Two Doms for Vicki [Pleasure, Montana 9] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Melody Snow Monroe

  He’d read about some of the arguments in Chelsea’s letters. “Won’t it?”

  “Not if we pledge to hire them. It’ll require some retraining, but not much.”

  “I see.”

  Bob wrapped an arm around Sanford’s shoulder and led him to the bar. Luke, one of Chelsea’s husbands, came up to serve them.

  Luke tossed the towel he was using to wipe the bar over his shoulder. “What can I get you?”

  “I’ll have a scotch,” Bob said.

  “Nothing for me.” In case Vicki showed up, he wanted to be sober.

  Bob faced him. “I’ve looked into your service record. It’s very impressive. Your commanding officer had a lot of good things to say about you. Will you at least consider running?”

  Sanford wasn’t sure he liked being investigated, but at least the report had come back positive. “I’ll certainly give it some thought.” That was quite non-committal, but hey, he did need time to think through something like this, though now that Bob spoke about bringing progress to Pleasure, the idea intrigued him.

  The man threw out a few more arguments why his running for the position was a good thing, then handed him his business card and smiled. “I’ll let you socialize. It’s never too soon to start campaigning. If you need funds, I have a lot of people who’d like to support you.”

  “Thanks.”

  Bob tossed back his drink and set the glass on the bar. “I’ll be in touch.”

  As soon as Sayles disappeared into the crowd, Clint came up behind him. “What was that about?”

  He shrugged. “He wants me to run for mayor because he thinks I might be in favor of more competition in Pleasure.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I’m definitely for more competition, but I’m not sure if I want to run. I have to give it some thought.”

  “Vicki would be impressed if you were mayor. She’s a physical therapist. She doesn’t want a deadbeat for a husband. Being mayor would show her you’re ambitious. Mayor today, senator tomorrow.” Clint pumped his fist in the air.

  Clint was jumping to some wild conclusions. “I’ll admit I’m tempted. You know that I like being in charge, but I’m also the type of leader to put the interests of the people of Pleasure first.”

  Clint laughed. “Now that sounds like the perfect campaign slogan.”

  His brother was right. “If I do run, I’d be doing it for me, but if that kind of job impresses Vicki, then it’s a win-win.” He motioned with his hand around the crowd. “Maybe you haven’t noticed, but Vicki’s not here. I don’t think she wants to be impressed by us. She’s so pissed at us right now that even if I announced I was running for president of the United States, she wouldn’t meet us.”

  Clint blew out a long breath. “You may be right.” His brother’s gaze latched onto the floor and his jaw worked. Something was swirling in his head. He snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s possible she thinks we’ll desert her again.”

  He didn’t like his brother’s wording. “We didn’t desert her in the first place. We were serving our time when we became injured. Our temporary six-week stop back in Pleasure was merely to heal. We never said we planned to leave the military. She made that up in her head.”

  Clint shook his head. “Bottom line is that she was hurt, and we need to make it up to her.”

  He couldn’t agree more, but he had no idea how to accomplish that. “If we ask her out, she’ll turn us down. Right now, she doesn’t want to be in a crowded room with us.”

  “She probably thinks we’ll jump her bones and then ignore her for two more years.”

  “I agree.”

  “That’s why we need to tell her how we really feel, that we love her.”

  They’d refrained from saying so back then. It was a choice they’d made believing it would be harder on her if the L word was bandied about. Love meant promises, promises they weren’t ready or able to keep. Now they were.

  Sanford polished off his beer. “She won’t believe us. Men who are in love would write and tell you how much they miss you.” He leaned closer. “It was for her that we kept our distance.”

  “I know, but she doesn’t. That’s why my plan might work.”

  Clint was the idea man, but sometimes his brother didn’t always consider the consequences. “What might work?”

  “How about if you run for mayor and ask her to be your campaign manager? That will guarantee she’ll be by your side for the next six to eight weeks.”

  Setting practicality aside, he let the images of late nights pouring over voter surveys and lots of accidental touching enter his war-weary brain. If he won the election, she’d surely have to celebrate with him in style. “It’s a great idea, but she’s not going to agree to be around me every day.”

  “Only one way to find out.”

  Ask her. “And if she says no?” He wasn’t sure he was ready for the blatant rejection. He’d tried for two years to get her out of his system and failed.

  Clint smiled and tapped his forehead. “Leave everything to me, little brother.”

  Chapter Two

  “Dumb, dumb, dumb.” Vicki paced her small living room. She lifted her arms and sniffed. Good. Her deodorant was working.

  Why had she even agreed to meet with them? She’d been so strong yesterday not going to the party. She’d wanted to. Oh, yes she did. At first she thought she could just drop in to make sure they were doing okay physically, but then she stopped lying to herself. If she got near them, she’d want to really get near them, and her heart hadn’t healed from the last time they walked away.

  Her doorbell rang, and she jumped. Stay calm. These are your former patients come to say hello, nothing more. Liar.

  Squaring her shoulders, she rushed to the door, stopped, inhaled, and tugged on the knob to open the door. Her heart pounded so hard, she was unable to say anything.

