Chapter Four
Dylan was in love. Okay, that was a bit extreme, but he was most certainly in lust with the fiery redhead. She was the ultimate present for Austin and him that Christmas Eve. Mercy had walked back into the party with her head held high, waving off her family’s concerned questions with a sarcastic joke or shrug. But Dylan could see, as the barrage of questions such as “Are you okay?” and “Why is it always you?” continued for a good ten minutes, her shoulders began to sag and that panicked twitch returned to her eye. All the good they’d done out on the chilly porch was washing away with the tide of nosy nigglers and their questions. Dylan nudged his lover and nodded over in Mercy’s direction. Austin grabbed the large plate of food he’d put together for the three of them at the buffet line, and Dylan grabbed their drinks. They headed over to the swell of people circling Mercy and pushed their way right into the middle.
She stared at them in curiosity and laughed when Austin popped a dough-wrapped cocktail wiener into her mouth, shutting up whatever question she’d been about to ask. She was theirs, even if it was just for the evening, and they took care of what was theirs.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Austin announced, “since you’ve been deprived of your pianist…if he could even call himself that, I would like to offer my services to you for an hour or so.”
“Do those services only consist of playing the piano?” a woman at the back of the crowd asked, earning some chuckles from the adults and confused looks from the kids.
“For tonight, yes.” Austin winked and laughed when both Dylan and Mercy rolled their eyes at his mischievous antics.
Austin had always been a goof. A roguish, sexy goof who could suck Dylan’s cock like a Hoover. But a goof all the same. Which in and of itself was impressive, considering the traumatic and trying childhood he’d had, growing up gay in small-town Texas. Austin could sometimes use that teasing attitude as a shield, as most people who became the class clowns or office jokesters did. Dylan never let him get away with those sorts of evasions where their relationship was concerned. Austin had been there for Dylan when he’d been stupid about coming out of the closet, so he’d sworn to be there for Austin whenever the man had a surge of insecurity. Since they’d moved in together, those flashes of self-doubt had decreased exponentially, to the point where Austin could be a goof just to be a goof. Dylan wouldn’t have the man any other way.
Austin handed the plate of food to Mercy before settling himself at the piano, brushing his hands across the keys with a smile, and taking a moment to breathe with his eyes closed. Dylan had once asked Austin why he did that before playing. Austin answered that he’d been introducing himself to the majestic instrument, giving it the proper respect, and asking if the keys and strings would accompany him on his journey to please those who listened. It was in that instant, that one sentence, that Dylan had truly fallen in love with Austin and vowed to come out to his family the next day. Which he had.
Austin began to play a simple Christmas tune that everyone would recognize—“Jingle Bells.” Mercy shifted next to Dylan with a small frown at the piano, reminding him of her mother’s earlier glare at the instrument after she’d kicked Billy’s ass. As the kids began to sing along to the jaunty tune, he led Mercy to a spot not far from Austin to sit.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
She shook her head, popping another treat into her mouth and avoiding the question. Dylan sighed loudly before taking the plate from her and setting it on a small wooden end table close enough for them to reach without stretching.
“Tell me,” he insisted.
“I’m just not a fan of Christmas music.” Mercy shrugged, leaning back along the sofa and crossing her arms around her torso. Her body language was closed off and projected that this particular topic was prohibited for their one-night arrangement. But if Dylan had learned anything from Austin during their time together, it was that a relentless pursuit of a goal, especially a goal involving an emotional reward, was usually the best course of action.
Dylan reclined next to her and threw his arm over her shoulder, feeling the urge to play with her curly hair. She shifted in her seat, trying to inch farther away from him. Dylan caught Austin’s eye as the man began “Frosty the Snowman” for the kids, and nodded with a laugh toward their quarry. Austin rolled his eyes with a grin, acknowledging how hopelessly pointless it was for her to try and shy away from them. They had her in their sights. They were the hunters, and she the prey.
