Surprise, Surprise

by Anita Kidesu

  Table of Contents

  Surprise, Surprise

  Publication Information

  Dedication

  PRAISE FOR AUTHOR

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also Available

  Also Available

  Thank You

  Surprise, Surprise

  by

  Anita Kidesu

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Surprise, Surprise

  COPYRIGHT © 2019 by Anita Kidesu

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com

  Cover Art by Diana Carlile

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewilderroses.com

  Publishing History

  First Scarlet Rose Edition, 2019

  Print ISBN 978-1-5092-2465-4

  Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-2466-1

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  To my wonderful friends and fellow authors in my writers’ group. Thank you for your support and love.

  PRAISE FOR AUTHOR

  Anita Kidesu

  AND HER BOOKS

  SURPRISE ME

  “Some authors can bring the funny, some authors can bring the heat. Anita Kidesu brings both the funny and the heat, in spades. I love the concept of two long married people committing themselves anew to their marriage, to bring spice and surprise to mix it up!”

  ~Doreen Alsen, Author of Ohh La La

  SOUTH SEAS SEDUCTION

  “I liked how she makes the characters have emotions, and it sounds like Emma and the three men are just a normal couple. I believed the relationship more than some of the other erotica stories because their stuck on an island and have to survive as a team.”

  ~Colantha W, Romancing the Book Review

  Chapter One

  “Are we there yet?” Jon Sandberg asked his twin brother, Matt.

  Matt jumped at his brother’s question, hitting his knee on his car’s steering wheel. “Almost. How’re you feeling?”

  Jon ran a shaking hand over his face, which finally held some semblance of color. “Like I rolled down a hill, went for a boat ride, and swung too high on a swing, all rolled up in one.”

  Matt clicked his blinker to change lanes in the heavy, late afternoon, San Antonio traffic. “I don’t know why you didn’t take your motion sickness pills before takeoff.”

  “I would have, but I couldn’t find them.” Jon’s voice shook. “I was running late and didn’t have time to get anything from a shop at the airport.”

  Thank heavens he hadn’t inherited their grandmother’s penchant for motion sickness. But it didn’t matter that Jon looked like hell warmed over, he was glad his brother had come to his senses and was moving in with him. Their collaboration in writing erotic graphic novels would be easier with them not only living in the same city, but the same apartment.

  “Think after a shower, you can get to work on the novel?”

  Jon groaned. “Shit, man. You’re a slave driver.”

  Matt tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and ground his teeth together. “Remember, the deadline is three weeks away, and it’s only half written. I’m caught up with the artwork and can’t do anything more until you finish writing it.”

  “I know. I know. I managed to get a few pages written in between finalizing things at work, getting rid of most of my junk, and packing. I didn’t have Internet or the time to find a place to send them to you.” Jon leaned his head back on the seat and closed his eyes. “Can I at least have time to unpack?”

  “Yeah. Sorry, man. I’m just so fucking excited about this one. Our last two are selling well.” Matt’s stomach rolled. They’d both quit their full-time jobs to devote their time to writing. Scary shit. What if this one bombed? Their publisher evidently didn’t have the same worries. “Can you believe we signed another three-book contract?” He hesitated before bringing up his parents’ friend. No telling how his brother would react. “Eric’s been a big help with this.”

  Jon snorted.

  “C’mon, man. Eric’s a great guy. He loves Mom, and his connections in the publishing world have come in handy.”

  “I thought we got those contracts on the merit of our work, not because Eric is a famous author.”

  “We did, but he’s been invaluable in helping negotiate those contracts.” Matt looked at his brother. Why couldn’t he get over their parents being in a ménage with Eric? The man was a great guy. Somehow, he had to get Jon to realize that. “And remember, he’s the one who suggested we write under one name so that people wouldn’t make a big deal about identical twins co-authoring erotic graphic novels. He’s also helping with promotion. Mom’s handling our finances.”

  Matt turned onto the street leading to his apartment complex. He wasn’t sure what his parents had been thinking by giving them the same first name and calling them by their individual middle names, but it was working in their favor. “At least we didn’t have to fight over whose name would come first.” He stopped before his garage, hit the open button, drove in, and turned off the ignition. Unless someone knew the family well, they’d never guess Bartholomew Sandberg was actually Jon and him.

  Since Jon’s color had returned and he was talking more, Matt took that as a good sign, grabbed one of the suitcases, and left the other two for his brother.

  “Are you sure it’s all right for me to stay here with you?”

  “For crying out loud. I’ve told you over and over, I have an extra bedroom, and our living together will help save expenses. The third bedroom is set up as our office.” Jon was struggling to get his bags up the stairs from the garage to the kitchen, so Matt dropped the suitcase he was carrying and went back down the steps to retrieve another.

