Love Under Two Introverts [The Lusty, Texas Collection] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Cara Covington

  “That’s good to know. We all had a few sessions with a psychologist before we moved here. Grandmother also set us up with a doctor in Waco, and we saw her a few times, as well. But it’s good to hear from someone else—someone who sees another side of Bonnie, one that she might not show to me.”

  The look in Tasha’s eyes told him she understood completely. He showed a different side of himself to his friends than his children necessarily saw. Why wouldn’t they do the same?

  “Bumps in the road,” she said. “I was thinking as we were walking, that Bonnie sneaking out and then coming to the spa—that’s just a little bump in the road.”

  “We’ve had our share,” Clay said. “But it has been better since we moved here. There aren’t as many memories in the everyday routine for them here as there were back home. Grandmother was right. Having family—even family that I’m not as familiar with—makes a big difference.”

  “I’ve traveled some in my life, and I’ve never found a place quite like this one. Lusty seems to welcome everyone who needs her.”

  Clay tilted his head to the side, considering her. Did he dare ask her? He and Gord had discussed it, more than once. What the hell. I may not get a better chance. “The paramedics are marrying your coworker this Saturday. I was wondering…would you sit with us? The kids are coming for a while, and then I have a sitter lined up. Melissa Parker is a senior at the high school and a second cousin to Gord. The kids really like her.” Idiot! Get to the point. “We’d like it if you sat with us during the dinner—and then stayed with us—Gord and I—after the kids leave. That is, if you don’t already have a date—or a couple of dates—lined up for the evening.”

  For a long moment, he thought she was going to say no. Finally she sighed. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

  Clay wondered if the relief he felt showed on his face. He reached with both hands for his cool, calm, and collected demeanor. “That’s great. More tea?”

  Chapter 2

  What was I thinking?

  Since Tasha had arrived at the community center, Bonnie Dorchester hadn’t let loose of her hand. The middle Dorchester child, Mark, had been almost as happy as his sister to see her.

  Shaun, not unexpected, had the role of bored, cynical teenager down pat—fast work since he’d only been thirteen for a few months. Of course, beneath his bravado she saw remnants of his grief from losing his mother, and his anger with having been moved away from that which was familiar.

  I can’t say I disagree with Clay’s having done that. Sometimes the only way to keep a young one safe from temptation was to remove them from it altogether.

  Tasha was crazy about all three children. She was pretty much gone on their father, too—as well as his cousin and best friend, Gord Jessop.

  Being crazy about all these people didn’t change anything, however. If she were smart, she would just steer clear of anything even remotely resembling romance.

  Until today, she’d done just that. Whenever she’d been almost certain that the men were about to ask her out, she’d either changed the subject, or suddenly recalled a previous commitment. She’d been pretty proud of the way she’d avoided being alone with them, and thwarted their asking her the question. Avoiding that situation had been paramount, the need increasing with the attraction she felt for both men. But only because I knew that I wouldn’t have been able to say no to them. True, just too true. She knew herself very well.

  So, kudos to her for avoiding being asked on a date—until last Wednesday. Clay had asked and she’d accepted over his cozy kitchen table and exceptional sweet tea before she’d even realized what was happening.

  It didn’t bother her one bit that her first date with Clay and Gord included the children. What bothered her were the looks they were garnering from Benedicts, Kendalls, and Jessops alike. The other attendees at this celebration weren’t looking at the six of them as if they were a nice triad, having a bit of a romance with the children in attendance.

  No, the good people of Lusty were looking at them as if they were already a family.

  Dangerous, dangerous ground you’re treading on, Natasha.

  “I think Carol looks as pretty as a princess!” Bonnie said.

  “She does indeed, Miss Bonnie.” Gord nodded to the little girl. “I think that every bride is as pretty as a princess on her wedding day—and to her husbands, on every day after that.”

