched as Kayla stiffened. “It’s so great to meet you.”
“Kayla, actually.” She patted the other woman’s back, shooting a quizzical look at Tony. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”
Courtney released her grip on Kayla and smoothed down her skintight black dress. “Tony wanted a tattoo of Smokey Bear right next to his d—”
“Groin,” he supplied, glancing around at the other patrons. “Definitely glad I didn’t follow through on that one.”
Kayla laughed and linked her arm through his. He’d never been more grateful to have her by his side. “Shall we have a seat and order some drinks?”
“Right there with ya, girlfriend.” Courtney hooked her elbow around Kayla’s other arm and winked. “Let’s get this party started, right?”
“Er, right.” Tony let her tow them back to the table, trying to recall exactly what he’d said in his text exchanges with her. He’d tried to keep it casual, chatting over several days about favorite TV shows and podcasts before suggesting they meet up. And he’d made it clear Kayla was just a friend helping him out with this, right?
Courtney took her seat, the black dress riding scandalously high on her thigh. Tony looked away and focused on Kayla’s face. She was giving him a “what the hell?” look, which was fair.
“I recommend the dirty martini,” Courtney was saying. “Extra dirty, with a pepper-stuffed olive. They’re hand-stuffed right here.”
She laughed at her own joke, which didn’t seem like much of a joke to Tony. But he laughed anyway, definitely not getting it.
“I’ll just have a club soda,” he said. “Kayla, you want the martini or something else?”
She was giving him a look he couldn’t quite read. “Beer would be good.” Kayla glanced down at the menu. “The one on draft sounds good.”
Courtney grinned and crossed her legs under the table. “Perfect choice,” she said. “I’m a big fan of the Threeway IPA, too.”
Kayla nodded, looking uneasy. But she rallied as the waitress took their order, then turned to Courtney with her all-business smile. “So, Tony tells me you’re a teacher,” she said. “Preschool, right?”
Courtney took a sip of her martini and rubbed her toe along the inside of Tony’s leg. What the—
“Actually, I’m a sex coach now,” she said. “Still teaching, but a little bit different classroom.”
She threw a wink, and Tony wasn’t sure whether it was directed at him or Kayla. Something was definitely off here.
“That sounds”—he searched for a non-judgy adjective—“interesting.”
“Oh, it is.” Courtney beamed. “Very enlightening. It’s made me so open to learning and experiencing new things, which is why I’m so glad you got in touch.”
He exchanged a look with Kayla, grateful for the segue even if he still didn’t know what was going on. “So, uh, I was thinking back to when we dated. Just trying to remember why we didn’t work out.”
Courtney’s smile faltered just a little. Her foot stopped stroking his calf, though she was right back at it seconds later. “Oh. Wow, what an odd question.” She frowned, thinking it through. “I mean, I guess it came down to my Puss-Puss.”
Ka
yla blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“Puss-Puss.” Courtney whipped out her phone and tapped the screen a few times to bring up an image of a cat the size of a small pickup truck. “He’s a Maine coon. Very handsome.”
She thrust the phone between them, and Tony stared at the image of a hulking gray tabby. “He’s looking…fit.” God, he’d almost forgotten about the damn cat.
Kayla was watching him oddly. “Did Puss-Puss not like Tony or something?”
“Oh, he adored him! That was the problem.” Courtney looked at Tony and shook her head a little sadly. “He kept crawling all over him, drooling and purring. And with Tony’s allergies…well, you know how it is. Do you have pets, Kyle?”
“Kayla,” she corrected. “I have a dog named Fireball.” She whipped out her own phone as the waitress set their drinks down on the table. “This is him tucked up under my pillows at the hotel this morning.”
“What a cutie.” Courtney smiled and handed the phone back. “Ah, so that’s why Tony mentioned two hotel rooms. Makes sense now.”
“Does it?” Kayla raised a brow at him, and Tony knew he was busted. How many game nights had they spent at Willa and Grady’s place with Willa’s two cats crawling all over him?
