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

by Cara Covington

  Grandma Kate wouldn’t pry, and she wouldn’t push. Tasha knew that. She also knew that if she wanted this wise woman’s counsel, she would have to step out on an emotional limb, and just say what was on her mind.

  Tasha continued looking down at her work, at the beautiful, fragile-looking and yet surprisingly strong hand of Kate Benedict. In the year she’d known the woman, she’d come to love her as if she really were her very own grandmother.

  Kate Benedict invited confidences. So as she worked, Tasha said, “I can’t have babies. I was in a car accident when I was a teen, and…”

  A tear dropped onto the hand that held Kate’s. A tissue came into view, and she took it. She hadn’t meant to cry. She hated crying. As discreetly as possible she wiped her tears.

  “I am so very sorry, sweet girl, for your loss. That must have been devastating for you. But thank God you’re alive.” Kate managed to stroke the back of Tasha’s hand with her thumb. “Are you concerned that either Clayton or Gord will reject you because of this?”

  Tasha shook her head. Then she met Kate’s gaze. “No.” That denial didn’t sound as strong as it should have. She shook her head. “I…we went back to Gord’s Saturday after we left the dance and I told them. I had to. I couldn’t let us take one more step without their knowing.” Not after the last time. “They were so sweet. They even…” Tasha’s voice trailed off. She didn’t mind sharing her own secrets, but she’d just come very close to sharing someone else’s.

  Kate nodded. “Gord would have been equally forthcoming with you, I’m sure.”

  Relief flooded her. “You know about that?”

  Kate’s expression turned sad. “I do indeed. You may not know it, but I’m a nurse. Well, I should say I was a nurse, until a few years ago when I finally let my license lapse. But back in those days, I used to help out the Doctors Jessop—that would be the senior Doctors Jessop, Adam and James—a couple days a week. When Gord got sick, our only concern—all of us—was that he recover. After he did, and Adam Jessop ordered tests for him, and the results came back?” Kate sighed. “I don’t share confidences. I need you to know that. But Gord’s mother, Joan, God rest her, is gone, and I think, under these circumstances, if she were here, she’d tell you this herself.

  “When Joan heard that Gord would never father children, she was heartbroken. She’d longed for a big family herself—that woman had so much love to give! But it wasn’t meant to be. So she used all that mother love acting as a volunteer at the school and as a favored babysitter for all of the families, and oh, my, how the children all loved her. And she’d set her hopes on the day when she would become a grandmother.”

  Heartbreaking, indeed. Tasha wished she’d known Joan Jessop. She’d bet that they would have gotten along together very well. How could they not? She’d raised a wonderful, kind, and caring son.

  “But Joan wasn’t one to stay down for long,” Kate continued. “She knew her son, when he married, could always adopt a child…or perhaps, if he chose a ménage marriage, have children that way. You see, here in Lusty, we don’t ever ask the question ‘which father is your real father.’ That’s just biology, and entirely beside the point. They both—or, if there’s more than two in the marriage, they all—are the father of each and every baby born into it.”

  “That’s what Gord said.” Tasha sighed. Maybe she could trust this time, after all.

  “I imagine Clayton would have assured you that he wasn’t looking to father more children?”

  Kate really did know everything. “Yes. He said he’d already made that choice.”

  “Then what’s the problem, sweetheart?”

  “I guess…I guess I’ve never really dealt with the sense of failure.” That was how Perry had made her feel—as if she were a failure…flawed…not a whole woman.

  Kate got a glint in her eye, and if Tasha were to give it a name, she’d call it a glint of righteous anger. “Historically, a woman’s value was seen to be in her ability to produce what the English used to call ‘issue.’ And while we modern women don’t go for that definition, and neither do most modern men, it’s a difficult standard for us to dismiss. I think it’s tied to genetic memory. It’s in there deep, and we women will have to work hard to eradicate it. That will likely take a few more generations.” Kate reached forward and lifted Tasha’s chin. She hadn’t even realized she’d lowered her gaze. “You, Natasha Garwood, are not a failure. You’re respected, and liked, and loved. There’s a healing balm that runs through your soul, sweet girl. You need to embrace these truths.”

