IT’S A SWEET LIFE

Coffeeshop Coven - 0.5

Tymber Dalton

DEDICATION

To Hubby, for all the love and patience and support he’s given me throughout the years while helping me through life’s ups and downs.

And to Mr. B, especially the patience part.

To Cooper McKenzie, my bud, and whose name I threw around in vain (in a good way) in this book. And to fellow hooker (no, not THAT kind of hooker, the kind that plays with yarn) Mia Downing.

(No, I won’t put the “bitch” in all caps. Sorry. LOL HUGS) Special thanks to my friend Christine for bakery questions. Any errors are mine, not hers. (And I’ll blame errors on fibro fog. LOL)

AUTHOR’S NOTE

As some of you already know, I am a member of the fibromyalgia “club.” With a dual diagnosis of chronic fatigue syndrome on top of that, and arthritis to boot, it can sometimes make life…interesting. I didn’t have to stretch my imagination far to write the health issues the heroine in this tale goes through. I simply wrote from my own experiences, sometimes at the same time while I was writing this book.

It’s very hard to describe how frustrating it is to go from being someone who could easily pull an all-nighter, a “get shit done” kind of gal, to someone who, on some days, feels like they can barely get out of bed. I don’t “look” sick. And yes, I have plenty of good days, fortunately. But there are the days where simply walking through the grocery store can put me back to bed for the rest of the day.

Or suffering through bouts of “word salad” that sometimes accompany the condition called fibro fog, leaving me grasping for a word I know I should know and unable to think of it. Hubby and I even have a system where if I get stuck, he waits to start tossing words at me until I start pantomiming and gesturing at him that I’m really and truly stuck. Sometimes, a well-meaning person trying to help can make the issue worse as my frustration grows if they try to offer me words too soon when I’m still struggling to put a sentence together.

As you can imagine, that can be a particularly vexing symptom for a writer who makes their living slinging words. Fortunately, it seems to happen most verbally and not when I’m actually sitting at my laptop. Although I do keep my trusty Roget’s Thesaurus close at hand for when I’m at a loss for a word. In the writing of this manuscript, it took me three different searches to finally remember the word I wanted to use in the Walmart scene was “dysfunctional.”

(Yes, there is a certain irony to that which I can appreciate all too well.) I’m not looking for sympathy, and neither are most sufferers of this condition. I know I’m lucky to have an incredible support system combined with a job that allows me to sit at home in my pj’s all day.

And it’s not any more terminal a condition than life already is to start with. But what I, and other fibro patients, are usually looking for is patience and understanding. That it’s not in our heads. That we’re not lazy or trying to get out of doing things. That putting others before ourselves can, literally, be hazardous to our health in some cases. That we might need to beg off plans at the last minute even though we don’t “look sick” because our energy plug got yanked out of the wall on us. And while we might have been in great shape the day before (or even the morning of) an event, that doesn’t mean fibro won’t wave its wand and put us on our ass in the space of a few minutes. That instead of belittling us for what someone might perceive as laziness you offer an understanding ear and not try to guilt us into doing something we will pay for later in terms of our “spoon usage.”

Yes, believe me, it frustrates the crap out of us, too. Most of us would give anything to be able to get to our pre-fibro (or pre-whatever) energy levels.

What are spoons? Please take the time to read “The Spoon Theory” by Christine Miserandino. It applies not only to fibromyalgia patients, but anyone with a chronic condition or disability that saps strength and energy.

(http://www.butyoudontlooksick.com/articles/written-by-christine/the-spoon-theory/) If you feel you might have fibromyalgia, please do your research and talk with your health care provider regarding treatment options.

Pain, fibro fog, and fatigue are just some of the most common symptoms of this complex disorder. There are various regimens, both prescription and homeopathic, that can help relieve some of your symptoms and make life more manageable.

FOREWORD

This is the prequel to my new Coffeeshop Coven series, centered around the Many Blessings New Age shop. If you want to know more about the backstory of Many Blessings, including what happened to the former owner, Julie, please read my book Out of the Darkness (available from SirenBookStrand). Related characters also appear in my book Red Tide (SirenBookStrand).

And there really is such a deck as the Celtic Dragon Tarot. It’s published by Llewellyn Publications, and it’s the first deck I cut my teeth on. It’s a beautiful deck that I highly recommend.

The town of Brooksville, Florida, does exist, although I’ve taken a little literary license with some of its geography to suit my own purposes.

Chapter One

Not now. Please, not now.

She slowly rubbed her hands together, wincing over the pain that shot through her knuckles at the motion. Experience told her even soaking them in warm water wouldn’t completely soothe the pain and stiffness away when they felt like this.

It was seven o’clock Thursday evening. With only half of the Palmer wedding order finished, she still had a good six hours of work ahead of her to have everything ready for Friday morning pickup as ordered.

Six hours if I’m lucky.

She burst into tears as she stared at the table full of cupcakes awaiting finishing touches. If she didn’t deliver this job on time, or if she delivered it subpar, the well-connected Palmer family could ruin her reputation and the small bakery, It’s a Sweet Life, that she’d struggled so hard to build.

LacieBelle Addams—Libbie to her friends and family—leaned against the large stainless double fridge and slid down it with her hands cradled in her lap and wrapped in her flour-covered apron. The pain was the worst it had been in months.

That was where she still sat ten minutes later when Grover Johnson, her part-time helper and lifelong friend, came in and found her.

Tsking as he shook his head, the large black man walked over to her and slowly lowered his considerable bulk to the floor next to her.

He wrapped a meaty arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

“Lord, child. Don’t you think it’s ’bout time you went to see Doc Smith?”

She settled her head into his lap, her tears renewing. “I can’t, Grover. I don’t have the money or the time.”

“But you have the time to sit here crying your poor eyes out?”