  They’d congratulated the happy triad, and Bonnie certainly had the right of it. The new Mrs. Jessop did indeed look stunning. She wore her soft blonde hair up in an elegant chignon, the sophisticated style a definite change for Carol. Yet the up-do complemented her gorgeous white gown perfectly.

  The beautiful lace tulle and satin dress hugged her hips and flared out in a swirling fan at her knees. The V-neck of the dress, scalloped and flattering, made the gown look romantic and, yes, very princess-like.

  But it was the love shining in Carol’s eyes, love wrapped in supreme joy, that tugged at Tasha’s heart the most.

  What would it be like to be that happy? A rare longing, a golden thread of hope, wove in and around her heart. She’d closed away the dream of marriage, of a happy ever after for herself several years before when the man she’d been engaged to, and had been head-over-heels in love with, had dropped her, not for another woman, but because of what she could not give him.

  I don’t even have a womb in which to nurture life.

  She’d put those dreams in a box, and locked it tight. Buried it—forever, she’d believed—and had convinced herself she’d been pleased to do so.

  She’d been content with that decision until she moved to this wonderful little town with the very risqué name.

  Pressure on her left hand pulled her out of her introspection. Turning, her gaze connected with the serious and somber look emanating from the deep-set gray-green eyes of Gord Jessop.

  “Stay with us, Tasha, both literally and figuratively. This is a time for celebration, not sadness.”

  She’d suspected he could read her, seemed sensitive to the emotions and currents she thought hidden. Now here was the proof of it. She really couldn’t mind overmuch that he got her.

  There was something very appealing in knowing there was one person she couldn’t fool. So she smiled, both in response to his caring, and because she knew, in that way that she had, a similar sadness ran through this man.

  Like recognized like.

  “All right. I will.”

  Clay turned, and looked down at their joined hands—hers and Gord’s—and smiled. “Follow me. I have my eye on a table not too far from the buffet.”

  Predictably, Shaun perked up as they neared the food. He had an adolescent boy’s never-ending appetite, and a true love of eating.

  Gord seated her—a very courtly gesture—and then looked at the kids. “Come on, young’uns. Let’s load up.”

  She didn’t have to wonder if his move was meant to give her and Clay a moment alone. His grin and then wink were proof enough.

  “Thank you for saying yes. I have to ask. All the other times, was your evasion because you’re not interested in us? Either of us or both of us?”

  So he, too, had been aware of her calculated resistance. And here I thought I’d been so clever.

  Only honesty would do. “No. It’s because I haven’t dated in a long time—had, in fact, told myself I would never date again. But this place…” She looked around and shook her head. “Not just the Commitment Ceremonies, but this town. It has a way of slipping in under your defenses and…” She let the sentence fall because she didn’t know how to finish it.

  “Healing you? Accepting you, warts and all?” He leaned forward, and held out his hand.

  Unable to resist what she truly wanted, Tasha laid her hand in his. His grip gentle, almost hesitant, he rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand and a shiver of awareness skittered through her.

  “Yes. Exactly that, only I won’t likely ever be fully healed.”

  “M
e, neither. So who says we have to be perfect?” Clay met and held her gaze. “Or perfectly fine, for that matter? People are imperfect, and if they live life, they can’t necessarily get through it unscathed. It’s nice to know I’m not the only one who has unresolved issues.”

  This was what had drawn her to this man—he and his cousin shared one quite remarkable trait. They were both very human, and quite honest about it. There were no prevarications, no glitz or glamour used as a façade to cover imperfections.

  Theirs were right there for all to see. Who could resist two such good-looking, kind-hearted, and very transparent men such as these?

  As she sat there on that Saturday evening, with the emotional overflow of a happy wedding in the air, Natasha Garwood knew one thing without question.

  She couldn’t.

  * * * *

  Look at her. She just sparkles.

  Gord Jessop wasn’t a particularly religious man, though he did consider himself to be a spiritual one. But for just a moment, as the overhead lights shone down upon her, he could have sworn Tasha Garwood was an angel, come from heaven to bless them all.

