Covington, Cara - Love Under Two Strong Men [The Lusty, Texas Collection] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Cara Covington

  “No, I don’t imagine it would have. And I don’t imagine you need me to ask you to be patient with him.” Samantha smiled. “I don’t know why I even thought for a moment that I’d have to.”

  “Oh, that’s easy. Because he’s your son, and you love him.”

  “Thank you, sweetheart, for not being pissed at my attempted interference.”

  Tracy may have been confused about a lot of things, but here at least was one thing she knew for certain. “That wasn’t interference. That was love. And I, for one, am very glad you came by.”

  “This is my lucky day. Not one, but two beautiful women to come home to.” Peter had come around the side of the house rather than through it. In his hands he carried a gardener’s pot with some sort of plant in it.

  “Peter!” Samantha was the first off the glider. She gave him a hug then stepped back.

  Tracy went over to him and couldn’t resist going up on her toes to give him a kiss. She looked at the planter and tried to read the tag it sported, but it was Samantha who asked, “What do you have there?”

  “It’s an oak tree. Oh, I know it won’t likely sprout leaves until later in the spring, but that isn’t really the point.”

  Tracy’s gaze connected with Peter’s, and she realized that one thing, at least, hadn’t been her imagination. Peter had read the same hesitancy in their lover as she had.

  “No,” she agreed. “The point is that an oak tree is permanent.”

  “Damn straight. I’m going to make it my housewarming gift to Jordan and suggest we make it an annual acquisition. Let’s see what he has to say about that.”

  If she knew Jordan—and she believed she did—Peter had picked the perfect way to make their point.

  Chapter 13

  Joe Grant took a moment before getting out of his vehicle to scan the small building across the street. He assessed and analyzed his destination, and compared the reality with his expectations.

  The building, neat and simple, with a moderately sized sign, meshed with the quiet confidence he believed to be a primary quality of its owner.

  There was a lot riding on this job interview. Failure simply was not an option. Fortunately, one of Joe’s greatest talents was his ability to read people and give them exactly what they thought they wanted. It was a skill he’d mastered early and used successfully throughout his career.

  He didn’t expect Jordan Kendall to pose a challenge in that regard. Of course, having done his research as thoroughly as he had meant that he’d stacked the odds for success in his favor.

  In Joe’s opinion, only an asshole played fair, and he was no asshole.

  Everything about his presentation for today had been calculated for maximum effect, and everything about his presentation was, in essence, a lie.

  From the shoes and jeans, the shirt and sport jacket he wore, to the way he’d had his hair cut, to the vehicle he drove, all had been chosen carefully. The F-150 Ford pickup had seen better days, but it ran like a charm and appeared to be the vehicle of a man who’d been on a tight budget in recent times, but who’d used it to earn his living in the construction trades.

  Joe Grant had fashioned himself into the embodiment of Jordan Kendall’s ideal blue-collar, family-first employee.

  He checked his watch—a serviceable piece he’d picked up from a pawn shop. He was exactly six minutes early. Perfect.

  Grant had a moniker among those who thought they could hire him for his expertise, and it was a name he’d created himself and done everything to encourage. He was known as the Chameleon. He saw to it that the name fit him to a tee.

  A chameleon lived in shadows, blending in, becoming invisible. Joe Grant had been very successful appearing to do the same.

  He opened the door of the headquarters of Kendall Construction and stepped into the reception area. Decorated in earth tones, and appearing clean, he thought the place far less pretentious than construction companies owned by other multi-millionaire businessmen.

  Grant happened to know Jordan Kendall’s net worth, and it sure wasn’t peanuts. Yet there the man sat, behind the receptionist’s desk, talking on the phone.

  “Sorry about this, sweetheart. Don’t bother to hold dinner. I’ve got two more appointments, and then I’ll be on my way. See you soon.”

  Kendall hung up the phone and offered him a smile. “You must be Joe Grant.”