Grover had been a close friend of her father’s since before she was born, coworkers during the tumultuous days of the civil rights movement of the 60s before opening a law firm together. It didn’t matter that she’d been a white girl. Grover and his wife, Connie, had always welcomed her into their large family of eight kids despite snide comments the families received from people of both races. The man was like a second father to her.

With her own parents dead, Grover and his kids were the only family she had. Connie had passed almost four years earlier after a stroke, right after Libbie had turned thirty-one.

He carefully clasped her hands in his large ones, enveloping them in a tender grip. “I think it’s time for you to consider selling out to Katie Beasley,” he gently said. “She made you a generous offer last month.”

“No. I won’t do that. I have to make this work. Everything I have is tied up in the building and the bakery.”

“Then at least get you some good help in here besides my tired, sorry ole ass. Jenny’s a sweet kid, but you and I both know she’s a few french fries short of a Happy Meal. Not to mention she can’t bake worth a darn. And Ruth is a good woman, but she’s retired and you need someone who can work more than part time for you.”

That made her chuckle. Ruth Callahan only worked mornings and the occasional special order, and usually left once the bulk of the day’s baking was finished. Jenny Millings helped out several mornings a week. She ran the counter for Libbie in exchange for cash under the table and day-old leftovers. She had a part-time job at a convenience store in the afternoons while her two young sons were still in school. It barely helped her pay rent and expenses for her and her kids. She couldn’t afford child care, so she couldn’t work in the evenings. Besides that, her younger son was autistic.

Her ex-husband had been in jail for over two years for a drug charge and obviously wasn’t paying child support.

If looking at anyone’s life could make Libbie feel remotely better about her own situation, it was Jenny’s.

Libbie sniffled and looked up at Grover. “Your ass isn’t sorry.

You’ve been a lifesaver.”

“Glad you and my Connie think so, honey.” He brushed her brown bangs away from her face. “I had another idea, if you’d like to hear it.”

She nodded.

“You’ve got that smaller apartment upstairs. It’s just sitting there gathering dust. Let me get the boys in here to help you clear out all the furniture and those boxes of your folks’ stuff, and you rent it out.

You can put the stuff in my shed. I’ve got the room because I don’t park in there no more.”

“How’s that supposed to help me?” She held up her hands. “That won’t help me get this order out.”

“I’m gonna help you get this order out. But you could use the money you get from rent to pay for someone else to work in here during the day to help you out. Or have the renter work for you part time in exchange for lower rent.”

Grover, bless his heart, shouldn’t even be working. He was retired, and had certainly earned it. She couldn’t afford to pay him, not that he would take money from her if she could afford to pay him.

But on days like this, when cool, late-October autumn days made most people cheerfully start thinking about the upcoming holiday season, Libbie started counting the days until summer hit Brooksville, Florida, again.

The hot, moist summer heat was one of the few things that brought her relief from the sometimes severe pain of her fibromyalgia and arthritis. But the frequent cold fronts that swept through the area in winter played hell with her pain levels.

“You really think I could rent it out?”

He smiled. “I’ve already arranged for my boys to be here bright and early Saturday morning. Tommy’s going to bring his truck, and Jimmy’s going to bring two friends. All they asked in exchange is for you to whip up some of your red velvet cakes.”

She buried her face against his shoulder, holding back her tears.

“Thank you. You don’t know how much I appreciate this.”

“Honey, you’re family. You know dang well if Connie were here she’d already have that upstairs cleaned out and ready to go.”

Libbie snorted with laughter again. “Yeah, I know.”

Only because of Grover’s help was the Palmer order finished, boxed, and ready for the scheduled morning pickup by one o’clock in the morning. Libbie debated not even going to bed and just staying up to start the morning baking, but Grover nixed that idea.

“You get your butt upstairs and sit in a hot bath for a while and get some sleep. I’ll be back at four to help you and Ruth get the daily stuff going.” He only lived a few minutes away.

She hugged him, struggling to hold back another round of grateful tears. “Thanks.”

He kissed the top of her head, just like he used to do when she was a kid. “No worries, sugar. You grab some winks. We’ll get the morning stuff out the door and you can take a nap later while me and Jenny mind the store.”

Libbie didn’t argue. She locked the back door behind him and slowly climbed the stairs leading to the apartments. When she opened the door to her apartment, Galileo, her huge orange tabby cat, greeted her with a loud meow of disapproval from the back of the couch.

She flipped him a bird. “I’m not in a mood for your ’tude tonight, buddy.”

He jumped off the couch and followed her into the kitchen. There, he twined himself around her legs while she made a cup of hot tea to take into the bath with her. His loud purring filled the otherwise silent kitchen.

Libbie leaned over and picked him up. “You know mommy doesn’t feel good, don’t you?” Usually Galileo acted standoffish and grouchy, unless it was bedtime, dinnertime, or he seemed to sense she felt awful.

And other than her, he hated everyone but Grover. She’d rescued the cat as a young, skinny tom when he was a few weeks old and barely weaned.

Grover joked that if someone had cut his nuts off, he’d be grouchy, too.

The cat rubbed his head against her chin for a minute while she waited for her water to heat in the microwave. When it was ready, she set the cat down and fixed her tea. Galileo followed her into the bathroom and sat staring at her while she undressed and climbed into a tubful of warm water.

When she was comfortable, he put his front paws up on the side of the tub and meowed at her.

“I won’t drown, don’t worry. You’ll get your breakfast in the morning.”

Apparently satisfied by that response, he left the bathroom and headed to the bedroom to wait for her.

Libbie wrapped her hands around her mug and carefully sipped.

The heat soaked through her hands, helping soothe the agony a little.

If I can just hang on through winter, I know I can make it. Snowbirds from up north had started returning to Brooksville, bringing their money with them. Which meant social clubs and churches would be holding their winter events. Restaurants would get busy, and the ones that ordered specialty desserts from her would increase their orders.