“Tell me why you don’t like Christmas music, and don’t say that you don’t want to talk about it. Nobody can hear what we’re saying. They’re all too busy taking videos of the kids singing along to the music.”
Dylan moved closer to Mercy on the couch, using the arm he slung around her shoulders to pull her in tight.
“Well, I don’t want to talk about it.” She shoved her finger in his face. “And don’t think you can steamroll me just because of our previous…encounter.” She seemed to burrow deeper into herself. Dylan trailed his free hand down her arm to take her hand, then gave it a squeeze.
Mercy looked down at their hands and back to Dylan with a raised eyebrow. “You sure you want to be so forward where anyone can see?”
“Like I said, they’re too busy watching the kids. Stop deflecting. I’d like to learn more about you, Mercy,” he whispered in an ear so decorated with piercings he could barely see her skin. “So would Austin.”
“Why?” she asked, looking genuinely confused, as if no one could possibly want her enough to get to know her. It angered him that there was a man out in the world who had forced her to erect this barrier she kept tightly forged around her heart. He wanted to make this woman feel good. She deserved better than the hurt this ex-husband had dealt her.
“Why not? It’s Christmas—”
“Worst excuse ever.” She snorted, turning back to the kids.
“And at Christmas,” he said more forcefully to get her attention once more, “you do fun shit you wouldn’t otherwise do.”
“So I’m your fun shit for this year?” she asked with a heavy dose of sarcasm. “Who was your fun shit last year?”
“You’re our first fun shit,” Dylan said with a proud nod. “You should be feeling honored and humbled at this point.”
“Mm, yes, and it’s quite easy to feel that way around your self-effacing manner.”
The music ended to claps and giggles from the kids and adults. The littlest one jumped up and down, demanding another song. Austin waved his hands to quiet them.
“What’s next, kids?” Austin asked, his congenial nature glowing from the joy his music brought to people, even simple music like Christmas songs.
“The Mercy song!” the burly boy, Richard, yelled, standing to point at Mercy. “The Aunt Mercy song, please!”
Mercy stiffened, going into panic mode once more. If they didn’t get this girl some Xanax and a deep-tissue massage soon, she was going to combust from the tension in her shoulders alone. “Oh no, sweetheart. I can’t,” Mercy said, shaking her head at the children.
“Oh, c’mon, Aunt Mercy. I remember when you used to sing at Christmas,” Richard whined.
“You can sing, Mercy?” Austin asked, his eyebrows rising in gleeful surprise. “What’s the Mercy song?”
“Oh, Lord,” she mumbled, rubbing her temples in distress.
“It’s nice,” Richard said with an angelically wistful expression. “I remember her singing it when I was a kid—”
“Yeah, because he’s so grown-up at eight.” One of Mercy’s brothers chuckled from the opposite side of the room. He was nearly identical to the boy and could only be his father.
“It would make me fall asleep,” Richard added with a smile.
“That’s because it’s boring and my voice is terrible,” she joked, waving off the kids currently crawling over to her and begging her to sing.
“Pleeeaase, Aunt Mercy. Puh-leaaase.” One of the blondes went on her knees and folded her hands together
underneath her chin, begging Mercy with an adorable pout. Who could say no to that face?
“Please, Mercy?” her mother asked quietly, cradling a mug of hot cocoa. “It would be nice to hear you sing again. Just one song.”
Mercy sighed, a look of intense pain on her face. “Fine.” Everyone in the room cheered, the commotion bringing more partygoers into the large living room. “On one condition!” The audience quieted, waiting for her terms of negotiation. She stood gracefully and then with a businesslike concentration brushed her skirt off and walked to stand next to the piano.
“This will be the only song, and”—she pointed at the clustering of her family members in the corner of the room—“you can’t pester me about my life for the rest of the night. No questions, no lectures, and if I want to leave early, you’re not allowed to tie me to a chair.” She searched the adults and narrowed her eyes once she’d found her target. “That goes double for you two, Peyton and Barney.”
“Oh, c’mon.” A man with black hair and a million freckles sprinkled across his face laughed.
