by Leigh Lennon
“Ouch,” I claimed, but nothing he said was a surprise.
“As bad as it stings, I don’t plan to make the same mistake by not acknowledging the spark that’s present between the two of us. It’ll do just that and jeopardize what Clara and I have.”
Extending my arms in the air and around my head, it was my turn to talk. “And so what, this little chat is meant as a warning to me?”
“You are on the defense, and that’s not my intention. Neither one of us have done anything wrong, not at this point. We’re adults and can control our longings. Or we can share more with Clara and give her the ability to weigh in on it.”
Again, he wasn’t wrong. He’d known from the beginning I was still in love with Clara. “So, I’m attracted to you, and I still love my ex-wife who happens to be your girlfriend.” Saying it out loud, you’d think we were on Jerry Springer. “I’ll be the first to admit how fucked up all of this sounds.”
He laughed. What the fuck could he be laughing about? None of this was funny, and he read the tight expression on my face. “It really is a little unconventional, to say the least. But you and I are adults, right?”
A nod of my head gave him my answer. “So, what do we do?” I asked. It was a good question, and I wondered if he had the answer to it. “Are you suggesting…?”
“We have two options. Keep it completely about Clara and Declan. Or we discuss other possibilities.”
I stood, walking to the little doorway leading to the foyer, the quickest way to the front door. “I’m not going to discuss this any further. Tell Clara to call me.” I twisted my body around, taking the quickest route to the front door, when the scrape of Jack’s chair had me on notice, and I knew he was following me like he was on a mission.
I hadn’t gotten to the door, not quite. The pull of his strong hands around my biceps had my skin on fire. He was smaller than me by two inches, and his build was not as bulky as mine, but his touch had a command to it; it was feral and untamed. As he gripped my upper arms, he’d pushed me against the wall. A flash of fury surged through his eyes. “This shit right here is why you lost Clara to begin with, you fucking stubborn little shit.” I wanted to say something to defend my actions, but I was speechless. His mouth was so close to my own, the aroma of coffee was invading my nose. I loved the smell of it, especially mixed with his cologne. The speckles of yellow in his deep indigo blue eyes that I’d missed in all the other encounters with Jack were present, along with my raging cock. The amount of unbridled passion was evident in our exchange, though heated with a zealous anger as neither one of us dared to look away, wanting so much more from one another than either of us were willing to give.
The door swung open, and a rush of frenzy pulled at Clara as she was covered in all white. Jack pulled from me so quick, but if Clara had noticed, she didn’t say anything. “Hey, Bo.” Her smile was sincere, and at times like this, just her grin alone was enough to get me through to the next time I saw her. “Got bad news, Bo.”
“Yeah, your boyfriend told me.” The two words, your boyfriend, were forced, and she shot her eyes to me with the harshness of them. “Dec has to stay with your mom tonight.”
“Um, yeah, but it’s worse. It’s why I didn’t want you to leave.” She was pulling at her coat, scarf, and hat, almost limping toward the closet. “There’s no way you’ll make it home. The streets are so icy, even the sidewalks.” She pointed at a large rip and a small gash on her knees. “I fell about five times. No cabs, no Ubers, nothing at all. I think you’re stuck here until it clears up.”
Fuck, no. There was no way I would willingly stay in this hell. “I’ll be all right.” I started, opening the door. It suddenly slammed, and I whipped my head to the top of it where another hand sat. “Don’t be stupid. If you can’t get home, then just stay. It would be an asshole type of move, you know.”
His words had been harsher than the even keel he had used earlier. Moving around my body, he kneeled at Clara’s little injury. “Hell, hon, what happened?” She slung her arm around him as he helped her to the little bathroom in the hallway. Looking back at me, he said, “You’re not going anywhere.” I’d always viewed Jack as a laid-back man, but right now, his alpha was so powerful, my breath hitched, and I was instantly turned on. But he was right; we were both adults and could ward off our desire.
Making my way to the living room, I stopped by the fridge first. If I was going to endure this hell, I’d be doing it with a fuck ton of beer, even if it was the disgusting pilsner Jack had.
