Love Under Two Outcasts [The Lusty, Texas Collection] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Cara Covington

It’s hard to find my equilibrium when they keep me off balance.

  Charlotta was nearly one hundred percent certain they weren’t doing so intentionally. They weren’t presenting her with an image, thinking each move out ahead of time—the way some of the men she’d dated, including Roger Brown, had done.

  They were simply being themselves, a little irreverent, a little spontaneous, but completely real, and she liked that a lot. She liked them a lot.

  She just wasn’t used to such honesty.

  “So, your brothers and your sister-in-law…they have no idea of the work you’ve been doing in your spare time, do they? No idea of what you did back in Montana for all those months and not what you’re beginning to do here.” She stood out on the sidewalk in front of a restaurant, with a very catchy name—Lusty Appetites—and waited for Jesse to come around from the driver’s side of his truck.

  Barry and Jesse both shrugged. “We told them we were doing volunteer work with an equine therapy program, but beyond that, no,” Jesse said.

  Because they weren’t, either of them, braggarts.

  Jesse reached for her left hand, and Barry took up her right, and they led her into the eatery.

  The aroma of good food made her stomach growl. Both men proved their manners by not commenting, although they both did seem to be fighting the urge to laugh.

  Hell, she couldn’t blame them. Her hunger could get very noisy. The restaurant seemed about a third full. This late on a Saturday evening—a time when folks might be headed out to see a movie, or peruse the malls—she would have expected the place to be practically empty.

  The wonderful smells told her why it wasn’t.

  Jesse nodded at a waitress who was making her way over to them. Pretty, middle-aged, the woman wore her silver-tinged brunette hair up and her mouth in a wide smile.

  “I wondered if we were going to see you boys tonight,” she said by way of greeting.

  Barry grinned and then kissed her cheek. “You can’t keep us away from Kelsey and Carrie’s good cooking, Aunt Bernice. Or yours either.”

  “I didn’t know you worked Saturdays,” Jesse said and kissed her, too.

  “I don’t usually, but Michelle, Joe, and little Craig are all fighting some sort of flu bug, so I offered to help out tonight.” She smiled at them then turned her attention to Charlotte.

  Jesse put his hand on her back as he performed the introductions. “Aunt Bernice, this is Charlotta Carmichael. Charlotta, Bernice Benedict.”

  If anything the woman’s smile got bigger. “Dr. Carmichael, it’s so nice to meet you!”

  “Thank you. It’s nice to meet you, too.” It didn’t escape her attention that Mrs. Benedict had called her Doctor Carmichael.

  “Come and sit over here. You’ve missed the dinner crowd—and your brothers.”

  “They arrived home just as we were heading out,” Jesse said. He held Charlotta’s chair, the gesture natural. He sat beside her while Barry took the seat across from her.

  Mrs. Benedict set menus on the table. “The special tonight is grilled pork chop, served with your choice of rice casserole or fried potatoes, and seasonal vegetables. The special also includes a soup or salad, and a slice of pie for dessert. Can I bring you something to drink, while you decide?”

  “I’ll have some milk, please,” Barry said. He shot Charlotta a sheepish grin.

  “Coke, please, Aunt Bernice.”

  “Sweet tea is good for me, thank you.” Charlotta recalled that the brothers had confessed to not yet being used to sweet tea. Apparently their aunt was aware of this because she gave Charlotta a wink, then said to Barry, “The milk is nice and cold, sweetheart, just the way you like it.”

  Charlotta perused the menu, but the special called her name, especially since it came with a salad. Just then, she craved a good salad more than anything.

  The sun had begun to set, casting the outside world in the shadows of dusk. Looking out on the small town, seeing the almost ruthless cleanliness, she couldn’t help but think about all she knew of the Benedicts of Central Texas.

  They weren’t the sort to get their pictures in the paper that often, but if they did, it was rarely on the society pages. Unlike the Browns—or Whitford-Browns as Roger’s mother preferred to be called—they didn’t feel a need to exalt themselves in the public eye.

