“Not cool. You shouldn’t let yourself get to the point of starvation, baby.”
Kyle handed her blouse over. Manny stood up with his hand out, quelling a grin with his lips pursed. “You’d better learn to take better care of yourself or someone’s going to have to do it for you.”
She grabbed her blouse from Kyle and thought to protest. A flippant dismissal, flavored with a pinch of snide humor sat on her tongue, ready and waiting for the go-ahead. Only Rebecca realized that maybe she liked the idea of Manny and Kyle taking care of her. Maybe
need
wasn’t the dreaded four-letter word she’d always told herself it was.
“Yeah? Well whoever that might be, make sure you tell them that I can be a real pain in the ass.”
They looked at each other and grinned back at her, speaking almost in unison: “Roger that.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Rebecca listened sleepily to Manny telling Kyle all about Rebecca’s car accident in Ohio and the way he’d commandeered the helicopter to get her to the exhibit. Kyle turned around, worry twisting his boyish features, but Rebecca assured him she was fine. Exhausted, but fine. Then she listened to them fill each other in on what had been happening in that painful two weeks they’d all been apart. Her belly finally full with organic tacos from one of those hope-for-the-best food trucks, Rebecca nodded off as night conquered the sky.
It was the sudden absence of Holly’s hypnotizing rumble that pulled her from the sweet dream she was having. Rebecca rubbed her eyes and took in the grand French-château-style manor house that might have jumped right out of a Provence countryside. A historical plaque sat on the lawn.
Her mouth hung open, and finally some words came. “I think I might never want to go back to Manhattan. Look at this place!” Even at night it lived up to the pictures online, with landscape lights highlighting the purple shutters and the ivy growing on the stucco walls. Mounds of lavender lined the front with a vibrant array of purples bursting alive in the floodlights. A pea-gravel pathway meandered around the home, which Rebecca knew had been built by French Huguenots in the early 1700s.
Rebecca dragged her fingers over the raised letters of the landmark plaque, and Kyle eased up behind her. “Good call, Rebecca. This place is the perfect getaway.”
She glanced at the plastic bag in her hand, marked: Thank you, come again. It was the tackiest overnight bag anyone could manage, containing newly purchased toothbrushes and undies. “What are they going to think about us showing up here with no luggage?”
They continued up the ancient-looking brick walkway leading to the front door. “They’ll think how happy they are to have some paying guests. Didn’t you notice? Ours is only the second car on the property.”
Rebecca looked back over her shoulder at the very old Mercedes sedan, the size of a small yacht, parked under the weeping willow at the end of the modest gravel lot. The crickets were the one sound to be heard on the deserted road. Aside from the lights at the house, darkness draped every inch of landscape.
The door swung open before they even knocked.
“Hellooo! Come in!” A rather large woman opened the door. Rebecca didn’t know muumuus came in that shade of fluorescent pink. “I’m Mrs. Dawson. You must be the one who called about the king-size suite. Rebecca, was it?”
Rebecca smiled. “Yes, Rebecca Sinclair. Thank you for taking a last-minute reservation. We were kind of desperate.”
The woman sized up Kyle and Manny, one by one. She folded her arms over the glittering bedazzlement that was the front of that glow-in-the-dark muumuu. “We? You didn’t mention a second room. Not that we have them beating down the doors here lately.” She turned around and unlocked the middle drawer of the antique desk sitting next to the dining room entrance. The crystal chandelier twinkled in the light. Rebecca stole a look at the impressive room as she spoke.
“No, no. We only need one room,” Rebecca said, imagining breakfast the next morning at the regal mahogany table.
Mrs. Dawson froze in her tracks, holding two keys in her hand. She stared at Rebecca, her face turning from surprise to disdain. “Just a minute. You’re that young lady from the news who’s been running around with Olivia Hunter’s boy and that other…” She ran her eyes over Kyle again and then Manny. “Oh, I’m sorry. We’re not that kind of establishment.”
Kyle took a step forward. “What kind of establishment would that be, ma’am?”
Mrs. Dawson set her jaw in a hard line, and she lowered her hands to her ample hips. “The kind that rents one room to three adults with no luggage.”
