Double Mountain Trouble: A MFM Menage Romance

by Katerina Cole

  But I couldn’t help it. Ever since he entered my life as my big brother’s best friend years ago, he had always been there in my mind. Handsome. Tall. Smiling that devilish smile, those smoldering blue eyes captivating me even in my dreams. And oh yes, there were dreams. To be brutally honest, I had not had much time for dating since I graduated college and started working as a yacht broker. There simply was not time enough in the day for me to meet up with anyone. I had dated one guy for a few months off and on, but never seriously. Occasionally there were little flings. Sparks that flew at a lonely hotel bar in the wee hours of the morning, when I was exhausted from a full day of impressing rich people and running around in stilettos. Some guy in a suit would sidle up next to me, buy me a martini, strike up a flirtatious conversation. Most of the time, he would tell me his room number, offer me a night of reckless abandon with no strings attached. And every single time, I would consider the notion for a while, toy with the prospect in my head. Play it out step by step as he droned on and on about his business dealings, his marketing skills, his private golf course. His daddy’s money. And by the time the bar was closing, I was already over it. Too tired to entertain some random guy’s fantasy of taking me to bed. Too bored with his banter to be sexually interested anymore.

  Every single time, I would tell him goodnight and head back up to my own room, lock the door, get in the bath, and think about the man I really wanted to run into at a bar somewhere: Bruin. I would slip down under the hot, bubbly water and run my hands down my body, caress myself the way I wished he would. I would picture him walking slowly toward me with those blue eyes sizzling, burning into my soul as he stripped me with a single gaze. I would fantasize about him until I was finished or falling asleep or both. And then I’d slide into bed and dream of him some more until morning, when I would get dressed like the professional modern woman I was, and pretend none of it ever happened.

  It was a routine. A dumb one, but it was comfortable. Sure, I couldn’t take much with me as I bounced around from town to town, but I could always carry my fantasies with me.

  And so, in a way, I had been seeing Bruin all this time. But not in the flesh. Certainly not naked and steamy and totally unabashed as he looked me up and down in a stateroom of a yacht in Fort Lauderdale, of all places. I mean, of course I had fantasized about running into him one day, but this was definitely not the meet-cute I had ever imagined.

  I quickly ran through the rest of the tour, just in case, so I wouldn’t be seen bolting red-faced off the yacht with my tail between my legs. And when I was finished, I found a quiet corner of the top deck to call Jeff, preparing to lay into him.

  This time I didn’t use FaceTime. I didn’t want to see his stupid, smug face.

  “Jilly,” he answered. I could hear the familiar commotion of an airport in the background. “How’d it go? Is the ship any good? What did you think of her?”

  “You absolute bastard,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “Whoa, what? What happened? Are you okay?” he asked quickly, changing tone. “What’s wrong?”

  “You think this is funny?” I asked.

  “Think what is funny? What’s going on?”

  “Oh, don’t act like you don’t know. Sending me on some wild goose chase to check out a yacht only to find out, surprise! The owner of the yacht is Bruin freakin’ Kincaid,” I hissed.

  “It’s… he’s… what?” Jeff sputtered. I had to admit, he sounded convincing.

  “Yeah. The owner of the yacht is Bruin. You know, your old college friend? I didn’t even know you two kept in touch. How long have you been planning this little prank?” I demanded.

  “Jillian, listen to me. I had no idea.”

  “Sure. That’s believable.”

  “I’m serious. I haven’t spoken to Bruin in years. I didn’t even know he had a sale. How the hell was I supposed to know he was the owner? And besides, why is that a bad thing? It’s always better to buy from someone you know, right?” he reasoned. I was losing patience at this point, even though he certainly did sound genuine.

  “Well, clearly he wasn’t prepared to sell today, because I just walked in on him naked.”

  There was a long pause.

  “You… what?” Jeff asked, his voice small and quiet.

  “Yeah. He was still onboard, in his stateroom, with some chick he clearly just finished fucking. I went into the room to take a look around and, well, I sure as hell did get a look,” I spat.