Tony cleared his throat. “People outgrow allergies sometimes.”
Kayla gave him a look, then leaned over to whisper in his ear. “Sometimes, people with commitment-phobia invent stupid excuses to exit relationships.”
He breathed in Kayla’s perfume, growing dizzy for a few beats. What were they talking about again?
“Cats,” he croaked as she drew back. “Right, so Puss-Puss is in good health. That’s great to hear!”
Courtney smiled and licked her lips. “You can see him again if we end up back at my place.”
“Huh?” He glanced at Kayla in case she understood better than he did. Had they discussed post-dinner plans?
Kayla gave a wide-eyed shrug and gripped her drink a little tighter. “How about any big fights?” she asked. “Was there anything Tony said or did or—”
“Oh, nothing dramatic like that.” Courtney eyed him carefully, assessing. “I guess it just seemed more like you were a guy playing the role of someone who has a girlfriend, without actually being a boyfriend.” She laughed. “I hope I’m not being too hard on you,” she added, putting a weird emphasis on the words hard on.
“He can handle it,” Kayla said, winking to let him know she was teasing. “His ego’s nice and big.”
Courtney grinned wider, flashing a suggestive look at his crotch. “Not the only way he’s well-endowed.”
Crap. Okay, this was veering a little off course. Tony cleared his throat. “So, generally speaking, you’d say I was just a bad boyfriend?”
“I wouldn’t say that.” Courtney shrugged and sucked an olive off the end of a swizzle stick. “You had your moments.”
Kayla leaned across the table. “So it was a commitment issue,” she tried. “Like, a fear of being involved?”
Courtney glanced from him to Kayla and back again. “Oh, so this is some kind of game you’ve got going?” She gave a sly smile and sucked the second olive off its stick. “I love games.”
Tony gave an inward grimace and looked at Kayla. She was shifting around, trying to catch his eye, her expression somewhere between alarm and confusion. And why was she gesturing down with her eyes?
Glancing under the table, he saw Courtney’s bare toes still stroking his shin, which he’d almost forgotten about. But now she was also stroking…Kayla’s?
“You’re so pretty,” Courtney was saying to her. “It’s such a relief, honestly.”
“Um, thanks?” Kayla flashed him that confused look again. “You’re pretty, too.”
Courtney laughed and leaned in close, urging them to do the same. “So, hey, I have to confess something. I kind of expected two guys. That’s what I thought you were getting at, Tony.”
He frowned, utterly baffled. “What do you mean?”
“When you explained about the ménage,” she said. “I could swear you wrote MFM in your texts, but I’m totally great with FMF, too.” Grinning, she lifted her glass in a toast to Kayla. “No one else knows what a woman really wants like another woman, am I right?”
“Um—” Kayla blinked at him, telegraphing some kind of Morse code. “What exactly did the messages say?”
Courtney grinned and pulled out her phone. “I’ve got it right here. Let’s see…you said we’d be a threesome, obviously. And suggested a little sandwich action—”
“For lunch,” Tony said, feeling frantic. “There’s that great sub shop we used to love. I thought—”
“Oh!” She held out her phone, smiling. “About the configuration you proposed—that is what you said, see?” She tapped a line with her shiny red nail, and Tony scanned the screen. “MFM, it says right here—as in Male/Female/Male.”
“My Favorite Murder,” he sputtered, realizing he’d made a horrible mistake. “It’s a podcast, not an entrée to group sex.”
Courtney frowned, drawing her phone back. She looked down at the screen. “Tony, it’s plain as day, right here at the end of your message—‘Do you think we could ménage to squeeze something in?’”
“Manage,” he offered weakly, putting his head in his hands. “You know I’m a horrible typist.”
Kayla patted his arm. “And also a little clueless.”
“Thank you.” His words were muffled in the table. How had he screwed this up so badly?
Pulling his head up, he saw Courtney frowning at him. “Wait, so what is this? Why exactly did you invite me here?”