“It was funny,” the man’s twin joined in, delighting in their sister’s misery as brothers were wont to do. “You were miserable.”
“No tying me down or no song!” She was clearly not budging on this issue. Dylan didn’t blame her. What must it have been like growing up the youngest of nine children and the only girl? He was amazed she turned out as sane as she was.
“They agree. Boys, say you agree…and no crossing your fingers behind your backs!”
“We agree,” they mumbled, rightly cowed by their mother.
“Okay. Okay.” Mercy took a deep breath and whispered in Austin’s ear. Austin’s smile lit up like a Christmas tree, and his eyes connected with Dylan’s, trying to make Dylan understand something without words. The fierce expression on Austin’s face made Dylan think there was something important about Mercy’s song choice that resonated deeply with him. Dylan waited with bated breath, leaning forward in his seat, elbows resting on his knees with hands clasped.
She nodded to Austin, and the first simple notes of the song broke through the silence, beginning to weave a spell that blessed them with peace and serenity. Dylan’s heart skipped a beat as she sang. Her voice was husky with disuse and she struggled a little with the higher notes, but the feeling was there. She told a story with her voice, a bittersweet story that spoke of love through hard times. It was only when she reached the second verse that he woke up from the enchantment she’d spun with just the sound of her voice, and realized she was singing his and Austin’s all-time favorite Christmas song.
The rapid pulsing of Dylan’s blood stuttered to a halt, and he could barely breathe. The vision of Austin playing the piano, smiling in contented bliss at Mercy as she crooned and hummed along the rise and fall of notes and crescendos, brought to life Dylan’s deepest fantasy. They were beautiful together, almost ethereal with the firelight reflecting off the grand piano and into their eyes.
Mercy’s eyes were closed as she transitioned from the last verse into a wordless chorus of pure notes. Her hands clenched, turning her knuckles white, and her breathing became slightly erratic, making her miss notes. Austin reached forward and rested his hand atop hers in comfort, continuing to play with his right hand alone. Her shoulders sagged, responding instantly to his touch. Austin glanced toward Dylan, fierce need and possessiveness bringing his chiseled features into stark relief. Dylan nodded at Austin. He felt it too.
She finished the song in the quiet way it was meant to be, letting the last note fade into the night. There was silence once the final key on the piano settled, and she opened her eyes. Nearly the entire party was in the large living room now, and those who couldn’t fit crammed into the hallways just to listen for a moment or two. The people were staring at her with small smiles, hypnotized by the emotion she’d evoked with her voice and Austin’s mastery of the piano. So simple yet so perfect.
A snort echoed across the room, followed by a snore. Mercy looked over the piano, and sure enough, the kids were fast asleep on the floor. She chuckled, shaking her head. “I told you all, the song is boring. C’mon, guys, let’s get these kids to bed.” She bent to pick up one of the blondes as two of her brothers helped with the other girl and the exuberant boy. The crowd parted as they carried the kids out of the room.
Dylan stood and joined Austin on the piano bench, watching her walk away. He placed his hand discreetly on Austin’s thigh and trailed it up to his hard, massive cock.
“I knew that made you hard,” he murmured, taking his hand away before anyone saw him groping his boyfriend in public.
“She’s just…” Austin shook his head, ruffling his hair to a floppy mess as he did when he was anxious. “How is it possible we first started talking about adding a third to our bed a few hours ago, and we meet her and I feel like this and you—”
“Feel like this too,” Dylan agreed, speaking Austin’s language.
“How is that possible?” Austin asked, looking down at the piano and stroking the keys with affection. “Is your mother clairvoyant?”
“Ha, you know…I’ve always had my suspicions.” He took Austin’s hand in his to bring it to his lips for a kiss. As Austin’s hand rested on his mouth, Dylan surreptitiously licked Austin’s knuckles. “Tell me what you’re thinking, really.”
“I’m thinking we need to get her into a bed, fuck her senseless as she promised, and then make love to her…convince her to give us a shot at more than just a damn night.”
