Arianrhod smacked a hand over the top of the box. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Kimberly.”
Kimberly gulped. “Yeah, you and me both.”
“Take it to the sheriff. Now. I’ll greet the visitors. I know what to do.”
* * * *
“There’s something we should discuss before we get to the island,” Charlie told Mett over the roar of the boat motor. They had met up at the marina just before sunrise where they kept the boat they shared, both of them eager to get to Kimberly and make that three-hour drive north to their parents’ house in Waterston. “She’s concerned about today, about being with both us at the same time. To use her words, she’s worried it’s going to be weird.”
“She’s worried there’s going to be tension between me and you.” Mett leaned forward on the bench seat and rested his forearms on his thighs, pinning Charlie with a serious look. “We’re not going to let that happen. We’re going to make today perfect for her.”
Charlie lifted a brow. “And exactly what is your definition of a perfect day for her? Because what I’ve gotten lately is the way to truly making Kimberly happy is for the three of us to be together.”
Mett bowed his head and pushed a hard breath from his lungs. “I know. I’ve already told her I can’t give her what she really wants.”
Charlie crossed his arms as he studied his brother. The Emmett Doyle he’d known all his life was a man who would give a woman absolutely anything she wanted if he knew it would bring a smile to her face. “Can’t or won’t?”
“Fuck!” Mett growled and rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know.”
“I’ve given this a lot of thought. I’m sure you have, too.” He knew damn well Mett had. How could he not? They had both been rushing into a raging sea with the strongest current either of them had ever encountered pulling them deeper and deeper under by the second. He couldn’t explain the power Kimberly had over him and seemed to have over Mett, too. He’d stopped bothering to try. All he knew was she’d instilled a soul-deep need in him to be with her for the rest of his life and the only way he’d been able to figure out how to make that happen was to share her with Mett.
“You feel the same way I do about her.” Though Mett’s attention remained fixated on the floor of the boat, Charlie saw him slowly nod. “Even if you hadn’t told me the other night how you feel about her, you would’ve backed off already if you weren’t falling in love with her.” He waited a beat and let that sink in before he asked the whopper of a question that would likely change both their lives forever. “My real question to you is are you willing to give it a shot? Are you willing to share her with me and give her the ménage she wants?”
Mett lifted his head and met his gaze, a hint of surprise swirling in his eyes. “Are you telling me you are?”
Charlie shrugged. “Why the hell not? You’ve been more than my brother my whole life, dude. You’ve been my best friend. I’ll admit I’m not thrilled about the idea of sharing her with you, but it damn sure beats fighting with you over her or, fuck, it definitely beats losing her.”
“I’m not in this for a fling. I’m looking for long-term, the forever kind.”
“So am I.”
“She won’t be happy if we make her choose between us.” The inflection in Mett’s tone told Charlie he’d already had this conversation with himself, probably a dozen or more times since they’d met her.
“No, she’ll be miserable,” Charlie agreed. “And so would one of us. Take today, for instance. She didn’t agree to come today as my date or yours. At least, I don’t think she did.”
“She didn’t,” Mett confirmed. “You issued the invitation first. I followed it. She finally relented. It was pretty much that simple.”
“Right. But what if she had agreed to be my date? You would still be there. A part of her would be happy being with me, but the other half would be longing to be with you. If she did choose one of us over the other, it would always be that way. Is that what you really want for her?”
Mett’s eyes turned steely. “You know damn well it isn’t.”
Yeah, he did. He’d just wanted to hear Mett say it. “Then I propose we drop the can’ts and won’ts and give the ménage thing a shot.”
Mett raked a hand over his head as he shot a look over his shoulder toward the island. They were barely a mile from it now. “Hell, we’ve shared damn near everything else in the last twenty-five years,” he muttered as he returned his attention to Charlie. “Why the fuck not.”