  Just one touch of her hand and he’d known. Everything he’d imagined, everything he’d hoped when he and Clay had first set their sights on her, really could be.

  Gord didn’t know how he’d found the nerve to take her hand in his. I didn’t think about it. I just did it. No, he hadn’t been thinking about it. The sadness that had bracketed her sweet mouth and dimmed the light in her beautiful green eyes had hurt him. He’d reached for her hand instinctively, needed to offer whatever comfort he could.

  Huh. Maybe I ought to listen to my instincts more often.

  “Uncle Gord, what’s that?”

  Gord’s attention was drawn by Shaun’s question. The teen was pointing at one of the hot dishes on the well-stocked buffet. Beside the deep, heated pot stood a covered plate of cornbread.

  “That’s pinto beans and cornbread—a dish many consider basic Texas comfort food.”

  “I thought that was meatloaf and gravy,” Shaun said.

  Gord considered for just a moment. “I reckon anything that you eat that makes you feel comfy, as if you were wrapped up in a warm blanket on a cold day, qualifies as comfort food.”

  “Do you like them, Uncle Gord?” Bonnie asked.

  “I do, indeed. I recognize this dish as one of Carrie Benedict’s specialties, and I have to tell you I’ve had it a time or two and it’s really good. If you want to try some beans, then you need to grab yourself one of those pieces of corn bread to go with them. Miss Carrie tends to make the thin and crunchy and unsweetened kind of cornbread. Nothing goes with beans the way cornbread does—unsweetened or otherwise.”

  “Do pinto beans make you toot?” Mark asked.

  “Well now,” Gord looked around as if he were about to impart a secret. Then he bent closer to the boy and spoke just loud enough that he and his siblings could hear. “My momma used to always cook the beans with a stick in the pot…she claimed that doing that allowed all the toots to jump right out of those beans. But Miss Carrie, she’s young and she might not know the secret to cooking crowd-friendly beans.”

  Gord saw the smile spread across Mark’s face. He might be over forty, but he sure as hell remembered what it was like to be an eleven-year-old boy.

  “So, I guess if those beans make me toot, it’ll be on account of Miss Carrie didn’t use a stick in the pot.”

  Gord laughed. Each of these kids was special in his or her own way. Mark was a pistol, no question about it—and smart as a whip. “There ya go.”

  Even though he’d never much been around children, Gord found it wasn’t all that difficult, spending time with the Dorchesters. There had been a few times when he truly wished they embraced and loved the concept of “quiet.” But for the most part, these kids were good kids. No question they were all still hurting from the loss of their momma. He was quite aware that the first anniversary of Vicky’s passing was coming up in just over a month. I’ll have to talk to Clay and Tasha, see if they have any advice for me. Sometimes the kids asked him things or confided in him, where they didn’t their dad. That was fair enough, too. He’d grown up in Lusty, after all. Not all his learning had come from his own parents.

  He let his gaze slide over to their table once more. Clay was holding Tasha’s hand, and the sight of it actually made Gord’s heart happy.

  He never doubted for a moment that Tasha would know how to help grieving kids—or a man who might be afraid to reach for that gold ring one more time. Gord got that sense from her, as if she knew things others didn’t, and saw things others couldn’t.

  No, it’s not just because she looks like an exotic Gypsy. Though he was honest enough with himself to admit her appearance was a part of it. He’d overheard her telling Ari one time that she’d worked at a few carnivals in her younger days, in the fortune-teller’s tent. He could totally see her that way, with a colorful scarf over her hair, fingernail extensions, and extra heavy eye makeup. Add to it a blouse pulled extra low on her beautiful, naked shoulders…

  Gord swallowed hard and reminded himself he was amongst small children—small children who noticed everything.

  A part of him wanted to fist pump the air. He’d never had to curb his thoughts away from the carnal before.

  Gord looked down at his young charges and their very well-loaded plates. “Is that good for round one, do you think?”

