Richard Savage's Blog: The Anniversary, page 11

Theirs to Take

Theirs to Take
https://amzn.to/2CZfXAH
Book 4 in The Last First Kiss series

Prologue
Ivy

Ivy Scott watched Slade going in and out of Pandora’s Box, the BDSM club that he ran, not able to take her eyes off him. He was the most beautiful man she had ever met, and the way that he looked at her, watching her around the bar, made her hot. Tonight, he had on a pair of ripped jeans, and his black leather jacket, that she knew smelled like his cologne. He wore his blond, shoulder-length hair pulled back, which always made his blue eyes stand out and look fierce. Ivy shivered at the thought of those same eyes looking at her, finally seeing into her heart and soul and finding her worthy. That was all she’d been able to think about for the past year, but she wasn’t quite sure how to go about making it happen.
After he’d finished at his club, Slade spent most of his evenings at Manholes. He sat at the bar while she worked, watching her wait on her customers. He would stay until close most nights, helping her to lock up and telling her to have a good night before getting on his motorcycle. In her mind, she knew that she was making it more than it was, but her nightly fantasies involved Slade asking her to get on the back of his bike and him taking her back to his place. Hell, if she was being completely honest, her fantasy was to have Slade take her into the club to show her exactly what he liked to do to the women that went in there.
Last year, her boss, Cash Harrington, decided to do something with the building that he owned, next door to his bar. She never dreamed that he would open a BDSM club, but she was naïve. Especially given the fact that the bar that she worked in, Manholes, was primarily a gay bar and that Cash was in a committed threesome with his friend Callan and their woman, Mercy.
This world was a new one for Ivy, especially since she had never been with a man, or woman for that matter. At twenty-five, that wasn’t something that she shared easily with people. She had become close with Mercy, but she still hadn’t told her friend that she was a virgin. It was embarrassing to admit, but Ivy had other boxes on her “to do” list to check off. Finding someone to take her virginity hadn’t seemed like a priority to her, but now it was all she could think about.
She ducked down in her car, when Slade glanced her way, not wanting to give up the fact that she was sitting there thinking about all the ways she would like for him to touch her. Ivy would die if Slade found out that she fantasized about him being the one that she would give her virginity to. He’d probably laugh in her face and tell her to get lost, once she admitted that she was a virgin. Slade didn’t look like the type of man that fooled around with women that had no clue as to what they wanted, sexually. But, God, she wanted him.
Every night she watched him ride away on his motorcycle, she’d head back up to her apartment and take a cold shower, trying to forget how good his ass looked, straddling that seat, or how his broad shoulders flexed when he turned on the bike. Most nights, the cold shower didn’t work and she would touch herself, fingering her throbbing clit until she cried out his name, wishing that he was the one touching her, licking her, and fucking her senseless.
Instead, every evening, just before the club opened, he would show up at the bar and order dinner and a beer. After, she would watch him walk next door and into Pandora’s Box, usually with some hot, thin brunette or curvy blond on his arm.
Women lined up to have their turn with the new dungeon master in town, and the thought of him touching them nearly did her in. A few times, when he’d show up to the bar after he was done playing at the club, she wanted to tell him to leave her the fuck alone. She had even told Cash that she was going to quit a few times, not wanting to stick around to watch Slade walk back into that club with another woman. Cash would always talk her down, telling her that she should just talk to Slade and tell him how she felt. Ivy usually ended up telling Cash to forget the whole thing, and she’d end up back at work the next night, to repeat the torture of watching the man that she wanted walk arm in arm into that damn club with another woman.
Ivy knew that she couldn’t stack up to those women. She was friendly, but shy, and the thought of coming right out and asking for what she wanted, sexually, scared the shit out of her. Most guys treated her like their little sister, telling her that she was cute or even adorable. She hated being called those two things. Really, couldn’t the male population come up with better adjectives to describe her? She was sick of not being found hot or sexy. Just once, she wanted to see desire in a man’s eyes when he looked at her.
Ivy sighed, knowing that, if she wanted to be taken seriously, she was going to need to kick up her game and take control of her own destiny. Tonight, was going to be that night—maybe. She knew that she had to stop being a chicken and take Cash’s advice to tell Slade just how she felt. But the thought of him avoiding her, once the truth came out, made her sad.
She had come to enjoy their talks, late at night, when the bar was slow. She liked the way he laughed when she told a corny joke or made fun of herself for being a klutz. Ivy counted Slade as her friend, and losing him because she had the hots for him didn’t feel like a viable option. No, she couldn’t just blurt out that she was a virgin and that she wanted Slade to deflower her. Did anyone even say that anymore? God, she felt pathetic.
Mercy had lent her an outfit to wear to the club, and Emily had helped her to figure out how to wear contact lenses so she could leave her nerdy glasses behind for the night. Regan had even come over to her little apartment, to help her apply her makeup and do her hair. It truly took a village to get Ivy ready for her night at the club, so backing out now would not bode well with her friends. Ivy smoothed her hands over the leather corset that Mercy had picked out to go with the naughty schoolgirl skirt that barely covered her ample ass. Mercy assured her that she looked curvy and sexy, but Ivy felt more like a frumpy nun, rather than a sexy Catholic school girl.
Ivy closed her eyes and took a deep breath—it was now or never. Members were starting to enter the club, and she knew that she needed to get in there and claim her spot. She wanted to be spanked tonight, and she knew just whom she wanted wielding that paddle—Slade.
Cash had warned her that Slade wouldn’t go easy on her, but she was sure she could take it. She wanted whatever he was willing to give her, she just hoped that Slade was willing. The thought of him turning her away or giving her to someone else, for her first time, scared her to death. But if she admitted that she had zero experience, he would definitely turn her out and then she would never lose her virginity. One way or another, she needed for that to happen tonight, and hopefully at the hands of Slade and not a complete stranger.

