And why was I letting my mother walk all over me, after all these years?

  I fumbled with my phone when I pulled it from my back pocket, but once I had it securely in hand, it was easy enough to dial her number.

  I went straight to voicemail. That was fine. She could screen me or spend time with people she thought were more important than her own daughter.

  When the beep sounded to leave my message, I hesitated.

  That least beer had my back. “Hi, Mom. It’s me. Your daughter. Remember? The ball of flesh and blood you popped out of your uterus forty years ago? Maybe you forgot when you hopped back on the plane. Whatever. It doesn’t matter.” The longer I talked, the faster the words flowed.

  “You’re mean. To everyone unless you want something. You’re manipulative and cruel. I’m your fucking daughter and you treat me like a commodity rather than a person you raised. Do you even love me, or do you just love the idea of bragging rights? You tried to humiliate me in front of my lawyer. What’s the fucking point of that? And Quentin isn’t just my boarder. He means so much more to me than you’ll ever understand and so does Jeremy and fuck you and your that’s not reality because it’s my reality and—”

  A beep cut me off, and a mechanical voice said Message sent.

  I wasn’t done yet. I hung up and called right back. As soon as the voice mail picked up, I said, “And one more thing—take your lousy fucking rights offer and shove it up your tight twat with all the sand that’s in there.”

  I disconnected, spun, and emptied the contents of my stomach into the sink.

  25

  Jeremy

  Quentin and I stood at the edge of the now-clean carriage house. The room needed paint, furniture, tools, and something to replace the almost-strobe-like effect from the existing lights, but it looked good in here. Like I was taking a new step in my life.

  It wasn’t that this specific building was tied to my memories of Jenni—the whole house was. But cleaning out this spot for Quentin was cleansing for me as well. It was a new beginning.

  And fuck I wished Sonya was here to share this with us. At least Quentin was.

  “What do you think?” I asked.

  Quentin looked at me and smirked. “I think you have sawdust in your hair.” He trailed his fingers through the strands, sending sparks of need racing over me. I wanted him to tighten his grip. To pull my hair, claim my mouth, and make me groan.

  “It’s not sawdust, it’s man glitter.” I grinned.

  He snorted. “That makes it better?

  “Absolutely not. It makes the entire thing far more ludicrous.”

  “That sounds more like what I’d expect.”

  The banter was fun, but I wouldn’t be distracted. Yet. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  He looked away with a sigh, sweeping his gaze over the room.

  He was quiet so long I almost prompted him again.

  “I think it feels more right than a lot of things have in a long time,” he finally said.

  Did he only mean the garage, or was there more to the thought? If I asked him to clarify, I might get an answer I didn’t want to hear. I wanted a long-term romance with both Sonya and Quentin. The realization slammed into me at high impact and with a reality I couldn’t deny.

  He was here, so it was a great place to start, and I prayed to God she heard us out in the morning. I didn’t know if Quentin was in, but every instinct told me he would be.

  I pulled my keys from my pocket and twisted one free from the ring that I’d had made this morning. “I hope you get a lot of use out of the garage.” I pressed the key into his palm. “Don’t abuse that—it opens the doors to the house too. Use the place whenever you want.”

  “That means I could sneak into your house any time, and take advantage of you.”

  I liked the implication of that. “It absolutely does.”

  “That’s a lot of power to give me.”

  “You don’t have to wait.”

  Quentin studied me with what looked like uncertainty.

  I could be more direct. “As in, you could take advantage of me right now.”

  “Be careful what you ask for…”

  I leaned closer, my mouth near his ear. “You could pin me to the wall by the throat, kiss me until I couldn’t breathe, and fuck my face, and I’d love every minute of it.” I dropped my hand below his waist.

  Quentin grabbed my wrist in a flash and pinned it above my head. “Sometimes you talk too much.”

  “Sometimes?”

  “But most of the time, it’s perfect.” He crushed his mouth to mine.