* * * *
A slew of excited butterflies took flight in Kimberly’s stomach at the sound of the knock on her front door. Her Santas had arrived. A wide grin spread her lips as she shot one last scrutinizing look at her refection before going to greet them. After rummaging in her closet for nearly a half-hour in search of the perfect outfit, she’d finally settled on a dark blue sweater with white sequins forming the shapes of snowflakes and blue jeans tucked into a pair of mocha-colored boots with white fleece lining that folded over the tops. She’d left her hair down, securing the sides in the back with a red and green ribbon and a bell dangling from the bow.
The bell jingled softly as she walked to the door and pulled it open. The sight of Charlie and Mett standing side by side with almost mirroring smiles on their handsome faces took her breath away. Both men wore orange Coast Guard jackets over T-shirts with blue jeans and tennis shoes. Charlie’s T-shirt was a dark navy and Mett’s was a festive red.
“Merry Christmas, gorgeous.”
Before she could get a response through the drool collecting in her mouth, Charlie hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her against the hard wall of his body. His lips came down on hers when she tipped her head back and she moaned in equal parts surprise and instant arousal. His tongue pushed between her lips to tangle with hers and the taste of coffee, mint, and man consumed her.
“Merry Christmas to you, too, handsome,” she said softly against his lips as he pulled away. The sound of Mett clearing his throat drew her attention to him. Her heart slammed into her breastbone as she saw the jealousy swirling in his wintergreen eyes. Christ, what had Charlie been thinking kissing her that way in front of Mett? More, what had she been thinking kissing him back that way.
She started to apologize when Mett’s arm replaced Charlie’s around her waist and he pulled her in front of him before dipping his head, his lips hovering over hers.
“Do you mind if I have one of those, too?”
“Of course not,” she said breathlessly and melted against him as he kissed her. His mouth was warm, his lips tender, and his tongue soft as he gently took her mouth and led the kiss in a sweet dance.
“Merry Christmas, beautiful.” His smooth-as-molasses drawl was soft and husky and moved over her like a gentle caress as he eased back and slowly released her.
Kimberly blinked at him, shifted her gaze to Charlie, and blinked again. An echoing jealousy akin to what she’d seen in Mett’s eyes moved through Charlie’s expression before he quickly masked it. She gulped, her mind reeling and her lips still tingling from both kisses.
Both kisses. They had both kissed her. One had stood there and watched with a carefully controlled envy while the other had sent her system on a rollercoaster of zings and desire that had wetness slickening her pussy lips. What in the name of Saint Nick was happening? Were they trying to compete with one another or something? Was this the kind of thing she would have to endure in their company all day?
A mischievous played at the corner of Charlie’s lips. “Are you okay, baby?”
“I, uh…” Nope. How could she be okay when her head was still spinning with the ecstasy of tasting both of them back to back? “Are we ready to go?”
“You might want to grab a jacket, sweetheart,” Mett suggested. “The wind on the water is chilly this morning.”
“Right, just, um, give me a minute to get my jacket,” she said as if it had been her idea. What she needed was a minute to get her head on straight. Ch
rist on a pogo stick! Maybe it was a good thing neither of them wanted a ménage. If kissing one of them in front of the other did this to her, she could only imagine the effect of having one of them watch while the other made love to her. Or, God, being sandwiched between them as they made love to her together.
She turned her back on them, pushing that image out of her head before she slithered to the floor in a puddle of gooey, hormonal lust, and hurried to her bedroom to fetch her coat. “Will one of you please grab the box with your parents’ name on it from under the Christmas tree?”
“Sweetheart, I told you that you didn’t have to get them anything,” Mett called out to her.
Kimberly returned to the living room, putting on her coat as she walked. Both men had stepped inside, though they’d left the door standing wide open. “And I told you that I can’t show up at your parents’ house on Christmas Day empty handed. It’s nothing special, just a little gift of thanks for letting me crash their family dinner.”
Charlie caught her waist as she moved past him and whirled her around in his embrace. “You are not crashing our family dinner. Get that thought out of your gorgeous head right now.”