20
Clara
“Sit down,” Jack ordered, helping me to the couch as I joined Bodhi, along with the little tantrum he was silently throwing. There was already an empty beer bottle on my end table and looking through the small doorway leading to the kitchen, I saw another one sitting on the countertop.
“How’s the knee?” Bodhi asked, a tight smile pulling at his face.
“Just a little scratch but try to tell the general this. He’s a bossy SOB when he wants to be.” But Bodhi had witnessed it with Jack’s command that his ass was staying put. It was obvious I’d walked in on something. I wasn’t privy to it, but I was pretty sure I understood the subject matter discussed. Even in my thoughts, I started to talk like Jack and his formality. I stifled a laugh, his voice droning from the kitchen.
“And don’t forget this, Clara.” He seldom called me by my name, and it sounded weird coming from his mouth, but him calling me foxy in front of my ex-husband seemed all types of wrong, too.
“Sir, yes, Sir.” A little bit of heat flushed my face, thinking of how that was my normal segue into our Dom/sub fantasy we loved to partake in. He didn’t reply, and I snickered, wondering what Jack was thinking.
“What would you all like for dinner?”
Bodhi looked at me with an all-knowing question. “He’s an excellent cook,” I replied.
Bodhi rolled his eyes at me, and under his breath, I heard, “Of course he is.”
“I have pie crusts, pepperoni, diced tomatoes, and mozzarella cheese.”
He was in the kitchen, calling behind him, “As long as you prop your leg up, I’ll allow you in here with me.”
Laughing at this little commend, I hobbled over to my kitchen, then turned around. “Want to join us, or are you going to pout all night? This way, you get to know the man who’s around your son.” But he had a very good read on the kind of man Jack was. Maybe a little too much.
He didn’t like that little piece of information by the low slew of cuss words I couldn’t make out, but grabbing his beer and the skeletons of his previous drinks, he followed me in. A glass of Merlot was waiting for me on the table, and after moving a chair for my leg, I propped my foot up. Jack not only had all the fixings for supper, but he also had another beer for Bodhi. This had to have been his third one, at least, but what could I say? I was no longer his wife to stop him.
“What are you cooking?” he asked, moving to the other side of the table to be able to see both Jack and me as I sat adjacent from Bodhi.
“It’s the best dish you’ll ever eat.” Of course, comparing it to anything I’d ever cooked for Bodhi in our time together would be a vast improvement. Bodhi had always cooked for us.
His little snicker told me I was thinking the same thing. “Hey, don’t laugh at me. I’ve gotten better.” I popped my head up to Jack, and he twisted his body toward me quickly.
“Babe, tell him.” Jack’s slight hesitation had Bodhi doubling over.
“Now, this is funny,” Bodhi started.
All the canned tomatoes from my pantry were in the strainer, removing as much water as he could. “Hon, you make an excellent lasagna, kicking homemade chicken nuggets, and the best chicken quesadillas I’ve ever had.”
I flipped him off, when his mind was focused strictly on our dinner. “Got to love my beautiful and refined girlfriend flipping me off,” he jested.
“I make more than just that,” I started, and when his head popped up, Bodhi was adjac
ent to me, hitting his leg, amused by our exchange.
“Oh, hon,” Jack began, “in the two months we’ve been together, we’ve eaten chicken nuggets twice a week, lasagna every week, and quesadillas for every lunch.” With a teasing sneer on my lips, I drained my wine, attempting to sit up to get more. “Sit your stubborn ass down, foxy.” It slipped out of his mouth, and I stilled with his words. “By the way, I’ll eat the same thing every day as long as I’m with you.”
He didn’t say those words to dig it in with Bodhi. This was simply how Jack was.
Pouring it almost to the rim, I laughed. “Good try, mister. You can cook from now on.”
“You do love my food.” The arrogant ass knew this. His cooking was on a whole other level than I was used to with my limited meals.
“More beer, Bodhi?” he asked, not waiting on his answer. Apparently, the awkwardness of me spending the evening with both my ex-husband and boyfriend had both Bo and I wanting to drown this time with lots of alcohol.