  Despite the chill in the air, the heat of his body pressed to mine kept the cold at bay. Quentin was edges and roughness, from the way his calloused fingers dug into my skin to the scrape of his stubble against my neck.

  I lost track of time and everything but him as we explored each other over clothes and exposed skin with our mouths and hands. With each new touch, my cock grew harder, until I was pretty sure I could cut diamonds with it.

  I kissed along the front of Quentin’s shirt, and scraped his nipple through the fabric with my teeth. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, and pressed his hand to my throat, holding me in place.

  The way he bit at my bottom lip, I knew I was on the menu, and he finished with deep kiss I felt in my toes.

  Quentin dropped his hand to stroke my erection through my jeans. His grip was rough, magnifying the friction from the denim until the pain hurt so good.

  “I liked the feeling of your mouth on my cock the other day.” His low voice made me want to whimper and submit. “I want that again.”

  I didn’t need to hear that twice. I lowered myself to my knees, freed him, and teased my tongue along the head of his cock. The way he grunted with each lick was motivation for me to draw out the fun.

  “Enough teasing.” Quentin tightened his fingers in my hair and thrust into my mouth.

  I sucked him, using the sounds he made to go faster or slower. To stroke him as well or to finger his sac. I wanted to take out my own cock and do both at the same time, but my hands were full. The cold stone bit through the knees of my jeans. The wind whistled outside.

  I wanted him to come, though.

  I was surprised when Quentin stopped me and urged me to my feet.

  “Something wrong?” I asked.

  His wicked smile threatened to consume me with anticipation. “I want more than this,” he said. “You have lube inside?”

  “I do.”

  He didn’t bother to put his dick away as we headed inside. Not that it mattered—it was dark and cold outside and the instant we reached my bedroom, the two of us were a chaotic whir of limbs as we rushed to help each other out of our clothes.

  I directed Quentin to the lube and condoms, and in return he pushed me onto the bed on my hands and knees. The cold was back with a shock when the lube touched my skin, but it warmed up quickly under Quentin’s liberal ministration.

  It had been a while since someone was inside me, and the anticipation cranked my pulse up until the noise hammered in my ears. He nudged my asshole with the head of his cock, and I groaned at the first stretch.

  The way he inched inside me seemed to take an eternity, and then he was buried deep. He reached around to grip my shaft. The possession in his touch, falling at the end of the drawn out make-out session and blow-job in the garage, was almost enough to make me come.

  He stroked me as he hammered inside me, squeezing my cock until it hurt. Jerking me and slamming against me hard and fast.

  Desire roared in my veins, building in surges, until my dick ached and my balls were tight with need. I tightened my fists on the sheets. Climax built and my breath came in short gasps for air and release.

  I came hard in Quentin’s fist, grunting with each squirt until I was spent and had to shove his hand away.

  He moved both his hands to my hips, his grip slick, and it was as if he’d been taken off his leash. Each slam inside me was delicious. He let out a loud groan and shudder when he came.

  The frenetic electricity in the room faded as he slowed to a stop. We collapsed on top of each other, lying there as Quentin softened and fell out of me.

  It took a lot more effort than I wanted for us to get up long enough to clean up, and rather than waste time getting dressed, we rushed under the blankets and cuddled next to each other.

  I lay with my head on Quentin’s chest. This felt right in a way I didn’t expect. Only one thing—or rather one person—was missing.

  “Sleep-wise, you’re welcome to the guest room tonight, but I’d rather have you in my bed,” I said.

  Quentin’s chuckle rumbled through me. “It’s eight at night, old man. You tired already?”

  Not even close. “I’m not sure when I’m going to sleep again. And you need to know something.”

  “We just had a great day and a better evening. Are you sure you want to risk that with knowing something?”

  I wasn’t sure at all, but I didn’t like keeping this to myself. “Tell me you’re not tired of having answers.”

  “I’m so tired of it.”

  Here went nothing. “This isn’t just friendship to me. Not anymore. Not with you and not with Sonya. I want long term from both of you.” It was both terrifying and a relief to push the words out.