Slade

Slade Kelly spent most of the afternoon unloading supplies for the rooms, into the dungeon. As Master, it was his duty to make sure that everyone was safe and well-cared-for. Once in a while, he had to break up a scene that was out of control, or throw out a Dom who didn’t know what the hell he was doing. But, for the most part, his job was a dream and things ran smoothly. He hoped that tonight would be no exception, because all he could think about was finishing up work and heading over to Manholes to talk to Ivy.
He loved their time together, and he especially liked watching her curvy ass wiggle when she wiped down tables or shimmied her way around customers. Yeah, he had it pretty bad for the curvy blond, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do about her.
Ivy was different from the women that he took to the club. He wasn’t attracted to those women, usually just going through the motions, giving them what they needed from him. But Ivy made him crave more, which confused the shit out of him. He hadn’t been in a relationship for almost seven years. That was back when he and Cash had played with women together.
They’d fallen in and out of relationships, never staying too long with one woman. Cash liked to keep things casual, and he had to agree that was easier. But then they’d got involved with Jasmine, and Slade had thought that she could be the one. Cash wasn’t buying it though, and when Jasmine admitted that she was in love with Cash and not him, it had hurt. Cash hadn’t felt the same way about Jasmine and, days later, she’d taken a bottle of sleeping pills and ended her life, in Cash’s bed.
It had taken years for Slade to finally get over Jasmine and forgive Cash. When his old friend had called him last year, offering him a job to remodel the building next to his bar and turn it into a BDSM club, he’d almost turned him down. But he’d decided that it was time to forgive and move on. They had both made mistakes and it was time to let Cash back in and to stop punishing them both.
It was good to see his old friend happily settled with Mercy and Callan. They had a beautiful family, which made Slade long for one of his own. First, though, he needed to find a woman to settle down with, and then he could think about a family.
Truthfully, he missed sharing women, like he and Cash used to. Even though Cash was straight, he hadn’t seemed to mind the fact that Slade was bisexual. Slade had known the score—his friend had wanted to share the women that they brought home and not be sexually involved with Slade. That seemed to work for them, but a part of Slade knew that he needed more. The fact that Cash had found another man that he was willing to share his woman with, gave him hope. His lifestyle wasn’t really the norm around the area, but more people were coming into the club every night, and that gave him hope that, someday, he’d find what he needed.
Slade had had a few encounters with male clients at the club, but he really liked when a committed couple came in, looking for a third to play with. His dream would be to end up in a poly-bi relationship with a woman and a man, but that was like wishing for a unicorn riding a rainbow with a leprechaun on its back.
People were starting to trickle into the club, and Slade started taking requests and assigning playrooms. There was a good crowd tonight, and he hoped to get some time to go through the storeroom and organize their latest shipment. Otherwise, he’d miss seeing Ivy and, that had become the highlight of his day.
“Um, I’d like to be spanked please,” a shy voice pleaded.
Slade looked up from his desk to see Ivy’s blue eyes looking down at him. He could see just how unsure she was of herself, and that thought tugged at his heart. This was not the kind of place Ivy should be in. She was too innocent—even he knew that. Cash had warned him not to play with her, and the more he got to know Ivy, the more he had to agree with his friend. Ivy was something special; he just wished that she could see that.
He looked her over, not quite knowing what to say to her request. He thought she might be joking, but judging from the black leather corset and tiny mini skirt, that barely covered her sweet ass, she probably wasn’t.
Slade stood behind his desk, letting the chair scrape across the concrete floor.
“Ivy, what the fuck are you doing here?” he barked.
She jumped, seeming a little on edge, and he instantly regretted his tone. He cleared his throat, willing himself to rein in his temper. The thought of anyone putting their hands on Ivy, or anyone else granting her request and spanking that luscious ass of hers, had him seeing red. There was no way that he could let that happen.
“I think I’d like to be spanked, Slade. Please.”
Fuck, how was he supposed to say no to her when she was standing in his office, looking good enough to eat and begging him to spank her ass red? Slade crossed the small room and barked up front to his new assistant, Scarlett, to handle the rest of the check-ins. She nodded, and he slammed his office door shut, making Ivy jump again.
What the hell was wrong with him? In the few seconds since she had entered his office, he had raised his voice and made her jump with fear—twice. He needed to get himself under control. Without it, he would be no good to her.
“Ivy, honey, tell me why you are really here.”
She didn’t look at him, lowering her eyes to the floor. He hated that he made her feel so unsure of herself. If she could just see herself the way that he saw her, she would never doubt how fucking sexy she was ever again.
“Look at me, honey,” he growled. Ivy’s blue eyes shot up to meet his and she gasped, parting her sexy, fuckable lips. God, what he wanted to do to those lips of hers, but he needed some answers first. If Ivy wouldn’t tell him what she really wanted from him, then he’d send her on her way. For him, communication was key. Without it, she would end up meeting the same fate as Jasmine had, and that was unacceptable to him.
“Good girl,” he praised, when she maintained eye contact with him. “Now, honey, I need for you to tell me what you want from me,” he whispered. He was standing so close to her that he hurt from the physical need that he felt just to touch her. Denying himself wasn’t something that he was used to doing, and not touching Ivy felt like a denial.
“I’d like for you to spank me, Slade,” she whispered, leaning into his body.
He groaned. “Tell me what else you want me to do to you, Ivy.” She seemed unsure of herself again, even closing her eyes to hide from him. “Eyes open and on me, baby,” he reminded.
She looked at him, gifting him with her sexy smile that nearly took his breath away. He waited for her to overcome her shyness, but that might take some time. He was willing to wait because Ivy would definitely be worth waiting for, he was sure of it.
“I want everything, Slade. Sign me up for the deluxe package.” She giggled at her own joke and he shook his head at her, not quite able to hide his own smile. God, he wanted this woman.
“We don’t have packages, Ivy.” He smirked. “You’re going to have to tell me what you want, and you’ll need to be very specific.” Slade knew that he was making Ivy go the extra mile, but having her under his thumb was fun. He couldn’t wait to have her under his body, so he was hoping that they could speed things up some.
“Hmm, well—that makes this more difficult. Let me think,” Ivy said, tapping her finger to her plump lips. “I know that I’d like to try spanking and I would probably like to try my hand at giving a blow job. Honestly, I think I’d like to try a little bit of everything, but tonight we should start slow, since this is all new for me.” She glanced down at the floor and back up to meet his eyes. “That is, unless you don’t want me, Slade.” She pouted, and it took every ounce of his resistance not to push her down onto his desk to show her just how much he wanted her.
Slade froze at Ivy’s words. Did she mean that being in a sex club was new for her, or that sex was new? Either way, she was sending up a lot of red flags and his gut was screaming at him to send her packing. But his gut wasn’t the one in charge, apparently. That job seemed to be falling to his cock, and he wanted to play with Ivy. In fact, his dick was demanding the chance of playing with the sexy little barmaid standing before him, begging her to spank her ass. Slade groaned, pretty sure that his unruly cock was going to win the battle and he was a goner. Ivy Scott was about to find out just how much he wanted her, and he hoped like fuck that she could handle him.

