Three of Hearts (12 page)

I leaned into him more and gave him a quick look of gratitude. His support suddenly made me feel stronger. I’d always known Lucas and Ben had my back, because we were a team, and we had been from the moment we’d banded together in our musical triad. That hadn’t changed. Nobody else needed to know what had happened between us the last two nights. I knew. I knew I’d been a sex goddess. Okay that might be exaggerating. But still. I’d felt beautiful and desired. I’d felt powerful.

I lifted my chin and gave Doug a look, letting everything I felt for him show—my utter disdain for him, my contempt for how he’d treated me. I tossed my hair back and shook my head. “You’re a douche bag, Doug.” I leveled a look of pity on Cheyenne and patted her shoulder. “Sorry, hon. Things
don’t
get better in bed.” I smiled up at Lucas. “I could use another drink. How about you?”

He grinned. “Good idea. Later, guys.” And we turned and headed to the bar.

Adrenaline zinged through my veins, and when we arrived at the bar, I had to lean on it to hold myself up. My legs had the strength of guitar strings. “Fuck.”

“That was awesome.” Lucas rubbed my back as he ordered another glass of wine for me and bourbon for himself.

“I’d rather have a beer.” The room felt very hot.

“Want me to change that order?”

“Nah. It’s okay.” I sucked in air. “Shit.”

“You did good, Haylee. The look you gave him—hell, he probably still feels that knife in his chest.”

“You know what?” I turned sideways to face him. “I was freaked out at first. But I really don’t give a shit. What kind of asshole would do that to a girl he’s dating? Nobody worth my time, that’s who.”

“You are so right.”

The bartender placed a glass of golden wine in front of me, and I picked it up and took a big slurp. I resisted the urge to wipe the back of my hand across my lips. When I looked at Lucas, his mouth was twitching.

“Slow down there, babe. Don’t wanna carry you home like we did the other night.”

A smile hovered on my own lips. “You did not carry me. I walked fine.”

“Not quite.”

“Okay, maybe I wobbled a little. It was the heels.”

Our eyes met in a warm exchange. And held. My mouth curved up into a full smile, and I took another sip of my wine. Heat accumulated low in my belly.

Oh wow. I was just standing there smiling at Lucas and I was getting turned on.

Then I remembered Ben flirting with that girl, and my smile slipped. I looked down into my wine.

“What?” Lucas took my arm and shifted me away from the bar. “Why’d you suddenly look pissed off again? You still care about him, don’t you?”

How could I tell him the real reason my mood had dipped? “No, I really don’t. I just wasn’t having a good time at this party before they even showed up.” I rolled my eyes. “Too much Christmas. Christmas music. Christmas decorations. Christmas crap.”

He studied me, and I shifted my feet. “You know we have to sing Christmas songs tomorrow night at the Ryman.”

“I know.” And I dreaded it. I knew every single one of the songs we chose. I hated every single one of them. But I could do it. It was “Opry at the Ryman,” a great honor and opportunity.

I took another gulp of wine. Then Ben appeared.

“Hey, Haylee. Brace yourself, but Doug the slug is here.”

I choked on my wine, nearly spraying both guys with it. “Doug the slug?”

He grinned. “Yeah.”

“We already saw him,” Lucas said. “And his lovely date.”

“I called him a douche bag. I wish I’d called him Doug the slug.”

“Feel free to use that.” Ben’s gaze searched my face as Lucas’s had earlier. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” I hitched one shoulder. “He’s a loser.” I glanced around Ben. My insides tightened. I wanted to be as casual as I would have been a week ago about him flirting with another woman. “Who was that gorgeous brunette who was all over you?”

His forehead creased. “Who? Oh. You mean Nadine. She’s a model.”

“Of course she is.”

He focused in on me. “Hmm. Jealous, sweetheart?”

I tossed my hair. I was getting good at that particular feminine gesture. “Certainly not. You can flirt with whatever girls you want.”