“You must be desperate for alcohol if you are drinking Jack’s beer,” I teased.
I relaxed into Jack’s embrace as he stood behind me and placed his hand on my shoulder.
“Whoa, what’s wrong with my beer?”
“With someone of your taste, I thought your beer would represent it.” Bo’s laughing, mocked him, and as particular as Jack was with everything that screamed high-end, I’d thought the same thing.
“That’s a good one, Bo.” We were all in an odd kind of camaraderie when Jack walked back toward his masterpiece, chuckling, beginning to defend his beer choices.
“Ah, neither of you will be laughing when I eat this goodness in front of you and leave you starving.”
Bodhi leaned over. “Okay, Clara, I will admit at first, I would have rather been anywhere but here. Hell, I thought in the hospital with an appendicitis would be better than this, but, fuck, I haven’t laughed this much in a long time.”
“Hey, I’m sorry. This has to be hard on you. I’m not trying to rub it in.”
Placing his hand in front of me to cut me off, he covered mine. “You deserve it, Triple C. If anyone deserves to be happy, it’s you. And he does that,” he says, pointing at Jack.
It was only a simple thirty second moment, but this was the reminder of why I’d always love Bodhi Chambers.
Pushing back his plate, Bodhi let out a deep breath. “Fuck, Jack. That was awesome. What is it called again?”
In Jack’s smile, he was touched by the compliment. “It’s called Tomato Pie. I normally make it with sautéed chicken, but pepperoni is easier. It’s like a deep dish pizza.” This was Jack in his element, explaining the art of his signature dish. “It’s simply one pie crust, diced tomatoes, pepperoni, tomato paste, and mozzarella. Very simple.”
“My favorite thing to cook is teriyaki chicken thighs in my own marinade, baking it in my Dutch oven and served over butter rice,” Bodhi explained.
“Butter rice.” I had announced this as though I’d just had an orgasm, and both men popped their eyes at me with my reaction. No matter how much I tried to recreate it, I never could. I had, however, found it odd that my ex and my current boyfriend were swapping cooking ideas.
“Oh, it must be good. I may need to get that recipe,” Jack mentioned, and I let out a long, sadistic laugh.
“Good luck, counselor. I gave the man a son, and he’d never shared his secret with me. Wouldn’t even make it when I was in the room.”
Bodhi lifted one eyebrow higher than the other. “What can I say?”
“Ah, that’s low, dude,” Jack jested as Bodhi stood to clear the dishes.
“Hey, you cooked,” he said to Jack. “And you’re all gimpy, so I’ll clean up.”
Eyeing the second bottle of wine Jack helped me drink, I pushed to my feet and winced at the pain. “Fuck, that hurt.” Jack was over, swinging my arm around his neck. “I think I’m going to head to bed,” I said.
Jack stopped on our way out of the kitchen. “Are you sure you don’t need help?”
“Nope, I’ll clean up and head to bed. I assume there are clean sheets.” His dig had Jack chuckling deep from his chest, while I gave him the middle finger salute.
Something felt wrong at the moment, and it had nothing to do with the man who was guiding me into bed. I wasn’t sure I could put my finger on it, or if I even wanted to, because that would be opening Pandora’s box, and once I did, I’d never be able to close it again.
My eyes were barely open when the dip in the bed woke me. Jack was pulling up a pair of jeans, and he was whispering in the phone.
When his body turned back around to me, I begged, “Come back to bed. I want you.” I didn’t know if I was in such need since the thoughts of what these two men were starting to mean to one another filled me with hope for something none of us should have any interest in.
“Sorry, foxy, it was Mrs. Thompson from next door.” She’d had a spill the other day and couldn’t get me on her phone. I’d given her Jack’s number, too, in case it happened again. She had no family to help her, and with Jack’s parents no longer a part of his life, she reminded him a little of his own mother. “Mrs. Thompson has a pretty bad leak in her home, and no one can come help. Do you have a tool set?”
“The top of the coat closet,” I explained. He pushed the door to the living room open, and immediately I was hit with a little bit of banter between my boyfriend and ex-husband.