  “Yes, sir. I appreciate the time.” Joe shrugged and nodded toward the phone. “Guess your giving me this interview’s making you late for your lady. Sorry.” Grant had to take a moment to suppress the laugh that wanted to emerge. He usually had no problem staying in character. Shut it down. He couldn’t afford to fuck this up. Lives depended on his success.

  “It’s not a problem. Come on back.” Kendall led the way back into the interior of the building, to what Joe presumed was his own office.

  “Alan Metcalf say’s you’re a good worker.” Kendall walked over to a credenza where he had one of those fancy one-cup coffee machines set up. “Coffee?”

  Alan Metcalf was a man Grant had never met face to face. But he was a man who’d ended up in a hell of a mess—and had been given the opportunity to extricate himself by one small act. The man had only been told that he was being asked to do was important. “Thanks, coffee would be great.”

  “How do you take it?” Kendall raised one eyebrow and met Grant’s gaze.

  Most men, in Grant’s experience, shied away from direct eye contact. He made a mental note to reassess Kendall after this interview. “Black, please.”

  “We’re slated to break ground in just over five weeks. I pay union scale, of course.”

  “Five weeks? Sounds good.” Joe put just a slight bit of disappointment in his tone. Kendall handed him the paper cup, made a coffee for himself, and then sat down behind his desk.

  Joe waited until the man indicated he should sit before he actually did so. Then he set the cup on Kendall’s desk so he could reach into his inside jacket pocket.

  “I brought my references, as well as the letter Alan gave me.”

  Kendall accepted the packet “Thanks. It is my policy to check all references. Alan, of course, has already called me.”

  “Only smart in today’s world to check,” Joe said. “Otherwise, you never know who you’re dealing with.”

  Kendall sat back. “Alan said that you’d taken a year off to care for your mother when she was ill, and that you needed work sooner, rather than later.”

  “Yes, sir.” He paused when Kendall waved his hand.

  “Just Jordan,” Kendall said.

  “Jordan, then. It was the right thing to do, and I have no regrets. But I do have a lot of leftover medical bills I need to clear up. Insurance only covered so much. I didn’t want my mother to lack for what she needed or wanted in her final days, so I took on the obligation.” Joe shrugged. “Who wouldn’t?”

  Kendall had picked up a pen and began turning it end over end slowly. Now he looked up and met Grant’s gaze again.

  For the first time in a long while, Joe Grant realized he was looking at a man he couldn’t easily read.

  “Your timing may be perfect. There’s another project I’ve been trying to finish up. It’s a family build, an additional airplane hangar at the airfield over in Lusty. I’m kind of between a rock and a hard place with it, because I promised my brothers I’d get the thing finished—it’s just the usual odds and ends that are left to do after a build. It wouldn’t take a single man, working alone, much more than three weeks to finish. But I won the bid on this Outlands project, and then they asked for an earlier start date than was in the bid, so I’ve been scrambling. The other men we’ve lined up for the project so far are all currently finishing up on other jobs. You’re actually the first one I’ve come across who’s not working at the moment. Maybe you could help me out?”

  “As long as it’s not just busywork. Like I said, taking care of my mother was the right thing to do. I believe in giving an honest day’s work for an honest
day’s pay.”

  Kendall laughed. “You’ll get the notion of this being busywork out of your head once you meet my brothers. Truth is, you’d be doing me a huge favor. They’re both older than me, and stronger than me, too.”

  Grant smiled, and nodded. “Thank you, then. I’m grateful for the extra work.”

  “You’ll get the same pay. Oh, and there’re no motels close to the site, but there is one out by the Interstate ramp. Do you know where Lusty is?”

  “I have a pretty good idea. I can look it up online.”

  Kendall got to his feet and offered his hand. “Do that. When you head to Lusty from the motel, you pass right by the airfield. I’ll see you there tomorrow, say 10:00 a.m.? We can fill out the paperwork, then.”

  Grant stood and shook the man’s hand. Kendall had a firm grip, and a palm that testified to the fact he was a hands-on contractor and not just a paper pusher.