Many Blessings, the local New Age store with an in-house coffeeshop, had already doubled their daily orders.

While by not a lot, her daily store sales were also slowly beginning to increase and outpace her expenses. She didn’t have to rely on special orders to make ends meet anymore.

She looked around at the bathroom. When she divorced her ex, she’d moved back home a few months before her parents died in a wreck eight years prior. After they died, she enrolled in culinary school and used the insurance money to help pay bills and tuition.

Upon completing school, she spent a couple of years working at various restaurants and catering businesses in the Tampa Bay area until she had enough training and practical experience to open her own business.

The building’s previous owner, an attorney, had lived in the larger apartment, rented the smaller one out, and used the bottom floor as his law office. When Libbie bought the building two years earlier, she’d emptied her parents’ house and sold it to make the down payment and help pay for equipment.

Her dream come true, to own her own bakery.

So what if she didn’t have any kind of a social life? She’d proved her cheating ass of an ex wrong, that she could do whatever she set her mind to. That she wasn’t worthless.

That she wasn’t a burden, even with her fibro.

Sinking a little lower in the tub, she took another sip of her tea and prayed for the pain to ease up.

Chapter Two

Libbie slumped into her office chair and breathed a sigh of relief.

A little after nine o’clock in the morning, and Karen Palmer, mother of the bride, had just picked up their order. It didn’t hurt the woman was tickled to death with the results. And she took a handful of business cards with her to hand out to her friends. She was so pleased in fact that she placed a large order for her ladies’ church group, for pickup next Wednesday afternoon.

A hundred large cupcakes, four different varieties, decorated. Plus three red velvet cakes, two sour cream pound cakes, and a carrot cake.

She’d paid the order in full in advance so she could send someone else to pick it up for her.

Yay. I can pay Jenny today instead of on Tuesday after all the Friday checks clear. Karen Palmer wouldn’t stiff her and write a bad check. And the young mom would no doubt appreciate the early payday with her food stamps not paying out for nearly a week. Jenny never asked for an advance on her pay, but Libbie saw how the woman struggled this time of the month, every month, making sure her kids had good food while she sometimes subsisted on day-olds Libbie gave her to take home.

Grover leaned against the office doorway. “You okay, sugar?”

Libbie nodded. “Exhausted. How are you?” Out in the shop, she heard the bell jingle as someone entered, followed by Jenny’s cheerful voice as she greeted them. Back in the kitchen, Ruth had the giant mixer running as she put together the basics of a cake order going out the next day. Ruth didn’t do the special decorating. That fell on Libbie’s shoulders. But the older woman had a special touch with even the fussiest recipes and rarely ruined anything.

Grover shrugged. “If I wasn’t here, I’d be sitting in my chair at home. Don’t worry about it. But I meant your hands.” He nodded to where she had them clutched in her lap, the apron wrapped around them and the microwaveable gel hot pack she held. “You don’t think I didn’t see you do that, did you?” One bushy eyebrow threaded with grey arched over his friendly brown eyes. “Don’t make me cross-examine you, kiddo.”

She felt her face flush. From the stories her father had told her, Grover had been a formidable trial attorney. “I’ll be okay,” she mumbled.

“You’re this bad and it’s only October. Honey, you’ll be in misery come January and you know it.”

Libbie knew all too well where this conversation was going and decided to head him off at the pass. “I can’t afford to go to Doc Smith.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that,” a man said from behind Grover.

Grover turned with a smile and held out his hand. “Hi, Doc.”

Dr. Smith shook hands with him and stepped past him and into the office. “Grover. Libbie.”

She shot a glare at Grover. “You called him?”

He returned her glare with an arched eyebrow. “Of course I did, you stubborn thing.”

Dr. Smith waggled an accusatory finger at her. “How am I supposed to get my morning crullers if my favorite baker can’t make them?”

Dr. Smith was a general practitioner who’d been practicing in Brooksville for over twenty-five years. Thin and tall, he stopped in every morning on his way to his office four doors down from Libbie’s building. He’d been their family doctor when Libbie was growing up.

This also wasn’t the first time they’d had this discussion. “I don’t have insurance yet, Doc. Maybe by next spring I can afford it.”

He walked in, sat in the folding chair next to her desk, and held his hands out, waggling his fingers at her. “Give ’em. Hand ’em over, girl.”

With her head hung low, she released the gel pack and held her hands out to him. She winced as he gingerly probed and manipulated her hands before releasing them. She pulled them back and once again buried them in her apron, wrapping her fingers around the still-warm gel pack.

He cocked his head at her. “I can’t force you to come see me. I also keep telling you I’ll make you a special cash deal so you can.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want charity.” She already felt guilty enough about Grover’s insistence on coming in to help without compensation.

The doctor pulled a prescription pad and pen from his jacket pocket. “This isn’t charity. This is self-interest.” He smiled as he scribbled on the pad. “I don’t smoke or drink. Your crullers are the only monkey on my back. Do an old man a favor, would ya?” He tore the sheet off and handed it to Grover, who pocketed it. “And how am I supposed to get my fix guilt-free if I know you’re killing yourself over here?”

She finally smiled, which earned her a pat on the knee. “But I can’t take anything that’s going to make me sleepy,” she said. “I have to get up so early.”

“How’s the fibro fog doing?”

She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter because I have everything written down and organized so anyone can help me. And I can’t do something stupid like forget.” She had hundreds of laminated pages in several binders in the kitchen, with all her standard recipes in them, so she could use dry-erase markers on them while baking and not miss a step or forget an ingredient.

It also meant anyone, like Ruth or Grover, could do all the prep work for her if necessary, and leave the detailed decorating to her.

And there had been days Grover forced her to sit on a stool at the decorating table and not move from it while he and Ruth did all the other prep work.

