Double Mountain Trouble: A MFM Menage Romance

by Katerina Cole

  Breezing in and out of my arms

  Before my heart can decide to let you in

  You’re gone and maybe you’ll be back

  But everything already feels lost and dark

  She looked at me expectedly, her forehead creased with worry.

  “Wow. You wrote that? How does the rest go? I want to hear the whole thing.”

  She bit her lip. “That’s part of my problem. I get bursts of words, and then I can’t finish the songs.” Her shoulders slumped. “I’m here all the time. I don’t have time to write. I have fifty of these partially written songs. I can’t finish them.”

  “But you have to finish that one. It-it needs to be finished.” There weren’t many words, but there were enough to make me want more. It was like getting half a kiss—it just wasn’t enough.

  “So, you like it?” Her teeth sank into her lip again.

  “I do. I really do.” I looked in her eyes to reassure her that there was something to what she had created, but the minute I did, I felt like I was the one who needed reassurance.

  “I-I’m going to go finish up with the floors.”

  “Ok.” She folded the paper in half and tucked it in her apron. “Thanks for listening.”

  “Sure thing.” I walked to where I had left the broom, and realized I had never asked her about the gym. Damn it. Women were the worst distraction—especially girls with beautiful blue eyes.

  Eighteen

  Chelsea

  I flicked the loop of my apron on the wooden peg. Five o’clock couldn’t get here fast enough. Although, the day hadn’t been nearly as awkward as I thought it was going to be. Jake was cool. He didn’t make me uncomfortable. Unlike Derek, he didn’t pressure me at every turn to go out with him again. He was a few years older than I was. Maybe it was a maturity thing, or maybe it was a Jake thing.

  He should be closing down the rental stand by now. I pushed the screen door open, and watched as he locked the hatch on the booth.

  “How did it go today?” I asked. The sun blared in my face. I held a hand up to shield my eyes.

  “Easy. I rented a few snorkel sets, a kayak, and two fishing poles. I think I have the job of the summer.” He smiled, revealing his white teeth.

  My cheeks heated as I remembered his mouth on certain parts of my body, and what those teeth had done.

  “I’m glad you like it so much.”

  I couldn’t understand why. Shouldn’t he be itching to write like I was? I walked with him to our vehicles. I thought about how things had unfolded between us last night. Everything had been fun and easy until I flipped and ran out of the camper. It took constant pep talks throughout the day not to dive into an explanation of what happened when I had pulled away from him. I wasn’t even sure I had it figured out. The kissing was undeniably amazing, his hands were incredible, but my brain battled with my body and won. It’s for the best, I thought. He might be gorgeous and have an affinity for perfect lyrics, but it could get complicated quickly.

  He pulled open the door to his Jeep. “So, I guess we get to do this again tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, it’s like Groundhog Day. A new day, but same old stuff.” I walked over to her bike. “Shit.”

  “What’s wrong?” He closed the door behind him and joined me.

  My front tire was flat. Flat as a freakin’ pancake. If I tried to ride home, I would bend and mangle the rim. That beach cruiser had cost two hundred dollars; it would be expensive to repair a tire and a rim.

  “Looks like I have a flat.” I bent down to examine the tire, trying to locate where the hole was. If there was only one, I could have it patched.

  “All right. No problem.” Jake reached behind me and lifted the bike into the air.

  “What are you doing?” I watched as he carried the bike to the open frame of his Jeep.

  “I’m giving you a ride. Hop in.” He had gently placed the cruiser in the backseat and was now climbing in his side of the car.

  I walked to the passenger door and slid into the seat. He cranked the Jeep and country music blasted through the speakers.

  “You sure do like country music.” I thought about the music we listened to last night at the campground.

  “Yeah, well I’m from Texas.” He slid his sunglasses over his eyes.

  “I thought you were from Georgia, but Texas makes a lot more sense.” I didn’t think cowboy steaks were a Georgia thing. “Why the Georgia plates?”