Theirs to Have

Theirs to Have
https://amzn.to/2VSvTvA
Book 3 in The Last First Kiss series

Prologue
Cash
Six months earlier

Cash Harrington watched as the sexy little brunette made her way into his bar, Manholes. She came in with his friends, Jack and Travis, and the woman that he guessed they were now sharing, which meant that the woman that was taking up space at the bar was there alone. Cash shook his head, not liking the fact that he was letting his dick do the thinking for him again. He needed to get his head back in the game, otherwise he was going to end up taking what he needed from the hot little piece of ass that was flagging him down, trying to get his attention to place her order.
He knew that he was done for when she opened her sweet lips and her southern twang asked him if she could have whatever he had on tap. He had a weakness for brunettes with long pullable hair and pouty lips that would look so pretty wrapped around his cock. She smiled up at him, and his dick strained against the zipper of his jeans, telling him that he had no fucking chance in hell of regaining any control of the situation. And fuck, he needed that control. Without it, lives would get fucked up, just like last time, and he didn’t know if he could handle that again.
Cash handed the little vixen her beer and she smiled back at him.
“I’m Mercy,” she shouted over the music.
He gave a curt nod, not sure if he should get involved in a conversation with the flirtatious bombshell. If she knew what she was inviting into her life, she’d go in search of a good time somewhere else.
Cash walked to the other end of the bar to wait on customers that were signaling for another drink, not missing the look of disappointment on sexy Mercy’s face.
“Great band,” she shouted, when he returned to get the guy next to her another beer. Cash nodded again, this time giving her a little smile.
“What’s your name, honey?” the guy next to her slurred, and Mercy sweetly smiled and gave her name again. “How ʼbout you come on over to my place and I make you scream for mercy, Mercy?”
Her smiled turned polite, as she declined his invitation.
“Thanks, but I’m here with some friends.” Mercy looked over her shoulder to where Jackson and Travis were dancing with their girl. The drunk didn’t take the hint, pushing up on her and invading her space.
Cash couldn’t stand to see him put his hands on her body and Mercy didn’t seem to care much for it either. He leaned over the bar, trying to be as intimidating as humanly possible. At 6’5”, he knew that he could scare the shit out of most guys, but this guy should be terrified of him.
“You need to leave my fucking bar,” Cash growled.
The drunken customer didn’t seem to have the common sense to even look at him. He was too busy pawing at Mercy and dipping dangerously close to where her cleavage appeared under her low-cut shirt. Cash had had enough. He’d tried to play nice, but he was finished with that. He reached across the bar and grabbed the guy’s hand with his own, twisting it painfully until the drunk had the good sense to take his hands off Mercy.
“The lady said that she is here with some friends. What she really wants to tell you is to leave her the fuck alone and keep your fucking hands to yourself.” Cash looked at Mercy, and her stunned expression made his gut twist. Was she shocked by his behavior, or that he had stuck up for her? “Does that about cover it, honey?” He waited her out, hoping that she would tell her handsy new admirer to take a hike.
“Yep, that just about does it.” Mercy’s smile was mean as she nodded in the drunk’s direction. Cash released his hand, and he couldn’t seem to scurry off fast enough.
“Sorry about that. Sometimes I don’t cut people off fast enough and they end up being assholes to nice girls. Your beer is on me, for the trouble.” Cash nodded to her glass, then let his eyes rise to meet hers, which was a huge mistake. She had the most beautiful brown eyes he’d ever seen, and the way that she was smiling at him right now made his body react in ways that he’d forgot it could. Damn it, he needed to stop looking at her and get back to work.
“Thanks.”
Mercy swallowed down the last of her beer and he watched her throat work, thinking about how much he wanted to kiss down her pretty, milky skin to find all her sensitive spots.
“Not a problem,” he barked. He looked around the bar, suddenly aware that the music had stopped, which meant that Callan was on a break.
“You never told me your name.” Mercy smiled up at him and he almost wanted to smile back at her, but that would be considered flirting, and he didn’t flirt anymore.
“Cash,” he almost whispered.
She nodded and pushed her glass to the back of the bar. “Well, Cash, can I get another?” He took her glass, got her a clean one and refilled it with another beer.
“Hey, man, great crowd tonight.”
Cash knew that Callan had taken up residence on the barstool next to Mercy before he’d even turned back around from filling her glass. He handed her the beer and nodded at Callan.
“Hi, I’m Callan McAllister.”
His friend held out his hand to introduce himself to Mercy, but she seemed to hesitate. Cash had to admit that her hesitancy gave him some pleasure. Callan was his friend and accountant—hell, he even let Callan’s band play on busy bar nights—but Callan was trouble. He was also a Dom and had quite the reputation for being a lady’s man. Cash knew all too well where that reputation would land his friend if he wasn’t careful about who he let in, but he had to learn the hard way.
Mercy reached over to take his hand, and Cash wondered what her skin would feel like, pressed up against his. He wanted to groan at the thought of having her tight little body sliding over his, but he grabbed a few glasses to dry as a distraction.
Callan watched Mercy like she was his next meal and Cash wanted to tell his friend to get lost, although he had no right to. Mercy was nothing to him—just a hot chick who’d wandered into his bar and started talking to him. But, if that was truly the case, why was it pissing him off to watch Callan put his hands on her?
“I’m Mercy, Mercy Parks,” she said, seeming to feel a little more comfortable with Callan’s flirtations. Cash knew that women around the bar couldn’t seem to get enough of Callan’s all-American, boy-next-door looks, with his short blond hair and blue eyes. He didn’t leave the bar alone most nights, and the thought of him leaving with Mercy tonight really was starting to rub Cash the wrong way.
“It’s nice to meet you Mercy, Mercy Parks,” Callan chuckled. “My band sings here a few nights a week and I’m an accountant by day. In fact, I do Cash’s books for the bar.”
Cash shot Callan a glare to let him know that he didn’t like him sharing his personal information with strange women. He was always doing that shit. Cash had even had women coming into the bar and telling him that Callan had promised them drinks on the house. He wasn’t about to give away booze for free, just to further Callan’s sex life. He’d sat his friend down and told him to cut that shit out, but he still occasionally had women come through hoping to throw Callan’s name around and get free drinks.
“Sorry, man, I forgot that you like your privacy,” Callan said, rolling his blue eyes. Mercy laughed at his theatrics and, this time, Cash didn’t stifle his groan.
“Don’t you have a set to play or something?” Cash looked around at the few people still left in the bar. The crowds had died down and it was getting near closing time. He was ready to go up to his apartment above the bar and get some sleep.
Cash kept a place above the bar for nights that usually ran long. Hell, when he’d bought the place, he’d finished the upstairs apartment and used it to play with all the willing women that came through his bar, but that was before he’d lost control, and sight of what was important in life. Death did that to a person. It reset their goals and made them take stock of what they needed and what could be disposed of.
“Naw, man,” Callan drawled, working his southern, country boy charm. Cash rolled his eyes, knowing the effect that it usually had on women. “I’m about to pack up and head out.”
Callan turned to face Mercy, who couldn’t seem to take her eyes off him. “How about it Mercy? You wanna get out of her and maybe go someplace a little more private?” He bobbed his eyebrows at her and made Mercy laugh.
“Or, you could let Mercy finish her beer and leave her the fuck alone,” Cash growled. He knew that he was being a dick and that he had no right to speak for her, but he couldn’t help himself. Little Mercy was tying him up in knots and he wasn’t sure what to do about it. One thing was for sure—he couldn’t watch her walk out of his bar with Callan, or anyone else for that matter. He wanted her, and Lord help him, he planned on taking her.

