Husbandry

by Allie Ritch

  “Speaking of helmets.” Chad pointed at the television screen. “Isn’t that the joke of a home team you were talking about?”

  As usual, my handyman husband had on the local sports. While a baseball game took center stage on the main screen, the pop-up windows on the side showed highlights from various other events, including the last football game. They were interviewing a couple of the players.

  Chuck shifted the bag of peas from his head to his elbow. “What would you call those no-talent hacks? Late bloomers?”

  “Their scores have improved since last season.” Chad offered this observation, which I was sure he must have picked up by accident from the news or else from listening to Chuck rant. I knew he didn’t share my injured husband’s love of sports.

  “That’s what happens when you hit rock bottom,” Chuck retorted. “There’s nowhere to go but up.”

  A giggle escaped me. It was reassuring that he felt well enough to grouse, and his disgruntled tone was almost comical. The man thought a trip to the emergency room was no big deal, but the poor performance of a bunch of athletes was worth a huge lament. If we shared another hundred years together, I still wouldn’t understand how his mind worked. Or the male mind in general.

  I patted his leg and kept him talking to distract him from the pain. “So what position would you have played? If you’d had a chance to join the high school football team, that is?”

  “Quarterback. I’ve got the smarts for it.”

  “I would have been the towel boy.” Chad gave us a rueful smile. “I’m not much of a jock.”

  “No, you’re studious, and you’re very much a people person.” Aware that there were still unresolved issues between us, I spoke softly. “You would have joined the yearbook committee and been part of all the honor societies. Charles, of course, would have been president of the student council.”

  Chuck snorted. “You’ve got that right.” He winced and angled his head to look at me. “You went to high school, honey. What were you involved in?”

  I blinked, surprised to realize he didn’t know the answer. We’d been married for months now and had enjoyed getting to know each other under Genetic Harmony’s warranty period before that, but I’d never talked much about my school days with my husbands. Our conversations had covered my childhood, jobs, hobbies, and dreams, but there were still topics we’d left untouched. It was kind of nice to know we still had new territory to explore.

  “Wait right here.” I got up and hurried down the hall to the back closet.

  With the house incomplete, I’d left the things I didn’t often need still packed in boxes. That way they were easier to move around while Chuck tackled the renovations. It took me a minute to find what I wanted.

  I returned with my high school yearbook in hand. “Here we go.” I opened it up and held it where they could see. “For your information, I tried a lot of different things in high school. My freshman year, I was on the volleyball team. I was pretty good too, if I say so myself.” I flipped to another page. “Sophomore year, I was in a couple different honor societies, and I took Latin as my foreign language class. That’s what helps me understand some of your French and Italian, Chad.”

  His expression was unreadable, so I went on.

  “My schoolwork was important to me, and my parents had high standards. In retrospect, I wish I’d spent a little less time studying and a bit more going out with friends and having fun. I understand Charles’s work ethic better than he thinks.”

  Chuck took the yearbook from me and studied the pictures before he passed it to Chad. He shot me a mischievous grin. “Do you still have those tiny volleyball shorts?”

  If he hadn’t been injured, I would have smacked his arm. Of all the things to comment on.

  Chad remained silent, so I took the opportunity to get up and start dinner. When I checked on them some twenty minutes later, Chuck was fast asleep, and Chad was watching an indie film. I removed the half-thawed bag of peas from my hubby’s limp hand and checked the time.

  “I’m watching,” Chad whispered. “He’s only been out for ten minutes. I’ll wake him in another fifty.”

  “That should be good timing for dinner.” I held up the cold bag of veggies. “Guess what we’re having.”

  He smiled, but the expression looked halfhearted. Although Chad no longer appeared furious with me, there was a lot of healing left to do before we were back to normal. I had more than one bruised husband on my hands, and I had no doubt which one was hurting worse. Chad had a sore heart thanks to my stupidity. Half of me was impatient to patch things up, while the other half was surprised his anger had dissipated so quickly.