Dr. Smith nodded. “Don’t worry, it’s naproxen, not a narcotic,” he assured her. “It’s just a stronger version of what you can buy over the counter. And you can get it in a generic form, so it won’t cost you an arm and a leg. It’ll help you with the arthritis pain somewhat, although it might also give you some relief for the fibro pain. It probably won’t help much with the fibro fog, though. If you will quit being so stubborn and come in for a full workup, I can look at trying you on something like Cymbalta or Lyrica. I have samples of those and a couple others we can try to see what might work. There are even several other drugs we can try that have inexpensive generic alternatives. But I can’t put you on any of those until I get baseline blood work results for you.”

He stood to go and waggled a finger at her again. “Remember, you wouldn’t want to deny an old man his best pleasure in life.”

“Thank you,” she softly said.

“I’ll make sure she gets and takes them,” Grover told him, patting the doctor on the shoulder as he passed. “Thank you for coming.”

“No problem.”

When he left, Grover took his place in the folding chair. “I’ll go get these filled for you.”

She started to reach for her purse, but he put out a staying hand.

“Don’t you dare reach for money or I’ll spank you.”

“But you already do so much. And there’s tomorrow. And—”

“Stop. I’m paying for this one. If I couldn’t afford it, I wouldn’t offer.” He grinned. “If they’re cheap, you buy the next batch. But you need something to help you out.” With all his kids grown and away from home, some of them already with families of their own, Grover had turned all his fatherly powers on Libbie.

The only reason she accepted his help was because she suspected he used it to escape his grief and loneliness after Connie died.

It didn’t mean, however, that she didn’t feel guilty about taking it.

She slumped back in her chair and nodded. “Thank you.”

“Don’t you be thanking me yet. Jeneese heard what we were doing and now has her sisters and their men involved. You’re going to have a house full of Johnsons tomorrow.” He grinned. “And I’m bringing the big barbecue cooker. It’s going to be like a family reunion.”

Grover had already left for the drugstore a few minutes later when Mandaline Royce came in for her daily order. Libbie smiled. “I’ve got it all boxed up. Let me go get it for you.”

Mandaline had inherited Many Blessings when her friend, Julie Prescott, was murdered earlier that year. The New Age shop sat almost directly across the town square from Libbie’s bakery and sold coffee and other beverages. But they purchased all the baked goods that they sold every day in the coffeeshop from Libbie.

When Libbie returned with the three boxes of assorted items, she noticed Mandaline’s frown. “What’s wrong?”

Mandaline gently took Libbie’s hand and turned it palm down in her own. “I should be asking you that.”

Libbie felt her face heat as she carefully pulled her hand away.

“I’m okay.”

Mandaline, who at five four stood three inches shorter than Libbie, planted a hand on her hip. “You can’t lie to a witch, you know.”

Libbie considered Mandaline a close acquaintance, but they were almost friends. “It’s just the cool weather getting to me.”

Mandaline chewed on her bottom lip. “Are you allergic to anything?”

“No. Why?”

A beaming grin broke out across her face. She placed the pre-written check for her order on the counter and scooped up the boxes.

“I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t you want your receipt?”

“I’ll get it when I come back. Don’t go anywhere.” She practically ran out of the store, her long brown hair flowing behind her as her multicolored ankle-length skirt swirled around dark blue leggings and tan Ugg boots.

“What’s going on?” Jenny asked.

Libbie shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Mandaline returned a few minutes later, carrying a small paper bag with the curly, bright pink Many Blessings logo on the side. She handed it to Libbie. “This is for you. A gift. Let me know if they help you. If they do, I’ll keep them in stock.”

Libbie handed her the receipt before looking in the bag. A small tube and a small, brown, glass bottle lay inside. “What are they?”

“The tube is a homeopathic ointment we’re stocking that we just got in a couple of days ago. All natural ingredients. It’s supposed to help with pain. No odor, either. And in the bottle is an essential oil blend of my own concoction. Rub a little on the backs of your hands, especially before you go to bed, and see if it helps.”

Libbie forced a smile. “Thank you. I appreciate it.” She’d tried every over-the-counter ointment she could buy at the drugstore and hadn’t found one to give her anything but the slimmest of relief, and even then for only a short time.

And they stank.

Mandaline leaned across the counter to give her a hug. “These aren’t your normal drugstore snake oil cures,” she teased. “Give them a try and let me know. Hey, can’t hurt.”

Libbie’s eyes widened. “How did you know I thought—”

Mandaline tapped her forehead again with a giggle. “Witch, remember? I’ve got to go. I’ve got students coming in half an hour.”

She gave Libbie a gentle hug and headed out the door.

Libbie watched the slim woman race across the town square again. Libbie wasn’t much of a believer in psychic stuff, or witchcraft, or any other religious beliefs to speak of. But she didn’t hold it against anyone who did.

She looked into the bag again as Jenny also took a peek. “She’s right,” Jenny said. “Can’t hurt. I saw a TV documentary once about the rain forest and how there are a lot of plants and stuff that are natural cures for diseases.”

“Well, right now I have another batch of cupcakes to get decorated, so I can’t put anything on my hands. I’ll try it later.” She carried the bag back to her office and set it on her desk.

The rest of the day went quickly. By the time Libbie closed up shop at three, she felt exhausted. But at least the prescription Grover brought her seemed to help take the worst edges off the pain.

She crawled upstairs and flopped down on her couch. Galileo looked down at her from where he lay sprawled across the back, taking in the last of the afternoon sun through the window.

“Mwrao.”

“Back atcha, buddy.”

The cat slowly stood, stretched, and then made his way down to where she lay and took up residence on her chest. His deep purring rumbled through her body as she stroked his head.

She didn’t mean to fall asleep, but when she next opened her eyes the sun had slipped behind the buildings on the western end of the square, casting deep shadows across the courthouse. The time on the cable box read 6:37.

