Three of a Kind

by Skye Warren, Laura Kaye, Vanessa Vale

  The whole thing had sucked for Cruz, too. Because he was constantly torn wanting a man he couldn’t have and, therefore, encouraging that man to go for other people, which hurt like hell. It was a lose-fucking-lose proposition.

  Jonathan arched a brow. “Of course I remember. But I’m not interested in taking on this work just to get this woman to go out with me, asshole. She runs a business out of this marina, too. It’s extending a hand of good-will to a business acquaintance.”

  Cruz scoffed and crossed his arms, but nearly twenty years of friendship meant that he knew Jonathan had already made up his mind. “Jay,” he said, using a nickname Jonathan had picked up at the Academy, “we’re probably looking at thirty to fifty hours of labor here. More if the electrical needs rewired.”

  “Agreed,” he said.

  “Fine. I hope we don’t regret this.”

  Jonathan grinned. That fucking grin. “I don’t think we’re going to regret it at all. Let’s go tell Hartley.”

  They found her above deck, sitting in the captain’s chair at the helm. She rushed to her feet, a hopeful expression on her face. Her pretty face, Cruz had to admit. His feelings for Jonathan had never kept Cruz from enjoying women—both when they shared them and when he was with a lady alone. “So, what do you think?”

  Jonathan cut his gaze to Cruz, and he gave him a nod. “We’re in,” Jonathan said. “And we’re hopeful we can hit your deadline. We’ll put together a proposal and get it to you tonight.”

  She clasped her hands together and nearly wilted in relief. “Oh, my God, thank you.”

  “Do I get my certificate now?” Jonathan teased, a playfully sexy expression on his face. Cruz frowned, not following.

  “No,” she said, an equally playful expression on her face. “I thought we determined that you needed something more than that. What should it be? A case of your favorite beer? A home-cooked meal? Chocolate chip cookies every day for a month?”

  As Cruz watched their private joke unfold, Jonathan laughed. “No special favors required. It’s just good to make a new friend here.”

  “I can never have too many of those,” she said, holding out her hand to Jonathan.

  He took it and returned the shake. And Cruz stared, because you didn’t share sexual partners with someone the way they often had without being able to read facial expressions, understand silent cues, or anticipate where someone was taking something. And what Cruz saw radiating from Jonathan was crystal clear—interest, desire, banked lust. “To our new friendship then. The three of us.”

  Grinning, Hartley nodded, then extended her hand to Cruz next. “To our new friendship.”

  Cruz hesitated for just a second. He had nothing against this woman, not at all. It was just that every time Jonathan met someone, Cruz had to wonder if this was the person to whom he’d lose the man he loved.

  Finally, he shook her hand and forced a smile. Because it was what it fucking was. “Sounds good to me.”

  Chapter Three

  The next evening, and against his better judgment, Cruz Ramos secured the Far ’n Away into the boat cradle at A&R’s warehouse-style workshop. An industrial space with soaring ceilings that could accommodate sailboats’ tall mainmasts, the new catamaran was the fourth vessel in the space—taking up the last of their work room.

  He and Jonathan had invited Hartley to make herself comfortable in the suite of offices and waiting rooms that lined the wall closest to the street side of the workshop. Instead, she stood nearby, clearly anxious, even though she remained far enough back to stay clear of the boat’s movement in the traveling hoist. And he got it. He’d be as concerned if it was his own boat.

  “All right, we have her in hand,” Cruz said, securing the last of the straps.

  Hartley released a deep breath, and her shoulders fell. “Thank you. Both of you,” she added when Jonathan came around from the cat’s stern and joined them.

  “We’re happy to help,” Jonathan said, giving Hartley a smile that told Cruz that nothing had changed from the day before. The guy was interested. And from a purely physical standpoint, Cruz got why. Hartley Farren was sexy in a pretty, all-natural kinda way. She went light on the make-up and seemed perfectly comfortable in her skin, the kind of person who knew who she was so fundamentally that everything she said and did came off with sincerity.

