by Leah Braemel
“Don’t. You don’t have to apologize.” Before she could remove the towel, he caught her hand, lifting it to his mouth and kissed it. “It was beautiful to watch.”
“Don’t you need—”
“No, Nik. Sssh. I’m fine.” He stroked her face, caressing the tender skin just above her eyes until they fluttered closed. “Go to sleep, baby. I’ll be right here.”
He reached down and snagged the sheet. Brett grabbed the other side, his look cautious as together they draped it over Nikki. That his friend still didn’t trust him not to betray his word cut as deep as any knife. “You should get some sleep too, buddy.”
After a short hesitation, Brett nodded, then he stretched out beside Nikki.
Once Dillon turned off the remaining light, he lay back on the pillows, aware Brett was staring at the ceiling the same as he, both listening to Nikki’s soft breathing. If only there was some way the three of them could stay like this forever. Because if there wasn’t, he had to make sure Nikki chose Brett. There was no way he could in good conscience come between two people who shared such love, such devotion. But the thought of making good on his promise, of standing as Brett’s best man, was going to hurt more than having his balls ripped out through his throat.
Chapter Twelve
Nikki awoke to a hand stroking the arm she’d thrown over Dillon’s warm hard body. Giving a groan of contentment, she snuggled closer and buried her face in his chest. “I could stay here all day.”
“As much as I’d love that, we’re gonna have to get up soon or we’re gonna be late.”
“Late? For what?” She cracked open one eye and found Dillon watching her. Though his lips were quirked up in a smile, there was a strange expression in his eyes as they looked past her. Her eyes opened wide, finally realizing there was another warm hard body—with an impressive erection—cuddling her back.
“It’s Sunday, remember?” Brett murmured against her shoulder.
“Which means we have dinner at my parents’ place.” Dillon brushed a kiss over her hair and patted her hip. “Hit the shower, sweet cheeks. I promised Mom we’d be there in a half hour.”
“A half hour? I can’t get ready in a half hour.” She dashed to the bathroom and screeched when she got a look at her hair. “Oh my God, I can’t go to your mother looking like this.”
“What’s the matter? You look fine.”
She tugged at the tangles and the bump of hair on one side. “Fine? This is not fine, Dillon.”
“It’s only a family dinner. You’ve been there a half-dozen times now. Well, maybe four because we missed last week.”
She turned on the shower and stepped into it, ducking her head under the water. “Exactly. It’s your family dinner.” Shampoo. Where the hell was her shampoo? “That means your mom. And dad.”
There it was. Water running into her eyes, she grabbed the bottle and squirted it on her hand, then slapped it onto her head. “Your brothers. Your sister.”
She scrubbed, trying to work up a lather. “It’s your whole freaking family.”
Not to mention that I’ve just slept not only with you but your foster brother too! Yet he expected her to waltz in between the two of them as if nothing had happened?
Why wasn’t the damned stuff lathering? She stared at the bottle. Shit! It was the conditioner!
Brett rolled from the bed and joined them in the bathroom. He shot Dillon a glance Though he was wearing his cop face, which meant she couldn’t tell if he was amused or concerned. “I think Nik’s concerned about facing them after what we did last night, Dill.”
“Uh, gee, d’you think?” She ducked her head under the spray again and washed as much of the conditioner out as she could, then squirted the shampoo directly onto her hair.
Dillon frowned as he peered over Brett’s shoulder. “They won’t know. I’m not about to tell them. Brett won’t either.”
God, sometimes guys could be so clueless. It didn’t matter who else knew. She knew. How the hell was she going to look at Mrs. Barnett in the eye again?
She slammed the shampoo bottle onto the shelf but only got half of it on the ledge and it fell off onto her toe. Her shriek echoed off the bathroom tile. “Goddamn it!”
“Go call your mom, Dill. Tell her we’ll be late and to hold dinner until we get there.” Before Dillon could argue, Brett shut the bathroom door and locked it, leaving Dillon on the other side. He stepped into the shower and wrapped his arms about her. “Breathe.”