“Damn.” She looked up into Galileo’s face. The cat hadn’t moved.

He stared down at her with half-opened green eyes. “Why did you let me fall asleep?”

“Mwrao.”

“Right.”

He craned his neck and sniffed at her chin before head-butting it and rubbing his head against her.

“I get it. You’re hungry.”

He slowly stood and stretched before jumping down and padding across the living room to the kitchen, where he sat and waited.

“This is my life,” she said with a groan as she sat up before following him into the kitchen. “Sleep, bake, feed the cat, and scoop his pan.” She flexed her hands, which were starting to scream again as the medicine wore off. “And hurt like hell.”

She realized as she emptied fresh dry food into the cat’s bowl that she’d left both the bottle of pills and the stuff from Mandaline down in the office. With a heavy sigh, she stepped into the hall.

But not without stopping at the door to the other apartment. That was tomorrow’s major feat.

She opened the door and walked in. She never locked either apartment, because few people rarely came up here besides her and Grover.

I suppose I’ll have to get used to locking the door to the bakery.

And my apartment door.

A separate staircase from out back led directly upstairs as well.

The tenants would have a way to get inside without having to go through the bakery door. Since she rarely used that door, she kept it locked all the time.

I’ll need to get extra keys made for it.

She resented the thought of losing her privacy, of not being able to come and go freely without worrying about someone else in her domain.

But the extra money would be nice.

She’d already thought about it and felt comfortable charging five hundred a month, including utilities.

But as she looked at the apartment in the fading light, she realized how much darker it was than the one she called home across the hall.

The smaller apartment faced the back of the building. And while it had a nice view of some wooded property to the south, it also lost the afternoon sunlight a lot sooner.

It was smaller, too. It only had one bedroom, whereas the apartment she lived in had two. Albeit small bedrooms, but the entire square footage of her apartment was more than this one.

She leaned against the doorway and looked across where she’d stacked furniture in the living room area. Some of it she could use as furnishings for the rental, ask a little more money that way.

Libbie picked her way through a path to the kitchen. As she studied the appliances, she realized she’d forgotten the kitchen had been completely remodeled by the previous owner not long before the sale. It had brand-new appliances which had been barely used.

She eased around another pile of boxes, to the bathroom, and flipped on the light.

The deep, sunken tub beckoned to her, larger than the standard one in her apartment.

“Hmm.”

I don’t really use the other bedroom for anything but office work anyway. I don’t need two desks. I can use the office downstairs for my paperwork.

The living room was only marginally smaller here than across the hall. She could take the leaf out of her dining room table and send two of the six chairs to storage with Grover. It wouldn’t be a huge sacrifice to downsize a little.

Not like I ever have anyone over to eat except Grover and Mandaline, and sometimes Jenny and her boys.

The more she thought about it, the more she talked herself into it.

A furnished, two-bedroom apartment, with utilities? She did the math in her head. She could easily charge seven hundred. That would cover her utilities for the building every month, as well as a few other incidentals.

The stress relief that alone provided would take a weight off her shoulders.

As she worked her way back to the door, she nodded, decided.

Tomorrow’s moving day.

Although Galileo would, no doubt, express his extreme displeasure with the move.

It’s a Sweet Life

27

Chapter Three

“Okay, this looks like shit. Tell me again why I had to dye my hair?” It was after eight o’clock Friday evening, and Allan Donohue felt more exhausted than he had in his entire life. They’d just checked into the hotel a few minutes earlier after making their way up the state from Miami, using back roads all the way.

He turned from the mirror over the vanity and shot an evil glare at his twin brother, Benjamin. Before they’d left Miami early that morning, Ben had dragged Allan down to Homestead, where the hairdresser wife of a retired cop friend of Ben’s had turned Allan into a blond beach bum in her bathroom.

And beach bum was a look he despised. He had an image to maintain, and scruffy wasn’t it.

To be fair, Allan wasn’t the only one who’d changed his appearance. Ben had shaved his thick beard and moustache, which he’d worn for three years. The same friend’s wife cut Ben’s flowing brown hair into a short, neat yuppie style. Years working undercover meant Ben’s face hadn’t even had time to catch up. His lower face looked far paler than his tanned forehead.

“Because no one expects to see Mr. Preppie Lawyer as a scruffy, dirty blond surfer dude,” Ben snarked. “No offense, Counselor.” The edges of his blue eyes crinkled in amusement. “Sorry it’ll conflict with your South Beach party boy persona, but it’s not like you’re going to be hitting the nightclubs anytime soon.”

Allan looked in the hotel mirror again and tried to ignore the jibe.

“My eyebrows are darker. It’s obviously a dye job.”

“That’s okay. In a couple of weeks, as your hair gets longer, 28 Tymber Dalton

you’ll look totally different. Just wear a hat.”

“I can’t help but notice you now look like me.”

“You mean you missed that while we were growing up? We’re identical twins. Duh. For a prosecutor, you can be awfully freaking dense. Those club girls you hanging out with sucking your brains dry instead of your dick?”

Allan swallowed back another retort as he ignored the shot and turned to his brother again. “I meant it’s odd that you now look like I used to look.”

Ben grabbed the remote and started flipping through channels without answering.

Allan wouldn’t let it drop. “Dude, did you hear me?”

“Yeah.”

Allan recognized the stubborn set to his brother’s shoulders.

“Then what the fuck?”

Ben finally looked at him. “If one of Victor Bianco’s goons does manage to find us, I’d rather they come after me than you.”

Allan shook his head as he realized what Ben had done. Some of his anger over his brother’s potshots melted away. “You stupid jerk.

Do you really think I want you taking a bullet for me?”

Ben smirked. “I’m hoping neither of us take any bullets.” He poked himself in the chest, where he wore an oversized button-up Hawaiian shirt. “I, however, have been wearing my vest like I’m supposed to.”

