by Rye Hart
It was important to me that I earned my way up the ladder and I asked Tyler to treat me like any other business partner when it came to working together. He respected my wishes.
“What’s that?” he asked, nodding at the postcard in my hand.
“It’s a postcard from Carl and Doris in Florida,” I said, fanning it at him. The front of the card had a picture of a sandy beach at sunset. On the back, Doris had written “Wish you were here!” and drawn a happy face.
I pretended to read the back of the card.
“Tyler, please do everything Maggie says and give her lots and lots of sex. Love, Carl and Doris.”
“Wow, that’s my kind of postcard,” Tyler said with a grin.
There was a thick envelope in the stack of mail from a law firm in Denver that I didn’t recognize. Tyler’s in-house lawyers handled his business affairs. I held it up for him to see.
“You have a letter from Baxter & Chase, Attorneys at Law.” I cut my eyes at him. “You’re not in trouble again, are you?”
He smiled at me and rolled his eyes. “That’s the firm I hired to set up the foundation we talked about.”
I blinked at him. “The foundation?”
“The James J. Jenner Foundation,” he said, taking the envelope and sliding a finger under the flap to tear it open. He handed me a document that was too full of legalese for me to understand. “Those are the articles of incorporation.”
“This is the foundation you set up in memory of your father,” I said, giving him a warm smile. “The one that will donate camping equipment and set up summer outdoor programs for underprivileged kids across the country.”
“That’s it,” he said with a sigh. His eyes went dreamy for a moment. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for my dad. I wouldn’t have all this and I would have never met you. I wanted to do something in his memory.” He gave me a smile. “You’ve taught me how important family is, Maggie. How important people are. My dad knew that. I think I did a long time ago, but I lost sight of it. It took you to remind me of it.”
“Yes, well, what can I say? I am quite the motivator!”
“Yes, you are.”
I grinned at him and slipped the papers back into the envelope. “This is wonderful, Tyler. Your dad would be so proud.”
He nodded at the laptop sitting open on the bar next to me. “Have you got everything ordered for the hotel kitchen? I’m meeting with the city inspector today for the final inspection on the electrical and plumbing, so we’ll be ready to install the appliances as soon as they arrive.”
“Yes sir, I have coordinated with your buyers in Denver and everything is on its way,” I said with a salute and a smile. “It should arrive next week.”
“Awesome,” he said, draining the cup and setting it in the sink. He wiped the tips of his moustache with his fingers and glanced toward the door. “I’m going to take the boys to the construction site with me again today. They’ve been a huge help, and I think they’re having fun learning how things work.”
“I appreciate you taking them under your wing,” I said with a smile. “They really like you.”
“They’re good boys,” he said. He let his eyes linger on my face for a moment. “How about you? Are you ready to go to work once the hotel restaurant is open?”
“I am,” I said.
I’d been taking the online classes from the culinary school in Denver for almost a year and was finally on my way to getting my dream degree.
“I think I’ve put on fifteen pounds being your test dummy,” he said, rubbing his flat stomach.
I smiled for a moment, then made a serious face. “Are you sure your head chef isn’t going to have a problem having the boss’ fiancé working in his kitchen? I mean, this is going to be a five-star restaurant and he is one of the top chefs in the country. Are you sure he’s not a little resentful of having me in his kitchen? This is a very big deal for you and him. I don’t want to do anything to screw it up.”
“Jean Claude is a consummate professional, Mags,” Tyler said with a nod. “He and I had a long talk and he is totally cool with having you in his kitchen. Just don’t expect any favors from him. If anything, he’ll be harder on you than the other chefs, but it’s only because he wants you to learn to be the best, from the best. He knows you are being groomed for running Maggie’s Garden in a few years. It will be the perfect.”
“As long as he’s willing to teach me, I’m willing to shut my mouth and learn. It’s important that I’ve worked the trenches and earned the right to run my own restaurant. I couldn’t be more grateful for your help, but as you know, I have to do that part for myself” I said.
Tyler came around the island and I swiveled on the stool to face him. He wedged himself between my knees and I put my arms around his waist and rested my head on his chest.
“I love you,” he said, kissing the top of my head.
“I love you, too,” I said with a sigh.
I listened to his heart beating in my ear.
It was a most wonderful sound.
Who would have thought that Maggie Dean would be the one to tame the Billionaire Mountain Man?
THE END
RYE HART SNEAK PEAKS
6 Mountain Brothers for Christmas
A Reverse Harem Romance
PROLOGUE
Standing there, in the living room, we passed around the bottles until they were drained of their contents. I looked down at the green bottle in my hands and smiled, placing it on the ground before I spun it.
It spun, and it spun, and I could feel the brothers’ eyes on me. Their curious glances slowly growing devilish while my nipples puckered painfully behind my bra. They knew what I was thinking, and I knew what was rolling through their heads. As the bottle slowed to a stop in front of Chance, I lifted my gaze to him and grinned.
“Chance,” I said. “Truth or Dare?”
In an instant, the entire atmosphere in the room changed. Chance’s gaze held mine steadily as I rolled my bottom lip between my teeth, and I heard Ethan let out a groan as Chance drew in a long breath through his nose.