She tried to push him away, frustrated that she was losing control while he was so calm. “But—”
“Ssshh. Just relax. Take a deep breath.” Once she had, he told her to take another, and another, rocking her until she was limp against him. “Don’t worry about the Barnetts. They won’t judge you.”
“But—”
“No. No buts.” He tightened his arms around her and tucked her soapy hair under his chin. “They are the nicest people I’ve ever met. Dillon’s right. They don’t know you slept with both of us, and we’re not about to say anything. But even if they did know, they’ll be nothing but polite to you.”
“Until I leave.”
“No, even then they won’t say a word against you.” His hand rubbed up and down her spine. How did he know how to say just the right thing? “They’re good people, Nik. You can trust them to treat you right.”
“That’s why you’re so afraid of losing them, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
She pulled away and looked up at him. “I’m glad they took you away from your father so you could live with them.”
“So am I.” He tucked her back against him. “So am I.”
On the way to the Barnetts’ house, Nikki sat between them. The fifth time she reached for the radio, Dillon grabbed her hand and held it flat against his thigh. “Stop worrying.”
“I was just going to turn it up.”
“You turned it down less than thirty seconds ago. You’ve been playing with it all the way here.” He shared a glance with Brett. “Do you want me to turn around? Call Mom and tell her we’re not coming?”
“Would you?”
“I could.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “Why did you say it like that?”
“Like what?”
“The way you dragged it out like that. What are you implying, Dillon?”
“We cancelled out last week, and I missed that week you first moved in too, remember? Mom said if I cancelled out this week, she’d round everyone up and bring them all over to my place.”
“She would, too,” Brett agreed.
“Then she’d make us do the dishes afterward.” Dillon frowned and turned onto the county road leading to his parents’ place. “There are a lot of dishes to do on Sundays. Like quadruple the amount we normally have.”
“Dillon, doing dishes is not a chore when you’ve got a dishwasher.” They both looked outraged at her statement. It wasn’t until she settled back, thinking she’d won her argument, that she realized Dillon was pulling into his parents’ driveway. Shoot. They’d tagteamed her into not watching where they were. Now it was too late to back out.
Dillon parked his truck beside a beat-up old Chevy. “Hey, Griff’s home.”
He hopped out of the truck and swung Nikki down. She noticed that Brett kept a decent distance away from them. While she knew it was necessary to maintain the illusion, she wanted to hold his hand.
She was chewing on her thumbnail when the front door swung open. Mrs. Barnett swooped onto the porch with a smug look on her face. She hugged Dillon first, then Brett, and turned to Nikki. “I’m so glad y’all could come today. With Griff working all over the state these days and Ethan at college, it’s the first time the whole family’s been together in ages.”
She led them into the house, talking over her shoulder as she went. “When Dillon phoned, I thought he was going to try to cancel again. But I told him that if he did, I’d just pack everything up and bring everyone over to his place.”
; As they passed the living room with its faded couch and upright piano, Brett leaned over and whispered, “You didn’t believe us, did you?”
She shook her head as they entered the dining room. While she already knew Dillon’s family, her nerves jumped to see Dillon’s brothers, Griffin and Matt, grinning a smile identical to Dillon’s as if they knew full well what had happened the night before. Middle brother Ethan and Dillon’s sister Lilly sat on the opposite side of the table. While they were nodding and smiling, they didn’t make her stomach flip-flop. She took a deep breath and took her seat, telling herself she could get through this meal.
At least until she glanced to the head of the table where Dillon’s father sat, a frown on his face, his dark eyes, normally sparkling like Dillon’s, solemn and penetrating. She wiped her hands on her skirt. Did he suspect what had happened?
From the chair to his left, another pair of sharp chocolate eyes scanned her.
Mrs. Barnett placed her hands on the shoulders of Dillon’s grandmother. “Nicole, you remember Jackson’s mother, Ruth, don’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am. How are you, Mrs. Barnett?”