They exchanged one of their looks: this time Lucas lifted one eyebrow at Ben, and Ben’s look in return was cool enough to frost the short glass Lucas held.

I had no idea what they were communicating about, and this time I didn’t care. “Actually, just before Doug the slug arrived, I was coming to find you to tell you I’m going home.”

“Already?” They both said it and frowned.

“Just not my thing.”

“Oh right.” Lucas gestured toward the tree. “Too much Christmas crap.”

They both gave me puzzled looks. I shrugged.

“Stay a little longer, Haylee.” Lucas stroked my bare arm. “Then we’ll all leave. Okay?”

“Just because I’m leaving doesn’t mean you guys have to.”

“Sure it does.” He lowered his voice. “Because we’re leaving
together
.”

I knew what he meant. My knees wobbled and my wine sloshed up the side of the glass.

“You guys, this is crazy.” Even whispering, I felt like everybody could hear us.

“Yeah. It kind of is.”

“What would people think?”

“Why do people have to know?” Ben’s matter-of-factness calmed my fluttery nerves. “They already know we live together.”

I nodded, as his point had merit.
I
certainly wasn’t going to tell anyone, and if people wondered—well, it wouldn’t be the first time they’d wondered if there was something between Lucas and me. And even if there had been, it would be nobody’s business but ours, and this was the same.

It was crazy, but it was
our
craziness. We weren’t hurting anybody else.

Although I had a feeling somebody was going to get hurt. And that someone was probably going to be me.

With a smile firmly in place and a few more hair tosses, I managed to avoid Doug the slug and cute little Cheyenne as I schmoozed, and it was past midnight before I even realized what time it was.

As the car was taking us home, we passed the Gaylord Opryland Resort and the Grand Ole Opry on our left off the freeway, all lit up with twinkling white lights, and I had a fresh moment of doubt about the next night’s show. A fist clutched inside my stomach, squeezing, as I thought about singing those Christmas songs in front of an audience for the first time since I was seventeen.

But once we were home, the guys started kissing me, and undressing me, and I let go of the tension that gripped me and lost myself in the heated, delicious focus of two men. Two men who’d had my back tonight, who’d been there for me, kept me going, and now gave me more pleasure than I’d ever known was possible.

The next afternoon, Ben and Lucas arrived home with a damn Christmas tree, much to my dismay.

“You guys!” I stared at it, hands on hips. “What is that?”

Lucas rolled his eyes. “Duh.”

“Sorry, Haylee.” Ben moved to set it up in the corner of the living room. “But it’s Christmas.”

“You guys aren’t even going to be here for Christmas!”

“Come on. Help us decorate it. It’ll be fun. We can listen to Garth Brooks’s
Beyond the Season
album.”

“No, thanks.” I mumbled some bad words under my breath and disappeared into my room while they decorated it. I could hear them arguing about the lights being even and the tree crooked, and my stomach tightened. The way they were talking to each other scraped my nerves. It was more than their usual trash talking. Ben was short and uncommunicative, and Lucas was jabbing at him with unusual roughness.

Was the sex between us causing all this tension? But no—I’d noticed it even before we’d slept together that night in Sioux City. I didn’t know what to do about it. As if I wasn’t stressed enough about this concert, now I was worried about them too.

I got my stuff together for our gig at the Ryman, my insides cramping even more. When I emerged with my dress and makeup kit, they’d even hung up some lit garlands in the living room. I gritted my teeth and marched right past the decorations and out the door.

“Jesus,” I heard Lucas mutter. “What’s fucking
her
up?”

They didn’t know. They didn’t know I was about to do something I’d vowed I’d never do again. I was about to sing Christmas songs in public.

Although how I was going to get air into my lungs and relax my diaphragm enough to actually sing was a bit of a concern at that moment.

I’d agreed to this gig. I’d even rehearsed for it with the guys, and that had gone okay. We’d picked some songs, knocked together the arrangements between shows, run through them a time or two just to make sure. I hadn’t enjoyed it, but somehow it hadn’t been a problem singing Christmas carols before Thanksgiving even rolled around. It hadn’t seemed real. Only now, in the season itself, and about to sing the songs in front of an audience, panic spiked inside me.