Mercy

Mercy didn’t know what to do with all the attention she was getting from the two hunky men. She had planned on having a fun night out with Emily and her guys, but here she was, at a gay bar, getting hit on. Her mind kept playing hot fantasies of both Cash and Callan taking her together, using her body and giving her more pleasure than she’d ever imagined possible. She had been listening to Regan and Emily too much, and her mind was starting to think that she could handle two guys at once—but she knew better. She thought that she was going to just have a little flirty fun, introducing herself to the gay bartender. The only problem was he wasn’t gay and, from the way that he was watching her and warding other men away, he was very much into women—especially her.
Mercy was so mesmerized by Callan’s blue eyes and Cash’s sexy, growly voice, that she didn’t even notice her best friend, Emily, until she was standing next to her.
“Sorry to cut in, but we are going to head out. The guys are tired and ready to call it a night.”
Mercy giggled, not buying the story that Em was trying to sell her.
“Sure, I bet they are exhausted and need to get you to bed, stat.” Mercy joked. Emily rolled her eyes at her friend’s obnoxious use of hospital jargon and grabbed her hand.
“Let’s go, Mercy. You can make fun of me on the ride home.” Emily sounded like she was starting to lose her patience.
Cash grabbed Mercy’s hand, effectively stopping Emily from dragging her out the door. “Hey, if you want to stick around, I’d be happy to give you a lift home later.” Emily shot Cash a look that would warn most men to keep their hands off her friend.
“Or”—Callan stood, pulling Mercy into his space—“I could run you home after my last set.” Callan looked so hopeful that Emily laughed.
“Or,” Emily barked, “you can get your ass out and get it into Jack’s SUV. You came with us and you’ll leave with us.”
Mercy wasn’t sure how to tell her friend that she wanted to stay.
Emily sighed, as if she could tell that she was about to lose the battle, and she dropped Mercy’s hand from her own.
“I’m having fun, Em. Besides, it’s nice to get some attention. It’s been a while since any good-looking man so much as glanced in my direction. At least let me have a few more hours fun.” Mercy shot Emily a pleading look. Emily wasn’t her keeper and if she wanted to have some fun, that was her prerogative.
“Fine. I can see that you’ve already decided.” Emily leaned in to whisper into Mercy’s ear. “Just keep in mind that you don’t know either of these guys. You might as well be taking candy from a stranger and climbing into their janky van.”
Mercy laughed. “I’m pretty sure that neither one of them is a crazed serial killer. Right guys?”
Mercy turned to find that both guys had crowded up behind her. They had the same look on their faces that both Travis and Jackson had when they looked at Emily, and Mercy suddenly felt a little overheated.
Emily pointed between the two hot guys who had protectively surrounded Mercy. “Just make sure she gets home safely and in one piece,” she barked. Both men nodded and smiled, and Mercy worried about what she had just signed up for.
Emily pulled Mercy in for a hug. “Good luck, and call me,” she whispered.
“I will, and don’t worry so much. I’ll be fine.” Mercy kissed her cheek and gave her a saucy wink, causing her to laugh. Emily shook her head and turned to find both of her guys. Mercy waved at Jackson and Travis as the three of them left.
She turned to find both Cash and Callan still crowded up behind her. It felt as if they had sucked all the air out of the room and her head spun with desire from them being close enough to touch. But she didn’t. Mercy knew that if she allowed herself one touch, or even one kiss, she would find herself between these two sexy alpha men, and she was afraid that she would never want to find her way out.
“So, how about it, Mercy? You wanna get out of here?” Callan took her hand, pulling her into his body, and Cash pushed up against the side of her.
She wasn’t sure what her answer should be, but she looked at the both of them and whispered, “Yes.” What she was saying yes to, she hadn’t a clue, but she was hoping that, if she asked nicely, she might just get what she wanted—and she wanted them both.
Callan flashed Cash a cocky smile. “Later Cash,” he barked.
Cash looked down at her, and the stern warning she saw in his eyes made her shiver. It was now or never—being a coward wouldn’t get her what she wanted.
“Yes, to both of you.” Her voice was so quiet, she wasn’t sure that she even said the words out loud. But, judging by the way Callan’s smile faded and Cash’s eyes flared, she had. She was about to find out if she’d just made a foolish miscalculation, or if she had just asked for what might turn out to be the best night of her life. Either way, she had nothing to lose.

Callan

Callan knew that Cash had heard the nasty rumors about him that were circulating around the bar. Hell, he’d heard them all himself and he knew exactly who had started them. He had taken home a bar fly two months ago, and she was spreading rumors about him like wildfire. Most of them were false, but he was still getting pushback from Cash and that pissed him off. For the most part, Callan kept his nose clean and his head in the game. He’d let one woman turn his head, and now his reputation was shit. She even had her girlfriends coming into the bar and telling Cash that he’d promised them free drinks.
Cash had sat him down and told him to get his shit together, and it pissed him off that his friend bought into the rumors. But he’d let it slide and told Cash to lighten the fuck up. He wasn’t about to explain himself to Cash, or anyone else for that matter. He kept his head down and minded his own business. Well, that was until tonight, when he’d seen sexy little Mercy wander up to the bar. He’d barely made it through his set before telling the guys that he was done for the night. He’d seen that she had taken an interest in Cash and, if he didn’t put his bid in, she’d end up in his boss’s bed.
He’d thought that he had her too—she agreed to get out of there and go home with him. But then Cash had butted in, and now little Mercy was asking them for something that he wasn’t sure they could give—a night with the two of them sharing her. It was something that he hadn’t done before and, from the terrified look on Cash’s face, it seemed that he wasn’t a fan of the idea either.
“Wait, honey, you want both of us—together?” Cash stuttered.
Mercy nodded, suddenly seeming shy and unsure of herself. “Yes, please,” she whispered.
Callan chuckled. “I think this is the first time I’ve seen you speechless, Cash.” His poor friend was standing with his mouth open, staring at Mercy as if he didn’t quite understand what she was asking.
“If you guys don’t want to, or if it’s something that you don’t do, I understand,” Mercy rambled.
Cash shook his head, as if trying to process everything.
“I’ve done it before, princess, just not with Callan. I swore that I’d never do it again either,” Cash growled.
Mercy looked down at the floor, as if defeated by Cash’s rejection.
“Fuck.” Cash turned to Callan.
Callan wasn’t sure if Cash was going to punch him or hug him. The look on his face was a cross between comical and painful, and Callan felt bad for putting his friend through this.
“Will you excuse us, Mercy? Callan and I need to have a little chat.” Mercy nodded, and Cash motioned for Callan to join him back in his office. Callan followed him back, pretty sure that he wasn’t going to like what was going to happen next.
Callan stepped into the dark room and Cash shut the door behind him.
“What the fuck, man?” Cash flopped down in the chair behind his big desk and ran his hands through his long brown hair. “If this is going to happen, we need to come up with an agreement,” he warned. “I won’t hurt her, but, fuck, I don’t think that I can keep my hands off of her.”
Callan nodded his agreement
“I’m with you there, man. It’s been a couple months for me and I want her so badly, I can almost taste her.”
Cash sent Callan a look of disbelief, and he knew the score—Cash believed the rumors. But he didn’t feel like fighting with Cash when he could be fucking Mercy.
“So, how do we do this?” Callan barked.
Cash shrugged. “Damned if I know.”
There was a soft knock, and Mercy opened the door. Callan knew that if she walked into the small room, they would all be walking out together.
“I’m going to go, guys. I’m sorry that I caused any trouble. I was just looking for a good time and I guess I took it too far.” Mercy turned to leave Cash’s office, and Callan was afraid that Cash was going to just let her walk out. He knew that she wanted them both or neither of them.
Mercy was just about through the door when Cash growled at her to stop. His voice echoed through the office and she stopped in her tracks.
“Please don’t stop me from walking out, only to call me back to tell me this isn’t going to work out. I’m not looking for anything long-term, and Lord knows I’m not ready for anything serious. Just one night, the three of us having a little fun.” Mercy leaned against the door frame, trying for casual, but Callan could tell that she was nervous as hell.
Cash groaned again, and Callan laughed. “You seem to be doing a lot of that tonight, man.”
“Fine. Fucking fine.” Cash stood, crossed the room, and pulled Mercy her into his arms. He sealed his mouth over hers and she seemed to melt against his body.
“My turn.” Callan wasn’t about to let Cash have all the fun.
Cash turned Mercy towards Callan to let him taste her mouth and she willingly let him in, parting her lips to let his tongue find hers.
“Damn, you taste good baby,” Callan growled. He couldn’t wait to taste the rest of her, but he knew that they needed to set a few rules first.
“What are the ground rules?” Callan looked over to Cash, allowing him to take the point, which was no easy feat for him. He liked control in and out of the bedroom, but, if they were going to share Mercy, even for just one night, there could only be one alpha. He was willing to let Cash have that, as long as he got Mercy. That was all he really wanted at the moment.
“We do this upstairs, in my apartment. It’s a one night only event, and then we go our separate ways. We don’t talk about tonight with anyone outside the three of us. And, Mercy, if you agree, you are giving Callan and I complete control. Tonight, you will be ours and you’ll obey every order, or this all ends.”
Cash took a step back from Mercy, as if giving her space to decide if she wanted to move forward with their night or walk away.
Mercy looked confused, and Callan wanted to reach for her, to tell her that it wasn’t as bad as she was imagining, but Cash shook his head, warning Callan not to touch her.
“Ask your question, little one,” Cash growled.
“Will I have to sign a contract?”
Callan barked out his laugh and Cash shot him a warning glare.
“No”, Callan said. “You won’t have to sign anything. You agree to be ours and we take care of you for one night.” He knew that he was getting his hopes up, but the thought of Mercy saying no had him holding his breath. He needed for her to say yes to them, to give them a night. A part of him worried that one night wouldn’t be enough, but he was willing to take whatever she wanted to give.
“What’s it going to be, Mercy?” Callan whispered, almost afraid to ask for fear that she would tell him no.
She looked at Cash, and then up to him, as if giving them the once over.
“Yes,” she breathed.
Callan let out his pent-up breath and she smiled, as if she knew exactly how she was affecting him.
Cash wasted no time, lifting her into his arms and carrying her to the back door that led up to his private apartment. Callan had been up there a few times, going over the finances with Cash, but this visit wasn’t about business. This visit was going to be completely about pleasure and Callan couldn’t wait to take everything that sexy little Mercy just agreed to give them.