  She hadn’t said anything to Jesse and Barry yet, but she’d also recognized Cord and Jackson when she’d met them. Her uncle was a rabid football fan, and she’d watched more than her share of games with him in the last few years.

  There was one thing, however, she had to address. “You weren’t kidding about aunts, uncles, and cousins all over,” Charlotta said. “But I have to confess, I didn’t expect to meet an aunt waitressing.” She had heard of the name Bernice Benedict, and it had been in conjunction with charity work on behalf of disadvantaged children.

  Jesse grinned. “Her husbands retired—Uncle Caleb was a Texas Ranger, and Uncle Jonathan was a rancher—and she said they near drove her crazy, trying to ‘help’ her around the house so she could be retired, too. She says her prayers were answered when they decided to go in with a friend of Uncle Caleb’s—actually the adoptive father of her daughter’s husbands—and open a detective agency. And then she decided that she’d like to do something part-time, too.”

  “Some of Kelsey’s waitresses—Kelsey being her daughter-in-law—had switched to part-time,” Barry continued the narrative, “so they could raise their babies, but that left Kelsey just a little short in the help department. So between them, they figured if Aunt Bernice worked part time, too, that would take care of everyone’s needs.”

  “She doesn’t have to work.” Charlotta realized the truth in that, and admired the work ethic. “None of you do—not your brothers, or your aunts and uncles—or even you, I’d bet.”

  “Being idle isn’t the Benedict way,” Jesse said.

  “No, it’s not.” Bernice brought over a tray with their drinks on it. “That work ethic goes all the way back to Sarah Carmichael Benedict—now there’s a coincidence for you—as she’d seen what reveling in one’s riches could do to a person—first through her father’s second wife, and secondly through the man her father sold her to. My mother-in-law, Kate, says Sarah was determined that attitude would not take root in her family.”

  “From what little Jesse and Barry have told me about Sarah, I wish I’d had a chance to meet her.” She understood, academically, that women in centuries past had been considered little more than chattel. But hearing of an experience like Sarah’s took it from the academic to the personal. Charlotta didn’t consider herself a feminist, but she had feminist embers within her, and they’d damn near exploded at the tale.

  Bernice smiled. “So do I. Kate remains as the only living member of the families who knew both Sarah and her cousin Amanda.” She laid a hand briefly on Barry’s shoulder—a gesture of affection—then pulled out her order pad.

  Charlotta ordered the special, opting for rice over the potatoes, and selected honey mustard dressing for her salad. Jesse and Barry both chose the burgers with cheese and fries. Bernice nodded, and flipped her order pad closed. “And since I know you’re true gentlemen and don’t want the lady to feel centered out, I’ll bring you each a salad, too.” She winked and then headed toward the kitchen.

  Charlotta quickly looked down until she had the urge to laugh under control. But then both men chuckled, so she figured it was safe to follow suit.

  Barry shrugged. “Actually, it’s kind of nice, the way all the aunts—and Grandma Kate—take care of us that way.”

  “It is,” Jesse agreed. “We’re not used to it, but it is nice.”

  Charlotta suspected that it was more than just the desire to help their brothers and be closer to their sister that had brought Jesse and Barry more than a thousand miles from Montana to Texas.

  Jesse’s last statement was telling.

  “I don’t think there’s anything about family history that Grandma Kate do
esn’t know,” Jesse said.

  That name rang a bell for Charlotta, too. It didn’t take her long to remember where she’d heard it, either. She leaned forward so she could talk more intimately. “My father’s mother was like that,” Charlotta said. “Grandmother Carmichael kept track of all the branches of the family. She died when I was a teen. It was only as I came into adulthood that I wished I’d paid more attention to her when she would give me those lectures of hers.”

  “Grandma Kate used to come and visit us up in Montana, about once a year. Of course, we called her Aunt Kate then, because she technically isn’t our grandma,” Barry said.

  Charlotta grinned. “I have a confession to make. I’ve heard of Grandma Kate—from my friend, Camilla. It seems there’re a lot of folks over in Divine who call her ‘grandma,’ too, even though she’s technically not.”