  “The ice packs should be ready by then. Let me know if he wants them.” I waited for his nod and slipped back to the kitchen.

  A quick call to Charles’s office confirmed he wouldn’t be home for dinner. When I asked for an ETA, he said he didn’t have one. An admonishment for him to order in something healthy for supper was the best I could do.

  * * * *

  The next time I saw Charles, he was slipping into the master suite just as we were climbing into bed. He loosened his tie and nodded toward Chuck, who was already sprawled on his stomach.

  “How’s the patient?”

  I returned a tired smile. “He’s cranky about being woken up every hour, but otherwise he’s fine.”

  “You’d be cranky too if you had to answer the same stupid questions over and over when you’re trying to sleep.” Chuck’s grumpy voice was muffled by the pillow.

  He was usually a back sleeper, but his darkening bruises made that position too uncomfortable. The tender spot behind his temple also meant he could only lie with his head turned in one direction. I didn’t blame him for being annoyed, but being on call every hour wasn’t any fun either. Chad and I had taken turns.

  Charles removed his belt and slipped out of his shoes. “Well, I promise to come up with more interesting questions. I’ll take over for a while, if you want.”

  “Are you sure? You just got home. You have to be exhausted.”

  “I’m more awake than you three.” He faced us from where he now stood in the closet doorway.

  He swept his gaze over me as he removed his pants and shirt, followed by his briefs. Unlike Chuck, Charles never bothered with underwear in bed, even on those few nights when sleep was the only objective. Chad, on the other hand, wore black pajama bottoms, which drew attention to his trim waist. Chuck must have changed the sheets this morning because the satin had been replaced with regular cotton. I was glad to escape the reminder of how badly my night with Chad had ended.

  The rift between us was still there—narrowing, thank goodness, but present all the same. I could tell because Chad climbed into bed on the other side of Chuck when he could have come around to snuggle with me. Charles slipped under the covers between me and Chuck, which left me on the outside of the three.

  “Only three more hours of wake-up calls,” Chad informed the new man on duty. “After that he should be out of danger.”

  “No problem.” Charles propped himself up with one of the pillows.

  When I slid in beside him, Charles tucked me under his arm. My eyes were already drooping shut before I’d fully settled.

  Over the next few hours, I drifted in and out of sleep, half waking to the sound of Charles’s voice as he roused Chuck and asked him questions. I think he threw in some sports trivia, though I might have dreamed that part. Sometime in the wee hours, we passed out of the danger zone, so I wasn’t woken again.

  The blare of the alarm was the next thing I heard. I opened my eyes to see Charles stretched out on his side next to me. He had one arm flung across my waist, and even in sleep his hold was possessive. His hand was a hairbreadth from the top curve of my butt. Green eyes met mine as the alarm brought him awake too.

  Since I was at the edge of the bed, I didn’t have to climb over him to get up this time. I looked at Chuck, who barely twitched before he fell right back to sleep. Th
ere was enough light for me to see the dark patches marring the skin of his exposed back. Bruises always looked worse as they healed, so I suspected they’d be putrid green and purple by the end of the day.

  My first stop was the shower, where I was once again joined by Charles. I had a moment of déjà vu, but he didn’t get amorous this time.

  “You look tired,” I remarked.

  His morning beard growth disrupted the clean lines of his goatee, adding to his groggy image. He rinsed his hair and stood beneath the warm spray massaging his neck.

  “I’m a little stiff from sitting up in bed half the night,” he admitted.

  Now I knew he wasn’t at his best. Any other morning, he would have teased me about something else being stiff.

  “You should have left me and Chad on wake-up duty. After such a long day, you didn’t need more work.” I grabbed the bar of soap off the shelf. “Here. Turn around.”

  He rallied enough to quirk one eyebrow at me before he complied.

  I lathered him from head to toe and began kneading his muscles. This way I could get him clean and work out the kinks in his neck and back at the same time. Charles released a soft groan of appreciation and stood still for me. The sound made me smile, and I enjoyed the feel of his body beneath my fingers. His muscles were lean and tough—loosening by the minute—and his skin was hotter than the water beating down on him. I took my time.