  “Thanks, Jordan. You won’t be sorry.”

  Grant kept his persona in place and his gait measured while Jordan showed him out. He maintained his role until he’d gotten into the truck and pulled away from the curb.

  That had been almost too easy. His brow furrowed when he thought about that one moment when he couldn’t read Kendall. Then he let it go. The important thing was, he’d been offered work that would put him right where he needed to be—close to Jordan Kendall, and by extension, his boyfriend, Special Agent Peter Alvarez.

  * * * *

  “You didn’t have to wait dinner for me.”

  Jordan had made better time on his drive home once he left Waco, mainly because the bulk of the traffic rush hour was done. Still, he stepped into his house at a quarter past seven, a good two hours later than normal, only to find his lovers hadn’t yet eaten.

  Tracy pulled a pan out of the oven and then turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised. Peter proved less restrained.

  “Don’t be an ass,” he said. He took the bite out of his comment by coming over and planting a very nice kiss on Jordan’s lips. “Of course we waited dinner for you. We’re not just three people sharing a house, you know.”

  Jordan heard the edge in Peter’s tone and wondered if something more than his being home late was the cause of it. In the last couple of days Peter had seemed a little more on edge than usual. If the man weren’t on vacation, Jordan would suspect that there was some kind of major DEA operation about to go down.

  Rather than focus on what it felt like was happening, Jordan chose to react to the words, themselves.

  “Of course we’re more than just three people sharing a house. Look, I’m sorry I was late tonight. It really was unavoidable. I’ll try not to—”

  “It’s okay that you’re late,” Tracy said. “You called, and that’s what matters. We’re all, at one point or another, bound to have the unexpected pop up in our day. Well, if we stay together long enough, that is.”

  Jordan felt the impact of Tracy’s words like a solid punch in the gut. He stepped back as if he’d actually been hit. He didn’t take his eyes off Tracy as she put food on plates that Peter then carried to the table.

  “If we…” He had to stop, because his voice failed him. He inhaled deeply. Reaching for calm with all that was in him, he said, “If we stay together long enough?” He’d known going in that this arrangement probably wouldn’t last. It was the chance he’d taken, claiming for himself what he’d wanted so badly for so many years. He couldn’t blame her, either, no matter how much pain just thinking about her leaving brought him. Tracy was young, with no previous sexual experience. What woman wouldn’t want to kick up her heels a bit before settling down?

  He’d just thought they’d be together longer than this.

  Despite his logical self telling him this was nothing more than he’d expected, Jordan found the words that bubbled out of him weren’t words of acceptance. “I can understand that maybe you’re feeling a little trapped. I mean, it must be a complete turnaround from everything you’ve experienced so far. But, sweetheart, if you just—”

  She cut him off for a second time. “I don’t feel trapped, Jordan.” Tracy and Peter each sat down at the dinner table, and then they each sent him nearly identical looks.

  Responding to what he saw in their eyes, he took his seat. Tracy had moved the rectangular table so that it was against the wall, directly in front of the large window. What Jordan noticed for the first time was that they’d taken their seats from that first meal here, and held them—Peter and Tracy at each end, and he, Jordan, along the side, effectively between them.

  He replayed what Tracy had just said, and tried to calm down. Okay, she didn’t feel trapped. That was good, wasn’t it? It had to be good. “So if you don’t feel trapped, what are you feeling?”

  “I feel untethered.”

  He looked from Tracy, to Peter. In that man’s eyes he saw the same patient compassion he’d glimpsed from time to time since they’d begun seeing each other. Well, Jordan mentally amended, maybe that compassion wasn’t quite as patient has it had been for the past month.

  “You feel untethered. What…what does that mean, exactly?”

  “It means we’re both getting a little impatient with your inability to commit full out to this relationship, love.” Peter’s words pricked Jordan’s conscience.

  He opened his mouth to protest the charge, then snapped it shut again. How could he deny it? He wasn’t even certain he could put his doubts—his damned, constant, nagging doubts—into words that would make sense.