Kimberly smiled up at him. “Yes, sir.”
He released her waist and laced the fingers of his left hand with hers. “Got everything you need?”
She glanced at Mett. “He’s got the box. My purse is over there. I’ll snag it as we walk by and I’m good.”
Mett took the lead as they walked out of the cottage. Kimberly hooked her purse on her shoulder and pulled the front door closed before following Charlie down the porch steps. They fell into step side-by-side as they headed for the docks used by the islanders and those with visitors who had their own boats.
Walking between them felt surreal, especially when Mett closed his large hand around the one Charlie wasn’t already holding. She shot him a puzzled glance, but found him staring straight ahead, a blank expression on his handsome face.
“So, whose car are we taking to your parents’ house?” She’d been in Charlie’s early-model Mustang when they’d gone to the concert. She didn’t know what Mett drove.
“The Mustang,” Charlie answered at the same time Mett said, “We’ll take my truck.”
Kimberly pursed her lips, biting back a grin when the men exchanged glances over her head.
“The Mustang might be a sports car, but it still has more interior room than your truck,” Charlie argued. “It’ll be more comfortable for the drive.”
“The truck has a bench seat,” Mett countered. Kimberly’s arm jerked slightly when he shrugged. “But, okay, if you want to take the Mustang, that’s fine. You can drive and I’ll sit with Kimberly in the back seat.”
“We’ll take your truck.”
Kimberly stifled a laugh, enjoying the byplay between the brothers. If this was an indication of how the day was going to go, she could handle it. If they started arguing over her, she didn’t know what the hell she would do.
Mr. and Mrs. Doyle, I hope you’re ready to play referees. I just might need you.
Chapter Six
Mett hadn’t had a single doubt that his mother would love Kimberly. Barely twenty minutes in each other’s company and the women had hit it off. He felt comfortable leaving Kimberly in the den with his mother while the men took over in the kitchen. His father didn’t cook, but he could set a table like a professional. Mett and Charlie put him doing that chore while they completed the baking their mother had started and whipped up a few extra-special goodies.
“They always do this to me.” His mother’s voice flowed through the archway separating the den and kitchen. “Emmett and Charlie are notorious for kicking me out of my own kitchen. You would think they believe I can’t cook or something.”
Mett grinned and raised his voice so the women could hear him from the kitchen. “Nope, we’re just showing you how well you taught us.”
“Have they cooked for you yet, dear?” he heard his mother ask Kimberly.
“Charlie catered the Christmas party we threw on the island and Mett brought over some things he’d cooked the other night.”
Mett slapped Charlie on the back of his shoulder as he passed his brother on the way to the refrigerator. “I had to fix one of Charlie’s screw ups.”
“He didn’t screw up.” Kimberly jumped to Charlie’s defense. “The cornbread dressing he made was delicious.”
“But not as delicious as mine,” Mett reminded her, chuckling when Charlie sent him a scathing look.
“Sorry, Charlie, I can’t argue with him on that one.”
“Emmett was born knowing how to cook,” his mother commented. “All I had to do was give him a little guidance and a few instructions. Charlie was, too, though. He’s just as good. There are some things Charlie can cook that Emmett can’t and vice versa, especially now that he’s cooking for the Coast Guard.”
“I was surprised when I found out Mett could cook, too, but he’s not a Food Service Specialist like Charlie.”
“That would be my fault,” Mett’s father confessed as he returned from the dining room and stuck his head through the archway into the living room. “I’m a retired rescue swimmer. You could say Emmett followed in my footsteps.”
“Ah, that explains so much,” Kimberly said, then she laughed. “I’ve got to admit it sounds odd listening to the two of you call him by his full name. Charlie always calls him Mett. Even when he first introduced himself to me, he said his name was Petty Officer Mett Doyle, not Emmett Doyle.”