Theirs to Keep

Theirs to Keep
https://amzn.to/2QJjzjj
K.L. Ramsey

Prologue
Two days prior
Regan

Regan Starr sat at the rest stop where she waited for her beat up phone to finish charging. She had been sitting in that same spot for over four hours now, wishing that she could will her ancient technology to hurry the hell up. Finally, her phone was at sixty-percent and she felt confident that using it wouldn’t slow down the charging process- too much. Besides, she was bored out of her fucking mind and she needed to find a job. She had forty-three dollars and twenty-nine cents to her name, and that wasn’t going to last her too much longer, even if she continued to sleep in her truck and eat sparingly, she was going to end up in a shelter or dead on the side of the highway.
Since leaving home, a little over a week ago, she had a few close run-ins, primarily with dirty old men who propositioned her with an offer of good sex and a few dollars to help her get by. When a local sheriff found her pickup truck parked under an overpass, so she could catch a few hours' sleep, he offered to look past her being double parked on a highway, if she was willing to give him a blow-job. She opted for the fine and told him that she was going to report him. He just laughed and threw the wadded-up ticket at her and told her she had ten minutes to be gone, or he would be bringing a buddy back; even going as far as saying that his friend didn’t like to take no for an answer.
To say that her faith in humanity had been shaken, was an understatement- it had been downright destroyed. If her home life hadn’t been a nightmare, she would have been second guessing her decision to leave, right about now.
Regan sifted through some advertisements that popped up on Craig’s list, most offering exactly what she had found on the road for employment opportunities. She typed in the key word “cooks” and found two positions open. One was for a little diner, about two hours north of where she was, but she wasn’t going back. Her only option was to run as far south as she possibly could and pray to God that her step-father was too stupid to find her.
The second listing was for a rather large farm that was hiring someone who could cook. They hadn’t put down a preference for experience, but she decided to embellish a little, just to make sure she’d get the position. No one seemed to want to hire a twenty-two-year-old with minor experience, and who was on the run from her step-dad. Not that she shared that information with anyone else, but that was her guess.
She filled out the attached file on her phone, which was no easy feat considering that half of her buttons didn’t work and added her profile pick from social media. She knew that it was a long shot, but she said a little prayer and sent the file back to the hiring manager’s attention.
Within minutes, her phone rang, someone named Ashton Travers wanted to meet with her in person about the job that she just applied for. Keeping her calm, she agreed to be there in a couple days’ time, explaining that she was traveling and would be in that area in about two days.
He gave her the address, which she wrote in marker on her arm, and told her that he was looking forward to meeting her. All in all, he sounded nice. And, at this point, she could use a little nice.
But, if not, she also knew how to take care of herself, she had been doing it most of her life.