  Cruz could appreciate that, too.

  And he also got that it wasn’t every day they met a woman who shared so wholeheartedly so many of their interests. Except, probably not all of their interests.

  Therein lay the rub that worried him most.

  Their long-term friendship meant neither of them could hide their weaknesses from the other. And Jonathan Allen had a bigger, softer heart than most men Cruz knew. It was a killer combination—that big heart and a Dominant’s need to take care. Sometimes, though, it made his partner vulnerable.

  Cruz worried this was gonna be one of those times.

  On the other hand, if things didn’t work out, that meant that much longer that Cruz would have Jonathan to himself. And wasn’t he the giant asshole that even a part of him would hope for that.

  “We’ll start the cabin demo first thing in the morning,” Cruz said, attempting to force his brain to focus on the work, “then we’ll have a better handle on what we’re facing.”

  Hartley nodded. “Okay, that sounds great. Can I treat you guys to dinner as a token of appreciation? Because by taking this on so fast, you’re saving my life right now. You really are.”

  Cruz smiled, appreciating the gesture. “No, that’s not necessary—”

  “We’d love to,” Jonathan said at the same time.

  Hartley turned dark eyes back to him. And man, that hopeful, almost pleading gaze was beguiling and damn hard to deny.

  Chuffing out a laugh, he caved. “Okay, then. I could eat.”

  They ended up at one of his favorite places—a local burger joint with amazing food, a wide range of cold beers on tap, and awesome milkshakes to satisfy his perennial sweet tooth. They made small talk about the menu, and then after they placed their orders, Cruz asked, “So, why the name Far ’n Away?” As sailboat names went, it was a good one. Unique without being cutesy. And he was always curious to hear the stories behind boat names.

  “Oh,” Hartley said with a slow smile. “Well, my dad always used to say that he was far and away happier on the water than anywhere else. So when he opened the charter business and bought his first yacht, I suggested the name, complete with the apostrophe because I thought it was so clever that it was similar to Farren, our last name.” She shrugged and pulled a face. “Of course, I was about eight so I guess that was what counted for cleverness back then.”

  The self-deprecation was charming. He had to admit that. “Well, now I like the name even more,” he said.

  “It’s a great name for a boat, and an even better sentiment,” Jonathan said, raising his beer bottle. “To finding that kind of happiness.”

  Eyeing his best friend with a whole lotta thoughts he could never voice, Cruz raised his bottle as Hartley said, “I’ll definitely drink to that.” She tapped her ginger ale glass to their beers. And even though she had a smile on her face, something more reserved, maybe even a little sad, flashed behind those big brown eyes. There were layers to this woman Cruz hadn’t seen right away. Layers he…appreciated.

  He wondered if there were even more he might yet find—if he went digging.

  So he did. “Jonathan mentioned you were under a three-week deadline for getting the work done, but didn’t say why. Mind if I ask?”

  “Not at all. First, because I bought a vendor space at the big sailboat show in Annapolis for the charter business. And second, because I’m teaching in the Sailing University program right after the show ends. I can’t do either without the cat, obviously, and both bring charter reservations for next year and income I need for the winter.”

  Cruz nodded. Even though the Chesapeake tended to have milder winters, boat chartering was u
nquestionably a business with a seasonal cycle to it.

  “And what are you teaching at Sailing University?” Jonathan asked, taking a drink of his beer.

  “A ‘sailing women’ course taught by women for women; a course on newbie cruiser mistakes; and a course on exploring the Chesapeake Bay. This will be my fourth year teaching, and the first time I’ve done more than one session, so I’m really looking forward to it.” Hartley’s eyes were alive with excitement and passion as she spoke, revealing that Cruz had in fact found more layers—a savvy businesswoman, a person who prioritized keeping her commitments, a teacher with expertise that the prestigious Sailing University recognized in having her back year after year.

  His effort to resist her appeal was declining minute by minute, especially when Jonathan kept giving him meaningful I told you so looks that Cruz could read only too well.