Manny shook his head, baring his teeth just a little. “Well, then you can take that room and—”
“Manny!” Rebecca stopped him from finishing and turned to Mrs. Dawson. In a measured tone, she said, “I’m sure there’s another inn that would have no problem checking us in.”
“The truck stop in town might be better suited for
your
needs.”
Kyle reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. “Let me get this straight. Business is slow, you have no other guests, and our money isn’t good enough for you?”
“Honey, this place was my husband’s dream, God rest his soul. I’ve been trying to sell it ever since he passed. One room rented isn’t getting me to Florida any faster.” Mrs. Dawson shuffled forward, flapping her hands in front of her as if three little mice had scurried across her path.
Manny fished his keys from his pocket and flung open the front door. Kyle grabbed Rebecca’s hand and they began to leave, but Rebecca had one last thing to say.
“You know, Mrs. Dawson, this home was built by people fleeing from religious oppression, and it was also a stop on the Underground Railroad. How does it feel to be the first person to turn someone away from it because of your own ignorance?” Rebecca felt a tear sting the corner of her eye. Curse the fact that anger, pain, and heartache produced the same saltwater reaction. She wanted there to be no confusion over how she felt. “I’m glad you’re selling this place! You don’t deserve it!”
“Baby, come on. She’s not worth it,” Kyle said, tucking her under his arm as they walked back down the brick path toward Holly. Manny already had her engine purring. He jumped out to push the seat forward and allow Rebecca to climb into the back.
“You OK?” he whispered, concern in his eyes.
“What a bitch!” Rebecca said as she plopped onto the cool leather.
Kyle and Manny ducked into the front, and soon they were spinning gravel into the air as they peeled out of the lot.
Kyle reached his hand between the seats to rest on her knee. “Don’t let her get to you. We know what’s between us. If anything, it’s that kind of bullshit that makes me want to be with both of you even more.”
Rebecca knew what he meant, because the moment Mrs. Dawson tried to make their relationship out to be something ugly, she could have burst with the beauty of their connection.
“People like that are going to try to tear us apart,” Manny said, and Rebecca heard a tone of resignation in his voice.
Kyle must have heard it too, because he turned to stare at him, examining his expression.
Manny sniffed and shrugged. “Fuck ’em. Let them try.” He turned to Kyle with a big smirk, and Kyle grinned.
“Fuck ’em,” Kyle agreed.
Kyle turned around in his seat and Manny caught Rebecca’s eye in the rearview mirror.
Rebecca raised her fists above her shoulders and pumped them in the air. “Woo, yeah! Fuck ’em!”
The guys laughed. “Baby, you curse like a chick,” Kyle said.
“Fucking adorable,” Manny continued.
Rebecca kicked his seat for good measure, but couldn’t help but giggle herself. “That home was so beautiful. She was like the troll living in the moat.”
They all laughed some more.
“Did you see that dress? She looked like Jabba the Hutt in drag,” Manny said.
More laughter filled the car.
“We should buy that house and turn it into a real den of sin,” Rebecca said, holding her belly.
“Yeah, let her spend all day in sunny Florida thinking about the desecration and deviant behavior going on,” Kyle added.
Rebecca wiped at her eye, the tear forming now for the exact opposite reasons as before. “She’s just jealous. I saw the way she looked at the two of you.”
“Gross,” Manny said on a fading chuckle. “So…” he tapped at the GPS console. “We passed a sign for this roadside hotel on the way up.”
“I’m good with that. It’s probably the best place for miles,” Kyle said.
Rebecca couldn’t help but be a little disappointed. The idea of spending the night overlooking the site of the long-gone cottages where Kyle’s great-grandparents had honeymooned had given her goose bumps. The Bennett House had been storybook beautiful in person, the kind of place to make cherished memories.
Then it hit her. She had the cherished part of those memories right there in the car with her. “I’m good with that too,” she said.
Fifteen miles or so south wasn’t far, but Rebecca’s thoughts seemed to travel around the world and back as she leaned her head against the cool window. In the space of a day they’d gone from irrevocably broken to something that felt almost invincible. But Rebecca never counted herself as a believer in fairy tales. Manny’s damaged heart, her fear of being judged, and Kyle’s guilty ambivalence couldn’t have evaporated entirely. Right now anything felt possible, but Rebecca knew they would have to work at it if they had any real chance.