  “Jesus. I’m sorry, Jill. That’s awkward.”

  “You think?” I retorted.

  “I’m dead serious, though. I had nothing to do with this. It’s the weirdest coincidence of all time, but it is a coincidence. I wouldn’t do that to you. I swear,” Jeff said earnestly.

  I took a deep breath and ran my fingers back through my hair. “If you’re being honest with me, then okay. But you know I can’t go through with the sale now, right?”

  “Jilly…”

  “No,” I said firmly. “You cannot expect me to march back to him and ask to see the paperwork now. I just saw… everything, Jeff. Everything.” The image was seared into my mind.

  “Please. I want the yacht. You saw it. The boat is pristine, isn’t it?”

  I rolled my eyes and sighed, “Yes. She’s perfect.”

  “I want it. I’ll be in Fort Lauderdale soon and I’ll look over the specs, but I want it.”

  “Are you kidding me? Jeff, I love you and I know we’re all about ‘family first’, but I really don’t think I can face him after… that.”

  “Look, if you go through with this, I’ll give you thirty percent.”

  My jaw dropped. “Th-thirty?” The industry standard was ten percent. “Can you even afford that?”

  “Yeah, sis. I can afford that. Business is booming. Dad taught me well.”

  I groaned, rubbing my temples. Thirty percent?

  “Fine,” I relented. “I’ll look into it.”

  Seven

  Bruin

  Sitting in my office and staring out onto the water from the window, I might as well have been spending the work day throwing pencils at the ceiling.

  I hadn’t been able to focus all day. No matter what piece of work I put in front of me on my laptop, regardless of whether it was urgent or meaningless, I just found myself bouncing work onto my long-distance employees all day. Even the couple of business calls I’d taken, I’d been just going through the motions.

  And that wasn’t like me. Ever.

  I had always taken a hands-on approach to everything in my life and my business. Ever since college, life had been one lesson after the next that the way to dive into business was to roll up your sleeves and take charge in a very personal way. I knew that when I started my app development company, and I knew that when our hard work paid off for me in millions.

  But one look at Jillian, and I felt like I was in my freshman year of college again. My thoughts were scattered, I felt pent-up, and I wanted to do anything other than what was in front of me.

  How could Jillian-fucking-Hargrove have this kind of effect on me?

  I’d had women all over the world. The girl from the bar was already off the boat--I couldn’t remember if her name was Maria or Marina or Marie, and I didn’t care. That was usually how things went. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d cared about one of my one-night stands for more than a few hours after the fact, because with the kind of life I led, I didn’t have time to get tangled up in that kind of thing.

  And that was fine with me.

  But Jillian? Really?

  My mind just kept going back to that moment she stepped through the door, watching her eyes going down to my cock, widening, the color in her face, everything rushing back to both of us. It just played over again and again in my head, and I kept going over everything I’d said in my head as if it was a scene from a movie I was obsessed with.

  Jillian was not the kind of person who should have gotten that kind of reaction from me. At least, before tod
ay, I hadn’t thought she was. But after seeing her and didn’t know how to explain it.

  I ran a hand through my hair and stood up to pace over to the window, glaring out at a few seagulls hovering in the breeze. I’d never paid any attention to Jillian when I was in college. I couldn’t say I wasn’t close to the family, though. I hadn’t been exaggerating when I told her she was my best friend’s little sister.

  I was probably closer to Jeff than any other guy in my life. I pulled out my phone and flipped through one of my social media accounts to some old pictures of us I’d dug up and uploaded a while back. The two of us started off as college friends, but over time, I found myself getting invited to family events, being on a first-name basis with everyone else, even spending Christmas with them one year when my parents were tied up out of the country.

  The most recent picture I found of me at the Hargrove house was of me and Jeff standing in the front yard, our arms over each other’s shoulders and our faces painted with team colors as we cheered into the camera. I smiled. The picture had been taken just before he and I flew off to see the World Cup after we graduated.