  “Well, I don’t want to be in the way when you bring one of your girls over.”

  Matt snorted. “Hell, man. That’s not a problem, since I don’t have a chick. It’s been a long time since I’ve hooked up, and with my part-time job and the books to work on, I don’t even have time to go out. So don’t worry you’ll walk into an embarrassing situation again.”

  Poor guy. Matt would never forget the look on Jon’s face when he’d seen him with… Hell, he couldn’t even remember her name anymore. But that night had been one of the best hook ups he’d ever had. Having sex with the same woman with his brother was something he’d never forgotten. After that night, when Jon had left, it was if his other half had left, too. Even though he’d tried h
aving another male join him in a threesome, it wasn’t the same.

  He and Jon had shared more than a womb. They shared dreams, sports, and thoughts. They often finished each other’s sentences or knew what the other would say before they said it. He wondered sometimes if a part of their brains had split and entered the other’s before they were fully formed. Since they shared so much, why not a woman? But after that night, Jon had denied his true nature.

  Matt had heard and read about twins being able to share thoughts and feelings. If he’d ever been part of one of the studies, he’d unequivocally say “yes.” It was true. True to the point where he knew when Jon was struggling with something, just as he was.

  Matt set the suitcase next to the others on the kitchen floor, leaned his hands on his knees, and huffed. “Geez, Jon. What the hell do you have in this thing—bricks?”

  Jon sank onto one of the two kitchen chairs, folded his arms on the old gray, Formica table, and rested his head on his forearms. “Books.”

  “You must have paid a fortune in overweight charges.” Matt opened the refrigerator and pulled out a glass container. “Think you can down some chicken soup?”

  “Yours?” Jon opened one eye and peered at the bowl.

  “Is there any other kind?”

  At his brother’s weak nod, Matt ladled some of his soup into a bowl and put it in the microwave. The family considered his homemade soup famous and proclaimed it cured flu, colds, diarrhea, hangovers, and motion sickness. Their father even claimed it cured his ever-increasing, male-pattern baldness. As long as it made his brother feel better.

  He took the bowl from the microwave, tested the soup to make sure it wasn’t too hot, and placed it on the table. A glass of warm tea and saltine crackers completed his medicinal cure for his brother’s ills.

  “Here, man. Eat this, then hit the hay. I’ll take your bags to your room.”

  Jon’s hand shook as he picked up the spoon, dipped it into the bowl, and tried to bring it to his lips.

  “Do I need to feed you, too?”

  “Shut the hell up.”

  Matt smiled when Jon put down the spoon and lifted the bowl to his lips, slurping down the soothing concoction is several gulps. Ignoring the tea and crackers, his brother stood, balanced his hands on the table, and followed him down the hallway.

  “It’s not much,” Matt said, leaning the suitcases against a beat-up dresser. Before Jon flopped onto the bedspread, Matt whipped the covers back. “At least take off your shoes, man.”

  “Do better than that,” Jon mumbled, toeing off his boots and peeling his T-shirt over his head. When his pants hit the floor, he sat on the edge of the bed, swung his legs onto the mattress, and eased onto the pillow.

  Before Matt had a chance to finish pulling the blinds, snores sounded in the room. He pulled the blankets over his brother. His heart filled with love as he walked to the bedroom door and clicked off the light.

  “Welcome home, partner,” he whispered. “This is where our new lives begin.”

  ****

  Jon woke and peered through the slits in his eyes as he took stock of his body. Head still connected to his neck. Check. Drums in brain silenced. Check. Stomach back where it belonged. Check. The offending organ rumbled. Was it willing to accept food? Check. Did he know where he was? Uncheck.

  After gingerly sitting on the edge of the bed, he looked around the room. Oh, yeah. He was at Matt’s—or he should say his new home. The sun’s rays pierced around the edge of a single window blind. The queen-sized bed took up only a small portion of the large room. Two nightstands with lamps stood on either side of the bed.

  Matt had provided him with two dressers. His suitcases leaned against one of them. A door stood open, revealing a bathroom. He assumed the other two doors led to a closet and out to a hallway. The first one was the one he needed the most.

  He stood and stretched his arms over his head and glanced at the clock. Eight thirty, which he assumed was a.m., since it was light out. He’d slept for over fifteen hours, typical after one of his bouts with airsickness. If he ever had to get on a plane or boat again, it would be too soon. As he dressed, the scent of something delicious making his stomach growl came from beneath the door. He followed it with his nose.

  “Hey, man,” Matt said, turning from the stove and placing a stack of pancakes on the table. “Feeling better?”

  Before he could answer, Matt handed him a large cup filled with half coffee, half almond-flavored cream, and probably several spoons of sugar. Jon took a sip and closed his eyes.