  “I want to. I really want to.”

  “Then do it.” Kate’s smile, sweet and full of joy, seemed to bring the sunshine right inside.

  “I’m going to work on it, Grandma Kate.”

  “You do that little thing. And because I am a hopeless and completely unrepentant romantic, I’m going to be rooting for you and Clayton and Gordon. I think fate has brought the three of you to this place, at this time, for a reason. So be brave, sweet girl, and dare to reach for your heart’s desire.”

  * * * *

  “Do you mind if we join you, darlin’?” Gord placed his hand on Tasha’s shoulder, pleased as hell that she was here and sitting alone at Lusty Appetites when he and Clay stepped into the restaurant. Of course, what made encountering her right then even better was the fact that he and his best friend had been talking about her, about seeing her face-to-face instead of phoning her as they’d originally planned, just moments before. They both really needed to be with her.

  All we’ve shared were a few kisses and already, wanting her is quickly evolving into needing her. Actually, Gord needed her desperately.

  Tasha’s eyes sparkled as her smile formed, wide and welcoming. “Yes, please do.”

  She has the most enchanting smile. Everything about Tasha simply lit him up. He truly wanted her more than he’d ever wanted a woman. With each passing day, he was coming to believe that she was his miracle.

  Gord knew the history of his town, and the history of the families. He also knew that for many of his male cousins—Jessops, Benedicts, and Kendalls alike—there existed that one special woman meant to be theirs. He’d seen it happen time and time again—and been pleased as hell to attend each and every Commitment Ceremony over the last few years.

  Gord had just never believed that he would meet such a woman, until the day he saw Tasha Garwood for the first time.

  He motioned Clay to sit beside Tasha while he took the chair directly across from her. “Have you ordered your lunch yet?”

  “I just did. I’ve had a hankering for Carrie’s chicken-fried steak all morning.”

  “That sounds really good,” Clay said. “I consider that dish one of the truly great epicurean bonuses of having moved to Texas. You just don’t find chicken-fried steak on the menu, as a rule, in Toronto.”

  “Is another bonus the lack of snow?” Tasha visibly shivered. “The other day I was looking online at some pictures that made the news from your former hometown. How did you manage with that snow and ice and those below-freezing temperatures?”

  Clay shrugged. “Normal is just what you get used to. I don’t miss shoveling the sidewalk and driveway or negotiating messy roads. But I do miss the stark change in seasons. There is a certain beauty to that first snowfall—to the sudden almost cocoon-like nature of the quiet in the night when the snow is coming down.” Then he grinned. “But that can happen in October, and wears thin by November.”

  Emily Anne brought Tasha her sweet tea, and offered menus to him and Clay. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. How are y’all doing today?”

  “Just fine, Miss Emily Anne. How are y’all?”

  “We’re good, thanks. Our house is done, and we’ll be moving into it in another couple of weeks. I’m so excited about it!”

  He knew she and her men were going to be living out on the road by the stream, just down from Greg, Cody, and Rebecca, on the very edge of town.

  “If you need an extra hand moving i
n, just give me a call. I’ll bring the truck.”

  Emily Anne grinned. “Thank you. I’m overwhelmed by all the help being offered. I predict this move will be executed in no time at all. Now, do you need time to look at the menu, or do you know what you’d like today?”

  “I’m going to have what Tasha is having,” Clay said, “but coffee, please, instead of sweet tea.”

  “Make that two of us,” Gord said, “and unsweetened tea for me, please.”

  “Two more chicken-fried steaks, coming up. Be right back with your drinks.”

  Gord watched the way Clay kept turning his gaze on Tasha when she wasn’t looking. He wondered if his friend had any clue that he was already more than halfway in love with the woman. Probably not. He really believed that line of crap he fed me when we decided to start courting her.