Mett heard his mother sigh dramatically. “I’m not surprised. It pains me that he doesn’t like his name. After all the hours I spent searching for the perfect name for him…”
Mett tossed the potholder in his hands onto the counter and strolled to the archway. He leaned a shoulder against the frame, crossed his arms over his chest, and leveled a glare at his mother. “You mean all the hours you spent watching Back to the Future over and over again. You named me after an eccentric fictional scientist.”
His mother bit the insides of her lips together as she cast him an innocent look from beneath her lashes. “It’s a smart name. I wanted you to have a name with dignity and purpose and—”
Mett lifted a brow. “And the fact that your maiden name is Brown, ergo my name ended up being Emmett Brown for a while, the same name as the character in the movie, had nothing to do with it?”
His mother looked at Kimberly and let the smile she’d been holding back unfold on her lips. “It was a perfect sign, don’t you think?”
Kimberly giggled. “Absolutely. Oh, and it’s so cute, too. I’m assuming Charlie got his name from their father, Charles, but if you’d kept the last name Brown, he’d be Charlie Brown.”
His mother’s smile grew wider. “Another perfect sign.”
Mett rolled his eyes and groaned, hearing an echo of the sound come from his brother behind him. “Ladies, if you wouldn’t mind moving to the dining room, we’ll fix your plates.”
* * * *
“Emmett has been fixing my plates for me since he was old enough to reach the counter,” Hazel Doyle said as she led Kimberly into the dining room. The woman pointed to the center of three chairs on one side of the long oblong oak table. “You can sit there, dear.”
Kimberly took the seat Hazel indicated, her mind flashing back to the evening at her house with Mett. She hadn’t thought much about it at the time, but Mett had done the same for her. He’d taken over her kitchen, warming the food he’d already cooked and brought with him, and had even fixed her plate. She’d been so entranced watching him move around the small space, every step and reach graceful and methodical, the muscles in his forearms, back, and ass flexing until she’d been so hungry she’d started to feel as if she were dying from lustful starvation.
“So, which one of my boys are you dating?”
Kimberly snapped out of her reverie to find herself utterly speechless. How did she answer that? Hazel had taken a seat in the chair at the far end of the ta
ble and Kimberly stared at her, opening her mouth and then closing it again like a guppy before she finally attempted to respond. “I, uh, well, I…” She stopped stammering when Hazel gave a small laugh.
“That’s what I thought. Just say both and get it over with, dear.”
Kimberly took a deep breath and let it out slow. “Okay, both.” She frowned and considered that before adding, “I guess.”
“Honey, anyone with eyes can see how those boys look at you and how you look at both of them. You’re in love with my Emmett and you’re in love with my Charlie.” Hazel dipped her chin and shot Kim a look from beneath her lashes complete with a mischievous grin that reminded Kimberly so much of Charlie. “They’re both in love with you, too. I don’t blame you. If I were in your shoes—young and not their mother, of course—I wouldn’t be able to choose just one either.”
Kimberly angled her head as she studied the woman. “You’re okay with the idea of the two of them being with one woman?”
Hazel righted her head and lifted a shoulder. “As long as that woman is what my boys want, you bet.”
Kimberly sighed. “I think the three of us have given you the wrong impression. I’m not dating both of them in that way.”
“They’re sharing you, aren’t they?”
“More like waiting for me to tell one of them to take a hike.”
Hazel shook her head. “I don’t think so. The boys told me you live on Silver Island. That place caters to the ménage way of life. Even if you’ve never had one, I would think you know how it works. I’ve never been in a ménage relationship myself, nor have I been around anyone who is, but I read. My Kindle is full of ménage-based romance novels.”
Kimberly barked a laugh. “Seriously?”
Hazel gave her a sharp nod. “Seriously. I know the men are supposed to share you, shower you with love and affection, dote on you, and make sure you’re happy. They might show a bit of jealousy now and then, but that’s just the man coming out in them.”
Safe and Coasting with Ecstasy [The Heroes of Silver Island 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 10