“Won’t help you if they shoot you in the head.”

Ben’s gaze returned to the TV as he shrugged. “I don’t intend for the Biancos to find us. That makes it moot. Once we’re settled and I’m sure no one’s followed us, I’ll be able to stop wearing it. For a while.”

Most of South Florida’s criminals were on the lookout for the thirty-year-old Donohue brothers, who had a million-dollar mob bounty on their heads, if underworld scuttlebutt could be believed.

Allan had headed the Miami-Dade County prosecution team that It’s a Sweet Life 29

originally took down Victor Bianco’s cousin. In lieu of sentencing considerations, that cousin had flipped on Bianco, which triggered a cascade of charges both local and federal against the head of the Bianco crime family. Charges that could effectively dismantle the mob organization if successfully taken to trial.

Ben was the undercover detective who’d spent nearly three years entrenched in the Bianco organization. His work had brought the Bianco cousin to justice.

Add to all that the fact that apparently the entire New Jersey contingent of the Bianco crime family had suddenly headed south for the winter two days earlier.

Destination—Miami.

When the Feds discovered that little factoid, they’d offered the Donohue brothers two options—willingly disappear and stay hidden until the trial, or be taken into protective custody. With several local, state, and federal law enforcement and prosecutorial departments entwined in the biggest mob trial in Florida history, the two brothers had opted to voluntarily disappear.

Their limbo would be spent in Brooksville, Florida. Large enough to hide out in, and small enough to stay off the radar, the little town an hour north of Tampa would be their temporary home.

For now, they were holed up in a Holiday Inn at the corner of I-75

and State Road 50, with Ben registered as Ken Dougherty and Allan listed as Charles Stackhouse.

Allan turned back to the mirror, feeling both guilty that his brother had tricked him into changing appearances to put him at less risk, and loving the big goon for it. “I still hate the blond.”

“Keep it up, you’ll wake up with a reverse mohawk and have to shave it all off,” Ben shot at him.

Allan sighed and grumbled under his breath. “Fucker.”

30 Tymber

Dalton

Libbie awoke earlier than normal, at 3:37 Saturday morning, before her alarm even went off. The first thing she noticed was that her hands didn’t hurt nearly as badly as they had the day before.

She didn’t know if that was due to Dr. Smith’s prescription, Mandaline’s unconventional concoctions, or a combination of both.

She wouldn’t question it.

As she shut of her alarm clock and sat up, she realized her whole body felt better than it usually did.

That alone was enough to make her smile.

With coffee brewing, she grabbed a hot shower and dressed, taking her mug of coffee downstairs after swallowing a pain pill.

Ruthie arrived at four to help. When Grover arrived a little after five, they had half the day’s normal offerings underway, including several red velvet cakes for Libbie’s unpaid volunteer movers.

Grover offered Libbie a smile. “Well, look at you. Ain’t you the chipper one this morning?”

“I actually saw her smiling before her third cup of coffee,” Ruth gently teased.

“I feel really good,” Libbie confirmed. “I’m not going to question why.”

He grabbed a clean apron from the cabinet and put it on before washing his hands. “You look better than I’ve seen you in a few weeks.”

“And I had an idea last night.” She detailed her plan to him, receiving his approval.

“I think you’re right. That’s a good idea. It means less stuff to move out of there, too.”

By eight in the morning, the entire Johnson brood, including their significant others, had arrived and started the moving process. With Galileo loudly protesting the upheaval from his travel carrier, Libbie helped out as much as she could while Grover and Ruth watched the shop and finished the daily orders.

When he called Libbie downstairs at nine thirty, a grinning It’s a Sweet Life 31

Mandaline was waiting at the counter.

“Well? Grover told me you’re feeling better.”

Libbie gave her a hug. “It’s too soon to tell yet, but I’m definitely going to keep using them.”

Mandaline practically squealed with delight. “So what’s the big excitement going on?”

Libbie looked back at the hallway, where sounds of activity echoed down the stairs. “I’m playing musical apartments. I’m going to rent out the larger one in front that I’ve been living in. Furnished. If you hear of anybody nice, feel free to send them my way.”

“How much? I’ll put up a card on my bulletin board for you.”

“Seven hundred a month. Including utilities. Two bedrooms, one bath. Between you and me, I’ll be willing to negotiate the rent if they want to help out in the bakery.”

Mandaline tapped the info into her iPhone. “Sounds like a deal to me.” She flashed Libbie a smile. “I’ll light a candle for luck and prosperity for you.”

“Thanks.”

Her smile turned into a grin. “Want me to throw in one for love as well?”

Libbie let out a laugh. “What the hell, why not? Can’t hurt, right?”

“Right.” She waggled her fingers at Libbie and left. Libbie watched Mandaline cross the square, carrying her boxes.

“She’s a sweet gal,” Grover said from behind her. “Even if she is plumb crazy.”

Libbie looked up at him. “Grover,” she scolded. “That’s not nice.”

Ruth shook her head, clucking at Grover. “I think she’s sweet.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t say she was bad crazy. She’s sweet enough. But all that mystical hoo-hoo nonsense isn’t my thing.

Louanne, now she likes crystals and stuff. Spends plenty of time over there.” He glanced back at the stairs as he realized his youngest daughter was up there helping out with the move. He lowered his voice. “At least that’s the worst crazy stuff she ever did. I’ll take that 32 Tymber Dalton

over drugs or drinking any day. She’s a good girl.”

“Well, I think it’s sweet for Mandaline to do it, even if it’s not my thing.” Libbie shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe a little luck is what I need now.” She flexed her hands, which while achy, still felt great compared to the pain she’d been in the day before. “I certainly won’t refuse any good luck I can get, regardless of where it comes from.”

Saturday morning, Allan and Ben sat in the far corner of the hotel’s restaurant and studied the newspaper as they ate breakfast a little after eight o’clock.

