Trinity (9 page)

“Maybe.” I laugh my response.

“Hmmm,” The wheels in that pretty head of his turn. “I’m not very vindictive, but I did have this roommate in college who was a total bitch. I don’t know if it was me, or she just had a chip on her shoulder, but it irritated the shit out of me because I was faultless.”

“Sure you were,” Shane heckles him.

“I was.” Chase is adamant. “We barely crossed paths that semester. I was always at the library or buried in a book.”

“I believe it. You are a bit of a geek,” Shane continues to tease him.

“You’re going to get it,” Chase glowers back at him.

“Bring it.” Shane rises to the challenge, goading him purposelessly.

“Hey,” I interject. “Focus. What happened with the girl?”

“Well,” Chase looks me in the eyes. “I figured if she was going to act like a bitch to me I might as well give her a reason to.”

“What did you do?” I probe.

“Fucked her boyfriend.” He snickers. “Imagine her face when he told her they were breaking up so he could be with me.”

“Oh my god, that’s terrible.” I chide.

Chase shrugs innocently. “It is, but you asked.”

“It’s how the game is played.” I giggle.

Resting contently on the pillow I spy the time and am hit with a little pang of guilt. It’s almost one in the afternoon. “I hate to break up this party, but I have to go.” I deliver the bad news.

“To the bathroom?” Shane attempts some backhanded humor.

“Home. For just a bit. To get some clothes.” I bat my eyelashes at him. At both of them, because it’s clear neither of them like the idea of me leaving.

“The only place you’re going is the kitchen so we can have you for lunch. I mean,” Chase corrects. “Have lunch.”

I run my finger up Chase’s chiseled abs seductively. “It will be a quick trip.”

“No,” Chase leans in and bites my neck as Shane climbs up the mattress and settles beside me. I don’t want to leave, believe me. But I need clean underwear. An entire suitcase full of it with these two.

I try a different tactic. “I have to go. For a little while. But I promise when I get back you can have me for dinner
and dessert.”
I rub them each between their legs, feeling their cocks stiffen from my light touch.

“Do you think doing that is going to help your cause?” Shane growls in my ear.

“Yes, because I’ll finish what I started as soon as I get back. It will give both of you something to look forward to.”

“We can just pin you to the bed and you can finish now. No waiting required.” Chase moves in and I know instantly if I don’t wiggle my way out of this now, I’ll never escape this house.

“Please. I also need to go see Pops. I can’t not show up.”

Chase pauses, picking up on the urgency in my voice. I didn’t go into much detail about mine and Pops relationship, aside from the fact I’m the longtime manager and have taken over running the restaurant since his decline in health.

Chase and Shane share that quiet contemplative look. I’ve come to wonder if they really can read each other’s minds.

“Why is he so important to you?” Shane asks seriously, invoking their right to peel back the onion. It’s not a threatening or vindictive question. It stems from sheer curiosity. Genuine interest. I exhale shakily, knowing if we are really going to pursue a relationship, this conversation is inevitable. “Pops is more than just my boss. He’s like a father to me.” I peel the first tiny layer away. “He’s the only person who’s ever truly cared. I owe him everything.”

Their touch turns tender, a snag of empathetic silence hanging in the air. “Okay.” Shane placates. “We won’t make you stay. But for the record. Pops isn’t the only one who cares.”

I actually blush. Too fast. Too soon.
Too easy.

They make it way too easy to let my guard down.
Dangerous
.

And way too tempting.

I smile, pressing a sweet kiss on Shane’s lips. “I promise I’ll be quick. I’m looking forward to dessert.” Shane smirks against my mouth as Chase works his way in to steal his own embrace, first from me, then Shane. I touch the place their lips seamlessly connect. Shane nips at my finger friskily, hitting me with a salacious, megawatt smile.

I know right then, when it comes to these two, I’m fucking toast.

“C’MON, OLD MAN,” I CAJOLE POPS
to open his mouth one more time. “Lobster bisque is your favorite.”

Pops takes one more tired bite of the soup then shakes his head. “No more.”

He barely ate anything. I drop the spoon in the bowl, defeated, hiding how much his ailing health is affecting me. I can’t let it show it’s killing me as quickly as it’s killing him. My chest aches just looking at his frail form. Less than a year ago, he weighed over one-hundred- eighty pounds. Now, he barely weighs a hundred.

“Tired?” I whisper as his eyelids flutter, fighting to stay open.

“Very,” he wheezes, not even bothering to hide it. He used to at least try to put up a front, pretending his doctors were exaggerating the severity of the emphysema. But I’ve watched his downturn. The last few weeks have been the worst. I don’t want to leave. I wish I could curl up on the recliner in the corner and be here when he takes his last breath. I don’t want him to die alone or scared. I want him to know I’m here, with him, the same way he’s always been with me. Pops drifts off without a warning. Just slips away into slumber. My eyes mist with tears, but none fall. He made me promise. No waterworks. His exact words. He gave me a pass for only one day. The day he dies.

That day is looming. It’s closer than ever before.

I’m terrified to think of what my life is going to be like without him, so I try not to think about it at all.

I hold Pops’ hand while he sleeps, conscious of the time and my ever-present responsibilities. If he had the strength, he’d have told me to stop senselessly doting and go to work. Toss me right out of the room himself. After lingering a few more stagnant minutes, I leave. Walking past Daisy at the front desk, we exchange the same sad smile. We all know what’s coming.