  “You seem to think I’m going to change my mind, or something,” Tracy said. “Sorry, lover, it’s not going to happen.”

  “It’s more than that, Blondie,” Peter said.

  “Yes, I know.” Tracy then gave Jordan a smile.

  Jordan sat back, folded his arms across his chest, and gave both his lovers a glare. “I’m right here, you know.”

  “Yes, we know. And so are we.” Peter leaned forward and reached for Tracy’s hand, and then reached out for Jordan’s. When Tracy reached for his other hand, he gave it to her. “And, this may come as a shock to you, lover, but the entire town of Lusty knows we’re all here, too, and everyone is nothing but happy for us. And that includes all of your brothers.”

  “You’d think, growing up where I have, with the history of our families celebrated as they are, that I’d be comfortable being who I am—being what I am.” He looked at Peter, a man whose path had been so different from his own. “I can’t even imagine the kind of bullying you endured, or the derision that some members of your family treated you to—hell, are still treating you to. In my head, I’ve always known my brothers accepted me, and yet there’s always been this…this wall inside me that’s made me stand back, stand apart. How can you be so patient with me when you had such a different experience, growing up?” He turned to look at Tracy. “And you? My God, I didn’t even have the guts to tell you how much I wanted you. You came to me—to us, and dared to reach for what you wanted. How can you even respect me?”

  “I think the answer is the same for both of us, Jordan,” Peter said.

  “It’s because we love you. I love you, Jordan,” Tracy said. “I love you, Peter, and I’m not going anywhere because here is where I belong. With the two of you.”

  “Like I said, it’s the same for both of us. I love you, Jordan, despite the fact that you’re far too hard on yourself.”

  Jordan felt something melt inside him. He’d been too busy being afraid of losing them to see how very much he already had them. He felt his eyes get wet, and didn’t care if they thought less of him because of it. But of course, they wouldn’t.

  Jordan swallowed around the lump in his throat and somehow found his voice. “I don’t deserve either one of you. I don’t deserve the love you both offer me so freely. But I’m taking it, and you. I’m keeping it, and you. Because I love you both, too.”

  Chapter 14

  “I love you both.” Tracy stretched up on her toes and kissed Jordan. Then she angled her bo
dy slightly and kissed Peter, too.

  They’d left their dinner uneaten and come here, to the great sanctuary of their bedroom. It wasn’t food they hungered for, but the life-altering, loving touch and caress of one another.

  Peter lit candles, and Jordan put some low, sweet jazz on the sound system. Tracy removed the comforter and top sheet from the bed. Then she’d taken the supplies they’d need out of the bedside table drawer. When all was ready, they came together at the foot of the bed. Standing close, like three points of a triangle, they undressed themselves, offering themselves, Tracy thought, each one to the others.

  Naked, the heat from the men’s bodies warmed her, and Tracy knew that as long as she had these two lovers, she would never feel cold again. “I love you for what you give me, for the way you fill all the empty places inside of me. And I love you for what you give each other.” She felt tears glistening in her eyes, but she needed them to know how she felt. “Sometimes I feel the love you have for each other, and it’s like this powerful force full of goodness and light. What we have together, the three of us, as new as it is, already burns so hot, and so bright. It’s beautiful. I want nothing more than to be a part of the both of you.”

  “Do you know what a treasure you are?” Peter reached out and caressed her cheek. “I’d hoped to someday find a woman who would be a part of my family, a family that included another man. I thought what I sought was just a fantasy. Then one day I came to this town and met Jordan, and I fell in love.” He stopped, and Tracy heard the catch in his voice. He leaned over and placed a light kiss on Jordan’s lips. When Peter spoke again, his voice waivered, and Tracy saw his eyes had become bright with his own tears. “And then I met you, and not only fell in love but realized that my fantasy could be my reality.” He leaned over and kissed her, a light, sweet kiss that felt reverent. “You are a part of us, sweetheart. You’re the best part.”