Present Day

Regan

Regan pulled her old Chevy pickup up to the main farm house. The sign at the front gate told her to take the path to the very end of the road. She just hadn’t guessed that the end of the road was over eight miles down a gravel path and that the term ‘road’ was being used figuratively. Regan looked out her back window to check on her bike that she had chained down in the rusted bed of her pickup. When she started on her little trip south, she didn’t know if her truck would make the entire journey, plus there was no fucking way she was leaving her bike at her step-father’s. She was lucky to have escaped him once, if she had to go back to retrieve her motorcycle, she had a feeling that she wouldn’t be so lucky again.
When she high tailed it out of that run-down trailer park, her step-dad, Mike, threatened to beat her within an inch of her life if she ever thought of returning, and she believed him. It seemed that since her mom died, her dear old step-father’s favorite pastime was slapping her around. The day before she left, Regan made the mistake of telling him her plans. It was an honest oversight, she thought that he was in a good mood. Unfortunately for her, his happy disposition quickly soured. When she finally woke up, her head felt like someone took a sledge hammer to it, and her raven hair was matted to her face with dried blood. After she realized that Mike had probably made a beer run, she grabbed her back pack that contained all her worldly possessions besides her truck and bike, and ran. When he got back to the trailer and realized that she took off, he sent her the nasty text, telling her to stay gone, or else. That was just fine by her, she was done with that shit trailer park and done with her asshole step-father.
Her mom, Sarah, was her only family and when she died, Regan had no one. She had gotten used to being self-reliant from an early age. Before her mother married Mike, it was just the two of them. Her mom got by waitressing tables at the local dive diner and Regan would have to let herself into their little one-bedroom apartment after school. Her mom usually ended up working doubles and staying until closing, not getting home until long after Regan was asleep in the bed that they shared. She learned how to make herself dinner and finish her homework, not wanting to be a bother to her mom. She hated watching her mother work so hard for nothing and when her mom met Mike, Regan thought that their luck had changed. At first, he seemed like a decent guy. He would take Sarah out to dinner and even let Regan tag along as long as she took the hint and got lost after they returned home for the evening. She would pretend to be asleep, but she heard everything that went on out in the small living room of their apartment.
Her mom married Mike, and he moved them into his trailer and back then, it was like moving into the Ritz Carlton for Regan. Her mom didn’t have to work as much, and things were good for a few months until Mike lost his job. He had trouble finding anything and ended up spending most of his time and money at the local bar. Sarah had to go back to work full time at the diner, but this time, Regan wasn’t left alone. Her mother made sure that Mike made it home, most nights, before she went to work the graveyard shift at the diner. Good old Mike made sure that Regan followed the rules or there would be hell to pay and that usually came in the form of his belt or his fists. She was grateful in a way, it could have been much worse. She knew plenty of girls that were in the same situation, but instead of having a step dad or step brother beat on them, they used them for sex. Regan cringed at the thought of having Mike climb on top of her and decided to leave the past back at that run-down trailer park. She was determined to move on to a better life and forget her old ghosts.
Regan had traveled over six-hundred miles to find a fresh start and she was going to make the best of it. She was lucky to have found the ad in a local paper for an estate hiring a cook. Regan had picked up shifts at the diner to help her mom when Sarah got sick. The cancer spread fast and after her mom was gone, Regan didn’t have the heart to quit working at the diner, so she stuck around. The owner, Pete, took pity on her and offered to teach her how to cook, telling her that she could write her own ticket if she learned to cook a few dishes. He made her promise not to go across town to his competition, and she agreed to work for him until she was ready to head out on her own. In just two years, Pete taught her everything that he knew about running a kitchen. She would never be able to repay him, but she promised to let him know where she landed when she got settled.
Regan got out of her ancient truck and stretched her muscles, aching from their long trip. She looked at the farm house and wondered just how many people lived in there. The house was the largest she had ever seen, and she had been to The White House when she was eleven on a school field trip. This house looked a lot like that, with its big white columns and the staircase leading up to the double glass front doors. She didn’t know much about the job, other than the ad said that she would be doing the cooking and some light house work. She could handle that, hell-- she had been doing those things her whole life.
She pulled her backpack from the cab of her truck and slammed the old door shut. Regan craned her neck to take in the massive house as she made her way up the front steps. She suddenly felt completely out of place, and thought about running back down to her truck before the two big doors swung open to reveal two of the sexiest men she had ever seen. She tried, really tried, to keep her mouth closed, but knew that she failed and stood there gawking at the two men with her tongue hanging out. Hell, she probably even drooled a little-- very classy, Regan! She knew that she was staring, but she didn’t care. The man on her right smiled and stepped toward her and she leaned into him, extending her hand.
“Hello, I’m Regan Starr,” she stuttered.
His smile broadened, and she was mesmerized by how blue his eyes were. They were like the sky above the ocean on a clear summer day and she couldn’t stop looking into them. Actually, she was gazing and dammit, she had never gazed into any man’s eyes, ever. She blinked, trying to pull herself back to reality.
“I’m Ashton Travers, but please call me Ash and this is Jamison Black, my partner. Welcome to Travers Black Farm, Miss Starr.” He took her hand into his and Regan shivered. His warm, calloused skin rubbed against the palm of her hand and she could have sworn that she felt sparks.
Ash took off his baseball had and shook her hand, gently. She noticed how his overly long blond hair fell over one eye and she suddenly found herself wanting to run her fingers through it.
“Please call me Regan.” She retracted her hand from Ash and then offered it to Jamison. “Mr. Black, it’s nice to meet you.” He didn’t reach out to take her hand, just tipped his cowboy hat at her and turned to walk back into the house. She worried that she had done something wrong, or even offended him in some way, until he called her into their home.
“We don’t have all day, Miss Starr. Please follow me into the kitchen and we will go over our expectations,” he barked. His voice was very different from Ash’s. Jamison’s voice sounded growly and angry, like he walked around in a perpetual state of pissed off. She liked the way he seemed to be a take charge, no nonsense, kind of guy. Ash seemed to be friendlier and even winked and smiled at her as she made her way past him to follow Jamison into the kitchen. He stopped in front of her, so abruptly, that she ran into the back of him with a yelp. Jamison turned to catch her by her elbow, keeping her upright and there were those same damn sparks that she felt when Ash touched her. What was that? It was probably just the long drive and being overly tired. She hadn’t slept much in the past few days. She had barely eaten and now that she was finally here, she felt bone tired and hungry.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Black. It’s been a long trip and I’m feeling a bit woozy from skipping lunch today.” She kept the part about missing breakfast this morning and dinner last night, to herself.
No need advertising that she rolled into town without two nickels to rub together. The last bit of her money went to buying a tank of gas and she was pretty sure that she made it down their very long, gravel road on fumes.
Jamison looked her over as if making sure that she was alright. “You need to eat, Miss Starr.
You’ll need to be able to keep up with all the cooking for the two of us and occasionally, some of our farm hands.” He eyed her suspiciously as if he didn’t believe that she was up for the task.
His brown eyes didn’t seem to miss much, and when he turned to grab her a glass of water, she caught a glimpse of his brown curly hair, peeking out from under his hat.
“I need to know that we are not making a mistake, Miss Starr,” he growled. She jumped, startled by his question. She took a sip of water and placed her glass back onto the kitchen counter.
“I’m up for the job, Mr. Black.”
Ash chuckled behind her, taking in the whole scene and she turned to face him.
“Sorry about him, Regan. He can be somewhat grumpy at times, and a whole lot bossy. What he means to say is that we weren’t completely honest in our advertisement.” Regan knew that ad was too good to be true.
She groaned out loud and Ash gifted her with another smile. “What part were you not exactly honest about, Ash?” Jamison grabbed Regan’s arm and spun her around so fast that she lost her balance again, this time, she couldn’t seem to stay on her feet. Ash caught her and pulled her up his body before she hit the floor.
“What the fuck, Jamison? You heard her say that she was feeling a little lightheaded from skipping lunch. You can’t just go around grabbing her and taking what you want.” Regan had allowed herself to fall back into Ash’s hold and God it felt good to be touched like that. He had one arm wrapped around her middle and was holding her against his body. She could feel every inch of muscle through his shirt and she suddenly felt a little over heated. Regan wasn’t sure if she was going to pass out or be sick; neither seemed like an appealing trait in a cook. She tried to keep it together, but knew that she was failing miserably when she heard Jamison’s curse.
“Fuck Ash, she’s looking a little green.” Ash turned her in his arms and that was the last thing she remembered before her world went completely black.