Once at work, I drown my sorrows in fritter batter. The sous chefs usually prep everything, but it helps my depression when I keep my hands busy. Mainly by cooking. There’s just something therapeutic about it. And challenging and uplifting and fun. I like that it has a beginning, middle, and end, and that you have something to present after all your hard work.

I stare off into space mindlessly as I fold the ingredients together.

“Jenn?” A smooth male voice utters my name from behind. I turn with the large silver bowl in my hands.

“Shane?” Big hazel eyes and a bright smile greet me. “What are you doing here?” I scan the kitchen. “Where’s Chase?”

“Chase has a business dinner with Ty. So since I’m flying solo, I thought I would drop in and surprise you.”

“It’s definitely a surprise.”

“A good surprise?” He leans against the stainless steel counter and crosses his arms. I scan him from head to toe. His blond waves are tame and styled back neatly, his tan suit is pressed perfectly, and dress shoes are shining like new. The man standing next to me is a stark contrast to the laidback surfer on the beach the other night. So professional looking. I find it difficult to decide which version of him I like more.

“A very good surprise.” I smile genuinely for the first time today. The last forty-eight hours have been highly intense. He and Chase weren’t kidding about abducting me. After I had returned from visiting Pops and packing a change of clothes, they kept me busy in bed. The two of them have the stamina of racehorses. If I wasn’t pinned beneath one or the other, I was bent over, sandwiched, mauled, or manhandled. I’m surprised I can still walk after the punishing my pussy took.

In spite of it all, I liked spending time with both of them. I liked the carefree breakfasts in bed. The long walks along the beach at sunset and the late night talks. I liked connecting, even if it is a foreign concept. Shane was right; the three of us do have something special. Which seems crazy since we only just met.

“Since Chase is having dinner with Ty,” at the thought, I curl my lip, “I’m assuming you’re hungry, and you expect me to feed you,” I flirt.

Shane sucks on his bottom lip seductively, raking his greenish gaze over my face, down my chest, stopping at the bowl in my hands.

“I could eat.” He leans in, resting his mouth next to my ear. “Food and pussy.”

I glare over at him, concealing my smirk and the excitement that just soaked my panties. “Food I can accommodate right now. Pussy will have to wait until later.” I whisper.

“I can live with satisfying one need at a time.”

“Good. Because I can’t disappear into the stairwell tonight.”

“How disappointing,” he pouts adorably.

I flutter my eyes. Incorrigible. “Go grab a table, and I’ll bring out dinner.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Shane saunters out of the kitchen, and I sigh like a stinkin’ love-struck fool.

“What?” I snap defensively when I realize the entire kitchen staff is staring at me.

“Jennifer’s got a boyfriend,” Slick, the line chef, mocks.

I smile conspiratorially. If they only knew. Jennifer has two.

I drop a plate of clam chowder fritters and two cups of lobster bisque on the table. Shane picked the best seat in the house. A two-top nestled in the corner of the restaurant right next to one of the large back wall windows.

“Do you have impeccable taste with everything?” I sit.

“Yes, why?” He regards me, self-assured and not arrogant. “I have a creative mind, and I search out the best and most beautiful places and things.” He aims his statement at me poignantly.

I’m unsure if that was an indirect compliment, so I let it slide right by. But somewhere deep down, very far down, I courageously hope I’m one of those beautiful places or things. Being involved with Chase and Shane is treacherous and challenging on so many levels. The most obvious obstacle is that our relationship works three ways. What is the kitchen staff going to say when they see Chase waltz in and watch us act the exact same way? I can’t care about one less than the other. Treat one differently than the other. A triad relationship isn’t exactly a social norm. But I understand in order for this to work, we’re going to have to be stronger than public criticism. And even if we do get over that hurdle, the subject of their employer and my animosity toward him will always loom over our heads. As the redevelopment moves forward and the pressure to sell becomes unbearable, will we crack under the pressure? Will being on opposing sides ultimately destroy us? I’ll be completely honest. I don’t care about getting my heart broken. I’m not some hopeless romantic who dreams about a husband (or in my current situation, two), a house, and a white picket fence. What I care about most is my home. This place. The movement within these walls defines me.

It gives me purpose.

I know who I am. A twenty-four-year-old woman with no college education who has a challenging future ahead of her. Take the Corkscrew away and I’ll be a twenty-four-year-old woman with no future. With absolutely nothing.

I can handle a lot of things, but losing this place isn’t one of them.

“This is my favorite seat in the whole house.” I encourage him with my spoon to eat some soup before it gets cold.

“I can understand why. The view is incredible.” He looks out at the sunset’s colors shimmering over the ocean. It’s a spectacular sight—bursts of orange, pink, and purples reflecting over the glassy turquoise sea. I could stare at the water for hours, mesmerized by just the curling blue current.

“Jesus, this soup is delicious. What does the chef put in here?” Shane swallows several indulgent spoonfuls.

“A little of this, a little of that,” I sing proudly.

“This is your recipe, isn’t it?”

“Guilty. I experimented for months until I got it just right.”

“It’s freaking out of this world. I can’t believe you never went to culinary school.”

I sigh as I stir the pink soup. “Maybe one day. For now, it’s YouTube videos and interrogating Edgar, the head chef, about everything he knows.”

Shane places his spoon down gently and looks thoughtfully around the room. “Jenn, I know talking about the Corkscrew is a sensitive subject with Chase and me,” he treads lightly, “but have you considered remodeling? The food is outstanding, the location is unbelievable, so why not make it a trifecta?”