Chapter Five #2
He shoved the truck door open, into the wind and snow, and slammed it behind him. With Jesse hot on his heels, he stalked to the front of the diner.
“I don’t need romance,” Chloe was telling Sawyer, her hand still caught in his.
She was relaxing, bit by bit, soothed by his calm demeanor and his focused attention.
Not even Carol taking their pie order had thrown her off, and considering the waitress had looked as though she’d wanted to stab the back of Chloe’s hand with her stubby little pencil, that was saying something.
“None?” Sawyer asked dubiously.
“I’m not looking for wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am,” Chloe amended and smiled when he chuckled. “But hearts and flowers aren’t necessary.”
“I think I understand,” he said. His thumb was stroking the back of her hand in a soft, almost absentminded caress. She had no doubt he knew he was doing it, that it was a deliberate tactic, but it was nice all the same. “You want affection, respect, a little filth—”
“Maybe more than a little,” she interrupted.
He grinned, lightning quick and wicked as sin. “And to have fun.”
“Lots of fun.
“Fun is my brand, darling,” he assured her with a wink, then sobered a little. “Were you thinking of booking an overnight?”
“I hadn’t thought about it,” she said honestly.
“I’m going to recommend it. With what you’re asking for, the experience you want, you’ll want the extra time.”
She bit her lip. “I don’t think I can afford that. I actually can’t afford any of this, but my friends are chipping in.”
“Are they now? Well, that’s nice of them.”
“They wouldn’t take no,” Chloe admitted.
“Pie,” Carol announced, and with considerably less warmth than she’d used to deliver Sawyer’s coffee, plopped two plates down on the table. “Anything else?”
Chloe started to ask for forks, but Carol was already striding away. Nonplussed, Chloe blinked at Sawyer. “I guess we’re supposed to eat this with our hands?”
Chuckling, Sawyer slid out of the booth. “I’ll snag some forks at the counter. Be right back.”
She watched him go—and the back view was just as good as the front—then picked up her coffee with a sigh.
He was very charming, and she enjoyed talking to him.
And she had no doubt that if he was in charge of her threesome, it would be a delightful and highly satisfying experience in every way but one.
It wouldn’t be with Jesse and Knox.
She brooded into her coffee, annoyed with herself. Jesse and Knox weren’t an option, and she knew it. So why couldn’t she get them out of her head?
“Hey, Chloe.”
Their voices were even in her head, at least Jesse’s, she thought with a sigh. She was getting obsessive.
“Chloe?”
And there was Knox. Really, this wasn’t healthy.
“What’s she doing?” Jesse again.
“I don’t know.” Knox. “Maybe she can’t hear us.”
She could hear them. Of course she could. They were in her head, after all.
Oh, God. Weren’t they?
She lifted her head, then wanted to crawl under the table when she saw both of them standing beside the booth, staring at her with nearly identical looks of concern. Face flaming, she worked up a smile. “Hi, guys!”
“Hey,” Jesse said. “You okay?”
“Sure! I’m fine!” she squeaked. “Why do you ask?”
“We called your name,” Knox told her, eyeing her with concern laced with suspicion. “A couple of times. You didn’t hear us.”
She laughed, a high-pitched giggle that made her want to cringe. “Sorry. I was just thinking.”
They exchanged a look, the kind that said should we take this person in for an involuntary psych hold? She forced herself to relax and tried another smile. “So, um, what are you guys doing here?”
“Just picking up some dinner,” Knox said, his eyes narrowing. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh. Um.” Shit, shit, shit. She looked down at the table, and the slice of chocolate cream pie in front of her. “I’m having pie.”
“By yourself?” Jesse asked, one dark eyebrow going up in question.
A superfluous one, since Sawyer’s coffee cup and his slice of blueberry pie sat across from her. “No, I’m here with…”
“Me,” Sawyer finished, coming up behind Jesse and Knox with two forks in his hand a smile on his face.
Jesse automatically shifted to the side, but Knox just turned his head and glared. And though Sawyer’s smile stayed polite, one heavy eyebrow inched up. “Excuse me.”
His scowl deepening, Knox took a step back, and Sawyer slipped smoothly into the booth. “Sorry it took me so long, sugar. They were busy at the counter.”
“It’s all right.” Taking the fork he held out, Chloe wished she could slide under the table and disappear. Since that didn’t seem to be an option, she cleared her throat. “Um, this is Sawyer. He’s…”
“A friend,” Sawyer supplied smoothly when she faltered, and winked before looking up. “And you are?”
“What?” Knox said, scowling, and Jesse jammed an elbow into his ribs.
“I’m Jesse,” Jesse supplied, his normally cheerful expression twisted in a frown. “This is my husband, Knox.”
“A pleasure,” Sawyer said smoothly and reached across the table to take Chloe’s hand again. Knox hissed. Sawyer smiled. “And how do you know Chloe?”
When Jesse just stared and Knox just glared, Chloe stepped nervously into the conversational breach. “They’re renovating the pub my aunts own. The Wild Clover?”
“I know that place.” Surprised pleasure lit Sawyer’s eyes. “Your aunts own it?”
Chloe nodded. He was doing that thing with his thumb on the back of her hand again, and it was distracting. “I work there as a bartender.”
“Well, then, I’ll have to stop in for a drink,” Sawyer murmured, lowering his mouth to her knuckles, and Chloe blushed.
Knox snarled, Jesse said, “What the fuck?” and up at the register, Carol shouted, “To-go order for Jesse!”
“Sounds like your dinner is ready, boys,” Sawyer said, not taking his eyes off Chloe. Then his gaze flicked up. “Nice meeting you.”
