Chapter 25 Thruples and Quadthruples
Twenty-Five
Thruples and Quadthruples
Brie
Yesterday was a curveball I never saw coming.
Josie inviting me over. Logan cooking dinner.
The movie. And that kiss. That kiss. We’re in some strange limbo of is this real or just temporary insanity?
Because how do you admit you’ve developed feelings for your lifelong nemesis?
Logan today isn’t the Logan from eighteen years ago, that much I know.
I don’t know how long this will last, but for now?
I’m buckling in and enjoying the ride. Worst case, we go back to hating each other later.
When I step into the Jolly Biscuit, the warm smell of coffee and pastries wraps around me like a hug, but my brain is busy replaying Logan’s lips on mine. A smile sneaks across my face before I can stop it.
“You’re the talk of the town this morning,” Willa sing-songs, wiggling her brows the second I walk in. “And your grin says it all.”
I bite my cheek, fighting it. “What are you talking about?”
“Have you checked the Shenanigans group? It’s more entertaining than any soap opera or tabloid magazine.”
“No.” Curiosity wins. I pull out my phone, scroll, and—yep. There it is. The top post started last night.
Margret: Whose car is this? I haven’t seen this car parked on my block before.
Larry: Isn’t that Brie McKenna’s car?
Margret: I thought her car was blue. This one is black.
Sue: It’s dark out. Maybe it looks black. Go outside and snap a closer picture.
Leslie: Does it have a Holly Jolly Festival sticker on the back?
Margret: *Posts a picture* It does. But why is she parked in front of Finn Whitlock’s house? I thought she was seeing Logan.
Larry: Someone better tell Logan.
Leslie: I thought Finn was with Vana.
Margret: I thought it was Valerie.
Sue: What if they’re in one of those thruples? I learned about it on a TV show. It’s an interesting dynamic. But I don’t think I could do it.
Margret: Oh. Someone’s coming. Wait. It’s two people. The car just started up. They’re standing in front of the open door. I need better glasses. I can’t see.
Sue: What if it’s four of them? Would that be a quadthruple?
Leslie: Get the binoculars.
Margret: They’re kissing. I think. Or he’s putting a necklace on her.
Larry: Why would he be putting a necklace on her?
Margret: I don’t know. I can’t see.
Leslie: Who’s the guy?
Margret: She drove off. I’m pretty sure it’s Logan. If I squint any harder, my eyes will be shut.
Sue: It still doesn’t answer whether they’re in a thruple or quadthruple.
Clearly, we’re not very good at staying incognito. I slide my phone back in my pocket. “Fine. There may be something happening between Logan and me.”
“That’s not screaming at each other?” She arches a brow.
“There may be screaming, but it’s definitely not at each other. And I assure you it’s not a thruple.”
“Brie!” Willa screeches.
“Shhh!” Reaching over the counter, I slap my hand over her mouth. “I’ll fill you in later, but for now we’re keeping it quiet.”
“And obviously you’re doing a terrible job at it.” She laughs. “Girls’ night. And I want all the dirty details.” She holds out a paper bag. “Here’s your sandwich. Now go do amazing things, especially if you’re doing them with,” she glances around the diner and mouths, “Logan.”
“On that note, I need to get to the Holly Jolly Festival grounds to get ready for the cookie bake-off. I need to watch Mr. Saulter like a hawk so he doesn’t add extra ballots into his box.” I turn around and saunter toward the door.
As I head out, Willa calls after me, “Happiness looks good on you!”
Great. Now I’m grinning so hard my ears are probably blushing.
By nightfall, the cookie contest is over, and I’m up to my elbows in tablecloths and stray sprinkles. People get more competitive every year—royal icing, edible glitter, even stained-glass sugar cookies. I tug at a red cloth when a loud bang outside freezes me in place.
There’s another thud, even louder.
I shove into my coat and push open the door. Through the crack, I peer to my left and then to my right. A coal-sized lump gets lodged in my throat. Brad. The woolly menace himself is headbutting the side of the hot chocolate stand like he’s auditioning for a demolition derby.