  He threw the Jeep into reverse and positioned us in front of the road. “I don’t know where you live. Which way?” He motioned to the road. One side would take us toward the campground and ferry docks, and the other around the cove, where my apartment was.

  “Go right. I’m all the way around the cove. At the very end.”

  “Nice. I haven’t seen this part of the island.” He peeled out of the parking lot, kicking up gravel with the tires.

  A flock of seagulls split their V-formation as he steered around the circular cove that was the main attraction of the village.

  “Take another right here and then left at the mailbox.” I pointed at my road. It was off the main path, and only the locals knew where this house was.

  “This is where you live?” he eyed the two-story beach house with a wraparound porch.

  “Yeah, but only one fourth of it is mine. It’s an amazing house. It was divided into apartments awhile back. I would love to see it as a whole house. It would be incredible.” I stepped out of the Jeep and nervously fidgeted with my keys.

  “Which one is yours?” He retrieved the bike from the backseat and placed it on the driveway. He wheeled it on the back tire to keep from damaging the front rim.

  I showed him where the bike rack was. I didn’t want to deal with the tire right now. I could take my car to work in the morning. “I have the corner one. A view of the ocean and the cove. If I only get part of it, at least I have the best part.”

  “No kidding.” He was already ahead of me jogging up the stairs and canvassing the porch. “Nice hammock.”

  “Thanks. I do a lot of writing out here.”

  I remembered the few notes I had scribbled early this morning. I bit my lip, wondering if this idea would work. Jake leaned against the railing and faced the boats in the marina. He was an easy-going guy, pleasant, full of smiles, flirty as hell, but that look—I recognized that look. He was searching for something, and it wasn’t in the marina. Why hadn’t I noticed that look before?

  I cleared my throat. “Would you want to help me finish the song from this morning?”

  He turned from the railing. “Ah, I’m not a songwriter, sweetheart. I don’t know how I can help you.”

  “But, you’re a writer. Maybe if I can talk through it with you, I’ll find the right words. Would you try it?” I had never asked anyone to help me write before, but maybe I needed some creative brainstorming to get things going.

  “Sure. I’ll give it a shot. But, I’m not making any promises.” He smiled.

  “Really? You’ll do it? Ok, wait right here. I’ll get my guitar.” I rushed past him to go in through the sliding door.

  “You wouldn’t have any beer in there, would you?” he called after me.

  I wrinkled my nose. “No, but I have wine.”

  “Wine will work.” He turned back to the harbor and I walked inside, giving him a chance to look for whatever he thought he was missing.

  I sputtered wine onto the front of my guitar. “You can’t be serious. You think ‘bunk’ is the way to go?” I giggled. “Ok, so you want me to sing: Your kisses make me feel drunk, when we’re together we should bunk?”

  “Pure poetry, baby.” Jake sipped on the wine.

  “Name one song that has the word ‘bunk’ in it.” I giggled again, watching him count up pretend songs on his fingers.

  “At least five that I can count.”

  “You’re a liar. There are no songs with ‘bunk’ as a lyric.” I leaned down to rest my guitar against the balcony railing.

  I
t had to be close to eight o’clock. We had finished a bottle of wine and one song, but neglected to eat. My head was spinning, and I knew I needed food fast.

  “I’m going to make some pasta. Want some?” I caught myself on the edge of the hammock. I had tipped a little too far forward.

  “Whoa, killer. Hold on.” He steadied me. “You ok?”

  Embarrassed, I smiled. “Yes. What’s the vote on food? I need some. Sorry, I don’t have raw meat to throw on the fire.”

  “You liked that dinner. Don’t deny it.” His hand had moved from my arm to the small of my back. His eyes dipped to the base of my throat. I wondered if he was thinking about last night. Suddenly, I was.

  “I— Yeah, I did.”

  His eyes locked on mine, and I struggled to remember which direction to turn for the kitchen. I looked at his full lips, and the chiseled line of his jaw. If I stared long enough, maybe the porch wouldn’t spin as much or maybe he would kiss me again. I was hoping for the kiss.

  “Can I help you?” He stepped away, but kept his palm firmly planted on my back. I wanted him to lean in again.

