13. Emerson
CHAPTER 13
Emerson
C ontrary to what I told Brock—and what I intended to do—I couldn’t sleep after my hour-long bath in the coach house.
I sit in the living room and look out the window toward the triplets’ ranch house, half-tempted to ask if I can visit after all, but I don’t.
I don’t trust myself with them, with any of them, let alone all three of them. Every time I’m with them, I want to blurt out the truth of who I am and why I’m there, but at this point, it’s too late. There’s no easy way to explain it without it all blowing up in my face. The only thing to do now is collect the DNA samples as I planned and find out which one of them is the real father, before confronting him and leaving quietly. He can decide if he wants to be in the baby’s life or not. And then we can work out custody and child support—or whatever.
I shiver lightly as a breeze flutters through the open window, and a figure appears on the path from the house toward me. I strain, leaning forward.
It’s Owen.
Weird how I can tell, just by his confident but slower gait. He doesn’t bear Brock’s steadfast march, or Toby’s energetic bounce. It’s definitely Owen. And he’s headed to my place.
I stand and open the front door as he shines his cell phone flashlight toward me. “Oh… you’re still awake. Brock said you were going to bed early tonight, but I thought I’d check in anyway.”
I grin at him. “You can’t get that night out of your head, huh? It bothers you when I’m home alone?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “A little bit.”
“Come in,” I urge, opening the door wider. “I actually have something for you.”
“For me?” He sounds surprised.
“I special ordered some things for your left-handed self,” I explain. “To make your life a little easier.”
Appreciation shines in his eyes. “That’s very considerate of you. I’m surprised you remembered I’m left-handed.”
“Come in,” I say again, waving him inside.
“I don’t want to keep you if you’re going to bed. Now I feel doubly guilty.”
He doesn’t look like he feels guilty in the least.
“Nah, I can’t sleep,” I admit. “I think I might be a bit nervous about Mae coming tomorrow. Is that silly?”
He steps over the threshold, and I close the door behind him, ensuring the bugs don’t get inside.
“I don’t know,” he answers in his usual, pragmatic way. “I don’t know Mae or your relationship with her.”
I chuckle at his response and gesture for him to sit on the wooden futon. “You want coffee? Iced tea?”
“I’ll get it, darlin’,” he offers, heading to the kitchen, and I admire his muscular form as he busies himself in the small unit.
There’s something sexy about a man who knows his way around a kitchen.
“Why are you nervous?” Owen asks, pouring two glasses of iced tea and carrying them toward the tiny living area.
“Well, you know, I kind of left Austin without telling her I was moving,” I remind him.
“You did that because of the baby, right?”
“In part. I was embarrassed,” I admit with a sigh. “I lost my job and then my apartment. Then I found out I was pregnant…” I trail off and stop myself from saying too much.
My lips meet the rim of the glass as I take a deep gulp, and I savor the chill as it slides down my throat. “I was going to move back in with my mom and stepdad, but…” I think of Greg and shudder slightly. “Families can be complicated.”
Owen nods sagely, setting his drink down on the steamer trunk, which serves as a coffee table. “You don’t have to tell me about that,” he agrees. “We had a stepfather for a couple of years, but he didn’t last long.”
Curiously, my brow raised. “May I ask what happened to your real father?”
He blinks, his mouth parting in surprise. “Oh… Well…”
He leans back on the futon and drapes his arm over the back, and I do the same, my eyes boring into his.
“I don’t mean to pry,” I continue quickly. “You don’t need to tell me.”
“It’s not a secret,” he says. “I’m just surprised no one ever said anything. We’re products of IVF. My mother chose to be a solo parent.”
Stunned, I gawp at him. “That’s freaking amazing!” I sputter. “She had triplets on her own? While running a ranch?”
Owen laughs and nods. “Yeah, she was pretty badass,” he concedes sadly, his face shadowing. “Our grandfather helped her for the first few years. He passed when we were about seven. Then she passed when we were seventeen. Sevens were kind of cursed with us for a while.”
I touch his face softly, and he captures my fingers in his. “It’s all right,” he tells me. “It was a long time ago.”
“I know. But grief doesn’t expire, Owen.”
“It doesn’t,” he agrees. “But it makes it easier when you have family to help you through it.”
The coarse texture of his scruff against my skin sends shivers through me, a molten heat spreading from my fingertips down through my core. They all turn me on so much. It wasn’t just Vegas and the liquor. Each one of them has a hold on me in their own way.