Chloe looked up at Jesse and Knox’s thunderous faces, then back at Sawyer’s amused one, completely at sea. Then Knox turned abruptly and stomped away, and after a moment Jesse mumbled, “See you later, Chloe,” and followed.
Chloe blinked after them, then looked at Sawyer. “I have no idea what just happened.”
“No,” Sawyer said slowly. “I can see you don’t.”
“Are you going to explain it to me?” she demanded.
He picked up his fork and flaked off a bit of golden, sugary crust. “If I ask you a question, will you tell me the truth?”
Baffled, and growing more annoyed by the second, she picked up her own fork and stabbed it into her pie. “Yes.”
“Were those two—what were their names?”
“Jesse and Knox.”
“Right. Were Jesse and Knox the candidates you told me about? The ones that aren’t available?”
She paused, a forkful of chocolate cream halfway to her mouth, then shoved it in and nodded.
His lips twitched. “And you determined their unavailability how?”
She swallowed. “What do you mean, how?”
“Did you ask them?”
She was glad she’d swallowed, or she might have choked. “No, of course not.”
“Then?”
“They’re married,” she reminded him.
He shrugged. “I’m married.”
She blinked. “You are?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.” She didn’t know what to do with that information. “Well, that’s not the only reason.”
“What else?”
“They’re working for my aunts.”
“Sticky,” he admitted. “But not insurmountable. Unless you don’t want to mount it.”
She almost smiled at the innuendo. “It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?”
“I don’t want to mess anyone up.”
His eyes were soft with understanding. “You have feelings for them.”
She bit her lip. “I think…yeah.”
He put down his fork and reached for his coffee. “Want my advice?”
She guessed it couldn’t hurt. “Sure.”
“You miss one hundred percent of the shots you don’t take.”
She stared at him. “That’s it? I’m having a romantic crisis, and you’re quoting Wayne Gretzky at me?”
“I’m quoting Michael Jordan,” he corrected.
She shook her head. “It’s Gretzky. People think it’s Jordan, but he was quoting Gretzky.”
“Really? Huh. Well, regardless of who said it, the point stands.”
“I could’ve quoted Gretzky,” she grumbled, then sighed. “This is so complicated.”
“Complicated doesn’t mean not doable, or not worth it.” He gestured with his coffee. “Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”
That got a smile out of her. “I guess you would. How do you handle it?”
“The complicated? By remembering what’s important.”
“That’s better advice than the Gretzky bit,” she mused. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” He took a last sip of his coffee, then set down the cup and checked his watch. “Speaking of what’s important, I need to head home.”
She glanced at the big black and white clock over the diner counter. They’d been there for over an hour. “Sure, okay.”
He picked up his coat. “This is the part where I say you should contact me when you’re ready to book, or discuss things further.”
Digging in her purse, she pulled out a twenty and laid it on the table. “Okay.”
“But I don’t think you will.”
She looked up to find him smiling at her. “Don’t get me wrong,” he went on. “I’d love it if you did. And I’d do my absolute best to make sure you have a wonderful, memorable, multi-orgasmic experience.”
He slid out of the booth to shrug on his coat, then bent down and gently, sweetly, laid his lips on hers. “But I’m not what you want. And, Chloe, you should have what you want.”
He kissed her again, softly, then skimmed a finger down the flush that had bloomed on her cheek. “Let me know, beautiful.”
And with a slow smile, he was gone.
Out in the truck, Knox stared through the window. Chloe had her hand pressed to her mouth, as though savoring Sawyer’s kiss, and Knox had never felt more like maiming another human being.
“You can’t kill him,” Jesse said beside him.
“The hell I can’t,” Knox growled.
“He’s our friend,” Jesse reminded him.
Knox ground his teeth so hard his jaw threatened to crack. “He kissed her.”
“That’s his job.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Knox demanded.
“When he comes out, we’ll talk to him,” Jesse offered. “Calmly. Reasonably.”
“You talk,” Knox said. “I’m going to be too busy committing murder.”
Jesse’s phone rang, and they both looked at the in-dash display.
“It’s him,” Jesse said and tapped the screen to answer. “Sawyer.”
“Jesse,” came the amused drawl. “Is Knox plotting my murder?”
Jesse darted a glance at his husband, who was glaring through the windshield at the front door of the diner. “I refuse to answer that on the grounds it may incriminate him.”
“I bet. Nice job pretending not to know me.”
The amusement in Sawyer’s voice wasn’t calming Knox down—he looked like he was about to chew through his jaw. Jesse cleared his throat. “Where are you?”
“Oh, I’m on my way home,” came the cheerful reply. “The diner has a back door, you know.”
“Fuck,” Knox muttered.
“I can see out the window as clearly as you can see in,” Sawyer informed them with amusement. “You think I don’t recognize ‘lying in wait’ when I see it?”
“We need to talk,” Jesse began.
“I realize that, but we’re not doing it in public. Especially when Knox is in scorched earth mode. Y’all can come to the house.”
Jesse shot Knox a look. “Is Lou home?”
“Of course,” Sawyer replied. “Why do you think I feel safe there?”
Knox sighed, and Jesse bit back a curse. “Okay, we’re on our way.”
“See you soon.”
The call clicked off, and for a moment, they just sat there.
“I’m not going to be able to kill him,” Knox finally said.
“Nope.”
“Will I be able to punch him?” Knox asked hopefully.
“I doubt it. Not unless you want to deal with Lou.”
“Fuck.” Knox sat there a moment longer, then with a long-winded sigh, put the truck in gear. “Is she still sitting there?”
Jesse looked at the diner window. “No. She’s gone.”
Knox pulled away from the curb. “I hope the son of a bitch has beer.”