  It had been one hell of a game, and I had more fond memories of those two weeks than a lot of others in my life. But the picture had been taken by Jeff’s dad, and in the background were Jeff’s mom and Jillian. Both of them were covering their mouths and quietly laughing at the two of us being goofy. Mostly me, because while Jeff had just posed for the picture, I had genuinely cheered loudly at the camera.

  That spot in the background was always where Jillian was, though. When I tried to think about us talking, I only remembered a couple times interacting with her with Jeff right there with us. I vaguely remembered her at family dinners, keeping to herself and only talking if her mom prodded her to be sociable. It wasn’t like I hadn’t gotten along with her, she just hadn’t really been present. She was younger than me, living in a different world. Hell, she might as well have been like a little sister to me, too.

  I didn’t think Jeff had even mentioned her the last time we saw each other. I furrowed my brow. When had Jeff and I seen each other last? It was already November, not that you could tell thanks to Florida’s weather. So, it had to have been a few months, at least. I thought for a moment, then pulled up Jeff’s number in my phone and called him.

  Some people might have been a little more hesitant to just ring up an old friend they’d kind of lost touch with, but that was part of my strategy. I never gave myself enough time to think about it when I wanted to do something hard.

  He picked up after three rings.

  “Bruin,” he answered, sounding almost like he was expecting me. That was worrisome. “What’s going on? A little birdie told me you’re selling a boat.”

  “A little birdie who I wasn’t exactly expecting to run into, either,” I said with a laugh, wondering how much Jillian and Jeff had said to each other.

  “Not in the slightest,” Jeff said, and as usual, his tone was harder to read. I had always been the forward and blunt one, while he had always held himself back just enough to be a puzzle when he wanted to be. “And I’ll be honest, I didn’t realize you were in the neighborhood either, much less selling a yacht to me. Just goes to show you how anonymous those agents can make you, you know?”

  And how much the two of us have drifted over the years, I thought to myself. If we’d been in touch and I’d known Jeff was looking to buy, the two of us probably would have arranged something already, minus all the formality.

  “Totally,” I said, almost trailing off. “It’s crazy. Anyway, if you’ve got your little sister scouting out yachts around town, does that mean you’re here in Ft. Lauderdale?”

  “I’m looking out the window of a penthouse at your yacht right now, in fact,” he said, and I glanced out the window with a grin, sticking my middle finger up.

  “Yeah? Take a closer look, I’ve got another birdie for you.”

  “Oh, fuck you,” he said with a good-natured laugh. Good to know Jeff hadn’t changed that much, either.

  “Anyway, I know it’s kind of sudden, but seeing Jillian again made me realize I can’t actually remember the last time we were in the same place together.”

  “Yeah,” he said, “I thought about that when Jillian called and told me about seeing you. I didn’t think it had been that long, but it’s got to have been a couple years. Jesus, time flies.”

  “Too fast for me,” I said with a chuckle. “So, we’re obviously going to fix that, right?”

  “Well—” he started, reluctant as ever to go out, but I interrupted him.

  “There’s a sports bar right across from where I’m docked that has wings worth flying out here for, and besides, we’ve got a yacht to talk about,” I said, not taking no for an answer. “Eight sound good?”

  “Fine, fine,” Jeff answered. He knew better than to try to turn me down. “We’ll call it a business expense.”

  “Damn right we will,” I agreed, and I hung up the phone, a grin on my face.

  Between Jillian and Jeff, things were starting to feel like old times again. And that felt good.

  “And I remember Rhett rocketing down centerfield, powering through that fall that fucked up his leg as if he was on bath salts.”

  Jeff laughed as he knocked back the rest of his beer and listened to me talk. There was a basket full of hot wing bones between us, along with three beer bottles each. When we got to talking about the college days when we were on the soccer field together, we could go on all night, if we weren’t careful.