  And the conversation they had after their food came didn’t help, either. Because Hartley was funny and interesting and sarcastic and even a little flirtatious, and he liked all of those things. He liked them a lot.

  And it was clear Jonathan did, too.

  But whether Jonathan potentially wanted this woman for himself, or wanted her for the two of them together, one big problem remained in the way—they were Dominants. And they had no idea what Hartley might think of that.

  * * *

  After the string of days stressing over the fate of her boat and her business, Hartley couldn’t believe she was having so much fun tonight. But she was. Jonathan and Cruz were great. Jonathan was funny and talkative and so easy going that she couldn’t help but feel comfortable with him, even as damn hot as the man was. Though Cruz had seemed more reserved toward her at first, she really appreciated the sincere interest with which he asked her questions, how attentive he was while she talked, and his darker, drier sense of humor. And, God help her, but Cruz was every bit as sexy as Jonathan. Cruz had short black hair, dark eyes, and golden-brown skin. Tattoos peeked out from under the sleeves of his shirt, and he had a hint of a Latin accent.

  Sitting between them all night, Hartley’s belly had done more than a few flip-flops, because it had been a long time since she’d had dinner with one hot guy, let alone two.

  Not that she was with either of them, of course. But still, it didn’t hurt for a girl to imagine, to wonder, to fantasize…

  Nor did it hurt to make new friends when, for so long since her dad’s death, Hartley had closed herself off to new relationships of pretty much every kind. She couldn’t deny that. She didn’t want to deny that, not anymore.

  So why not let herself have a little fun?

  “Dessert?” Cruz asked, pulling a plastic menu from behind the napkin holder. “This place has killer milkshakes.”

  Hartley laughed and rubbed her belly. “You should’ve told me that before I polished off the whole burger and most of my fries.”

  “That never matters to Cruz,” Jonathan said, smirking. “He has a second stomach reserved for dessert.”

  Cruz nodded. “Pretty much.”

  Chuckling, Hartley enjoyed the men’s good-natured teasing. It was clear how close they were, and she guessed that made sense since they not only operated a business together, but had served in the navy together, too.

  “We should all be so lucky,” she said.

  “What flavors do you like? I’ll get one and you can have some.” He leveled that intense, dark gaze on her.

  And her belly did that silly flipping thing again. The weird thing wasn’t that Cruz’s gaze had the ability to do that to her, it was that her belly seemed to react that way to both of them. Sure proof that it had been too long since she’d last been with a man.

  “You should take him up on that, Hartley. This is a man who never shares his sweets.” Jonathan winked.

  She grinned, because it seemed like there was something more to his words and that wink. “Is that right?”

  Cruz arched a brow at his friend before looking to her again and nodding. “Hardly ever.”

  “I feel special then.”

  “You should,” he said flashing her a sexy smile.

  Annnd belly flip.

  “Well, all righty,” she said with a nervous chuckle. “I mean, obviously chocolate is the best milkshake ever. But Oreo is pretty good, and I like strawberry, too. But no vanilla, I’m sorry to say. You might as well just drink milk.”

  Slowly but surely, the most amused expression drew up over Cruz’s darkly masculine features. “You don’t like vanilla.”

  “No, it’s totally boring.”

  “Boring,” he repeated, that amused expression growing until he looked like he might bust out laughing.

  She glanced at Jonathan and found him fighting back humor himself. Why were they—“Oh, God, it’s your favorite, isn’t it?”

  Deep laughter finally broke free from Cruz, causing his eyes to crinkle at the corners and dimples to form in his cheeks. Jonathan grinned, too, as Cruz managed, “Vanilla is definitely not my favorite, Hartley.” Still chuckling, he closed the menu and returned it to its slot behind the napkins. “Chocolate it is. But tell me, do you object to whipped cream?”

  Still feeling like she’d missed something, Hartley shook her head. “No, whipped cream is awesome. When it comes to milkshakes and hot chocolate, you can never have too much.”