  Jesse grinned. “I know that for a fact.”

  Charlotta had secretly wondered if everything she’d heard about the elderly woman could possibly be true. She was looking forward to meeting her and finding out for herself.

  * * * *

  Jesse looked from Barry to the woman they both believed was meant to be theirs. He remembered a conversation with Cord and Jackson about how they’d felt when they first set their eyes on Ari—and how their cousins and uncles had told them, that for most of them, that was the Benedict way. Love at first sight sounded cheesy as hell, but apparently in this branch of the Benedict family, it was normal.

  If they were serious about Charlotta Carmichael, then maybe that whole let’s-get-her-hooked before she came to know their dirty little secret was the wrong way to go.

  He and Barry both wanted to build a solid relationship, one that would weather storms and all the ups and downs life handed out. And if they wanted to do that, then damn it, that foundation had to be solid.

  He sighed. “We owe you an apology.”

  Charlotta blinked. She looked from him to his brother. “For what?”

  “Being evasive,” Barry said.

  Jesse met his brother’s gaze. It was good to know they were on the same page. Yes, this was going to be a gamble. But that’s how it had to be.

  “When we told you that we weren’t used to being fussed over, I saw the curiosity in your eyes. And then I changed the course of the conversation.”

  “We’re just starting out. We don’t have to expose our inner souls on the first few dates.”

  “No, we don’t. And you don’t have to, either. But our past…we’ve been doing what we can to make amends, and a part of that price, we both believe, is being completely honest with you—starting here and now.”

  Aunt Bernice brought over their salads and set them out in front of them. This time it was his shoulder she touched—just a light gesture that he’d come to expect and cherish from the motherly woman.

  This time, that touch bolstered him.

  As he watched her head to the next table, he searched for just the right words—and they came to him, almost without thought. “We’re bullies.”

  “I find that very hard to believe.” Nothing in her tone spoke to him of hate or alarm, so he continued.

  “It’s true. From the time she was about six, until—well, I guess until last Christmas—we bullied our sister, Veronica.”

  “What form did this bullying take?”

  “We had horrible nicknames for her. She wasn’t tiny and stick-skinny like our older sister, Addison, or our mother. So we called her Chubbs and teased her about her curves and her weight. It seemed normal. And because we did that constantly, our best friends, a couple of…” This confession thing was harder than he thought. “Our best friends were a couple of assholes. We always knew that, but we let it slide. Anyway, they did the same, calling her names, teasing her and taunting her at every turn. We never understood just how badly we were hurting her.”

  “Did you do this teasing in secret? Just the two of you?”

  “Hell, no. That was the problem. Everyone in the family did it—well except for Dad, and Cord, and Jackson.”

  “So your mother…”

  “Yeah, she called her Chubbs, too.”

  “So when Veronica was six, and this started, how old were you?”

  Jesse looked at Charlotta, trying to get a sense of what she was thinking. Her pretty face gave nothing away, and that made him nervous. He shrugged. “I guess we were, what? Nine, ten.”

  “A couple of kids, behaving as kids behave.”

  “The thing is, we bullied her. Made us sick, when we understood last year, how badly we hurt her…how deeply we injured her.”

  “There’s more, isn’t there? So let’s go back to the question you saw in my eyes when you were reveling in your aunt’s—who’s not really your aunt—reveling in her gesture of tenderness.”

  Jesse looked at Barry. He could tell his brother felt as on edge as he.

  “All right. What’s your question?”

  “You didn’t just relocate here to help your brothers, or to be closer to family, did you?”

  “No.” Barry’s answer, short and sweet, wasn’t all of it.

  “When we fully understood what we’d done—and no matter what you think, we did bully her—we were heartsick.” Now that he’d started, the words just flowed. “Hell, we love Veronica. We’ve always loved her, but we sure as hell didn’t act in a loving way toward her. Even before we got back home, we knew that we had to change—not just because any future relationship with Veronica depended on it, but because we hated what we’d done. We didn’t want to be those assholes anymore.”