“Where’s our breakfast, Bo?” Jack teased, but the pitch and lilt of his voice was a little flirtatious.
“You’d be waiting for hell to freeze over. I don’t do breakfast. I’m not a morning person.”
He wasn’t wrong, and when the front door closed, I rested my eyes a little in the hopes that sleep would claim me, but I was too optimistic.
“Morning, Triple C.” He was close, at least by my door, if not in my room. We were blurring lines by the second, so what was one more transgression, right?
I was covered by a thin sheet, but I was braless and horny as hell. And with Jack leaving me needy and the attraction I still felt for Bodhi, I sat up in bed. I’d never cross that line. I had enough self-restraint, but, fuck, I missed the man in my room.
“Morning, Bo.” If the sheet wasn’t covering my double Ds, he’d be able to see my nipples hardening by the second.
“So,” Bodhi began, trying to fill the silence, “it’s still snowing. I bet Declan is stuck in the suburbs for at least another night.”
“Yeah, it’s safer this way, but I miss the little guy.” I stopped, remembering this was his long stint with our son. “Hey, why don’t you take him an extra day during my time?” Rewriting the arrangement and rescheduling appointments on our days would mess us up, and he knew this.
“I may take you up on it.” He paused, pulling at a sip of his soda. “So, how’s your newest story going?”
Bodhi had spent countless hours listening to every idea, and whenever I’d get stuck, he’d talk the book out with me, sometimes giving me the missing piece that was holding me up. I missed those times with him. “It’s good. I’m writing a real asshole this time.”
He shook his head, never understanding the draw women had to the asshole heroes in my stories. “I still don’t get it, but then again, what do I know since I’m one of those asshole men.”
I laughed at his statement. Did we fight because he could be an overbearing grade A asshole? All the time, but it was mostly in his alpha tendencies when it came to keeping me safe. He never liked me on the streets of Chicago at night. He was jealous of men’s wandering eyes when it came to me and would become a bit more possessive, holding me tight with a big grin at whoever was looking me up and down. He used to introduce himself as the man who won the wife lottery, claiming me as his biggest prize ever. It was always so sweet and yet sometimes, exceedingly frustrating.
When the door opened and the footsteps of Jack ascended on us, he peeked his head through the entrance of the bedroom, Bodhi still close to the doorway.
“Hey, guys, don’t you two look cozy?” he asked, garnering laughs from the both of us. From anyone else in the same situation, you’d hear the sarcasm and jealousy ooze from his mouth. But not Jack and not with us.
“Yeah, baby, we are.” He walked in with a basket of something, the aroma making me smile, reminding me I was hungry.
“I come bearing gifts from Mrs. Thompson—homemade muffins.”
It was all Bodhi needed to hear, almost attacking Jack. “I see someone loves muffins.” Bo grabbed them, making his way to the kitchen. I pulled my lazy ass out of bed, tugging my robe on, and with one hitch of Jack’s eyebrow, he didn’t miss my arousal, evident through the thin fabric. “We better get some muffins before Bo eats them all.” He held my hand, and as we crossed the threshold, Bodhi was slicing a large piece of butter to slather on his muffin.
Jack’s eyes widened. “Do you have high cholesterol? Because if you don’t now, you will.”
Bodhi ate pretty well except for two weaknesses; chips with dip and muffins with butter.
“It’s how he’s always eaten, and he hasn’t keeled over from a heart attack yet.” Jack’s eyes were still on Bodhi’s unhealthy butter amount as I approached him.
Jack leaned in as I waited for Bodhi to get out of the way, in the hopes there was enough butter left for me. “You know, this could be the start of something new with the two of you, with the three of us.” His words were a whisper when he tipped my head to his. “If you are open to it, that is.”
I couldn’t respond because he’d just knocked me off my axis.
Bodhi had his boots on, along with his jacket, when we emerged thirty minutes later, having both showered to make ourselves decent.
“What are you doing?” Jack got the question out of his mouth before I did.
“Um, I’m going home.” He didn’t offer any further explanation.
“In that fucking blizzard? You are ten blocks away. Nothing is open. What if you fall or get stuck somewhere?” I implored.
