Now she chuckled. “If I were cocooned between you all night, I’m thinking none of us would get any sleep.” She’d barely slept last night. From their snores, she seemed to be the only one who had difficulty getting rest. “And if we did have sex again, I’d be walking funny tomorrow. My body isn’t used to all this good loving.”
“Fine, but watch out tomorrow night.” Mason winked.
“Yeah, yeah.”
She headed into the bedroom, sad she’d be by herself. Reality was a bitch.
* * * *
While she saw Mason and Liam over the next few days, either they’d drag in late at night or showed up only to shower before heading out again. She was beginning to wonder if their life was always like this or if the case they were working on was an anomaly. She called Ceci to find out if Dylan and Gabe were gone as much. Her friend confirmed that the case was at a critical point and should be over soon.
The men hadn’t asked her to sit home again, but it was more her decision to remain inside than theirs. She’d met briefly with Debbie to go over the eulogy, but other than stopping at a few stores and running in and out of her house to retrieve a few things, she’d mostly occupied herself at their house.
Mason and Liam had called her about an hour ago and said they’d be home for dinner and would be bringing something from the Mountain View. At least she’d be eating well. A little before six, the front door rattled and her body shot to alert. The key in the lock told her it was just the men.
Liam was the first to pop in. “Sorry, honey. We didn’t mean to be gone all day, but some things couldn’t be helped.” He waved a bag with the Mountain View logo on the side. “Got you some fried chicken, green beans doused in some kind of bacon sauce that Chelsea swears is fit for a queen, and a salad. Hope that’s okay.”
“Since you remembered how much I like fried chicken, all is forgiven.”
Liam closed the gap between them. “Forgiven?”
“Well, you have been gone a lot. Being on vacation by myself has been hard.” She ran a hand down his chest. “Why don’t two you clean up and I’ll set out dinner?”
Mason moved in close. “Do we look dirty?”
She laughed at his stricken gaze. “No, but you touch things. Wash your hands at least.”
He kissed her quick. “I like when you boss us around.”
She didn’t believe that for a second. In bed, she rarely had a say.
No sooner has she set out the meal then the men returned. They each grabbed a beer from the fridge. “You want something, angel?”
“Water’s fine for me.” She needed her wits about her. “Did I mention Mr. Dunwoody’s funeral is tomorrow?”
Liam drops back his head. “Fuck.” He faced Mason. “One of us should be there.”
Mason nodded. “I agree.”
They didn’t know the man. “You don’t have to go. I’m sure the funeral home will be packed with people so I’ll be safe.”
Mason clasped her hand. “You and Debbie are giving the eulogy, right?”
“Yes.”
He smiled, but even though he was good at hiding his feelings, she could tell it wasn’t all that heartfelt. “The truth?”
“Please.” If everyone in her life had been honest, the world would have been a happier place.
“I’m not trying to scare you or anything, but often a killer shows up to the funeral.” He held up his hand. “Also know it’s just as likely he hung around while the police investigated.”
Her mind whirled back to when she’d first seen Mr. Dunwoody. “I didn’t mention it before because I didn’t think it was important, but when my student, Chrissie, dragged me to the back alley to see the body, there was a man in a trench coat heading west. All that registered at the time was that he must be hot. As soon as I saw the dead body, I was so freaked out that I forgot all about him.”
Liam leaned forward. “Can you describe him? Caucasian, Asian, Black, Hispanic? Was he old, young, what?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t see his face for more than a second and the sun was in my eyes.”
“How tall was he?”
She shouldn’t have mentioned it, as his image was a blur. “He was at least fifty feet away, so telling his height was hard, but if I had to guess, maybe five ten.”
Mason smiled, his expression genuine this time. “You did fine.”
“Do you really think he or the killer might come to the service?”
He rubbed the back of her hand, which always had a soothing effect on her. “Nothing is going to happen at the service. I’ll be there to make sure you stay safe.”