“You think we can do that in a bed?” Dylan asked, playing a simple scale Austin had taught him on their third date. “Use our sexual prowess to make her fall in love with us?”
Austin looked blankly at Dylan, as though the question had been dumb and unnecessary. “Well…yes.”
Dylan snorted, wrapping his arm around his lover and kissing his neck, excited about the coming challenge. “You’re such a guy.”
“And you’re not?” Austin placed his hand on Dylan’s erect cock, squeezing gently. “I think you are, unless you’ve been stuffing a roll of quarters in my ass since we met.”
“Roll of quarters? I’m insulted.”
“I’m sorry, baby.” Austin laughed, hugging Dylan close. “I meant an eggplant, of course.”
“Of course.” Dylan laid his head on Austin’s shoulder as he began to play another soft tune. “I love you. Are you sure you want to pursue this?”
“I’m sure. You sure?”
“Yes.” Dylan sighed, imagining Mercy sitting on the other side of Austin and mirroring his position. “Absolutely.”
“I love you too,” Austin whispered. “Let’s go get our Christmas present.”
Chapter Five
Mercy gently settled Gillian on the bed. After taking her adorable baby shoes off, she set them quietly on the bedside table. Tucker and Micah had helped her with their brothers’ kids, enjoying the chance to pamper their nieces and nephew. It didn’t hurt that both men were expecting their first child. The guys liked to get in as much practice with the kids as they could before the due dates.
“Shoes,” Mercy reminded Tucker, pointing to Richard’s boot-covered feet.
“Crap,” he muttered, tenderly taking the boots off.
“Language.” She laughed, just torturing him at that point. They settled the kids together on the bed and tucked them in under a warm quilt before leaving the room.
Micah tugged her to a stop at the top of the stairs as they headed back to the party. She interrupted him with a raised finger in his face before he could get into whatever he was going to lecture her about.
“You all promised no questions or lectures, so don’t start.” She attempted to descend the stairs once more, but he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.
“I was just going to ask who those guys were.” He shrugged, feigning innocence.
“What guys?” she asked blandly and leaned back against the banister. Two could play at this game.
“Oh, pleas
e.” Tucker laughed, circling her neck with his arm and giving her a much-hated noogie. Lord, it hurt.
“Get off me, you bastard!” she cried, digging her nails into his arm.
“We saw those goo-goo eyes they were giving you while you were singing.”
“Everyone gives me goo-goo eyes when I sing. My voice is like a choir of stereophonic angels.” She kicked his calf, but he wouldn’t let her go.
“Nope.” He raked his knuckles into her scalp harder. She could honestly say Tucker was her only brother who treated her like one of the guys. His physical and emotional responses to her were exactly what they would be if she were a man. It was great, not being handled with kid gloves all the time. But at times like these, she wished he would just call her princess like the others and try to protect and nurture her instead of giving her noogies. She hated noogies. “Tell us. Who are they?”
“They’re nobody. They’re acquaintances. They’re friends. They’re lovers. Take your damn pick and let me go!” She didn’t want to do it, but she’d had enough of Tucker’s rough brand of play. She brought her spiked heel down on his foot.
“Agh! Mom!” he yelled down the stairs. She shoved him back to sitting on the steps, bracketing him in with her hands on the wall.
“You leave those boys alone, you hear me? They’re my friends, and they are nice to me. End of story.” She turned around to the sound of Tucker’s whines and Micah’s laughter and marched down the steps. She needed a drink.
* * * *
Mercy didn’t want to rejoin the crowd immediately after escaping her brothers. She took a right that would lead her to the kitchen instead of heading back to the living room where she could still hear Austin dancing his fingers across the keys.
Mercy thought of how seeing Austin with his eyes closed, playing the song from a talent brought forth by his beautiful soul, had stirred a passion she thought long dead within her heart. It was an odd fluttering, a tickling that made her tummy flip-flop with unease and excitement.
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