  Grinning, he nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind. I like a woman with such definite opinions about her desserts.”

  The waitress came just then to clear their plates and take their dessert order. As she stepped away, Hartley noticed three women get up from a table across the dining room. The one who’d had her back to Hartley was immediately recognizable—because of her hip-length black hair that swung in soft waves over gorgeous curves.

  When the women turned toward their table to make for the door, Hartley’s suspicions were confirmed, and she waved. “Hey, Scarlett.” Along with Linda, Scarlett Rose was one of her closest friends. Even so, both of their lives had become so hectic over the past year that they hadn’t spent as much time together as they once had. The charter business often pulled Hartley away on weekends when other people socialized, and sometimes took her away for weeks at a time when she had mid-week charters scheduled, too. As much as she loved being out on the water, chartering made staying connected unexpectedly hard.

  Her friend did a double take and then was heading their way and smiling with lips painted in her trademark bright red shade. “Hartley, hey. It’s so good to see…you…” Her words trailed off as her gaze landed first on Jonathan, and then Cruz. “And, um, hello,” she said with a suddenly nervous little laugh.

  “Scarlett,” Cruz said, nodding his head before rising. “Nice to see you.” He offered his hand to Scarlett before smiling at the other two. “Cass. Kenna. You, too. What kind of trouble are the three of you up to tonight?”

  The blond woman smirked and answered for the group. “We get to have some secrets, don’t we?” She planted a hand on her hip, which was when Hartley noticed that her other arm had a prosthesis extending from below the elbow.

  Cruz chuckled and shook his head. “Not too many, I hope.”

  “Hartley, let me make introductions,” Jonathan said, rising to join the others. Hartley stood, too, wondering how Scarlett knew the men—and why seeing them had flustered her so. “This is Kenna Sloane,” he said. “One of our favorite people in the world to razz because she served in the Marine Corps. But we try not to hold that against her.”

  The blond woman was gorgeous, but what Hartley really noticed about her was her feisty attitude. “Hi, Hartley. Nice to meet you. Ignore them, though. They’re just mad because some people actually got to fight overseas while they went on a cruise.”

  Hartley laughed. Having lived in the area all her life, she was well familiar with the rivalries that existed between the military services. Both the navy and marines commissioned students out of the Naval Academy, and she’d known more than a few people who attended school there. “Great to meet you, too
, Kenna. But count me out of getting in the middle of the age-old conflict.”

  Kenna winked. “Probably smart. I can handle ’em myself though. Because, marine.”

  Next to her, a pretty brunette woman laughed. “Hi, Hartley, I’m Cassia. You’re wise to stay out of the middle of this because it never ends.”

  Hartley grinned and returned the greeting. “It’s great meeting friends of new friends. How do you all know each other?” she asked.

  A beat passed. The women looked to the men. Finally, Jonathan answered. “We all belong to a club and see each other fairly frequently.”

  Why did that sound, at once, perfectly normal and like there was a whole lot more he could’ve said. Hartley was almost tempted to ask what club? But something kept her from voicing the question. “Oh, that’s awesome,” she said instead. “Scarlett and I have been friends for a while now. What? Four years?”

  “Five,” Scarlett said. “We met in a cooking class. A class at which Hartley excelled while I’ve been known to burn toast. Which made it really bad for her because we were put together as partners.”

  Hartley laughed, remembering that class well. The only thing that had enabled both of them to get through it was the wine, but the experience had forged them as friends. Something both of them had needed and appreciated when Scarlett ended up going through a difficult divorce with a man who’d turned into an abusive asshole, and Hartley’s dad had died.

  Regret suddenly rolled through Hartley in a slow wave, because she hadn’t done anything like that class since her father died. Hadn’t tried to learn something new. Hadn’t taken a risk. Hadn’t put herself out there in any meaningful way.

  The waitress arrived with the milkshake, forcing them to all step aside so she could get to the table to put down the huge glass and accompanying separate metal container.