  When Quentin gripped the back of my neck, comfort and desire flooded me. He pressed his forehead to mine. “I like the sound of that.” His voice was rumbly and sexy. “I want the same.”

  I hoped Sonya did too, but this was incredible as its own thing.

  26

  Quentin

  Sunday morning I was torn between waking up Jeremy for a little more play or rushing home to Sonya. The choices were much better than most I’d had recently, but in the end I knew getting back to Sonya with Jeremy was the best option.

  Until then, I settled for searching his kitchen enough to make coffee. While the life-giving juice was brewing, I replayed yesterday. Did it really happen the way I remembered?

  I wouldn’t admit it if asked, but I was scared. Of falling without a net. Of what came next. Of things going wrong.

  Not that I thought they would go wrong. My experiences with Mick said I wasn’t always a great judge of that, but I wasn’t willing to pass up more time with Jeremy, with Sonya, out of fear.

  I was pouring myself a cup of coffee when Jeremy wandered into the room, so I made him one as well.

  “Give a guy a key to your house and he makes himself at home.” Jeremy’s voice was sleepy but teasing.

  I handed him a drink. “You knew I’d take advantage of you.”

  He took a long drink of scalding liquid, and I took the chance to admire the view. His fleece bottoms hung low on his hips and he hadn’t put on a shirt. His frame was wired with the slightest hint of a gut I assumed would show more with age.

  I looked forward to sticking around for that. The thought should feel strange and instead it was right.

  Jeremy let out a groan and set his mug down. “You hurt me so good.”

  “Next time you have to beg,” I teased.

  “Gladly.”

  I wrapped an arm around his waist, trying the gesture out for fit. Especially when he draped his arms around my neck and molded his body to mine. This was intimate and perfect. I brushed my lips over Jeremy’s and he leaned into the kiss,

  “I could get used to this in the mornings,” he said.

  Me too, with one exception. “You don’t think it’s missing someone?”

  “It definitely is.” He kissed me again. “Do you want to go soon?”

  I didn’t want to pull away from this embrace. As simple as it was, it reached deeper inside me than any sex we’d had up to this point. At the same time, we were down a person, and Sonya was as important a part of the picture as Jeremy was.

  “Yes.” I forced myself to step back, and playfully slapped his ass. “Get dressed and we’ll leave.”

  He drove and a short while later we were parking in Sonya’s driveway. There were a few unfamiliar cars here as well, which didn’t surprise me. Seeing Landon‘s car did.

  When Jeremy and I stepped through the front door, a war zone greeted us. Maybe not quite, but I’d been in a few urban settings when I served and in a way this resembled them. Bottles and cups were strewn across the coffee table and floor, and bodies lay on furniture in the most uncomfortable looking positions.

  Sonya was in one of the recliners with Carly.

  I picked our way through the carnage while Jeremy followed, and gently shook Sonya awake.

  Her eyelids fluttered open, then she scowled.

  Not what I expected.

  She blinked a few times, scrubbed her eyes, then looked at us again. Her expression softened. “Okay. There really are only two of you.” She cringed and smacked her lips. “Ugh. What did I drink?”

  “Little bit of everything,” Carly muttered. “Get off me.”

  Sonya stumbled to her feet and I helped her steady herself.

  Jeremy reached past me to hand both the women glasses of water. I hadn’t even noticed him leaving.

  Carly looked at me. “Oh my God, Quentin. I need to talk to you.” Her drowsiness vanished.

  Sonya cringed and covered her ears with her hands. “Not so loud.”

  Poor thing. “Talk away,” I said to Carly. I’d rather be kicking everyone out so Jeremy and I could talk to Sonya, but hangover cures were in order first, and I couldn’t be rude to their friends and family.

  “That thing you made.” Carly stood, wobbled, and caught herself on the back of the chair. She pointed to Sonya’s mantle. “The game logo sculpture. Do you take commissions?”