“Brad! Stop it!” I yell, hoping he understands.
He peers up at me. I tilt my head. Maybe he does? He turns his head toward the snowmen from the contest and back to me. He baaas.
“Oh no. Don’t even think about it,” I warn as he turns toward the ski-goggle snowman.
He baaas at me—mockingly, I’m sure of it, before flouncing toward the snowman.
“Don’t do it.” I dash after him, the cold air stinging my face as my boots kick up plumes of snow.
“Brad!” He stops next to the snowman and licks its torso.
“Stop violating the snowman!” When I’m a few feet away, Brad bolts, tearing the hockey snowman’s arm clean off and licking under the arm pit.
I lunge at him, but he dodges my advances.
When did sheep become so sprightly? I take off in a sprint toward Brad, and he baaas and darts toward the feather boa snow queen. “Brad! Get back here right now!”
Headlights slice across the field of snowmen before coming to a stop on me. Relief floods me. It’s Logan.
“Is this a new holiday tradition?” he calls. “Running with the snowmen?”
“Brad’s loose!” I gasp. “He’s licking all the entries! Judging hasn’t even started!”
Suddenly, I’m shrouded in darkness. Speckles of light dance behind my eyelids with every blink. A door slams, and a few seconds later, Logan’s silhouette forms out of the darkness, jogging across the snow. “Where is he?”
“Using his ninja skills to evade me. But he can’t ruin the snowmen.”
“Then let’s catch him.”
We fan out, weaving in and out of the snowmen like a Christmas-themed obstacle course. Brad, of course, is loving it—darting between us, baaing like it’s his personal victory anthem.
I come to a stop, doubled over with my hands on my knees. I pant, “We need a new plan.”
Logan stops next to me. “What’s that?”
“I,” inhale, “don’t know.”
“I think we need to trap him somehow.”
“Yeah. Because outrunning him is not working.” I rise to my full height and peer over a snowman.
Brad stares at us from behind a snowman wearing a cowboy hat, wielding a lasso.
If only cowboy snowman could wrangle Brad like a bull.
I glare at Brad. My gaze shifts to another snowman, then to the hot chocolate stand.
“I got it. I’m going to steal a snowman head and lure him into the hot chocolate stand, and you’ll slam the door. ”
“You’re sacrificing a snowman?”
I press my lips together. “It’s for the greater good.
Their death won’t be in vain.” I pluck the head off the nearest snowman.
A gold crown tumbles to the snow, and I cringe a little.
“Sorry, snowman. I’ll be sure to tell everyone about your bravery.
” I wave it at Brad, getting his attention.
He baaas and takes a step closer. “That’s right, Brad.
I know you want this delicious, water-filled snowman head.
” I take a step backward, urging him to follow me, which he does.
Inch by inch, I get closer to the hot chocolate stand.
Brad’s walk turns into a trot. Seconds later, it’s a full-fledged gallop.
My eyes widen in terror as Brad charges after me.
“Run!” Logan yells.
I shriek, sprinting with the snowman head tucked like a football. Brad thunders behind me, closing in. Logan’s a few steps behind Brad. At the last second, I adjust my grip and hurl the head into the hot chocolate stand. Brad barrels after it, hooves clattering against wood.
“Now!” I scream.
Logan slams the door shut with a crack that echoes across the festival. Brad’s muffled, indignant baaas rattle the walls.
“We did it! We did it! Ha!” I throw my arms in the air, half-laughing, half-screaming. Adrenaline makes me reckless, because the next thing I know, I leap into Logan’s arms like I scored the winning touchdown. My legs wrap around his waist. “Brad can’t outsmart us!”
His arm clamps tight around my back, the other sliding low to cup my butt. His fingers dig in, firm, possessive, and I gasp. Oh yes.
“I called Henry. He’s on his way,” he says, voice rougher than it should be for just wrangling a sheep.
I hook an arm around his neck, strands of hair falling between us as I look down.
His hazel eyes have gone molten brown, all heat and hunger.
My chest heaves—not sure if it’s from sprinting after Brad or the way Logan is staring at me like he’s already undressing me.
