Red Hunted_An MFM Ménage Romance

by Allyson Lindt

  He glanced at the beer list for the micro-brewery, then waved the bartender over. “I’ll take an oatmeal ale.” Might as well enjoy the local culture while he was here.

  Drink in hand, he cast a lazy gaze around. A redhead sat at the far end of the bar, her blank stare locked on a half-empty martini glass, while she poked a thin red straw at the cherry in the bottom of the drink.

  Her lost, almost sad look called to him. He didn’t come here for a hookup, but he wouldn’t say no to a distraction.

  He grabbed his glass and relocated to the seat next to her. “Have you found any answers in there?” he asked.

  She looked up, and it took her a moment to smile. “I’m sorry—what?”

  “I figured, for as intensely as you were watching that cherry, it must hold the secrets to the universe. I was wondering if you’d uncovered any.” He kept his tone light and teasing.

  “Not yet.”

  He liked the hint of defiance in her tone. “Maybe that’s not the right cherry. Time to let that one serve its purpose and let me buy you another drink so you can try again.”

  She gave a tiny laugh. “I’m all right. Thanks.”

  “I never said you weren’t.”

  A guy approached and draped his arm around the redhead’s shoulder. He was as intriguing as she was, but on the other side of the coin—pale green eyes, light-brown hair, and a carefree smile. Wyatt wouldn’t hesitate to hit on him under other circumstances. If the two were a couple, he was moving on.

  “Who’s your friend?” the guy asked.

  “I didn’t get his name,” she said.

  Wyatt extended his hand. “Wyatt. And I apologize. I should have realized you were taken.”

  “I’m Parker, and this is Fiona.” He returned Wyatt’s handshake. “And—I’m sorry—taken?” The two exchanged a look Wyatt couldn’t interpret. “We’re not a couple, just close friends.”

  Wyatt doubted it was that superficial. The spark flowing between the two was intense enough, he could almost taste the ozone. But if they were going to deny it, who was he to argue? He only wanted company for the night. The tough part would be picking which of them he was more interested in. Or convincing them to trap him between them and let him absorb some of that electricity. “In that case, let me buy you both a drink.”

  Parker’s I don’t think so overlapped Fiona’s hesitant Sure.

  Wyatt focused on her. “You don’t sound sure.”

  “We’re celebrating.”

  He didn’t know what one had to do with the other. “Champagne it is, then.” He grabbed the bartender’s attention and placed the order. If the company could pick up the two-grand strip-club bill for Chuck, they could foot tonight’s drinks, for sending Wyatt out here. “What’s the occasion?”

  “I’m getting my own TV show.” Parker settled in the seat on the other side of Fiona, and scooted it a few inches closer to her. “Competing in a YouTube reality TV contest, to earn a sponsor. We’re going to deliver sweets.”

  Wyatt would argue that wasn’t real TV, but he didn’t want to shatter his tentative link with these two. What were the odds they were in the same business as Grammie’s? But Utah was famous for its bakeries. Sweets plus streaming videos wasn’t the same as a multinational effort to deliver hand-baked goods. “Sounds like something worth celebrating.”

  “Do you do this a lot? Buy expensive champagne for strangers in bars?” Parker studied him with a guarded expression.

  “Only the ones who catch my eye.”

  Wyatt’s response drew a blush from Fiona. The pink dotting her pale cheeks was its own type of alluring.

  “Besides, I should have been having a party of my own tonight, instead of traveling. This way, at least someone gets to enjoy it,” he said.

  “What was the occasion?” Fiona asked. Her tone was demure but she kept her gaze on him and her bottom lip snagged between her teeth.

  Parker was harder to read, but he listened, curiosity lingering behind his eyes.

  “I’ve been negotiating a huge contract for months. The deal was as good as done, then poof, they walked away.” Wyatt hated admitting he failed, under normal circumstances, but the Grammie’s deal didn’t technically fall through, and the story should be good for sympathy points. Once upon a time, he wouldn’t have dreamed of going for the of emotional manipulation. Then he met, fell for, and lost Devin.

  A lot of lessons learned there, that were helpful in both business and keeping Wyatt’s personal life complication free.