Tony closed his eyes, wishing the ground would swallow him up. It’s not like he’d never entertained the idea of having two women at once, but this scenario was a nightmare.
He cleared his throat, wondering if there was any way to salvage this evening. “I hoped maybe you could tell me about what a fuckup I was. Am. Whatever.”
Kayla rubbed his arm some more, her expression equal parts sympathy and amusement. “Should we start at the beginning with that?”
Chapter Seven
Kayla didn’t know whether to laugh or offer sympathy on the drive back to the hotel. She settled for keeping it neutral.
“It was an honest mistake,” she assured him. “And kind of weird for her to just assume something like that.”
He shook his head, eyes on the road. “The clues were all there,” he said. “And we did once have a conversation about ultimate fantasies,” he added. “It was the second or third thing on my list.”
“A threesome?” Kayla tried to decide how she felt about that. Also, what was number one?
“It was in the same era when I thought about tattooing Smokey Bear on my groin,” he muttered. “You be the judge of what sort of headspace I was in.”
“You mean the kind of headspace that causes you to fake a cat allergy?” She rolled her eyes. “Please. Two weeks ago, you fell asleep on Willa’s couch with Earmuff on your chest and Barrow draped over your neck like a fuzzy scarf.”
He sighed and braked for a stoplight. “I sneezed a couple times, okay? Not at Willa’s, but with Puss-Puss. It could have been allergies.”
“It could have been the fact that you come back from every single fire sneezing ash.” She resisted the urge to roll her eyes again. “It’s fine. As far as exit strategies go, it wasn’t a bad one.”
He gave a low growl but didn’t defend himself. Or wait—was that his stomach?
“You must be hungry?”
Tony shrugged. “Kinda. It felt too weird sticking around and ordering pizza after that conversation.”
“I’m a little hungry myself.” She glanced into the backseat, where Fireball sat wagging in his crate. “How about you, baby boy? You ready for dinner?”
They’d brought him along, since the evening w
as cool and he’d turned out to be a big fan of car rides. He seemed happy in his crate, but they were definitely due for a walk and a meal. She stretched back and slipped a finger through his crate door, earning a big, slobbery lick.
Tony smiled in the rearview mirror. “Want to go grab pizza somewhere else?”
She turned back around and made an exaggerated kissy face. “What, I’m not good enough for sandwiching?”
He groaned, though his eyes lit up. “Hey, that’s actually a great idea.”
“Uh—I’m not even sure I know what sandwiching means.” She could take a guess, and the thought made her blush.
Tony laughed as he changed lanes to get around a slow-moving horse trailer. “Not that. Sub sandwiches. What do you say we grab a couple and take them back to the hotel?”
“The hotel?” She tried to keep her voice neutral, not sure it was a good idea for them to be alone in a room together. “Do they not have dine-in or something?”
“Yeah, but I thought we could watch a movie together.” His grin turned sheepish. “I kinda liked Crazy, Stupid, Love. Thought maybe you could recommend something else.”
She blinked at him. “You watched Crazy, Stupid, Love? When?”
It was his turn to look uncomfortable, though he wasn’t blushing. Tony never blushed. “The other night. Back in Idaho? You mentioned loving it, and I realized I’d never seen it, so…” He trailed off, shrugging. “It was really good.”
“Yeah?” She couldn’t believe it. The Tony she’d dated wouldn’t be caught dead watching a sappy rom-com alone in his room. “So this is Tony 2.0?”
“What?” He glanced away from the road, frowning.
“Never mind. Just a dumb joke.” Kayla let her hair fall forward over her face, masking her flushed cheeks. “I can think of a few movies. Your room or mine?”
“Yours,” he decided. “It smells better. Like flowery girl stuff instead of sweaty socks and old smokejumper gear.”
She laughed, tucking her hair behind an ear. “Your room doesn’t smell like any of those things, but that’s fine.” And convenient, since Tony would find it easier to flee if things got uncomfortable. “Where is this sub shop, anyway?”