  “Yes, pasta and we might need some more wine.”

  I didn’t care if I had already passed my two-glass limit for work nights. We were having fun, and the words really did flow when he was around.

  “Show me the way.” Jake turned me toward the door, and I led him inside the apartment.

  I pulled a bottle from the wine rack and handed it to him. “Here you go. I’ll let you wrestle with the cork while I start the pasta.”

  I filled a pot with water and lit the match on the gas stove. We worked seamlessly together in the kitchen. He poured us each a full glass of wine and chopped a cucumber for the salad. Usually, I did the bare minimum for dinner, but now that I had a guest, I decided to take my cooking up a notch. I crumbled bacon into a frying pan, and started a cream sauce in another pot. This had reached a whole new level of entertaining.

  After we had devoured two servings and finished the wine, Jake took the plates to the sink and grabbed the bottle. He returned to the deck, where I had picked up the guitar. I settled on the wicker loveseat that faced the ocean. The salt air helped clear my head. I felt a little less tipsy.

  “I just had an idea,” I announced.

  “Ok, hit me. What is it?” He looked interested.

  “I reworded the entire verse. There’s no ‘bunk’ in this version,” I teased. “Instead, it should go something like...” I strummed a few notes. “I can’t stop getting drunk on your kisses, so don’t hand me tears, I want this. Don’t try to resist.”

  I looked up at Jake.

  “You wrote that just now?” he asked.

  I nodded. He was like a muse. I didn’t know those existed until now.

  “Damn, girl.”

  He placed the wine bottle on the deck and reached forward. I didn’t know what he was doing, but the guitar slipped from my grasp as he pulled it away and laid it down. From the porch, I could always hear the waves on the beach and the boats rocking in their slips, but right now, all sounds were muffled as he leaned toward me, pressing his mouth against mine.

  I clutched at his shoulders and brought him close, tasting the wine on his tongue. He was making me drunk, and every part of me told me to stop resisting and enjoy the way he made me feel.

  It didn’t take long to realize he wasn’t going to fit on the loveseat. He was half-kneeling on the deck. I nudged my way to the side, and without saying anything, reached for his hand and led him into the apartment. It seemed too bright after the darkness of the deck. I flipped the lights off.

  Jake grabbed me from behind, and pushed my hair to the side, kissing my neck. I spun in his arms, searching for his mouth. I needed those lips. They were beyond kissable.

  He grabbed me by the waist and lifted me against him. I wrapped my legs around him, squeezing hard. I didn’t know if it was because he didn’t know his way around the apartment, or because it was almost completely dark, but he moved two paces to the kitchen table and placed me on the edge before tearing at the buttons on my shirt.

  They hit the table and scattered on the floor one by one. The edge of his T-shirt was soft in my palms as I slid it upward, taking my time to trace the hard bulges of the muscles wrapping his torso. His eyes no longer looked lost. They were full of lust and longing. Longing for me. I dug into his firm backside with my heels, pushing him forward. Why were we still mostly dressed?

  I eased back on my arms, giving him a full view of what I knew he wanted. I felt the fire of his breath on my navel as I unwound my legs, allowing him to move on his own. He skimmed my stomach with his fingers, taking his time until he had my breast in his hand.

  “Yes,” I moaned and arched against the wood of the table. I wasn’t sure what I was yessing, but I liked that he was touching me and he wasn’t being gentle. He was taking what he wanted. Like I was.

  His broad shoulders loomed over me as he pushed the fabric covering my nipples out of the way and seized me with his mouth. I writhed under the torture. It was hot and sent a rush straight to the sensitive spot between my legs.

  I reached around his hips and found the button to his shorts. Pressed against him like this, I could tell he was just as turned on as I was. I slipped a hand along his stomach and reached below his waist.

  “Fuck” he moaned, biting harder on my nipple.

  I whimpered with a hard shudder.

  And just like that he stopped. He stepped away from the table and turned his back.

  My shirt lay ripped open. My breasts wet from his mouth. My chest heaved from hotness I had never known. Everything in me was aching for more. It hurt. My body hurt.