Gramma Barnett flicked her gaze from Nikki to Dillon for a moment then turned to Brett and pursed her lips. From the few times she’d met Dillon’s grandmother before, she got the feeling that little escaped the woman’s attention. With a curt nod of her head, Gramma tapped on the table. “Glad to see you made it this week. Now where’s dinner? I’m hungry.”
Feeling as if she’d just been judged, and passed inspection, Nikki exhaled a slow breath.
As plates were passed around the table, and the family settled into a half-dozen different topics in which everyone voiced an opinion, Nikki gradually relaxed. She’d half expected that Dillon might try something inappropriate considering he was sitting right beside her, but he kept his hands to himself the entire time.
The main course finished, they’d moved on to Mrs. Barnett’s famous apple crumble pie when the discussion drifted to the headlines. Dillon reached over and grabbed the last slice, bobbling his plate when his grandmother changed the direction of the conversation.
“Did you see that story on the news the other night about a woman over in Cleburne who was arrested for marrying two men without them knowin’ about the other?”
Trying not to draw too much attention to herself, Nikki leaned close to Dillon and whispered, “Please tell me you didn’t say anything to her about me dating both of you.”
“I swear I never said a word,” he whispered back.
Gramma Barnett frowned at them and pointedly raised her voice. “Apparently, she travelled a lot for her job, and neither suspected the other existed. From what I saw of the report, she’d been married twenty years to one, then married another half her age over in Austin a couple years back. Both men said they were both as happy as a pig in shit.” An earthy chuckle erupted, starting deep in her belly. “At least until they found out the other existed.”
Nikki chanced a glance sideways at Brett and met his puzzled gaze. He lifted one shoulder a half inch and shook his head. Was it merely a coincidence that Gramma Barnett had mentioned the subject? Or had she picked up on something they’d done—some way they’d looked at each other?
Faith joined her mother-in-law’s laughter. “As long as she didn’t have to do their laundry, good for her.”
Mr. Barnett wasn’t as forgiving. “Mother, Faith! What type of example does that set for Lilly?”
The conversation hitting a little too close to home, Nikki sipped her iced tea in hopes it might cool the blush creeping into her cheeks.
Gramma Barnett stabbed the last bit of pastry on her plate and waved it toward Nikki. “Nothin’ wrong with a woman living with two men, Junior, s’long as everyone’s amenable to the arrangement. Look at this little filly and how she’s keeping your boys so happy.”
A chorus of “Gramma!”s echoed around the table while Nikki choked on her drink.
“What? It’s an honest opinion.” Gramma Barnett thumped on the table. “What woman wouldn’t be tempted by two fellas as good lookin’ as my boys? If she’s not, there’s somethin’ wrong with her.”
Dillon’s father fixed his mother with a glare. “I hardly think this is the appropriate venue for this discussion, Momma.”
“Bah.” She leaned toward Nikki as if she was going to whisper a secret, but didn’t lower her voice. “My grandparents had a permanent threesome all their adult lives. Betcha Dillon never told you that before.”
“No way! Really?” Lilly piped up, though instead of shock, her eyes were wide with interest.
“I could hardly tell her something I didn’t know myself, Gram.” Despite his tan, Dillon’s cheeks bore an unmistakeable hint of a blush.
“Yup.” She dabbed her mouth as delicately as if she were presiding over a state dinner, then realizing she had the attention of the whole table, placed the napkin on her lap. “And I’ll tell you something else—they weren’t the only ones in the county with more than two to their bed.”
She glared around the table as if warning anyone who dared challenge her. “Times were hard back then, and there weren’t as many women around as there are now. According to my daddy, his daddies decided instead of fighting for the hand of the woman they loved, they’d all live together. Musta worked out because they’re even buried side by side by side out in the churchyard.” She pointed at Nikki then waved her bony finger between Brett and Dillon. “You should do the same thing. You’d be a fool to pass up the opportunity to bed down with such fine-looking specimens. And it’ll keep these boys on their toes—make ’em keep you happy both in the bedroom and outta it, in case you decide to kick one o’ ’em out. The good Lord knows young Dillon here needs something to keep him out of his mischief.”