His fingers flex against my ass, sending sparks racing across my skin.
“Fuck it,” he mutters, and suddenly I’m pinned against the hot chocolate stand, sliding down his solid frame until my mouth is inches from his. His warm, mint-tinged breath skims my lips. “I want to kiss you,” he whispers.
My brain sputters out a weak protest. “We shouldn’t—”
“Which makes me want to even more.”
“Fuck it,” I echo, and crush my mouth to his.
The kiss starts soft, but within seconds it’s ravenous, desperate, addictive.
My hips grind against his growing erection, my body greedy for friction.
His tongue teases mine before claiming it, and I melt, wrapping tighter around him.
The cold night air is no match for the fire roaring between us.
He thrusts his hard cock against me, hitting the right spot. I pull away, a moan escaping me.
His warm lips a stark contrast to my cool skin as he kisses down my jaw, grazing my ear. “I want you, Brie. I want you so fucking bad.” His hips thrust against mine, making me moan. “Too many clothes,” he growls. “I want to feel your tight pussy around me, strangling my cock.”
My nipples instantly pebble and not because of the cold. Logan can talk dirty to me anytime. “Oh. God. Yes. I want that too.”
The wood creaks as he presses me against it, giving himself better leverage.
He grinds against me, rough and carnal. With one hand still under me, he rests his palm against the wall beside my head.
A wave of pleasure washes over me as he sucks on my neck.
The friction against my clit increases, a rising crescendo of sweet torture.
I’m seconds away from detonating in my pants. “Oh, yes!”
A sudden, sharp squeak makes every muscle in my body tense. As if someone turned the lights on, a spotlight blazes over us. My eyelids snap open, and I’m immediately blinded by the intense glare of headlights. “Oh, shit,” I murmur.
Logan freezes, lips still against my neck, hand tightening on my ass.
From across the lot, Henry’s voice bellows, “Looks like you two made up!”
Logan slaps the wall beside my head. “She seems sturdy. Nice construction. Don’t you think, Brie?”
I swallow a laugh. “Yep. Very… strong.”
Henry laughs. “You two are full of shit. I’m glad to know everyone can stop whispering behind your backs about when the first hookup will be.”
Logan lowers me to the ground, and I fumble with my jacket. “There’s one thing wrong with that,” I say. “People in this town don’t whisper.”
Henry smirks. “Fair point. But now they’ll just move on to planning your wedding and naming your kids.”
“Uh, considering it was just a kiss, I don’t think I’m pregnant yet.
” I shoot Logan a sideways look. “Unless you’ve got a superpower you haven’t mentioned.
” Shit. Do I want kids? Does Logan want more kids?
Do I want kids with Logan? I mean, we’ve only just started this.
Why am I thinking about kids? “I was joking, by the way.”
Logan chuckles. “Yeah, I got it.”
“Alright, well I’ll collect Brad and let you two,” Henry waves a hand between us, “continue what you were doing. Hope he hasn’t done too much damage.”
“There are a few snowmen who will have some trauma to work out, but overall, I think it’s okay. Also, don’t be alarmed if Brad’s poop sparkles. He found the glitter snowman and went to town.” I shrug.
“Maybe I can place a horn on his head and call him a unicorn,” Henry chuckles.
After we help Henry load Brad into the trailer, he drives away. Only the silvery moonlight shines down on us.
Logan steps closer, thumb grazing my cheek, sliding down to tilt my chin. My pulse trips over itself. “Hope you haven’t had too much excitement tonight,” he murmurs, eyes dark, “because I’d like to continue this.”
My lips curl into a smile. “What do you have in mind?” Please let it be filthy. My body’s buzzing for more. The night in Santa’s Workshop was fun. Amazing. Mind-blowing, but I want to feel him inside me.
“Come back to my place,” he says, voice husky. “Josie’s at my parents’. I want to lay you out on my bed, spread you open, and feast until you can’t remember your own name—before I finally give you a proper orgasm.”
My entire body lights up like the Christmas tree at the festival. “Lead the way.”