  “Why-why did you stop?” I whispered.

  His forehead was pressed against the wall. Flashes of moonlight rippled across his back.

  He sighed. “Damn it. I promised myself I wasn’t going to do that to you again.”

  Now I was totally confused. Since when did guys stop in the middle of a hot hookup? It was like the Derek fiasco all over again, but so much worse.

  “But I want you to.” I tried to close the shirt without buttons. It wasn’t that easy.

  He turned toward me. “Yeah, I liked it too.” He kissed the top of my forehead, a gesture I didn’t know whether to interpret as sweet or condescending.

  “So, what’s the problem?” It was meant to be a rhetorical question.

  I could list all the possible issues of two people having crazy, off the charts sex after knowing each other for only two days, but I didn’t really want to hear it after a bottle and a half of wine.

  “Darlin’, we need to slow this down. You are sexy and beautiful, don’t misunderstand.”

  I refrained from pouting, but really that’s all I wanted to do. I was completely worked up. Each nerve in my body was on fire and ached. There was no doubt what I wanted from him. If he would only let me, I could show him it would be ok.

  “Ok, so explain some more,” I prodded.

  I decided to let go of the grip on the shirt. The fabric fell to the sides, he sighed as my breasts heaved against the exposure. It wasn’t fair to do to him, but my body was working in survival mode. It needed him.

  “My life is complicated right now. It’s not a great idea to start jumping into bed with pretty girls. Ok?”

  Pretty girls? The way he said it made me wonder how many others there were. Was there a waiting list? Of course he was gorgeous and no doubt could flirt his way into any woman’s bed, but I didn’t want doubts to start fogging my mind. We had something real. I could feel it.

  I hopped off the table, closing the distance between us.

  “That’s not an explanation.” I pointed my index finger into his massive chest.

  “You’re right. It’s not.”

  “You kissed me. You keep kissing me.”

  His eyes narrowed. “And that’s all I can think about, along with a few other things.” He paused. “But I’m not staying on Brees.”

  I
shook my head in defense. “I’m leaving too. You know that.”

  He chuckled. “It’s not the same. I wish I could explain it.”

  “Try me.”

  “Chelsea, you—you’re unexpected. I never thought about something happening on Brees. I swear, I came here to be alone, but I’d be a lying bastard if I tried to tell you I don’t want to take you to your bed right now.”

  My stomach flipped, praying he would follow through with it. Why did he make me feel this way? As if I couldn’t continue breathing without his hands on me?

  He exhaled. “It wouldn’t be fair to you. Ok? And for once I’m trying to do the right thing. Can you believe that much? I’m trying to be fucking fair to you and I think this is how I’m supposed to do it.”

  “I’m not going to get hurt, Jake. I know what this is.”

  I studied his eyes. They smoldered with sexiness.

  “Do you?”

  I nodded. “Yes. It’s summer.”

  “Summer? You want to label it summer?” He sighed. “I don’t think it’s fucking summer. Because I’m having a hard time taking advantage of you. I’m fighting every instinct in my body to strip you down and do everything dirty that pops in my head. But you’re not that kind of girl. You deserve better than someone like me showing up and wrecking your life. I don’t care what season it is.”

  I shook my head. “You’re not wrecking anything.” I placed my hand on his forearm, unable to deny the spark that tingled under my fingers. “What did the last girl do to you?” I whispered.

  It had been there, I just hadn’t wanted to see it. I didn’t want to imagine him with someone else. Holding someone. Kissing someone. He was hurt. Scared. Someone had broken his trust. Damaged his soul. God, who was the evil creature who hurt him?

  He hid it behind his cocky smile. His confident charm. But I saw it—he was broken.

  He shook his head. “It wasn’t like that.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “I don’t believe you.”

  He chuckled. “Are you trying to add mind reader to lyrical genius as your list of skills?”

  “You’re not going to distract me with flirting. Even if I like the flirting.” I smiled. “You’re not going to hurt me, Jake. And I’m not going to hurt you.”