He moves my hand over his mouth, and I trace my fingertips over the ridges of his lips. His mouth parts to make room for my fingertips.
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes, just like he had in Vegas. The words are a crossover in my head: fuzzy and heady, and slightly confusing. His strong arms pull me closer. “I really like you.”
“I like you, too,” I sigh. “I like all three of you.”
His eyes brighten. “That’s okay,” he tells me, and I realize now they really do share it all. “We share everything.”
His mouth claims mine hungrily, our tongues sliding together as heat rushes through my body. He presses me backward, his weight deliciously firm as desire builds between us. My hands splay across his back, tugging at his shirt, desperate to feel his burning skin against my fingertips.
Skillfully but roughly, he tears at my clothes, his hardness pressing at my leg, the urgency in him determined in his kisses as they rain down over my neck. He pulls open the sash of my robe, exposing my full breasts, his mouth claiming me as his hand explores the cleft between my legs.
“You taste so sweet,” he murmurs. “But so familiar. I know your taste, Emerson…”
“Shh!” I beg him. “Don’t stop.”
He chuckles, delving lower along the small bump of my stomach, until he finds himself buried between my legs. My thighs lock at his ears, and he groans in delight.
The slow, deliberate strokes of his tongue send waves of pleasure coursing through me. Each hot, languid caress builds a perfect rhythm—steady and relentless—my body tensing with the certainty that release hovers just beyond reach.
My hands curl into his thick, dark hair, and I hold onto him as he cups my ass.
“Oh my God!” I cry. “Yes!”
“Mmm,” he sighs, the vibrations shimmering through me.
My body spasms once, twice, and suddenly, I’m on all fours, facing the stairs. Owen’s fingers tangle in my hair, the gentle tug making my body ache with desperate need as he positions himself behind me. The warmth of his chest presses against my back.
“I’ll be gentle,” he growls in my ear, teeth grazing my shoulder just enough to leave a mark.
“No, don’t,” I beg him, my voice thick with need.
With a deep, satisfied sound, he drives into me—hard and deep—setting a relentless pace that has me crying out with each thrust. My moans echo so loudly I’m certain they carry all the way to the ranch house and bunk house, but with pleasure building like a storm inside me, I couldn’t care less who might hear.
I’m enamored with these men and their magic cocks. They have me completely entranced.
“Come for me again,” he orders me.
He doesn’t need to wait long for his command, my legs clenching as my second orgasm mounts.
I spill over him, and he clings to my hips, continuing to plunge into me with a force that’s driving me wild.
“My turn,” he gasps. “You ready?”
“Oh, fuck yes!”
He tenses, a final groan tearing from his throat as his release overtakes him. His arms tighten around me, holding me firmly against his chest as tremors course through his body. His heartbeat thunders against my back, quick and erratic, while his lips find my neck, trailing tender, appreciative kisses across my flushed skin. As our breathing gradually steadies and the haze of pleasure begins to clear, he eases us both down to the futon, rolling to his side and bringing me with him, a satisfied smile warming his features.
“You good?” he asks tenderly, brushing a strand of hair from my face.
I cup his face. “I’m better than good,” I promise him. “I think I might just sleep tonight, after all.”
“Good. Then my work here is done.”
* * *
To my utter relief, Mae did not bring Will with her. It’s not that I don’t like Will—I do—but I want my alone time with my best friend today.
“He got called into work,” she explains, jumping out of her little sedan and looking around the property in awe. “And he is going to be pissed that he missed this! Look at this place!”
I embrace my friend. “He can come next time.”
She drops her bag on the ground and returns my hug. “Emmy! How did you end up here? And how can I get a job here, too?”
“I’m sure I can find you a position mucking out stables.” I pick up her duffle and wave her into the coach house as she checks out one of the ranch hands walking by, her eyes popping in disbelief. “God have mercy! Who is that?!”
“I can’t remember his name,” I answer honestly. “There are a bunch of them. I’ll take you around later and introduce you.”
Mae follows me inside, whistling under her breath as she takes in the cute accommodations. “It’s like the most darling home that ever was!” she squeals. “I honestly don’t understand why you didn’t tell me about this.” She eyes me suspiciously. “Is this some mob front or something? Some money laundering scheme? You running drugs out of here?”
I hoot and swat at her, closing the door. “No! Stop it. I told you. I’m the ranch administrator, and this place has been here for fifty years. You looked it up.”
Mae nods in agreement. “Yeah, I did, and Will checked it out too. It’s legit. I just don’t understand what all the secrecy was about.”