“Thank you. It’s nice to know you’ll be there for support. Even though I’m used to getting up in front of people, my students are kids. It will be hard to watch people grieve.”
“You’ll do fine.”
After they finished dinner, she insisted on cleaning up. The act of doing something mindless would help her keep from thinking about tomorrow. Debbie, she knew, would be grieving, as would Mr. Dunwoody’s widow. Tomorrow was going to suck.
* * * *
Mason and she drove separately to the funeral home because she said she didn’t know if any of her friends would want to commiserate after the service. He acknowledged that he’d need to head to Bozeman after the event anyway.
“But if you do go out, can you do me a favor, angel?”
“Sure.”
“Can you text one of us when you arrive at your destination and again when you—”
She held up a hand to stop him from continuing. Had a shot of fear not crossed his face, she might have been upset. “Yes, but don’t you think that’s a little overkill?” Her pulse soared.
He drew her close. “When it comes to you, we don’t ever want to take a chance.” His lips brushed hers and her body pressed against his, making her want to stay in his arms forever.
She leaned back because the service wouldn’t wait for her to indulge in his body. “Yes, I’ll be happy to text you ten times a day if it makes you feel better.”
“Thank you.” He patted her butt and led her to the garage where she’d parked her car.
When they arrived, the parking lot of the funeral home was totally packed. Here Sarah thought she’d be early. As they walked in, Mason’s gaze searched the crowd. She did, too, but it was for a completely different reason. She wanted to see who’d come to give their respects.
Mason tapped her shoulder. “I’m going to stay in the back.”
She faced him, more nervous now that she was here. “Do you think the you-know-who might be hanging out there?”
He rubbed her arm. “There is no pattern to these things. Go be with your friends and don’t worry.”
She nodded. When Sarah made her way to the front where the coffin resided, she slid in next to Debbie, not ready to view Mr. Dunwoody.
Her new friend smiled. “Hey. How are you holding up?” She squeezed her hand once.
“As best as can be expected. You?”
“I’m still in disbelief. I had to look to make myself believe he was really dead.” She nodded to the back. “I saw you come in with your other man.”
Did the town already assume she was dating both? This was Pleasure, so maybe they did. “Yes. He wants to make sure I don’t have a breakdown.”
“You’re lucky to have him.”
“I am.”
From Debbie’s sad response, it implied she had no one. Sarah had heard that after two failed pregnancies, Debbie’s former husband had run off with another woman and already had a child. And here Sarah thought her life sucked after the kidnapping.
The funeral home director eased up to the podium and asked everyone to stand for the presenting of the flag. She hadn’t know Mr. Dunwoody had been in the service, but two men in uniform walked down the aisle and did an elaborate flag folding ceremony that was precise and beautiful. After they presented the flag to Mrs. Dunwoody they slowly marched out. How touching.
When the director asked if anyo
ne would like to say a word, both she and Debbie rose. Now wasn’t the time to compete with her, so she motioned for Debbie to go first. They’d discussed everything but the order. Sarah knew the stories she was about to tell, and when Debbie finished talking about Mr. Dunwoody’s passion, few eyes were dry.
As soon as Debbie sat, Sarah took her place in front. She spoke of the times she’d come in for lunch to work on some new theory she’d developed. Of course, Mr. Dunwoody would always find some little flaw in her thinking then suggest a new approach she might try. He always treated her with respect. She recounted how in January of her sophomore year, he approached her and asked if she’d come in after school and help tutor his weaker students. She’d never felt more proud. Had it not been for that man, she’d never have chosen teaching math as a career. Not wanting to overstep her time, she returned to her seat. A few others followed and the short service concluded without any disturbance.
Mrs. Dunwoody came up to her and told her how much her kind words meant to her. Mason also approached and hugged her, then said he’d received a text from Liam. Mason needed to go. He leaned over. “I spotted no one in a trench coat, but you still need to be careful. Remember to text me.”
“I will.” She wanted to kiss him, but that kind of affection in here didn’t seem right. “When will you be home?”