All the eyes that had been staring at Mrs. Barnett trained on Nikki, waiting to see her response. Feeling like a bug under the microscope, Nikki looked to Dillon for help. That was a futile hope, as he was dissecting the remains of his apple crumble. For his part, Brett stared at his plate, his brows drawn together. No help there either. The pie that had been so delicious moments before now lay as heavy as a rock in her stomach. “Um, th-thank you for the advice, Mrs. Barnett. I’ll certainly keep it in mind.”
“You do that.” Mrs. Barnett put down her fork and pushed her plate to the center of the table. “Close your mouth, dear. You’ll attract flies.” She stood with a groan then shuffled to the door. Halfway down the hall, she called, “Jackson, get off that keister of yours and drive me home. Or are you gonna make your poor old momma walk all the way?”
Mr. Barnett’s chair scraped across the floor as he pushed it back. “Coming, Momma.”
No one else moved or said a word until they heard the front door close. Then everyone erupted in laughter at exactly the same moment.
“Oh, my lord, that woman.” Mrs. Barnett placed a hand on either side of her face in mock dismay.
“Well, I think she’s great,” Lilly declared. “I hope I’m as sharp as her when I’m that old.”
“Lord help us,” Dillon muttered.
“Boys, you’re doing the dishes today.” A chorus of masculine groans greeted Mrs. Barnett’s directive, but every one of the men stood up and started gathering dishes.
Facing Nikki, Faith gestured to the other room. “Why don’t you come into the front room with me, hon? Lilly, I believe you had homework this afternoon? Don’t you have that book report?”
“Which means she wants me to get lost while she grills you, Nik,” Lilly said in a stage whisper. But she left the room.
Feeling rather like a horse smelling the nearby glue factory, Nikki followed Mrs. Barnett to the living room.
“Normally I’d ask you to forgive Lilly, but I’m afraid she’s right today. I have been dying to talk to you.” Faith sank onto the couch and patted the back of it in invitation. “I’ve been wondering if Brett’s gotten any leads on your brother’s whereabouts?”
“Oh.” The dread
that had been attached to Nikki’s heels like a deadweight dropped away. She sank onto the couch in relief. “Last I heard, the police found Phil’s car. He’d sold it to someone in Temple.” And she’d overheard Brett telling Dillon that the money Phil had transferred from her accounts to his had run out. “Brett doesn’t think they’ll ever be able to get any of my things back.”
“I’m sorry to say that if Brett says they won’t, they probably won’t.” Faith smoothed her skirt and frowned. “I was so worried about him when he said he was going to join the police force. This isn’t Dallas or some of those other nasty places, but still, folks around here can get into trouble. Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud as punch of him. But I worry about him as if he were my own flesh-and-blood.”
“I can tell. And he loves you like you were his mother.”
Mrs. Barnett’s cheeks turned red, but Nikki could tell she was pleased to hear it. “You didn’t know Brett when he was a boy, did you?”
“No, I was a sophomore when my family moved here.”
Faith grabbed a photo album from a shelf filled with albums and flipped open a page, as if she knew exactly what picture she wanted. “This is what he looked like shortly after they moved here.”
Nikki ran her finger over the picture of a solemn-faced, twig-thin Brett staring at the camera, a taller and sturdier Dillon grinning broadly, his arm slung around Brett’s shoulders. “He’s so skinny.”
“I don’t think his father worried overmuch about feeding anyone but himself. Do you know when Children’s Services came in to inspect the place, he had over two dozen empty cases of beer in the kitchen? They found dozens more piled up on the back porch. The man must have drunk beer like it was soda pop.”
Faith reached over and flipped the page. “This is a year later, once he’d come to live with us. As you can see, he’s got a bit more flesh on his bones.”
He’d also grown taller and was now the same height as Dillon. What she noticed most was the smile on his face. Not as confident as Dillon’s, but a definite improvement over the previous picture. The haunted look in his eyes had disappeared, the stern lips were now pulled into a mischievous grin. He was happy. Because of the Barnetts.