“Dare,” he said.
“I dare you, Chance Trent, to undress me and make me come.”
“Oh…,” he said as he approached me. “I’d be happy to oblige.”
In an instant, Chance’s lips were on mine as his hands rounded around to my ass. I could feel his strength pressing into me, pinning me between him and the cool glass of the sliding back doors.
“I’ll give it to you just the way you want,” he said into my lips.
He stripped me of my clothes before he picked me up against his body. I wrapped my legs around him, feeling him carry me up the steps. He opened up one of the bedrooms and laid me down onto the bed. I could hear the footsteps of the other Trent brothers behind us, and I was thrilled for the show we were about to give them.
Chance’s lips kissing down my cheek and suckling at the skin on my neck.
“Oh Chance,” I said, whispering.
“Say it again,” he said.
“Chance,” I said. “Please don’t make me wait.”
“I love it when you say my name.”
His lips traveled down my breasts, bypassing my nipples that were angry and screaming for attention. His hands parted my legs, and I felt my juices dripping out onto the bed. He kissed the insides of my legs, sniffing my scent deeply before his tongue slid up my slit. My hands wound into the sheets underneath my body, and my heels dug into Chance’s back while his tongue worked my clit.
I could feel my toes curling even before he picked up his pace. And the most erotic part of the experience was my acute awareness of the other brothers in the room – patiently waiting.
Had someone told me I’d be in this position (pun intended) one month ago, I would have laughed in disbelief.
Yet, in this very moment I knew one thing for certain: I was the luckiest girl in this enchanted mountain town.
CHAPTER ONE - KYRA
Why the he
ll did I become a sex education teacher?
I’m the last person that should be teaching these kids about sex!
My eyes scanned the words on the page, and the text made my cheeks flushes. I swallowed as the students continued to stare. I could hear their snickers and feel their judgmental glances burning into my skin.
Oh, that’s right…it was either this, or babysitting obnoxious rich kids.
I forced myself to keep reading the words out loud, but my voice continued to stammer. “The tip of the…ahem… male’s anatomy… is the most sensitive part of his body. It is akin to a woman’s…’”
“If she can’t say ‘penis,’ she’ll never say ‘clit,” one student said.
“Miss Lancaster, are you trying to say a dude’s cockhead is like my clit?”
I whipped my head up while my eyes scanned the room. “Who asked that?”
“Me,” said the Angela Lopez, the girl at the back of the class that had it in for me the entire semester.
“Well, yes that’s what this book is trying to say,” I said.
“Nah, the book says it just fine. But you can’t even say the word ‘penis.’ How’d you get this job anyway?”
“Come on, Miss Lancaster,” another student said. “Say it. Say ‘penis.”
The children were laughing uncontrollably like something out of a nightmare. I dipped my head toward the pages of the book, not wanting to face the jeering mob.
What has my life come to?
After a college career spent learning psychology and education, this was where it got me. A sad reality spent drooling over an idiot ex-fiancé that wanted nothing to do with the real me.
Landon was much more interested in the pathetic picture of a cookie cutter wife he wanted me to fit into. I’d basically put my life and dreams on hold when I dropped everything and followed him into the city.
Months of applying for jobs resulted in mostly nanny offers, until I received a phone call from a high school in Queens. The facility was in dire need of a sex-education teacher. Rumor had it, the former teacher was let go after getting caught making out with her student in the locker room. Yuck!
The stress from the last few months of a sad relationship and a thankless job was showing - especially in my figure. I’d put on some noticeable weight around my mid-section and rear. Getting into my favorite pair of jeans became a creative process, entailing deep yoga breaths and a prayer. I seriously felt for my poor zipper which held on for dear life. I’ve always been a curvy girl, but things were beginning to get ridiculous - even by my standards.
If that wasn’t enough to stress over, I was stuck in the middle of a city I hated, and teaching children a subject I had less knowledge about then they did.
“How many sexual partners have you had, Miss Lancaster?” a girl asked.
“Excuse me?” I asked.
“How many blow jobs have you given?!” a boy shouted.
“That is not an appropriate question,” I said.
“I’ve had three,” a girl said.
“Dude, me too!” another exclaimed.
“I’m still a virgin, but I’m changin’ that tonight,” someone else chimed in.
God help me. My middle school kids were more sexually experienced than I was.
“All right, everyone! Pop quiz!”
All of them groaned while I handed out the papers. Then I sat back at my desk and took out my phone. The quiz was supposed to be for tomorrow, a little parting gift before Christmas break, but I had to do something to bring the embarrassment to a halt. When I first moved to New York City, it was on the heels of my fiancé.
His entire business empire was here, and it was assumed I would follow him. When I got here, I was in desperate need of a job. Even though I moved, we weren’t living together officially, and up until a few weeks ago, I could hardly get him to nail down a wedding date. He expected me to follow him wherever he went, but he didn’t want to give me solid commitment. It was total bullshit and I was sick of playing games.