  Gord hoped the day would come when he could confess to them both that he’d actually set them all up. He knew how he’d felt about Tasha, and had been able to see in Clay’s eyes, on that first meeting between them, the spark of masculine interest. Conversations he’d already had with the man, both online before he’d moved, and later, face-to-face over Saturday afternoon beer, had let him know Clay’s mindset. Clay said he didn’t have any more love to give to a woman. Gord suspected the man just hadn’t let go of the past yet. Well that, and the very real fear that likely lived, deep down inside him, of losing someone he loved again.

  So Gord had confessed his love for Tasha to his best friend, as well as his total conviction that he was completely inadequate to the task of being a proper lover and husband to the woman. He was no Christian looking for a Cyrano—but he wasn’t nearly as debonair or worldly as his Canadian friend. Gord had also confided that he’d be all right in a ménage with the woman, but the only man he’d be willing to share her with was Clay.

  Clay had taken the bit between his teeth and set a course like a man possessed, or a man on a mission—or a man in love who recognized what he believed would be his only chance for happiness.

  Gord had been delighted to accept Clay’s help in updating his wardrobe, and reorganizing and updating his house. Together, they’d remodeled the master suite, using that one very informative conversation they’d overheard between Tasha and Ari about her dream home. And then, Clay had guided Gord as they set out to try and get Tasha Garwood’s attention.

  Just before they approached her the first time, Clay had pulled him aside. “I don’t want any misconceptions between us, my friend.” Clay’s expression had been as serious as Gord had ever seen it. “I’m doing this mainly for you, and for her—I think she’s as taken with you as you are with her. And I’m doing it for my children. I think the six of us together will be a good fit. If we succeed in winning her, I’ll be a faithful, and a good husband—and a good partner to you. But I’m never going to love her. There’s nothing left in me for that. But I reckon you can love her well enough for the both of us.”

  Gord was betting his future—all their futures, really—that Clay’s words had been the words of a man not yet fully recovered from loss, a man simply trying to protect his heart from more grief.

  Gord recalled very easily how devastated he himself had been by the unexpected deaths of his parents—and he’d been a man, fully grown. Clay had lost his mother and sister, and then, just a few years later, his father, all before he’d reached the age of twenty-one.

  Vicky’s death just last year had likely been the emotional last straw for the man. Gord believed it had flipped a switch of some sort inside him. That was what had brought him here, as much as the trouble Shaun had been getting into. Here, Clay was surrounded by family. Gord suspected he’d been concerned about his own mortality. Here, if anything happened to him, he knew there was an entire community that would care for his children. That sense was also probably what made him reach out to Gord a few months before.

  Gord also believed that Clay had laid his eyes on Tasha and been as smitten as Gord had been. He believed that deep down in his soul. Clay just couldn’t admit it yet.

  But he would. Gord had to believe that he would. All that’s needed here is some good ol’ Lusty kind of living and loving. Gord had seen love work miracle upon miracle in his town in his lifetime. He would keep faith that another miracle—one for Tasha, Clay, and himself—would come in time.

  Please, Lord.

  Gord met Clay’s gaze. Clay raised one eyebrow and Gord nodded. There was definitely no time like the present.

  Clay slid his arm along the back of Tasha’s chair and leaned in just a bit closer to her. “Tasha?”

  She turned her head toward him. “Yes, Clay?”

  “Would you do us the honor of spending Friday evening with us both? We were thinking we’d pick you up around six or so. Casual dress, as we’d like to cook for you at Gord’s house—both dinner and breakfast.”

  Gord felt a million butterflies doing aerial maneuvers in his stomach. This was the kind of nerve attack he’d rarely ever experienced.

  Tasha looked from Clay to Gord, and then back again. He guessed he must have instantly aged a decade, just waiting for her answer.

  * * * *

  Tasha’s heart had begun pounding the moment Gord came up behind her and asked if he and Clay could join her. Could they see how much she was shaking, simply because they were seated so very close to her? The first few moments after they’d sat down seemed surreal, the way those two handsome hunks went about chatting with the waitress, ordering their lunch, as if this was an ordinary day and they were all just friends who’d happened upon each other.