“We can’t spend six months here,” Allan said. “In a hotel, I mean.”

Allan loved his brother, but the two of them made Felix and Oscar look like Ozzie and Harriet by comparison in regards to how they got along in close quarters. They could barely share an apartment in college, much less one room. Ben was a homebody, while Allan had enjoyed making use of what free time he had to go out and party with friends to make up for the years of strict studying and hard work he’d suffered through in college. But for the sake of safety, they’d agreed they needed to stick together, and Allan had bowed to his brother’s law enforcement experience to keep them safe.

Ben nodded. “I know.” His eyes never rose from the classified ads he studied. “We need to rent a place. Preferably from an individual.

These fake identities we have won’t hold up to detailed scrutiny from someone running background and credit checks. Jim did the best he could for us under such short notice.” They had okay-looking driver’s licenses from Nebraska, which was the best Ben’s friend in the DEA could do for them with less than twenty-four hours to assure their cover. Jim already had new Florida licenses in the works for them through his contacts in Tallahassee. They’d be overnighted from Omaha once Ben gave him an address.

It’s a Sweet Life

33

Allan guessed his brother was erring on the side of caution by going through a completely different agency for their disguises, but he wouldn’t question him on that, at least. “And why, again, was running the better option?” Allan would have been happy accepting federal protection, but deferred to his brother rather than argue with him about it.

Ben finally lifted his gaze, one eyebrow upraised. “Honestly? I don’t know who we can trust. I prefer being on the other end of a disposable cell phone than being a sitting duck in Miami.” His attention returned to the classifieds. “Look at it this way, now you’ll have time to do all that artsy crap you’re always bitching you don’t have time for when you’re too busy out scoring a new hot chick at a nightclub.”

Allan bristled, but bit back the “fuck you” struggling to get out.

This morning he’d had to fight not to stare at his brother. It was like looking in a mirror before his own dye job.

He didn’t like feeling guilty that his brother was willing to take on his appearance for the sake of keeping him safe.

Instead, Allan opted for civility. “You used to like to draw. Before college. You were really good at it, too.”

“Yeah, and that was before I saw what life was really like. What people are really like. I’ve got too much to do now usually.” He let out a snort that Allan recognized as Ben’s “shut the fuck up”

conversational warning.

Allan also felt guilty that his brother had, in essence, given up three years of his life to bring down a mob kingpin. All the while he’d been able to go about his own life in carefree freedom.

He sat back and focused on the front section of the paper.

Ben breathed a silent sigh of relief when Allan took the hint and shut his hole. They might have looked alike growing up, but the 34 Tymber Dalton

brothers couldn’t be more different in temperament. And he’d promised his mom before she died that he’d take care of Allan.

“He’s not like you, Ben,” she’d said one afternoon while he was alone with his mom in her hospital room. They’d just turned nineteen, and had spent it sitting at their mother’s bedside during her losing battle with breast cancer. “He’s as smart as you, but he’s book smart.

Your father always said you got the street sense.”

Which was why Allan majored in law, and Ben majored in law enforcement. Like their dad, who’d taken a bullet when he accidentally walked in on a robbery in progress at a bodega in Little Havana one night. He’d gone in at the end of his night shift to pick up a carton of milk to bring home for them for breakfast.

He’d never made it home.

Even though they were only nine when it happened, Ben remembered how hot the sun had felt on their backs as they stood beside their mother while a full honor guard carried their father’s flag-draped casket out of the church.

During school, Allan was the one picked on while Ben had to watch his back. Ben went out for football while Allan chose Latin Club.

For a couple of years he’d honestly suspected his twin brother was gay. Until the night in college when he accidentally walked in on Allan boinking a girl on their apartment couch when he came home unexpectedly after his own date fell apart early.

Then the girl, two years older than them, had brightened at the sight of him and suggested a threesome.

“I’ve always wanted to do twins,” she practically squealed. “It’s on my bucket list!”

It still boggled his mind how many women were actually down with the whole twins thing. He’d always thought it was a male-only fantasy, but they’d shared a few women in their time.

Not that he’d had anything resembling a love life in the past few years. Entrenching himself in the Bianco family was his life, It’s a Sweet Life 35

completely. He couldn’t risk anyone’s safety by attempting to have a normal relationship on the side. And it allowed him the freedom to enjoy the occasional hooker or exotic dancer with “the boys” in the course of his job without guilt or remorse.

I couldn’t do that to a woman I loved.

He shoved the thought back into its hole and slammed the door tightly against it as he felt his heart clench. Yeah, he was lonely most of the time. It was worth it to put away a hefty chunk of the Bianco family for good and get assholes like them off the streets.

If it meant he had to be a stereotypical bachelor detective, then oh well.

His glance skittered across the restaurant to where a small family had just been seated in a booth. A young man and woman, maybe late twenties, with a beautiful blonde little girl, maybe two years old. And a cute little boy a year or so older than his sister.

He forced his eyes back to the paper. I’m thirty. I wasn’t meant to have a wife or kids. I was meant to be a cop.

“So what do you think?”

Allan’s voice pulled him out of his mental meanderings. For once, he welcomed the distraction from his thoughts. “What?”

“We go into town, take a look around, see if we find anything that way. I need to get out and stretch my legs.”

Ben looked back down at his paper and nodded. “Sure.

Whatever.”

“Grouch.”

Ben didn’t respond. Instead, he forced himself to finish his omelet and not listen to the happy chirruping from the booth across the restaurant.

Neither brother had ever been to Brooksville before. Allan had wanted to stop in Tampa, but Ben overruled him. Allan had learned 36 Tymber Dalton

early in life not to push Ben when his mind was made up. All it would lead to was a fight. As they drove from the hotel into town, Allan admitted Ben made a good choice. The quiet town had the basic amenities such as a couple of large discount stores, but still maintained its rural, Old South charm.