  “Hi, angel.” When Sanford had been delirious from fever and finally roused from his fog, she’d been standing over him. He’d said she was his angel, and the name stuck.

  “Hi.” She was proud she managed to respond.

  Clint stood next to him. Both looked so good her tongue refused to say more.

  Sanford seemed taller now, probably because he wasn’t hunched over his crutches. His hair appeared shorter, but his eyes were still the wonderfully warm brown she loved. They always reminded her of a lazy fall day, bright and rich.

  Clint was the same height as his brother, but his shoulders were slightly broader and his hair lighter, almost as if it had been sun-bleached. She couldn’t decide if it was the way his blue eyes always sparkled or the quickness with which he smiled that made her heart flip fast.

  “May we come in?” Clint asked.

  Yeesh. She’d been frozen in her distant memory. “Sure.” They’d been polite enough to call and yet she had them standing outside in the chilly air.

  Once they came in the room, the place seemed to shrink. They’d never been to her home. All of the rehab had either been at their house or her office.

  “You want a beer? Water? Coffee?” Stop babbling.

  Clint clasped her shoulders. “Did you forget it’s just us? Relax. We aren’t going to pounce on you.”

  In a way, she wished they would. Maybe then she’d be able to get them out of her system. Since their departure, she’d built them up in her mind as the men she wanted to be with her for eternity. Reality needed to intervene soon so she would know what she thought was love was purely infatuation.

  She stepped into the living room. “Come sit and tell me about your fighting.”

  She purposefully sat on the chair across from the sofa. If she sat between them and their legs touched, she’d fall apart or say something inappropriate like I love you.

  “War sucks, angel. Let’s leave it at that. We came for another reason.”

  To give me a lame excuse why you never wrote?

  “What would that
be?” Maybe she shouldn’t have sounded so terse.

  Sanford exhaled as if he was trying to formulate how to phrase what he wanted to say.

  “I’ll answer that,” Clint said. “My brother is considering running for mayor and we want your opinion.”

  My opinion? “Now you ask?”

  Clint’s brows furrowed. “We’ve been away for a few years and wanted your thoughts on the status of the town. Do you think Pleasure needs to change?”

  “I wasn’t referring to politics.”

  Sanford leaned forward. “You want to know the reason why we went back to war and never wrote you after you believed, rightly, that we three were meant to stay together?”

  Her body nearly shut down. In a nutshell, he’d nailed it. “Yeah. I didn’t think you understood.”

  “Maybe I could use a beer,” Sanford said.

  She jumped up. “Sure. Clint? You want one?”

  “Sure, darlin’.”

  The way he said darlin’ with such care helped calm her a little. She rushed into the kitchen, needing a moment to compose herself. They knew they should be together, yet they’d left anyway. Nothing was making sense. She pulled three beers out of the refrigerator. While she never drank during the day, she figured she’d need some fortification to get through this discussion. She returned and handed them each a beer.

  “So tell me why you never contacted me. And don’t give me any bullshit.”

  Before she could sit down in her chair, both men jumped up. Clint led her back to the sofa and sandwiched her between them. She didn’t want to be rude and say she couldn’t sit between them because if she touched them, her mind would cease to function.

  She was facing Clint with her back slightly angled toward Sanford. Her knees touched Clint’s and her damn memory leaped into action. Instantly, her body flared as she recalled what it was like to be with each of them. This was bad.

  Clint still held her hand and Sanford reached from behind and placed a palm on her thigh. Need raced through her as her breath caught. How could she think with them touching her? She couldn’t. Maybe that was their plan.

  Clint leaned forward. His mouth parted, and she wanted to taste him again. She licked her lips, and her panties dampened.

  “Tell us what you think we’re going to say, so we know what bullshit not to give.”

  She tried to slip her hand from his grasp, but he held tight as if he wanted to provide support. “You said something lame about wanting me to have the freedom to find a man of my dreams.” Didn’t they know both of them were her dream men?

  She glanced at the ceiling to compose herself. This was harder than she thought possible. She’d even rehearsed this talk many times, but now they were in front of her, the words were like knives slicing her insides.

  “Go on, darlin’.”

  “You said you both could get killed or maimed and that you didn’t want me saddled with the burden of caring for you.” She tapped her chest with her free hand. “What about me? Didn’t you care enough to even ask what I wanted?”

  Sanford clasped her knees and turned her toward him. Clint let go of her hand. “You are a caregiver. You would have said you would have waited, but—” He stopped.

  A burst of anger gave her to courage to speak up. “But what? You didn’t want to be distracted by having me waiting for you at home? That you knew you’d never give up the service? That you really didn’t care enough for me to ask my opinion?” Her breath raced out of her body and a small bubble burst on her lip. She wiped it clean.

  Sanford lifted her chin with his knuckle. “We left because we loved you. Only we knew the horrors of war. If we’d kept in contact, you would have waited and that wouldn’t have been fair to you.”

  Some of her anger deflated. They loved her? Really? “You could have asked me.”

  “That’s not my style.”

  That’s not my style? “What? Are you saying you’re some kind of dictator?”

  “Not a dictator. Just a man who knows what’s right for you.”