  When I was done, he rotated his neck and rolled his shoulders. He turned, revealing the return of his energy in his devilish grin.

  “I’m tempted to return the favor, but there isn’t time.” He lifted his hand to cup the side of my head and used his thumb to stroke my cheek. “You’ll have to settle for a thank-you and a rain check.”

  His kiss, when it came, disarmed me with its unexpected gentleness. There was no doubt who was in control of the embrace, but there was no aggression behind it. He molded his lips to mine and danced the tip of his tongue between them. I opened to him without hesitation, and he stole my breath.

  A full minute passed before he stepped back. The loss of contact left me feeling bereft, and I swayed toward him. Heat of a different sort burst under my skin when he raked me with his hungry gaze, proving it was really him in here with me and not one of the others. Then he got out to dry off and get ready for work.

  Chad wasn’t in the bedroom when I came out, and I didn’t find him down in the kitchen, either. I’d assumed he wasn’t avoiding me anymore, but maybe I’d relaxed too quickly. The sooner we sat down and talked, the better. There wasn’t time for that sort of discussion this morning, though. There were more immediate issues we needed to tackle before I left.

  I finished breakfast and marched back upstairs, where I caught Chad coming out of the spare bedroom. He looked like he was ready to sprint off to work.

  “Do you think one of us should stay home with Chuck?” Since Chad was the one who’d spoken to the doctor, I asked him this important question.

  He adjusted the shoulder strap of his workbag. “Chuck should be fine now. There are plenty of ice packs in the freezer, and if he needs us, he can always call. I was just on my way to check on him.”

  We looked in on my sleeping husband together. I hated to wake him, but I wanted to make sure he was all right with being left home alone.

  Chuck’s answer was predictable. “Go. I’ll be fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He grumbled a yes, so I leaned down to give him a quick kiss good-bye.

  Outside the bedroom, I turned to Chad. “That leaves the question of who gets the second car today.”

  “You take it.” Chad moved ahead of me down the stairs. “You’re the first one to get off work, and you can come home to him sooner if you have the car.”

  That sounded reasonable to me. I was about to say as much when he joined my other husband at the front door.

  “Charles can give me a ride to work,” Chad assured me. “We’ll see you later.”

  He slipped out the door without another word.

  Charles hung back long enough to give me a kiss. “Don’t hold dinner for me. I may be late tonight.”

  “But—”

  He gave me another quick peck to cut me off and walked out.

  My men were driving me crazy.

  Chapter Six

  “Uh-oh,” Liz said when she saw me that afternoon. “You don’t seem as upset as you were yesterday, but you have that look. I take it you’re still fighting with Chad?”

  I was feeling stressed, though not just about that. “At least he’s speaking to me again. We have some things to work out, but we’ll be okay. Charles is working himself to death as usual, so he’s hardly home anymore. And Chuck took years off my life by falling off the ladder doing some roof repairs yesterday.”

  “Is he all right?” She sounded genuinely concerned.

  “He will be. My nurse neighbor saw it happen and responded right away, thank goodness.” I took a breath, reliving my race to the hospital. “Chuck was taken to the emergency room. Fortunately, he didn’t stay there long. I then spent the rest of the afternoon handing him ice packs and waking him every hour because of the concussion.”

  “He’s lucky he didn’t break his neck.”

  “That’s what I told him.” I threw up my hands. “But do you know what he said when I called to check on him at lunchtime? Here he took a spill like that just yesterday, and today he tells me he can’t talk because he’s ‘in the middle of something.’ If I find out he’s working on the house…” I let the threat trail off, mostly because I wasn’t sure what I’d do.

  He should have been in bed. The fact that he wasn’t had me tapping my pen against the desk until the noise even irritated me.

  Liz gave me a sympathetic look. “Men can be so stubborn. If you think he’s overdoing it, maybe you should duck out early today.”