Mason pressed his lips together. “I’ll call you.”
When he walked out, her heart emptied. Fortunately, her weekly happy hour girls were there—Ceci, Brooke, Elle Bronson, the owner of the town’s sex shop, and Christina Hemingway, one of the town’s bankers. They all gathered around her. Several of her cheerleading team rushed to her. Having them there meant a lot to her. Her big surprise was seeing Billy Jackson. If she recalled, he’d had to repeat algebra with Mr. Dunwoody.
As she turned to leave, Debbie walked out with her. Her lips wobbled a bit as if she was working hard not to cry. “I heard a few of you mention you were going to head over to Mountain View as a way to celebrate Mr. Dunwoody’s life. I know this is a little presumptuous of me, but would you mind if I join you ladies?”
“Sure. The more the merrier.”
“Thanks. I just don’t want to be alone right now.”
“I understand. Neither do I.”
“What about your guy?”
“He’s off on a case.”
As Sarah headed toward the east side of the lot, Debbie called to her and Sarah turned around. “Yes?”
“I almost forgot. I got the list you requested of the people who said they were coming to the reunion.”
“That’s great. Can you email it to me?”
“Already did.”
“Perfect. See you in town.”
Chapter Fifteen
“That was an amazing speech,” Brooke said once they were all seated around the large table in the Mountain View Bar & Grill.
While Brooke and Ceci Armstrong were equally brilliant women, Brooke focused more on math in high school. Mr. Dunwoody had taught both of them, but Brooke took most of her classes from him.
Ceci sipped her wine. “Have you heard if Justin has a suspect?”
“I haven’t wanted to ask him. Neither Liam nor Mason seem to know much either. I’m almost tempted to go over to the clinic and ask Lydia if she knows anything.” Just because she was married to the sheriff and the deputy, it didn’t mean they shared their work with her.
“I know how that goes,” Ceci said.
Debbie sipped on her Jack Daniels. “I did speak with Mrs. Dunwoody a few days ago. She said Butch Harnbarger, her husband’s coworker, was having an argument with Mr. Dunwoody over how many of the exercises should be interactive. You know how much Mr. Dunwoody loved the history of math, right?”
Sarah nodded. “That was one of the things I loved about his class. He made it so real.”
Debbie’s eyes shone. “I know, right? Well, apparently, Butch said the kids today don’t need that ‘crap’ and Mr. Dunwoody disagreed.”
Elle, who looked so sophisticated in her conservative suit, leaned back. “Debbie, are you saying Mrs. Dunwoody thinks Butch might have killed her husband?”
“She wouldn’t say, but if I were the sheriff, I’d investigate him. He’s young, strong, and capable of wielding a heavy object to kill him.”
Everyone nodded. Sarah sighed. “I know everyone wants justice, but even when the killer is in jail, Mr. Dunwoody will still be dead.”
Brooke held up her glass. “Amen. To Mr. Dunwoody.”
They all touched their glasses and downed their drinks. After one wine, Sarah was suddenly tired. The tension from the funeral, the idea that the killer might have been at the service, and the pressure from not having her life back really hit her hard.
She pushed back her chair. “Ladies, I hate to cut this short, but I really need to catch up on my sleep. I can’t thank all of you enough for supporting me.” She faced Debbie. “And thanks, Deb, for suggesting we do the eulogy. Mrs. Dunwoody really appreciated it.”
“You’re welcome.”
Elle looked up and waved her glass. “Remember, we have another happy hour tomorrow!”
“If the men have to work, I for sure want to be with you all. I have to play it by ear though.”
Elle smiled. “Sure. Come if you can.”
As Sarah headed to the parking lot, she texted Mason, telling him she was on her way home. It was overkill, but it had been a long time since anyone had worried that much about her. It was nice. No. They were nice.
The problem was that she was falling for both men. She was realistic to know that as soon as they decided she was out of danger, she’d be back home and left to her terrible dreams. The sun warmed her face. Hell, maybe, she will have gotten over those fears by then.