  “Yes. He does. He absolutely does.” Like that Sonya sounded lucid.

  I glanced at her and she stared back. “Don’t you?” She asked.

  “I do,” I said.

  “Okay, so picture this.” Carly was far more alert than a moment ago. “The company I work for is investing in a chain of boutique theaters. It’s the full-blown movie experience. Nice seating, actual food, alcohol. Like taking the best of movies at home and at the theater and putting them in the same place.”

  Which sounded cool, but it didn’t have anything to do with me. “I’m not licensed. You’ll need to talk to someone else.”

  “I know, I know. But he wants a centerpiece at each location. A one-of-a-kind sculpture,” Carly said.

  “He’ll do it,” Jeremy answered before I could.

  I stared at him.

  He shrugged. “Won’t you?”

  “I will. But I have one other project first. I promised Sonya I’d make something for Megan.”

  Sonya grinned. “You will? Yay.” She clapped then winced. “Too loud.”

  “Where is Megan?” Jeremy looked around the room.

  I did the same. The other women were getting up. Talking quietly with each other. Wishing Sonya a bleary-eyed goodbye. But Megan was nowhere to be seen.

  “I don’t know.” Sonya frowned.

  “Her car’s outside.” I didn’t know if that was helpful or not.

  Megan wasn’t in the living room or kitchen. The half bath down the hall was open and no one was in there. In fact, the only door closed was the one to Sonya’s bedroom.

  Jeremy, Carly, and I stayed close as Sonya pushed into the room.

  Megan and Landon were laying on Sonya’s bed, fully clothed and wrapped up in each other.

  “What the fuck?” I asked at the same time Jeremy did.

  27

  Sonya

  My head was pounding, my stomach churning. I had vague memories of a drunken call to my mother last night, and my best friend was in my bed with the stripper I’d hired for her bachelorette party. And Carly had just offered Quentin a job?

  “Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up,” I muttered under my breath.

  “Not a dream,” Carly said dryly.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  Megan and Landon looked horrified, while Jeremy and Quentin were furious.

  Was Carly smiling?

  “Nothing happened.” Landon was on his feet and as far from any of us as possible in a heartbeat.

  Megan pushed to the edge of the bed. “We were just talking. God, please don’t tell Easton.”

  She was fully clothed and Landon was wearing a lot more than he had been at most points last night. Story checked out to me.

  “I swear to you.” Landon looked at Quentin.

  Jeremy smacked Quentin’s arm lightly. “You could’ve warned me. She’s my sister. She’s engaged.”

  Quentin held up his hands. “Don’t dump this on me. This is on them.”

  “You don’t even want me to be engaged,” Megan said. “Don’t pretend that’s part of the issue.”

  Carly was definitely laughing.

  My phone rang from somewhere in the house. Goddess I needed to be back at a point in my life where I could leave that thing on Vibrate.

  My head was throbbing. I couldn’t do this. “Stop.” I talked over everyone, and four gazes turned toward me. “Carly, take Megan home. I don’t care whose. We’ll drop off her car later. Landon, thank you for the last-minute entertainment.” I winced at the words. “I guess… bye?”

  “I promise I won’t tell,” Carly said as she tugged Megan to her feet and toward the front door.

  Landon followed shortly after them.

  When everyone was gone except Jeremy and Quentin, I sank onto the recliner again, and dropped my head into my hands.

  Jeremy’s light laugh reached my ears, then grew louder. Quentin joined in.

  I dared peek out between my fingers to see them both with huge grins. It was enough to chase away some of the ringing in my ears. I tried out a smile and it didn’t hurt so I let it stay. “Why are we laughing?”

  They shared a look I didn’t understand.

  “Not sure if you had more fun than we did, but it’s got to be a more interesting story,” Jeremy said.

  Quentin twisted his face. “I don’t know that it has a better conclusion. It’s got a lot more dick.” He pointed at the banner. It had come down at some point in the night and now a strand of penises hung in the middle of the living room.