I was a professional. I could do this. It was an honor to be part of this evening. And I had my band to think of. I had Lucas and Ben to think of. I had to do this for them. They were counting on me to hold up my part of this deal.

The car service took us downtown to the Ryman. We got ready in one of the back stage dressing rooms and warmed up a bit, then stood in the wings listening to Brad Paisley sing “Santa Looked a Lot Like Daddy,” which made me glumly reflect how I’d never had that kind of experience. Every Christmas I’d traveled from bar to bar with my dad’s band when all I really wanted to do was go home and hang a stocking on the fireplace and wait for Santa to come, like every other kid I knew. My parents had made me perform every night of the holidays, right until the New Year, dressed in red velvet and white lace ruffles, or sparkly sequined dresses that made me itch. I got Christmas day off from that, but even then I had to wear a fancy dress and sing for the family. After that last Christmas . . . I’d sworn, never again.

But here I was, about to sing Christmas songs, dressed in a sparkly dress. This time, though, the dress wasn’t a problem. The dress actually made me feel . . . good. Sexy. Powerful. Maybe because when we went home, Ben and Lucas would strip me out of that red-sequined dress and make me feel beautiful.

You make me feel so beautiful . . .

Then, on stage, everything clicked for me. The lights, the applause . . . the music. The church pew seats were full of people, the atmosphere richly historic and intimate. And once again I followed Ben’s advice and put all my emotion into my music. I put it all out there. I flirted with Ben and Lucas on stage. I flirted with the crowd. I pushed away the memories and focused on now.

Watching Lucas and Ben play guitar and sing tonight was turning me on. How weird was that? These were Christmas songs, for the love of cheese! The only really sexy one was our cover of “Santa Baby.” I don’t know why, but I got really into it, with some breathy “oohs” and shimmying dance moves around the chair Lucas sat on.

This was
so
not me. But dammit, I was having fun! The relief at being able to do this slid into something else . . . a relaxed calmness. A feeling of pure joy. Because of Lucas and Ben.

I surprised Lucas by slipping onto his lap, wrapping an arm around his neck and singing into his ear. When our eyes met, my stomach did a flip. He quirked the eyebrow and the opposite corner of his mouth lifted, and heat slid down through me. But I kept singing.

The crowd loved it.

Ben, however, did not seem to enjoy it so much. As the song ended, our last, I caught the way his head had dropped forward briefly, the corners of his mouth turned down. Of course he had a huge grin as he joined us to face the audience, but when I slid my arm around his waist as I often did on stage, his body was rigid.

What was that about? He didn’t like my sexy little improv? I shot him a sideways glance, keeping my own smile firmly in place as the applause continued.

I’d watched Ben flirt with that girl at Brandon’s party, and felt something like . . . jealousy. I’d told myself there was no reason to feel jealous. For one thing, Ben had come home with me, not her. For another thing, what was happening with us was just sex.

When the day came that both Lucas and Ben wanted to flirt with other girls and take them back to their hotel room and do dirty things with them, I’d deal with it then. It would be fine. I knew that, because I was always fine.

But Ben jealous of me and Lucas? That was crazy.

I still wasn’t sure what was happening between the three of us. Things seemed to be getting more and more complicated.

We left the stage, Lucas as usual flying, Ben subdued, and me . . . confused.

It was the night before Christmas Eve and now that our gig at the Ryman was done, all the busy-ness was over. All the stuff that kept me from thinking too much about the fact that it was Christmas and I was going to be alone. Lucas and Ben were both leaving the next afternoon to fly home to be with their families for Christmas.

Maybe it would be good for us to all have time apart. It would be good for me to have some alone time, quiet time to write and read and listen to music. I could hang up a Christmas stocking like I’d always wanted to. Even though nobody would come to fill it with presents. Nah, that was a stupid idea. It would just be nice to have some downtime.