The funniest part was that he was the one that wooed me relentlessly at first. In college, he’d been romantic. He took me on random plane trips to the other side of the country and surprised me with dozens of roses after end-of-semester exams. He showered me with attention, and he was gentle when he took my virginity. He opened my mind sexually to things I never thought I would experience - and up until this job, I thought I was well-versed in the art of sex.
But clearly, I was not.
Unlike me, Landon was wild and spontaneous. He was a buyer while I was a window shopper. If there was something I even stared at long enough, he would get it without a second thought. I’ve never liked the idea of letting someone buy my affection, but he would object. He genuinely wanted to express his love, and I guess it was the best way he knew how.
But when we graduated, things changed.
Suddenly, he wanted to know what I planned to do with my life. He wondered why I wasn’t pursuing a Master’s in Business or focusing on becoming the best paid educator in the nation. Pursing money or recognition wasn’t important to me; I wanted to help people – specifically in their relationships.
I grew up in a broken household, with parents that hated each other. It eventually led to a bitter divorce, which was the worst memory of my childhood. Luckily I managed to move on with my life, but my sister, Abby, had major issues dealing. Even as an adult, she blames her troubles with commitment to my parents’ failed relationship. The girl refused to commit to a puppy, much less a man. It was hard to witness; especially knowing she was limiting her own happiness out of fear.
Growing up, I promised myself I would find a way to help others avoid the struggles that came out of poor relationships. I told Landon I wanted to build my own YouTube empire, based solely around relationship advice, and once I could work up the courage, share tactics couples could use to spice up their life.
And all Landon did was throw his head back and laugh. He told me I was coming to New York City with him after we graduated, so I followed. He proposed to me the moment we stepped off his private jet, and suddenly, all my anger melted away. He wrapped me in his arms and told me he was sorry, that he supported me in whatever decisions I wanted to make.
But the dream was short-lived.
He didn’t want to set a date for the wedding, and he still wanted to jet away on the weekends. Then there was the complete lack of support for my dreams. Whenever I tried to get my YouTube channel up and running, he always had something planned to interrupt me. A charity ball or an event that popped up out of nowhere, diverting me from what I’d sat down to do that evening after searching for jobs.
Eventually, I asked if I could move in officially instead of simply living with him temporarily. When he told me he would think about it I was honestly disappointed.
Truthfully, I was pissed. We were apparently getting married, and he was having trouble committing to shared living quarters?
I wasn’t going to pressure him into making a decision. If it wasn’t one hundred percent his choice to commit then he could take his ring back.
And, the moment he started jetting away on the weekends without me, I decided enough was enough.
He looked down on my profession and laughed my dreams.
He dragged me to cities I didn’t want to be and postponed the wedding.
The straw that broke the camel’s back was a secret life he was living behind closed doors.
We were done.
Now, I was sitting in a classroom I had no business teaching, juggling the numerous phone calls he was sending to my phone, while the students took their pop quiz. Now, the man I called my ex-fiancé was trying to get me to talk. He thought I would come crawling back to him if he sent me gifts.
But those gifts turned into surprise appearances at my apartment. And those appearances that went unanswered turned into angry text messages. And now, those unanswered text messages were turning into angry voice messages he was leaving me every single time I ignored hi
s phone calls.
I needed a serious time out.
The children started bringing their pop quizzes up to the desk and setting them down. I only had seven more minutes until I could release them to go home, and relief cascaded throughout my body. I was ready for Christmas break. I was ready to see my father, my friends and the place I still called home, Castle Rock, Colorado. And finally, I was ready to figure out how the hell I was going to put all of this behind me and follow the dreams I’d once had pulling at my heart strings.
Just as the bell rang to release the students, text messages began to light up on my phone. I put my hand on top of the pop quizzes that were being tossed at me, while trying to ignore the snickering of the students still teasing me.
When I looked at my phone, it wasn’t my ex trying to get ahold of me this time. The Trent brothers were blowing up my phone, wondering when in the world I was coming home. Their jokes and comments had me giggling as I sat there in the quiet of my little classroom.
The Trent brothers had been our neighbors for years. My mother called them the “gaggle of gossips,” mostly because there were six boys, and all of them were prone to running their mouths. They became my solace when my mother died. A rare blood disorder essentially caused her body to turn on itself, and those six boys were my only reprieve from the horrible experience of letting my mother go, far too early.
When she passed, my father and I had troubles bonding. I was a ten-year-old girl going through hormonal fluctuations he didn’t understand, and he was a burly mountain man who chopped wood whenever he was angry. I learned how to play and watch sports in an attempt to bond with him, and in the process, I became fondly attached to the hobby. On nights that got rough, my father and I would watch the latest game he’d recorded. It didn’t matter if it was football, basketball, or even soccer. If it was a sport and people were cheering, he was into it.
That blossomed into a love for playing sports, and that was when the ‘gaggle of gossips’ really played a memorable part of my adolescence. If I got angry, I could count on them to be home to play with me. I’d run them down in football and knock softballs over the edge of the mountain before running all the bases to home. I could outrun them, out-spit them, and out-climb them. Often times, I could throw balls farther and kick balls harder than any one of them could.