  Fiona sighed, but she gave him a half-smile. “Been there, done that.”

  “Are you in sales?” Wyatt wouldn’t have pegged her as a salesperson, but he’d been wrong before.

  “No. I’m a programmer. Salesmen make my skin crawl.”

  Parker chuckled, and Wyatt raised his brows.

  “Oh, God. You’re one of them, aren’t you?” Fiona buried her face behind her palms and peeked at him through her fingers.

  This was fun. “I fit the stereotype of salesman as well as you do that of software developer. As in, you don’t.”

  “Got that bit. Thanks for the clarification.” Parker’s tone was flat.

  Wyatt should walk away from this situation. Fiona was interested, but as much of her reactions were politeness. Parker radiated moderate levels of stand-offishness, though some of that was a mask. Wyatt was intrigued by the combination. His path to next steps with the not-couple was through Fiona, not Parker, so he spoke to her. “Besides, your friend here is probably an epic salesman.”

  “Take that back.” Despite Parker’s protest, a hint of pride at the compliment lay underneath.

  Fiona laughed. “He really is. Except for—”

  “What are you selling in Salt Lake?” Parker asked.

  Curiouser and curiouser. “Me. I’m always selling me. The product doesn’t matter if the person behind it can’t back it up.”

  “What’s your product?” Fiona leaned in, arm on the bar and hand near Wyatt’s.

  “Packages.”

  “Really?” Parker didn’t sound impressed, but a smile peeked through. “Do you follow a line like that with, mine is nine inches long, and you’ll never regret the purchase?”

  Fiona’s blush darkened.

  Wyatt had to know if he was right to assume Parker was bisexual. “I don’t know what kind of guys hit on you, but you deserve better, if anyone’s ever said that to you.”

  “What do you consider better?” Parker shifted in his seat, moving closer to Fiona and Wyatt.

  “I’m a fan of the direct approach. For instance...” Wyatt dipped his head toward Fiona’s ear. She radiated the faint scent of lilacs and dryer sheets. “We’ll have a lot more fun if we take this upstairs. Not that kind, though I’m not ruling it out; I figure it’ll be easier for us to talk up there.”

  “I can’t argue with that.” Fiona’s reply was breathy.

  “Talk?” Parker studied him. “What happened to preferring the direct approach?”

  Wyatt had definitely read him right. Desire raced across his skin. “That’s as direct as it gets. We’d talk. If the clothes came off, that would be incidental fun.”

  Fiona downed the rest of her champagne with a single swallow and reached for the bottle. “I’d have to be a lot more drunk to agree to that.”

  Parker covered her hand to stop her from refilling her glass.

  Wyatt was glad to see he wasn’t the only one who disagreed with Fiona’s logic.

  “We either drink or fuck. Never both.” Wyatt didn’t have a lot of rules, but that was at the top of the list. “If you need the alcohol to convince you, I’m not interested.”

  “Another round of drinks on Mr. Suit.” Parker filled everyone’s glasses.

  Wyatt liked this, which defied all logic. The conversation was fractured, bordered on antagonistic, and wasn’t getting him laid, but it was fun. Might as well see where the rest of the night took him.

  Three hours and two bottles of champagne later, the three h
ad moved the conversation to Wyatt’s hotel room, mostly to avoid the harsh glares of the other patrons in the bar.

  He sat in one easy chair and Parker in another, with Fiona perched on the arm of Parker’s seat. They were laughing, and try as he might, Wyatt couldn’t remember what started this round.

  He hadn’t had this kind of a pleasant buzz with his drunkenness in a long time. Fiona and Parker were probably only a few years younger than his thirty-two, but they had a carefree attitude he couldn’t grasp. The professional, uptight portion of him thought it was childish. Relaxed, chilled-out-him thought it was charming. “You know what I’d like to see?”

  “The biggest ball of twine in Minnesota?” Amusement danced in Parker’s eyes. “’Cause I’ve seen it, and you’re not missing anything.”

  The combination of absurdity and logic made Wyatt laugh. “No. But yes. But no. I want to see the two of you kiss.”