  Maybe we are only that. Maybe they’ve changed their minds. They’ve had three and a half days to think about it.

  If they continued on, acting all friendly like as if that was all they really were, she’d…she’d…she’d take it like a woman. If they had changed their minds, she would hold it together—somehow. She would act insouciant and merry, at least until she got back to the spa, to the employee’s lounge. Hell, who am I kidding? I’ll be doing well if I can make it to the ladies’ room right here in the restaurant before I fall apart.

  “Tasha?”

  The sound of her name being sexily spoken, low and close, yanked her out of her personal hell pit. It wasn’t like her to think such negative thoughts. It’s these two men. They are driving me crazy!

  She turned her head and met the gaze of the man who’d called her name and even managed a small smile. “Yes, Clay?”

  “Would you do us the honor of spending Friday evening, alone with us both? We were thinking we’d pick you up around six or so. Casual dress will be perfect, as we’d like to cook for you at Gord’s house—both dinner and breakfast.”

  She looked from his gaze to Gord’s. Yes, he’d really asked. Thank God. One close look in first Clay’s eyes and then Gord’s, and she realized she wasn’t the only one strung out on nerves.

  “Yes. Yes, I’d like that a lot.” Like it? Face it, Tasha, you’re way beyond liking anything involving these men.

  “Good. That’s good, then.” Clay exhaled heavily. He was sitting so close to her, she felt his slight trembling.

  “Better than good.” Gord also exhaled, and his smile went beyond relieved.

  Knowing both men had wanted her to say yes so badly kindled the fires that had stayed banked for three and a half very long days.

  Since they were both looking at her, she said, “Yeah. Good.” Tasha nearly squirmed in her seat when she felt moisture seep from her slit. She’d never been so horny in her entire life. The men looked to be just as aroused and just as tightly wound as she.

  Emily Anne approached, her tray loaded down with the men’s drinks and all three lunch plates. None of them said a word as their friend distributed the food and beverages.

  “Enjoy.” Emily Anne looked at each of them in turn and they all nodded, and smiled right back at her. My God, we must look like a table full of idiots.

  Emily Anne gave them each one more questioning look, then shook her head and retur
ned to the kitchen.

  Tasha quickly looked down, and lifted her napkin to her face. She tried but failed to contain the urge to laugh, and snorted. Of course, that set the men off, who weren’t shy in the least about chuckling outright. Tasha shook her head and then sat back in her chair. Her gaze took in both men, and she sighed. They are both so gorgeous and I want them so damn badly.

  “What time are you working until today, sweetheart?” Clay asked.

  “Barring any last-minute walk-ins, I’m done at three. Chloe is closing today. Why?”

  Clay met Gord’s gaze. That man nodded. Tasha had seen this kind of silent communication before. But usually it was between siblings or lifelong friends, like Colt Evans and Ryder Magee.

  Interesting that these two men are so close they can do it, too. Of course, that was a really good thing. She didn’t think that what they were planning to embark on would work without deep abiding trust and affection between the two men involved.

  Clay pulled out his cell phone and quickly texted a message to someone. Not thirty seconds passed when he got a response—one that made him smile.

  “If you have no objections, we’ll be there to pick you up at three this afternoon, then.” He put his cell phone back in his pocket and leaned closer and lowered his voice. “I don’t think any of us can last until Friday evening. We’ll only have a few hours today, but I believe we could make really good use of the time.”

  Last weekend she’d had the sense that Clay had been holding himself back, acting a bit aloof. There was certainly nothing aloof in the words he’d just spoken or the way his eyes raked her as if he could see right through her clothing.

  “I have no objections at all.”

  She looked down at her food, and the desire to eat had been supplanted by another kind of desire—one much more earthy. Who would be interested in food when another kind of appetite entirely was clamoring to be indulged?