  “I’m good. It’s cool we can come back for more,” Shaun said. “The food at these things doesn’t suck.”

  High praise indeed from Mr. Cool Teen Dude.

  Even if the other two didn’t immediately agree they had enough for their first trip to the buffet, he didn’t think either of them could get another morsel onto their plates. “All right, then, people, let’s head to our table and dig in.”

  Gord had only put a little food on his own plate. He was trying to eat healthier, especially these last few weeks. He wasn’t overweight, exactly. He worked out regularly in his home gym. He knew, without his shirt and correcting the almost habitual way he carried himself—slightly stooped—that he looked…well, almost buff. But he also knew that packing on the pounds at his age came very easily.

  As if remembering the admonitions of his massage therapist, Sandra O’Brien, Gord straightened his stance. Hell of a thing to have to think about all the time. But he couldn’t deny he felt better than he had in years since taking regular massage sessions and correcting his posture.

  “My goodness, look at all that yummy food. Oh, and there’re beans!”

  He trailed the kids and made it to the table in time to hear Tasha’s comment.

  “Uncle Gord said they were comfortable food,” Bonnie said.

  “Yes, they are that exactly. My auntie May used to make the best beans. She said her secret ingredient was the kind of stick she put in the pot.” And then she looked up at Gord and smiled.

  How could a man not love a woman who smiled at him like that?

  “Uncle Gord said he didn’t think Carrie knew about the stick,” Mark said in a near whisper.

  Tasha’s eyes lit with laughter. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see, won’t we?”

  Gord set his plate down and surprised her, he knew, when he and Clay both held her chair for her as she stood.

  She cast a glance down at his plate. “You didn’t get much.”

  “It’s not food I hunger for.”

  Her eyes widened in shock and for one instant he wanted to kick himself. What made him think he could act the suave and debonair suitor? He was a shy and somewhat awkward introvert, and had been all his life.

  Then Tasha’s gaze turned heated, and her sweet delicate tongue slipped out and caressed her lips. She stepped a bit closer and he thought the blush that kissed her cheeks looked very becoming against her creamy complexion. Quietly, she said, “I seem to be hungering for the same thing. But you’re right, the food will have to be enough for now.”

  Gord’s
heart gave a kick, and his gaze automatically sought Clay’s. This was something they’d discussed, but Gord had wondered how the reality of it—the real near possibility of them having Tasha between them, would affect the man.

  He hadn’t, after all, grown up in Lusty, where this kind of a relationship was as common as bluebonnets.

  Clay’s expression held hope and excitement, with a dose of nerves tossed in for good measure.

  But he didn’t see jealousy, not one speck of it.

  “Yes,” Gord said. Discreetly, he ran his hand down her back, a gentle caress. “The food will have to be enough for now.”

  Chapter 3

  Tasha couldn’t remember a time when she’d enjoyed herself more. The children were delightful. Benny Kendall came over and grabbed Bonnie and Mark, and the three of them headed off to a play area set up in one corner of the community center. Shaun also found a couple of friends from school who insisted that he come with them—and she noted the pleasure on Clay’s face that he did, indeed, have friends.

  “To hear him talk, he is an island, a man alone, unto himself.”

  Tasha shrugged. “It’s hard to keep up the appearance of being mad about being relocated when word gets out you actually have friends. He just needs a bit more time.”

  The celebrants stopped by, of course, as they made the rounds, chatting with everyone who’d come to share their day.

  “Have they told you where they’re taking you for your honeymoon, yet?” Tasha asked Carol. The paramedics were chatting with Clay and Gord, giving their wife time with her friend. Tasha had noticed that the men of Lusty were particular in seeing to it that the woman in their lives had not only what she needed, but most of what she wanted, too.

  Carol leaned closer. “They just told me a few minutes ago. Some place called Mustique Island.”

  Tasha recognized the name. In the West Indies, and part of the Grenadines, Mustique was a privately owned island famous for its minimal yet posh—and very expensive—accommodations.