  “Ahh. Just the way I like it.” He sat in one of the two kitchen chairs. “All I need now is some of your delicious pancakes to fill the hole in my stomach.” He stabbed three pancakes with his fork and buried them in butter and syrup. Now that he was back with his brother, it would be good to have decent meals again. One thing they didn’t share was a skill at cooking.

  “Guess that means you’re back among the land of the living.” Matt joined Jon at the table and filled his plate with pancakes.

  “I will be when I’ve downed a few more of these,” Jon said, waving his loaded fork at Matt.

  Except for the clinking of forks and knives against plates and the sense of companionship he only felt with his brother, Jon enjoyed the silence in the room. He’d eaten too many meals alone over the past few years. When he dated, he never invited the women over to his apartment, giving them the idea he wanted to settle down. He always went to their place for sex.

  When his second helping was gone, Jon sat back and patted his stomach. “It’s lucky one of us got the cooking gene. If I ate like this all the time, I’d get fat and lazy.”

  Matt laughed as he rose and poured them more coffee, leaving the large container of flavored creamer between them. “Don’t worry, I’m only spoiling you this morning. I figured once you’ve done the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen, we can spend the day setting up the office and some type of schedule. You know, when to work on the book, when to exercise and have some fun. According to Eric…”

  Jon hooked his arm on the back of the chair and snorted. He knew it bothered Matt that he couldn’t accept Eric and his parents’ relationship. Even after the night they’d shared a woman while in college, he couldn’t understand the need to be in a threesome. For years, he’d tried to tell himself that. His brain listened, but deep down, in the depths of his heart, there was something he… Hell, he couldn’t deal with it right now. It would take a special woman to make him agree to a ménage.

  Matt’s face turned red and pushed his chair back from the table. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “What?” Jon asked, hoping his innocent voice would dispel Matt’s anger.

  “You snorted when I mentioned Eric’s name.” Matt stood and poured his coffee into the sink. “When the hell are you going to get over the fact that he loves Mom? He loves Dad. Hell, they love each other. They have a life together. They’re happy. Get over it for fuck’s sake.”

  Jon knew he was in trouble when Matt raised his voice. The guy was so mellow even an incremental increase in his voice was not a good sign. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not me you have to say you’re sorry to.” Matt slammed his cup into the dishwasher, scraped his plate into the garbage can, put the plates and silverware into the machine, and slammed the door. “Your pathetic little show at their house eight years ago means nothing when you’ve barely visited them since. Mom and Dad miss you, and your absence puts a dent in their happiness. You’re twenty-six years old. Deal with it.”

  Jon stood and pushed his brother away from the sink. “I agree. I’m an ass.” He filled the sink with water, squirted in some soap, and put in the pancake batter bowl and utensils. His stomach turned, thinking about how he’d been ignoring his folks. “I’m working on it.”

  “Well, work harder and faster. They aren’t getting any younger, you know.”

  “Shit, man, they’re only in their late forties.” Jon rinsed the soap from the bow
l and dropped the scraper and measuring spoons into the water. He sighed. “So, what did Eric have to say?”

  “He’s been working from home for years. For one thing, he said it was too easy to find other things to do instead of writing. When you work for someone and punch a clock, your day is set for you. He and Mom made a schedule as if they had to leave the house and go to work.” Matt picked up a dishtowel and wiped the pans Jon put in the dish rack. “They’re in their respective offices by nine, work until noon, and take an hour for lunch. They work until three, take a little break, and finish up around five or six when Dad gets home.”

  After finishing the last pan, Jon drained the water from the sink and wiped the counters. If anything, their mother taught them how to keep a house clean. “What if Dad is home for the day? I understand he doesn’t always have to go into the office.”

  “He has his own office at home and keeps to their schedule.” Matt set another pot of coffee brewing. “Eric also cautioned me about feeling like we have to work all the time because the work is always there. It’s a good way to get burned out. Unless he or Mom are on a deadline, they stick to the schedule.”

  Jon wondered how this would play out with his brother. “What about weekends?”

  “Depends on what’s going on,” Matt answered, shoving Jon’s coffee cup toward him. “Like I said, if he’s on a deadline, or has an idea that has to get down before he forgets it, they all take the weekend off. Mom says there’s always something to do around the house. They also take time to get away, work out, hike, and all that stuff.”

  Jon hated to admit Eric could be right, but then the man had been in the writing business for decades. “Sounds like good advice to me.”

  Matt picked up his cup and left the room, calling over his shoulder, “We have a lot to do to get the office ready for work. We also have a deadline, so we won’t be taking any time off for a while. Chop, chop, brother. Let’s get to work.”

  Jon smiled at Matt’s back as he followed him into another room. For someone as laid back as his brother could be, when they’d started collaborating on their books, he’d turned into a slave driver.