  “We’d no sooner set boots on the ground than our best friends—Phil and Gord Maxwell—dropped by.” Barry’s tone had gone deep and quiet, the way it did when he was upset. “They spewed a lot of shit about Veronica and her marriage—they were so vile that we…um…lost it.”

  Charlotta had continued to eat her salad as they’d been baring their souls, but he didn’t mistake the action for anything but what it was—she was listening, and maybe hearing things he didn’t even realize they were saying.

  “In other words, you fought with them, physically.”

  “Yes, and then we told them to f…go home, and never come back,” Jesse said.

  “Then what happened?”

  “We thought that was the end of it, although our mom gave us grief, because Phil and Gord are the sons of her best friend. And then we heard something that we almost couldn’t believe.” Barry shook his head in disgust.

  “We heard they’d been poaching wild horses from a tract of land—Benedict land—that had been donated to the BLM, to create a sanctuary, a temporary holding area for their Wild Horse and Burro Program.”

  “You mean…they were stealing them?” Charlotta sounded outraged.

  “Yes, and selling them for profit. Some of those animals they sold to a slaughterhouse.”

  “Oh, my God. That’s horrible!” Then she looked at them each in turn. “You stopped them.”

  “Damn straight we did. We called one of Veronica’s husbands, Travis McDaniel. He’s a former game warden, and he helped us, told us who to talk to. Then friends of her other husband, a couple of private investigators, contacted us and helped. They had friends in the area who gave us a GPS device which we were able to put on Phil’s truck. Then when we knew they were on our land, stealing those horses, we called in the authorities, and they were caught red-handed.”

  “Good. I hope the judge locks them up and throws away the key.”

  “They could get as much as eight years each and very hefty fines.” Barry nodded. “We just found out this morning they’re going to be sentenced on the sixteenth. Their lawyers will likely appeal, but they’ve already been placed in custody. They’re likely spend whatever sentences they get in a federal prison, possibly outside of Montana.”

  “Good. I know eight years isn’t much, but it’s something.”

  “That’s how we feel. Unfortunately, our mother doesn’t see it that way. To hear her tell it, we
’re the villains, especially since we refused to recant our testimony.”

  “She’s a ranch wife. Surely she understands the heinousness of what they did?”

  “Her husband—our father—is a rancher, but I wouldn’t call her a ranch wife,” Jesse said.

  “That’s why we decided to come here,” Barry said. “We just didn’t feel that home was home anymore.”

  Jesse hadn’t realized that he and Barry had both eaten almost all of their salad. Aunt Bernice came out of the kitchen with a tray filled with food.

  He hadn’t been all that hungry as he’d started telling Charlotta about their past. Now, he thought his appetite might just be coming back.

  Bernice made happy little sounds because they’d both eaten the rabbit food. She set the plates of burgers and fries down, and he saw that they were both heaped, and with good helpings of gravy, too.

  He looked over at Charlotta’s plate and thought her pork chop looked appetizing.

  When they were alone again, Charlotta nodded. “Now I understand why you relocated, and that it’s likely going to be permanent. I’m sorry your relationship with your mother has suffered. Maybe in time, she’ll come to appreciate where you both were coming from. Being ranchers, loving the animals the way I’ve seen that you do, you couldn’t have done anything differently. The people to blame here for all that’s happened are the assholes who committed the crimes.”

  “We have hope, too, that she’ll come around,” Barry said.

  Jesse decided that Barry’s spoken sentiment would do for them both. But there was a part of Jesse that wondered if Norah Benedict would ever “come around.”

  “This food looks so good. I don’t know if I’ll have room for that dessert.”

  Jesse grinned. “We can ask to have it wrapped up, if you like. In the meantime, I don’t think either of us is going to have trouble gobbling up our dessert of choice.”

  Charlotta laughed, a carefree and joyous sound that Jesse immediately fell in love with. “Dare I ask what the two of you are planning to have for dessert?”

  “You,” Barry said.

  “We thought we’d go parking and fool around some. If you have no objections, that is.”