  “Can’t.” That was another reason for my increased stress level. “The boss wants the monthly reports redone with additional graphs and charts. I’ll be lucky to get out of here on time. Even if I could push this off a day, I wouldn’t dare. My parents are coming to visit tomorrow evening. This will be the first time they’ve met Chuck, Charles, and Chad.”

  “They weren’t at your wedding?”

  I sniffed. “Shriek that at a more grating pitch, and you’d capture my mother’s sentiments exactly. She’s still not happy with me about that, though she claims she’s over it. Of course, now I’ve given her a new reason to go ballistic. Yesterday I finally told her I have three husbands, not one. The confession may have been good for my soul like you said, but it’s been hell on my nerves.”

  Liz’s mouth formed a little O. “Did she scream? If she’s like my mom, she probably went silent right before she blew up. The calm before the storm.”

  “I hope there’s no storm coming.” That was my number one concern. “My mom is usually very vocal right away. This time she did go silent, though. Right before she announced she and my dad would be here tomorrow and hung up.”

  “That’s not good.” Liz’s tone turned portentous.

  “Hey, aren’t you supposed to make me feel better? You should be telling me it will turn out all right in the end or something wise like that.”

  “It will. Eventually.” Liz eased away from my desk. “But just in case, it was nice knowing you, Fila.”

  So much for the pep talk.

  She walked away, and I was left with the tedious task of redoing a bunch of reports for the higher-ups. The work took every bit as long as I’d dreaded, and I was over half an hour late getting out of the office. I hurried home, unsure of what I’d find when I got there.

  I shouted hello when I walked through the front door and was relieved when Chuck answered. A minute later, he came out to greet me. One look at him and I knew my fears had been well-founded. His clothes were specked with paint, and I could smell the fresh, chemical odor of it when he came closer to give me a kiss.

  I could feel my blood pressure climbing. “Chuc
k! What are you doing painting? You should be in bed.”

  He shrugged and then winced when the movement must have hurt. “There’s too much to do. Besides, I got sick of lying around.”

  “Well, you should still be sitting down, not tackling a project.” This was what happened when a woman wasn’t around to supervise. The dolt could have been in a full body cast, and he still would have insisted he didn’t need rest. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing strenuous,” he insisted. “Just a little interior painting. I finally got the upstairs done, and I only have the hallway and closets left to do down here. Oh, and the trim, but I’ll handle that another day.”

  I gave him a stern look. “Aren’t you in pain? I’d think it would hurt too much to do all that.”

  “A little.” He wouldn’t admit to more. “I’ve been moving slowly, taking my time. I’ll wait and heal up a couple of days before I get to the harder projects.”

  “You’ll give me gray hair,” I told him. “Go change and lie down, and I’ll get you the ice packs.”

  “I just finished icing an hour ago.”

  “Well, at least go sit and rest. We can watch a movie together if you want. Your pick.” If reason wouldn’t work, I figured a bribe might.

  His response was a boyish smile so brilliant it scrambled my brain. “You and I haven’t done that for a while. I’d love to. Just let me finish the hall and closets, and I’ll be all yours.”

  I almost growled in frustration. How could someone I loved so much be so aggravating? Here I was, concerned for his health, and he was worried about painting a hallway. He was hardheaded enough to stand firm against my objections, which meant I had no choice but to play dirty.

  “If you’re feeling that good, maybe you should put your energy to good use.” With one finger, I traced a hardened drip of paint down his chest.

  His eyes popped wide before they filled with heat. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe something like this.” I answered him with a kiss.

  This was my real homecoming. His lips were a perfect fit for mine, so giving and soft and firm. Our breath mingled, and my whole body filled with a languorous, smoky sensation that made me moan into his open mouth. It was a good thing I had something to hold on to—his broad shoulder under one hand and those unruly curls threaded between the fingers of my other. The rascal must have treated himself to a beer because I could taste a hint of malt where our tongues met and tangled.