  She didn’t even know what was right for her, so how could he? He wasn’t telling her everything. “Why come back now?” She clamped a hand over her mouth. “Is it your knee? Does it hurt too much to fight?”

  Sanford laughed and Clint coughed. “No,” Sanford said. “I might not be able to run the hundred yard dash in under ten seconds, but I do okay. What I said on the podium yesterday was the truth. Clint and I want to be around family. Have a family.”

  Her body stilled. That’s what she wanted, too—with them.

  She drank straight from the bottle, and the cooling liquid helped clear her thoughts. Talking about her feelings of betrayal dredged up the pain again. She didn’t need to relive those depressing days. “Let’s get back to why you came here? You said you wanted my opinion on whether to run for mayor?” She studied him. “I thought when that man asked you after the parade, you told him no.”

  “I did turn him down. Then at the party yesterday, which you didn’t attend—but we’ll get to that later—he approached me.”

  They should have been able to figure out why she couldn’t be near them yet. “Who was he?”

  “Name was Bob Sayles. He’s vice president of the Montana Power and Light, a subsidiary of Pennsylvania Power and Light, which really owns the electric company. Anyway, he wants the commission to allow hydroelectric power.”

  She’d heard this argument for over a year. “A lot of people would lose their jobs.”

  “He gave me statistics about how it would help Pleasure. Anyone who loses a job at the coal plant would be hired at the hydroelectric plant. He sees it as bringing more prosperity to the town.”

  “I’m all for that.” She’d like to see the town grow. “Did you really come here to find out my political take or for some other reason?”

  Sanford seemed quite passionate about this stand. Megan Edgar was opposed to expansion of any kind. The mayor said she loved the small-town feel and wanted to keep it that way. When Walmart came a few years back, the commission back then had voted for growth. This current commission decided growth came at too big a cost. So now things might swing back the other way.

  “Both. We wanted to know if you’ll head up my campaign.”

  Maybe it was nervous energy, but she burst out laughing. “Are you serious? Did you forget I have a full-time job?” That might have been a stretch as her clients came in spurts, and to be honest, she barely made ends meet. “Secondly, why me?” It’s not like you truly love me or anything and are dying to be near me every day. People who love others don’t walk out and never even call. “From what I understand, a campaign manager would be a glorified secretary. Knowing you, you’d never take any of my suggestions anyway.”

  “Ouch, angel. It wouldn’t be like that. I want to listen to what you have to say. But if I run, ultimately it has to be my choice what direction we take.”

  That made sense, but she was really talking about their relationship, not his campaign.

  “Can you excuse me? I need some Excedrin for my headache.”

  They both jumped up, and Clint rushed to her side. “Did we upset you by asking?”

  “No.” Them returning to Pleasure upset her. It reminded her of what she’d lost.

  She rushed down the hall, through her bedroom, and into the bathroom. She clasped the vanity and lowered her head. She couldn’t do this. She loved politics, and while she thought Megan had done a good job this year, she believed Sanford would be amazing for Pleasure. But could she handle being with him day in and day out? She could work her schedule around so she’d have time for what he needed, but would that be wise? Could her heart stand seeing him flirt and schmooze with the people of Pleasure?

  “You’re stupid, Vicki Hollister. Just plain dumb.”

  Decision made.

  She downed the two pills and went back to the men. Her warriors looked relaxed with their muscular legs stretched in front of them, and their smiles appeared as if they hadn’t a care in the
world. Clint glanced her way and jumped up.

  “You sure you’re okay, darlin’?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  He walked toward her as if he feared she’d run back to the bathroom if he didn’t guide her to the seat. Had he not placed her between them again, she would have chosen the chair.

  Sanford clasped her hand, and every memory returned from the way he kissed to how he loved to play with her breasts. Her pussy contracted as she dwelled on their one lovemaking session.

  “So will you be my manager?” he asked.

  “No.”

  Chapter Three

  “You said no?” Chelsea asked as she diced the tomato.

  Maybe Vicki had been too hasty. “You don’t know your brothers.”

  “Seriously?”

  She hadn’t meant for that to come out the way it sounded. “You knew them until you were sixteen and then they went to war. I think they’ve changed.”

  Chelsea looked up and smiled. “How?”

  Her friend was enjoying this. “They think they know what’s best for me, but I barely know what’s best for me.”

  Chelsea laughed. “See? That’s your problem. Maybe you ought to let my brothers show you. Let them teach you to find balance and happiness in your life.”

  “Now how would they do that?”

  She put down the dicing knife. “What do you think I meant when I said Sanford and Clint were Doms?”

  “That they liked to take control.” She’d admitted to Chelsea that she’d slept with each of her brothers one time. Their method for taking control wasn’t clear, however.

  “Taking control to them means doing what’s best for you, especially if you’re too involved to see straight.”

  The part about not seeing straight was true. “Shouldn’t they ask my opinion before deciding what I need?”

  To be honest, she didn’t think they really wanted her anymore. Since they left, she’d gained more than twenty pounds. She was no longer cute, little Vicki. A while back, in need of some diversion, she’d cut her long brown hair to her shoulders. The result was that what was once relatively straight hair was now a frizzy mess.