The place was decent, even if the most romantic part of the room was the fact that the three of them were in it. It was a far cry from Bermuda, but no matter. She wasn’t there to admire the decor.
She placed her bag of necessities on the simple chest of drawers. “What a day.”
“Bet you’re tired,” Manny said, closing the drab, green drapes on their parking-lot view.
“No, just happy to be in for the night. With you two.”
“I think we can make you happier. Just give me a minute,” Kyle snickered, heading into the bathroom.
Rebecca reached out and stroked Manny’s arm, dragging her fingers from his elbow to his fingers and linking them at the tips. “Hey, I want to try something.”
Manny raised her hand and kissed her knuckles. She wasn’t surprised that the simple gesture tugged on her insides. His smile was soft and curious.
“Feeling adventurous, Rebecca?” Manny asked, squatting to unbuckle her platform sandals.
“Are you? Can you trust me?” she countered. Then she nodded in Kyle’s direction. “Can you trust him?”
Manny pressed his lips together, something that made his dimples carve deep into his cheeks. “What do have in mind, baby?”
“No questions. Just trust. I think it will be good for all of us.”
He was still for a moment, dabbing at his bottom lip with his tongue. “OK, I trust you.”
She leaned forward and swept her tongue across his. He raised his hands to her shoulders, but she pressed them back to his sides. “Let me.”
Water ran and then the sound of the toilet whooshed through the room. Kyle turned off the bathroom light and joined them, pulling his belt from his still-open pants.
Rebecca watched that sexy smirk ease onto his lips.
“What do we have here?” Kyle asked.
“We’re playing a little game. Care to join us?” Rebecca cooed.
Kyle’s boyish smile screamed mischief. “A game, huh? What are the rules?” The leather belt hung limp in his hand, and he stood there with his head cocked, lips pursed slightly and ready for the challenge.
“First, I’ll need your belt.” She held her flat palm out toward him and wiggled her fingers. “Yours too, Manny.”
Kyle continued smirking. “Here you go, sweetheart. But I don’t know if that headboard is strong enough for anything you’re thinking about.”
Manny slid his belt free, and soon she had them both waiting on her next instructions. She soaked that in for a moment and registered how acutely aware of herself she felt.
“Both of you, strip down,” she said with a clear, steady voice, knowing that each time she gave a command, a slurry of moisture gathered in her panties. She was the director here. What happened would be her responsibility. She’d been passive until now, seduced by their every move and every other word they exchanged.
All along, Rebecca had convinced herself that falling in love with both of them at the same time was something that was happening to her, something she couldn’t help, something that wasn’t her fault—like an unfortunate diagnosis. Sorry, Ms. Sinclair, but you’ve fallen for two guys at once, so you’ll have to suffer multiple orgasms and twice the swooning for the foreseeable future.
It was laughable, when she thought about it, but it was much easier than owning up to the fact that she had wanted all of it. From the very first moment she and Kyle had shared Manny, she’d known how amazing it would be to have them both desire her and to have a front-row seat to the passion that raged between the two sexiest men she’d ever met. She wanted to be a trio, and now that they were, she wanted it never to end.
Tonight it was time she took the lead. She wasn’t some innocent bystander, swept up into something she couldn’t resist. Rebecca was master of her own destiny, and it was damn hard to be ashamed of that.
“OK, now what?” Manny asked, standing as naked as Kyle, shifting a bit uncomfortably.
“Now I get to look at you for a minute and think about how lucky I am,” she said with a smile. They chuckled a little, as if she’d said something funny, but Rebecca was dead serious.
“What about you?” Kyle reached forward, tugging on her shirt. “Too many clothes.”
She bit her lip in a devilish grin, pushing her shirt back down. “Be patient. You’re breaking the rules.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Guess you make me want to do that.”
“I want to make you do a lot of things,” Rebecca said, surprising herself.
“Oh fuck,” Manny growled, reaching for his cock and stroking it in long smooth passes.
She licked her lips. “Kyle, get on your knees.”
He kept his eyes trained on hers as he lowered himself.