Mason texted right back. Text again when you’re inside the house. Liam and I are on stakeout. It might be late. Catch a hug. We’ll make it up to you soon. Promise.
Her nipples puckered at the idea of making love with them again. During the last few days, it was one thing after another why they couldn’t be together. She did feel sorry for them for having so many late hours, but that was the price of running a business, she guessed.
Sarah was convinced they wanted to be with her, so she didn’t feel slighted because they had to be on a case. At first, she thought they might try to find someone else to watch over her. Hell, her nightmares could scare anyone away, but so far, she’d been lucky. Being in their house had cut down dramatically on those terrible nightly dreams.
On the way home, Sarah periodically glanced at the rearview mirror, but no one followed her to the men’s house. Feeling good, as she neared their drive, she used the remote to open the garage door and once inside, she closed it right away. Now safe, she texted Mason back that she was home.
It was only five, but she was starving. A half-used package of spaghetti was in the cabinet and some unused sauce sat in the refrigerator. She put the water on to boil and dropped the rest of the sauce in a pot to slowly heat.
Tonight she wanted to finish reading the book she’d started a while ago. By the time she grabbed her Kindle, it was time to dump in the spaghetti. In no time, her meal was ready and she wolfed it down in a hurry. With food taken care of, she settled in to wait for the men.
She jerked awake and looked around. “Liam? Mason?”
No answer. The sky had darkened. Wow. She hadn’t realized she was that tired. The kitchen clock read 8:36 p.m.. Where were the men? Sarah walked back to her bedroom, stopping in each of their rooms just in case they’d snuck in. Nope. She was alone.
Needing to shower, she went into the bathroom and undressed. The men should consider another line of work if they planned on doing a lot of surveillance work.
After the water warmed, she stepped in, moaning out load at how good the heat felt on her skin. When she ran the body wash over her skin, she could picture the men in here with her, driving her crazy with their wonderful touches. Shaking her head, she finished getting clean.
Just as she was done, she swore she heard a sound coming from her bedroom, so she stepped onto the bathmat and called their names again.
No answer. Sarah dried off. It must have been her imagination. With a towel around her, she walked into her room. There was a strong creep factor in there, but it was probably because she knew the men weren’t here.
After she pulled on her pajamas, she went out to the living room again for something to drink and an evening snack. When the men did crawl home, she bet they’d be hungry. She looked through the cabinets, found a box of brownie mix, and smiled.
They’d really like the treat after their long night. After setting the temperature on the oven, she got out a bowl and the ingredients. By the time she added the eggs, oil, and water, the oven was heated. All she could find was a large casserole dish, but that would have to do.
Once the brownies were in the oven, she set the timer and decided to read until they were done. With Kindle in hand once more, she dropped on the sofa and returned to the romance. The timer dinged before she was halfway through the chapter.
“Bad timing.”
She took out the dessert and set it on the counter to cool. Wanting the men to know the treat was for them, she jotted a note, then headed into her bedroom. Her eyelids refused to stay open, so crawling into bed seemed a good option. It was so great to have hope she’d sleep through the night.
In case the men wanted to come in and check on her, she left the door ajar. After debating whether to keep the light on or turn it off, she decided she’d sleep better in the dark. Her mind was actually rather calm as she slipped between the sheets and closed her eyes.
It must have been quite late when sounds of masculine whispers came from the hallway. She thought about sitting up, but somehow she’d drifted off again.
“Sar-ah. Sar-ah!”
She rolled over and planted her face in the pillow, hoping the nightmare would disappear.
“Sar-ah. Sar-ah! Help me.”
There it was again. The words finally registered in her brain and she sat up, her heart pounding. She reached over to turn on the light, hoping she truly was awake. Her breaths came out rapidly as she glanced around. No one was in her room. She waited, listening intently. Come on, say it again.
Unexpected Pleasures [Pleasure, Montana 11] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 12