  Fiona blushed. She seemed to have a shade for every occasion.

  “Not a good idea,” Parker said.

  A frown whispered over Fiona’s face.

  “Why not?” Wyatt wouldn’t be half the salesman he was if he couldn’t read people, and the energy racing between these two all but glowed. “You’ve done it before, right? Fooled around? Experimented? You’ve known each other for years.”

  “We haven’t.” Fiona’s scowl deepened. That wasn’t good. “That is, yes to the knowing each other for ages. But not the other stuff. Why would you want to see that?”

  Wyatt could bring the fun back on track. “You’re serious? Because the two of you look good together. The voyeur in me is imagining it and likes what he sees.”

  “I couldn’t.” Fiona shook her head, and this time it was Parker’s expression that fell.

  “Why not? It’s easy.” Wyatt closed the distance between himself and Parker. “I’ll show you.” He cupped Parker’s face and kissed him. It was supposed to be a quick brush. Enough of a moment to raise everyone’s pulses a notch. But Wyatt didn’t want to pull away. He slid a hand to the back of Parker’s neck, holding him captive and deepening the kiss—dancing their tongues together.

  When Parker grabbed Wyatt’s shirt in his fists and gripped tight, flame raced across Wyatt’s skin, snarling for more. Urging him to nudge Parker back. To press him to the wall and remove the clothes putting too much distance between them.

  Fiona’s whimper penetrated Wyatt’s thoughts, both mingling with and disrupting the moment. He forced himself to let go and sit, but Parker’s impish half-smile made him regret the decision.

  “See? Easy as pie.” Wyatt looked at Fiona. That didn’t help calm him any.

  “I can’t top that. Wow,” she said.

  “Sounds like a challenge.” Parker pulled her to him. He knotted his fingers in her hair and tugged hard enough Wyatt felt it in his scalp.

  Parker claimed Fiona’s mouth, swallowing her gasp. Wyatt’s cock strained against his slacks, begging for attention. He didn’t know if he wanted to be one of them or simply sit back and watch their unrealized energy explode into something nuclear.

  This was supposed to be playful fun. At least one of them was too drunk for it to be more. The thought didn’t calm the need spilling through him.

  Parker broke the kiss and rested his forehead against Fiona’s. “Holy fuck, Red.” His voice was an octave lower and breathless.

  Wyatt seized the nickname as a chance to shift the climate back toward neutral. “Red, as in Red Riding Hood?” The moment the joke slipped out, a new slew of fantasies teased him. The shy redhead in nothing but a cloak and garter belt. Parker would have to be the sexy woodsman. Shirtless. Too kind for his own good.

  But that made Wyatt—

  “Then are you the big bad wolf?” Fiona’s question overlapped his thoughts. She turned to face him. Her lips were swollen and dark pink, and fuck if he didn’t want a taste. “You’re definitely up to something wicked.”

  He’d like to be. “In that case— My, what big eyes you have.”

  “That’s my line.” Fiona studied him with those stunning peepers.

  “No, it’s not.” He should back away from this, but a little more teasing wouldn’t hurt—a promise to make sure he haunted her fantasies the way she and Parker would linger in his for at least a few days. He stepped closer and dipped his head to hover near her ear, never making contact. “Because I’m not eating you tonight.” He spoke softly, but Parker should hear. “When I do, you’ll be begging me not to stop. Quivering maybe, but not in fear.”

  “That’s a big promise.” Her voice cracked.

  “I’m a big guy.”

  Chapter Five

  Two kisses—one rough, one sweet, both hungry—lingered on Parker’s lips. Fiona stood between him and Wyatt, her fingers still tangled with Parker’s.

  He was tempted to pull her from the room. To take the Big Bad Wolf comment at face value and walk away far and fast. But Parker couldn’t drag his gaze, or any of the rest of him, from Wyatt.

  Wyatt dragged his mouth along Fiona’s neck, eliciting the softest of gasps.

  “One taste won’t hurt, though.” Wyatt’s voice was a low growl that flowed over Parker’s skin and left electricity in its wake.