Theirs to Love

Theirs to Love
https://amzn.to/2ML23Gk
Book 2 in The Last First Kiss series

Travis

Travis Sharp watched as Regan’s doctor came out for a visit. He hadn’t seen her around the farm in a while; his curiosity got the best of him and he headed into the kitchen to look for a bite to eat. He always tried to find some excuse to hang around every time Dr. Emily Jude made a house call to the farm. It was as if he was drawn to her—the way she took charge of Regan’s care and didn’t seem to give a fuck about who Star’s father was. He already had a good deal of respect for her and they hadn’t yet been formally introduced.
He entered through the back door, being careful not to interrupt, in case she was there in some official capacity and not just for a friendly visit. He opened the fridge and found a plate of subs that Regan had made for lunch earlier and grabbed one out. He was always hungry, so he was thankful that Jamison and Ash didn’t mind him mooching food from their pretty new bride. They always included him in meals, inviting him to dinners and to hang out with them as a family. Honestly, he appreciated the offer more than they would ever know, but the thought of hanging out with their happy family made his heart hurt. He worried that he would never find that kind of happiness with anyone, especially the type that he was looking for.
Since he’d come out as bisexual years ago, the town had marked him as a pariah. Anyone with different ideals than the local folks was marked with a scarlet letter of sorts, and it was impossible to live down. Jamison and Ash were the lucky ones; they’d found a woman to fit between them and had basically told the townspeople to go fuck themselves. He knew that his chances of finding a woman—or even a man—that wouldn’t care what others thought of them was slim to none.
He shoved half a sandwich in his mouth and almost choked on it when the pretty little doctor came bouncing into the kitchen with Regan. He knew that he looked like a bear that had just gotten caught with his big paws in the picnic basket, but judging from Regan’s expression, she didn’t care.
“Hey, Travis.” Regan’s smile lit up the kitchen and he couldn’t help but smile back with his mouth full of sandwich.
“Hi Regan,” he mumbled around his food. Both women giggled, and he nearly ran out of the room from the embarrassment that he felt. People often misjudged him, based on his size. He stood at about six five and he was as big as a tank, thanks to good genes and his stringent workout schedule. He was often thought of as mean, even menacing, because of his bulk, but he was actually quite awkward in most social situations, and especially around women that he found attractive. And God, did he find Regan’s doctor attractive.
“Travis, this is my doctor, Emily Jude. She delivered Star and has become a good friend. Emily, this is Travis Sharp, our foreman and mechanic here on the farm. Basically, this place couldn’t run without him.”
Emily held out her delicate hand and Travis hesitated. He looked down at his own big hands and cringed at the grease and dirt that was embedded under his nails. He had spent most of the morning under the hood of Jamison’s pickup truck and no amount of soap and water seemed to work.
Emily stood, her hand stretched towards him, waiting for him to reciprocate, and he couldn’t find a good reason not to touch her. Travis gently took her hand into his and marveled at how soft her skin felt against his rough, calloused hand.
“Nice to meet you, Travis,” Emily said softly. Her voice was as delicate as she was, and he found himself leaning in to hear her, catching a whiff of her perfume that reminded him of the lavender satchels his grandmother used to keep in his sock drawers.
He swallowed the lump of sandwich in his mouth and smiled at her.
“Good to meet you too, Emily.” He released her hand and shoved his own into his jean pockets, not trusting himself to keep them off her.
She was beautiful, with her long blond hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail, just right for pulling from behind. Her blue eyes reminded him of the sky on a crisp spring day. He could get lost in her eyes—hell, he wanted to get lost in her body. She had curves that went on for miles and her ass was perfect for spanking. Just thinking about her naked and stretched across his lap had him hard. He needed to get himself together and get back out to the barn.
“Emily is going to be around a lot more,” Regan gushed, patting her belly. It took Travis a minute, as he stared at the two women smiling back at him, but he finally caught on.
“Wait—you're pregnant?” Travis loved having Star around the farm. Her little smile lit the place up and seemed to bring it back to life. Another baby would be awesome, and he knew that his friends had to be overjoyed by the news.
Regan nodded her head and her smile beamed back at him, mimicking his own. He picked her up and twirled her around the kitchen, causing her to giggle.
“You can put our woman down now before you make her sick,” Ash barked from the doorway. He and Jamison had both come in from fixing a gate that had been damaged in a bad storm the night before. Travis gently put Regan down and crossed the room to shake both Ash and Jamison’s hands.
“Congratulations, guys! Great news about the new baby.” Jamison looked around Travis to where Regan was standing with Emily.
“I thought we weren’t going to say anything for a couple more months, honey.” Jamison cocked his eyebrow at Regan and Travis felt bad for spilling the beans.
“Sorry, Regan,” Travis offered.
She shrugged and shot Jamison her best smile.
“I couldn’t keep our news a secret. Besides, I’m almost three months now and I’m going to start showing soon. And, well, Travis is family.”
Travis felt a lump in his throat at Regan’s mention of him being a part of their family. That was exactly how he felt about all of them. He crossed to where Regan stood and pulled her into his arms for a big bear hug, only letting her go when she choked out that she couldn’t breathe, causing them all to laugh.
Emily’s phone chimed, and she checked her messages. “Shoot, I only have a few more minutes. A patient just went into labor and I’m going to have to head into the hospital. Can I peek in on that beautiful little girl of yours?”
Regan smiled and nodded.
“I’ll see you guys at our next visit. You will need to come to my office, sorry. I know you like your privacy, but I want to do a sonogram.” Emily crossed the kitchen and hugged Ash and Jamison goodbye. She brushed past Travis on her way out of the room, turning to smile back at him.
“Really nice to meet you, Travis. I hope to see you again, maybe on my next visit out to the farm.”
Travis nodded and watched as the beautiful doctor left the room with Regan, leaving him completely spellbound and tongue-tied.
“Well, fuck. I’ve never seen a mute giant,” Jamison teased. He pulled three beers from the fridge and opened them, handing Ash and Travis each a bottle.
“Shut the fuck up, Jamison. I’m not a giant and I know how to talk.” Travis took a long swig of his beer, knowing that the guys were going to give him some shit.
Ash clapped his shoulder. “She is pretty, and I think that she digs our lifestyle.” Travis must have looked as shocked as he felt, by the way both guys chuckled at him.
“I know it’s surprising to find anyone with an open mind in this little town, but Dr. Jude sure does ask a lot of questions about polyamorous relationships. She and Regan have become pretty good friends, you know. They talk all the time. Maybe we could have our girl put in a good word with the pretty doctor for you. Who knows, maybe Emily is into giants.”
Jamison laughed at his own words, but Travis didn’t find him quite as funny.
“Yeah, yeah. I get it. You two laugh it up, but I’m already seeing someone. He lives a town over, where people are a little more open-minded. Besides, we haven’t been going out long and I’d like to see where our relationship goes.”
Travis knew that he was being a bit premature, calling what he and Jackson had a relationship. They’d met at a little gay bar two towns over, and Jackson had asked him out. They had been on two dates, officially, and Travis really liked him. To add the proverbial icing to the cake, Jackson Saint was a police officer, and he looked extra hot in his uniform. Travis wasn’t ready to call it quits with Jack just yet, even if Emily turned him completely inside out just by flashing him her gorgeous smile.
He wasn’t one to date on the side, either. He always tried to be on the up-and-up with the people that he went out with. The first night that he’d met Jack, he’d told him that he was bi and that he liked women. Jackson felt the same way, and once they’d agreed to go out, Travis stopped looking. Or at least, he had stopped looking until Emily Jude crossed his path. If he was being honest, he’d noticed Emily long before meeting Jack, but that still didn’t make the timing suck.
“Well, from the questions that Emily has asked Regan, she might just be into you and this new guy doing a little sharing.” Ash winked at him and grabbed a sandwich from the platter that Jamison pulled out of the fridge. “Couldn’t hurt to at least think about it.”
Fuck, that was all Travis was going to think about now, all night long. He was probably going to need at least five cold showers to get the image of Jackson, Emily and him, rolling around in bed together, out of his mind.
“Yeah, thanks for that mental image,” Travis barked.
His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out. It was a message from Jackson. He wanted to get together after his shift tonight, and the thought of the three of them in bed flashed through Travis’ mind again. He shot back a message with his address, telling Jack to bring a six-pack and he’d make dinner. He knew that things were moving fast between the two of them, but he was ready to find someone to share his life with. If that someone happened to be a big, hot police officer, then so be it. Travis was ready for more and, hopefully, Jackson Saint could be that for him.