She peers at me, and I look away, knowing she can read something hidden on my face. “Spill it, Emmy.”
“What?” I ask evasively, ushering her inside. “You want iced tea?”
“No. I want you to tell me why you look as guilty as a hooker in church.”
“You know you can’t say shit like that anymore, right?” I tell her dryly.
“Tell it to my politically incorrect grandmother, Emmy,” she shoots back. “And stop changing the subject.”
“I’m pregnant.”
Mae’s knees buckle, and she reaches out to steady herself. “What?” she gasps, paling.
Maybe I shouldn’t have sprung it on her like that.
“Sorry.” I reach out to steady her. “Are you okay?”
“Me?” she cries. “Are you okay? What do you mean you’re pregnant? Does your mom know? Who’s the daddy? Please don’t tell me you reconciled with that dumb prick software developer with the personality of a dehydrated turnip!”
I lead her to the futon and wince, thinking of what Owen and I did on it last night. Mae doesn’t need to know about that.
“I’m fine, and no, it’s not his baby,” I tell her. “I wouldn’t get back together with him.”
“Okay…” She inhales. “Is that why you left Austin so fast?”
I nod and swallow, deciding to tell Mae everything. I need an ally, and she is my best friend. And if things go south, I’m going to need a backup plan.
“Well, I lost my job. And I needed a new job quickly to support the baby. So, yes, that’s why I left Austin.”
“But why here? You shouldn’t be working right now. You should be with the father?—”
“I am with the father… or at least, I’m trying to be,” I cut her off gently. “One of the men who owns the ranch is the father of the baby. I met them in Vegas, and I was with all three of them.”
I can see my endless bombshells are having a profound effect on Mae’s delicate disposition.
“Emmy!” she gasps, a nervous laugh escaping her lips. “All three of them! In one night?”
I shrug and nod. “Yeah.”
She throws her arms around me. “I am so proud of you, I could cry. I wish I’d gone with you!”
“I wish you had, too. Maybe I wouldn’t be in this predicament.”
“Or I would have let loose, too!” Mae exclaims, eyes wide with excitement. “God, I live so vicariously through you! Though, who am I kidding? I probably would’ve been the responsible one calling us a taxi and making sure we drank water. Marriage has turned me into such a grown-up!”
I burst out laughing, tears of appreciation for my best friend filling my eyes.
“Ha!” I choke. “You are truly insane.”
She releases me and pats my cheek. “All right, so are they submitting to a DNA test? What are the next steps?”
I stare at her, unspeaking, and she returns my look questioningly. When I don’t speak, understanding colors her face. “Oh, Emmy! They don’t know.”
“I’m going to tell them when I find out which one is the father,” I tell her. “I don’t see the point in causing a big family drama otherwise.”
She gasps. “Family drama? They’re related?”
I grit my teeth and sit back on the sofa. “I didn’t mention that part?”
“Uh, no?”
“Yeah. They’re um… brothers.”
“Brothers!”
“Triplets.”
Mae screams so loudly my heart leaps into my throat, and I burst out laughing as she jumps up, rushing around the coach house like she’s on fire. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
There’s a knock on the door, and I point meaningfully at my friend. “You behave yourself!” I warn her, but her cheeks are almost purple. “I mean it, Mae!”
Toby stands on the stoop, with concern etched on his face. “You okay? I heard a scream in here.”
I grin nonchalantly and step back to show my hyperventilating friend. “Just my friend being melodramatic,” I reassure him. “Mae, Toby Collins, one of the owners of Pine Sky Ranch.”
Mae almost trips over her feet rushing to the door. “Well, hello. Are you one of the triplets?”
Toby beams and leans in. “I sure am, ma’am,” he replies, tipping his hat. “The best looking one.”
I snicker.
“I would think so.” Mae extends her hand, and I roll my eyes as Toby kisses it.
“Maybe I can take you ladies out later,” Toby offers, winking at me. “I’d be happy to give some riding lessons.”
“We’ll see,” I tell him as Mae checks him out. “I’ll text and see where you are.”
“I’ll keep my phone in my pocket on vibrate,” he teases, hopping off the porch. “Oh, who am I kidding? I do that anyway.”
“Okay, well, I get it now.” Mae watches him leave. “Do they all look like that?”
“Yep,” I sigh. “All three of them.”
Mae screams again, and I bury my face in my hands.
“Stop it!” I beg her.
“I’m sorry!” Mae moans. “But you are so screwed!”
“So screwed,” I agree. “Now you see my dilemma.”