  Wyatt nipped her neck, then followed a line along her jaw and to her mouth. Claiming. Devouring. He trailed his fingers down her arm, to cover her hand where it was tangled with Parker’s. He guided them both to cup Parker’s erection through his jeans, stroking and teasing while he swallowed Fiona’s groans in an eternal kiss.

  Parker balanced on a knife’s edge between pleasure and concern, but the touch, the sounds, and the fuzz of champagne tilted him toward the pleasure side. He’d embraced his bisexuality years ago, but a guy like Wyatt was different—the suit, the disdain for the world around him, the arrogance...

  Wyatt was one hell of a kisser, and—fuck—the things he was doing with his fingers... Tracing the outline of Parker’s shaft. Pressing down, then easing up.

  Parker was tempted to fuck his hand.

  Fiona, though... Parker couldn’t get that kiss out of his head either. He shouldn’t see her in that light. That kind of lust had the potential to destroy a friendship, especially since she was drunk too. Would regret this in the morning. Was leaning into Wyatt, who glided a hand up her chest to tease her breast.

  Parker wanted to take a step back, free his erection from its prison, and watch while this scene unfolded. He wouldn’t. He summoned the last of his willpower and broke the contact between everyone. “We should get going.” He was surprised he kept his voice steady.

  “Already?” Fiona jutted her lower lip.

  Wyatt stepped back. “You’re right. Yeah. Good call. It was a lot of fun. Good luck with your streaming... video thing.”

  “Thanks.” Parker gave him a thin smile. What was an appropriate goodbye in a situation like this? He settled for wrapping his arm around Fiona’s waist and saying, “See you around.”

  “Sure.” Wyatt sounded as insincere as Parker felt.

  Parker and Fiona made their way to the elevator. She leaned into him on the ride downstairs. “I see why you like this.”

  “Like what?” Anonymous hook-ups with men whose individual suits were worth more than Parker’s wardrobe?

  “Going where the wind takes you. Following your impulses, instead of being bound by responsibility.”

  He wasn’t sure he cared for the way she phrased it. It echoed their earlier argument too closely. He led her to the curb and called for a Lyft. The busses in this town might be efficient as hell, but they also didn’t run after midnight. Fuck. It was after midnight. Fiona was going to be pissed in the morning, waking up hung over and running on little sleep on a work day.

  “It’s got its ups and downs,” he said.

  “Still. The meeting strangers. The letting go. Experiencing... things.” She slurred the last word.

  “You’re drunk.”

  She moved to stand in front of him, her back to his chest, and pulled h
is arms around her waist. “That doesn’t mean I’m stupid. Just a little less with the inhibitions. I liked Wyatt.”

  “I’m pretty sure he was actually bad a guy as he claimed.”

  “I don’t think so, but if he is, you can rescue me. In fact, you can rescue me in general.”

  Parker pulled her closer, enjoying her weight against him. “Did you have something in mind?”

  “I want to go with you.”

  Of course she’d pick now to say yes. He wanted to jump on her answer.

  “Still believe I’m too drunk to think?” She glanced over her shoulder at him.

  Shit. “If you want to go in the morning, I’ll make arrangements.”

  He was grateful when their car arrived and the conversation faded. Not because he didn’t want to talk to Fiona, but her proximity and her faint scent and the cool night air were wreaking havoc on his control.

  A little sleep, and they’d both be fine. And as long as she didn’t take back her answer, he’d be better.

  WYATT TUGGED THE HOTEL-room curtains tighter together, blocking out that last sliver of morning sun. He massaged his temples and sank onto the edge of the bed. He didn’t remember the last time he drank that much the night before when he had to work the next day. College, probably.

  Then again, the entire evening with Fiona and Parker reminded him a lot of those days. Silly, reckless, and too horny for his own good.

  The thought brought another—a reminder of some of the horrible lines he used. The ache in his skull grew. Christ. He couldn’t believe he’d compared himself to the Big Bad Wolf. And that bit about eating her...

  Aspirin. He needed it. And coffee. It was a good thing his schedule was open ended today. He could let the hangover fade, gather his wits, and in a few hours, track down this Nicholas Walters guy.