Emily

Emily decided to stop back by her townhome on her way into the hospital. She was sure that her patient would be in labor for a bit longer.
The first-time mother, like all new moms, was a little overexuberant in showing up at Emily’s office, demanding to be checked. She had been in to see her every day for the last week. Emily really wanted to tell her to shut up and go home, that her baby would come when he or she was good and ready, but that would be unethical.
She was already treading thin ice with the hospital HR department for spending too much time with each patient—as if that was a bad thing. She knew that she obsessed about making sure that every one of her patients had the proper care and instructions before sending them on their way. It was just who she was, both in her professional and personal lives. Her mother used to take her to therapy, always thinking that Emily needed to be fixed because of her attention to details. It was ironic how that same focus was what made her an excellent doctor—one of the best in town. She had a waiting list of women that wanted an appointment with her, but Emily only had so many hours in a day.
Her mother swore that she would work herself into an early grave if she didn’t learn to take some time off and enjoy life. But that would require Emily having a life to enjoy. Besides her best friend Mercy, and her new friend Regan, she had no one. Her parents had moved to Europe about four years back, leaving her feeling a little lost and very alone. She was an only child, though, so she was used to being by herself. Her parents traveled extensively while she was growing up, often leaving her with the housekeeper or nanny. They were self-absorbed and didn’t let having a child hold them back from doing exactly what they wanted to do.
Meeting Regan Travers-Black had opened her eyes up to a whole new world. Regan had told her about her lonely childhood and finding the two men that she now called her husbands. Emily could relate to her on many levels and, although Emily’s childhood had been privileged compared to Regan’s, she had felt just as alone and frightened as Regan had, growing up. She found herself asking question after question about her friend’s lifestyle, even embarrassingly personal questions, under the guise of being a curious doctor. The truth of the matter was that Emily found herself yearning to find just one man that would look at her the way Regan’s husbands looked at her friend. She was one lucky girl, and now she was pregnant with her second baby. Emily dreamed of having a family but had decided that she didn’t want to go it alone. Sure, she could take advantage of the advances in medical science and get pregnant without a man, but she wanted the whole fairy tale. The problem was, she wasn’t sure that she even believed in those silly stories anymore.
Emily’s phone rang, and she answered it, knowing that it was probably Mercy doing her daily check-in call.
“Hello,” she shouted into the speaker, as she pulled her shirt up over her head. She needed to change into scrubs and get a move on. The hospital had paged her twice more, asking when she was going to be in. She could only put them off for so long since she was the doctor on call for the weekend.
“Hey, girl.” Mercy’s southern drawl always made her laugh. They’d grown up in the same town, yet her best friend had found a way to sound so much more southern than Emily. Maybe it was the fact that Emily had attended college up in New England and dropped some of her accent, or maybe it was her friend’s way of getting attention.
“What’s up, Mercy?”
She didn’t mean to sound so short, but she was pulling on her scrub pants and about ready to head back out the door. She brushed through her long blond hair, pulling it back into a slick ponytail. Emily made a face at herself in the mirror, deciding that she didn’t have time to splash on any makeup. It really didn’t matter though; women in labor didn’t give a fuck if she looked pretty or not.
“Well, judging from your tone, you are on call this weekend and you have still not gotten laid.”
Emily barked out her laugh at just how right her best friend was. Not only had she not gotten laid recently, but it had been a long time since she’d been with anyone. Her girl parts were about ready to go on strike if she didn’t find a man—and soon.
“Yes, I’m on call. I’m leaving now, in fact. And, no, I’ve not gotten laid and thank you for reminding me that I’m on the longest dry spell of my life.” Emily pulled on her shoes and grabbed her bag that she kept by the front door. She always packed a few essentials for the hospital and kept them on hand.
“Literally,” Mercy laughed.
Emily recounted her words, trying to figure out what she said that was funny.
“Okay, what did I say?” Mercy was always finding hidden dirty double meanings in everything. It was hard for Emily to keep up sometimes. Honestly, her friend had the dirtiest mind out of anyone that Emily had met.
“Dry spell,” Mercy squeaked, cracking herself up all over again. Emily rolled her eyes and locked up her townhouse.
“ ’Kay, I’m hanging up now.” Emily knew that hanging up on Mercy was a bad idea. Last time she did that, Mercy showed up at the hospital with a pillow shoved up her shirt, pretending to be in labor, just to get into see Emily and give her an earful about how polite friends don’t hang up on each other.
“I know that you learned your lesson last time, Em. Besides, I wanted to see how your trip out to Regan’s went.”
Emily smiled. She loved that her two friends liked each other. She’d introduced Regan to Mercy a few months back since Regan was so new to town. She’d had a rough start, with the locals giving her some shit about sleeping with two men at once. Their little town was so backward sometimes, it felt like they were living in a different time.
“It went great. Well, you know she’s pregnant again, and little Star is amazing,” Emily gushed. “Ash and Jamison are over the moon about the news of the new baby.” She audibly sighed and decided that swooning over something that she might possibly never have was a good way to foul up her mood.
“If it went so great, then why do you seem so pouty?”
Mercy’s question had her drawing back as if she’d reached through the phone and slapped her.
“I’m not pouty,” she grumbled, but it was no use; her friend knew her too well.
“Em, I can hear your bottom lip sticking out over the line. You are most definitely pouting.”
Emily slid into her driver’s seat and checked her reflection in the rearview mirror. Yep, she was pouting, although she wouldn’t admit that to Mercy. Hearing her gloat wasn’t on Emily’s itinerary for the night.
“Listen, if you don’t want to tell me about tall, blond and sexy, with all those tattoos and crystal baby blues, that’s fine. A real friend would have shared the dirty details though.”
Mercy laughed at the dramatic way Emily sucked in air. How in the hell did Mercy know about Travis Sharp? She’d never mentioned him, even though she saw him every time that she made a house call to Regan’s. Ahh…
“You talked to Regan this afternoon, didn’t you?” That would explain everything. The pair of them were always trying to fix Emily up with someone. That had to be it.
“It deeply hurts me that I had to hear about this secondhand, Em. I thought that the two of us were tight, but I guess if I want the gossip, I’ll need to talk to my new bestie, Regan.”
Emily sighed at Mercy’s overly dramatic scolding. Sure, she should have told her friend about the sexiest damn man that she had ever laid eyes on, but she wasn’t about to do anything about Travis Sharp, so telling Mercy, and especially Regan, would have been pointless.
“He seemed like a nice guy and that is all—nothing to tell, Mercy.” She shrugged, silently driving home her point.
She wanted to believe her own lie, but she had seen Travis up close and personally. When he’d touched her hand, she’d wanted to fall at his feet and beg him to do whatever he wanted to with her. Since the last time she’d seen him, he had grown a beard and, Lord have mercy, he was fine. The way his short-sleeved shirt tugged around his biceps, she almost couldn’t make eye contact when Regan introduced her to him. She’d been too busy looking at all his muscles and the full tattoo sleeve that he had on one arm.
Emily had wanted to spend the next few days with Travis, naked in bed, finding out what every inked mark on his body meant, but she was a chicken. She’d run away as soon as her damn pager sounded and hadn’t given herself or him a chance.
“Regan thinks he might like you, Em,” Mercy mock-whispered. Emily couldn’t help her laugh.
“Gee, are we in middle school again, Mercy? So, let me get this straight—Travis told Regan, to tell you, to tell me, that he likes me. But does he like-like me or just sort of like me?” She giggled at her own words.
“Laugh all you want, Em. That doesn’t change the fact that Travis is hot as hell, according to Regan, and very willing to take you out and possibly give your naughty bits some much-needed attention.”
Emily stopped laughing at the thought of Travis Sharp anywhere near her girl parts. She flushed at the thought of him with his head between her legs and decided that this phone call needed to end before she ended up in a ditch on the side of the road.
“Yeah, I thought that would get your attention. Listen Em, just think about it, about him. And call Regan. Maybe this guy could be the one.”
Mercy sounded so hopeful, and Emily didn’t want to dash her friend's hopes. Emily knew that she meant well—her and Regan both did.
“Fine, I’ll call her tomorrow. Right now, I need to get to the hospital. I have an expectant mother coming in and she thinks she’s in labor—again.”
Mercy giggled at Emily’s tone. She knew how out of hand some of Emily’s patients could get.
“Well good luck with that. Love you, girl.” Mercy hung up the phone before Emily could say it back.
Emily knew that her friends were right about one thing—she needed to get laid. But finding a man that fit into her crazy schedule was just about impossible. And here she was dreaming about finding not just one, but two men.