  “I swear that guy’s immune to pain,” Jeff said, shaking his head. “He pulled the same stunt the first game I ever played with him. If I didn’t know him, I’d swear he just made up his injuries to make himself look good.”

  “Oh, believe me, the doctor could tell you they were real,” I recalled with a laugh. “After that game, I’ve never seen a medical professional so ready to kill someone.”

  “God, with everything we were doing to our bodies back then, I’m amazed we’ve lived to see thirty,” Jeff remarked as the bartender served another round of beers.

  “We did miss each other's thirtieth,” I pointed out with a smile, tilting my beer to his, and he met mine with a clink of glass. “They say these are the best years of our lives.”

  “They say that every decade,” Jeff said with a snort.

  “Then we’ll have damn good lives,” I shot back, and he laughed heartily. “You know, now that we passed the thirty mark, we ought to get together and do another game,” I added, a grin on my face, but Jeff raised an eyebrow at me.

  “Trying to get us both killed, huh?”

  “Speak for yourself,” I retorted, sitting back and flexing my muscles. “Some of the professionals wish they could have a body like mine. You’re not much worse,” I said, ribbing him both literally and figuratively.

  “Yeah, but I don’t brag about it,” he ribbed back. “You always fucking brag.”

  “Show me up on the field, and I’ll cut the price of the Mirabella,” I offered, tilting the beer to him again before taking a long drink.

  “Now that, you’d regret,” he said, and it was his turn to grin. “Because then, you’d have both your pride and your bank account hurting.”

  I punched him in the shoulder as the two of us laughed, then fell quiet for a few moments before I broke the silence. “Seeing the two of you again really does take me back, though,” I said. “Those were some damn good times.” I thought it best not to bring up his parents. Not yet, anyway.

  “Yeah, no kidding,” he said, “feels like since I inherited the business, it’s been all work, getting faster and faster around me.”

  “Speaking of,” I paused slightly, deciding to push ahead with what was really nagging at the back of my mind, “Jillian? Working for you? That, I wasn’t expecting.”

  “I think she’s got you beat as far as seeing unexpected things on that yacht goes,” he explained with a raised eyebrow at me, and I was caught speechless for a mo
ment.

  “Shit, she told you about getting a look at me out of the shower, huh?”

  “Obviously,” he said with a chuckle. “Don’t worry about it, though. We’re like family, it’s nothing.”

  My smile was a little restrained, and I didn’t say anything for a beat too long.

  “She’s changed a lot, though, hasn’t she?” I prodded.

  “How do you mean?” Jeff asked, taking a swig of his beer and furrowing his eyebrows.

  “I guess it’s been different for you, being your sister and all,” I said, knowing I was entering uncertain territory. “You’ve been around her so long you probably haven’t noticed.”

  “What are you getting at?” he asked, his voice suddenly sounding a little more guarded. I heard my common sense telling me to slam on the brakes, but I was in too deep now.

  “I was just surprised to see her...the way she is now. She was just nineteen last time I saw her, but now? Being an adult, handling business? It’s a good look on her, I’ve got to say.”

  “A good look?” he repeated, the humor gone from his tone, and I realized that I had entered forbidden territory here. “Bruin, she’s my sister. My little sitster,” he pressed.

  “To you, sure,” I said, although in hindsight those were a pretty poor choice of words, “but all I’m saying is—”

  “I hear what you’re saying,” Jeff interrupted me. “And I really don’t want to hear it. She thinks of you as a brother, Bruin. Let’s keep it that way. Besides, you have...” he paused. “There’s a lot going on with you at home in Santa Barbara. My little sister’s in a different world.”

  There were a lot of words on the tip of my tongue before I bit them back with all the willpower I had. If it had been anyone else, I’d have argued, especially since he’d brought up my home life. But Jeff and I had history, we had this yacht deal, and I knew I’d struck a nerve.

  “That all came out wrong. Forget I said anything,” I said, holding up my beer. “Anyway, what were you saying earlier about Rhett and that trip to Dublin?”