As they followed up on a couple of rental leads from the paper, Allan let Ben take charge. Ben had always taken charge, something else Allan felt a little guilty about. He envied his brother the ability to wade into a situation and settle it. It was what made Ben a good cop, and an even better detective. People listened to Ben. He had a way about him that commanded respect and attention without being douchey.

Allan never had that. It was why he decided on law instead of becoming a cop. He knew he didn’t have the stomach for the on-the-edge work like Ben did.

Allan thrived on the details, the fine print, delving into the law and careful researching and pulling together cases to sway a judge and jury his way. He didn’t mind standing up in court and giving opening or closing statements, or questioning witnesses. There were rules and procedures and…safety. In a courtroom, he took charge and kicked butt.

Kicking in a door, however, would probably get him killed.

Allan studied Ben as he drove. With Ben’s deep undercover work, they hadn’t spent a lot of time together for the past three years, although they had talked on the phone at least once a week. As far as Allan knew, Ben hadn’t even taken a full vacation in the past several years. He’d been known to the mobsters as Frankie Ruggiero and played the part well.

Sometimes, Allan barely recognized his brother’s voice over the phone. Ben had a habit of replicating the New Jersey accent of the criminals he “worked” for. Two different times, Ben had been ordered to “whack” guys suspected of infidelity to the mob family. Ben had successfully flipped them, funneling them into the witness protection It’s a Sweet Life 37

program after faking their deaths.

Working on the other end of the process, Allan knew he was insulated from the dirty, day-to-day struggle the police went through to bring the criminals to his door.

More guilt.

They spent the morning looking at apartments and houses for rent until they ended up in downtown Brooksville, near the town square.

“Where to now?” Allan asked.

“You hungry?”

Allan tried to ignore the gooseflesh that rippled up his back at the way his brother had said it. As if he’d grown up in New Jersey instead of Miami. “I could eat, yeah.”

“I saw a little coffeeshop over there, on the other side of the courthouse.” They found a parking space and walked up to the shop.

The sign read Many Blessings in curly, bright pink letters. From the number of patrons inside, it looked like a popular place.

Ben walked in first. Allan didn’t miss the way his brother quickly scanned the area with a hard, narrowed gaze that swept over the patrons before he stepped forward and let Allan enter behind him.

Allan deeply inhaled the delicious aromas of coffee and tea, along with various scents that reminded him of incense.

Behind the counter, a short, slim woman with brown eyes and long, dark brown hair greeted them with a cheerful smile. “Welcome.

What can I get for you gentlemen today?”

As Allan looked around, he realized the store was more than a coffeeshop. Shelves of books, Tarot card decks, crystals, candles, statues, and other New Age items lined the walls. Several patrons at various tables sat hunched over layouts of Tarot cards while others were immersed in books or on their laptops.

Ben stepped up to the counter. “Large coffee. Black. Whatever the daily special is. And a cheese danish.” He looked at Allan. “You?”

Allan had to focus on Ben’s words. In the background, soft guitar music played through speakers. He’d felt his stress of the past couple 38 Tymber Dalton

of days melt from his shoulders. I could spend hours in here. “Same, please.” He finally looked at the woman helping them and noticed her studying them.

“You guys are new in town, aren’t you?”

Allan sensed Ben tense next to him, so he took over. “Yeah.

Looking to move here. Just got into town and trying to find an apartment.”

The woman’s face brightened even more as she laughed.

“Goddess bless me, that spell worked even faster than I thought it would.” She darted from behind the counter over to a bulletin board, where she unpinned a pink index card from it and brought it back to them. Handing it to Allan, she said, “Go see Libbie Addams. She owns the bakery. I think she closed early today, but if you go around back, I know she’s there. Just knock on the door.” She pointed out the window and across the square to a bakery where It’s a Sweet Life was painted on one window in bright pink and turquoise letters. “I’ll get your orders.”

Allan knew from the look on Ben’s face that he was forcing back a dubious frown. He pulled the card from Allan’s hand and studied it.

“Hmph.”

“Is that a good hmph?” Allan quietly asked.

Ben glared at him. “We’ll check it out.” When the clerk brought them their order and rang them up, Ben held up the card. “What do you know about this woman?”

Allan tried to step on Ben’s foot to warn him to knock it off, but Ben shifted to the right, away from him.

“Oh, Libbie’s a real sweetheart. In fact, we buy all our pastries and stuff fresh from her every day.” The woman’s playful smile turned into a sunburst of a grin. “And I know for a fact that she’s single.”

Allan felt his face heat for a reason he couldn’t fathom. Before he could respond, Ben took their change and grumbled, “Thanks, but we’re gay.”

It’s a Sweet Life

39

The clerk slowly nodded, but the sly smile never left her face. She winked at Allan. “Uh-huh. If you say so, guys. I don’t question people, but I have a feeling you’ll be a good fit for Libbie.”

Allan wanted to say something else, but Ben grabbed one of the coffees and danishes, put them in Allan’s hand, and spun him around toward the door before grabbing his own stuff. “Thanks. We appreciate the lead.”

Outside, Allan quickened his pace to match Ben’s. “‘We appreciate the lead?’ Nice work, Columbo. Like that didn’t make you sound like a cop.”

40 Tymber

Dalton

Chapter Four

By noon, the apartment swap had begun. The excess furniture and boxes had been removed from upstairs and hauled over to Grover’s.

As the delicious smell of Grover’s portable barbecue outside the back door mixed with the aromas from the bakery, everyone’s stomachs started growling. Libbie went ahead and shut the bakery down two hours earlier than her normal Saturday closing time and posted a note on the door apologizing for the early closure. They all sat in the shade of the two-car carport behind the building, where the outside stairs ended and keeping the lower back door sheltered from weather.

Normally she parked her car there, but for today it was out of the way at the far edge of the asphalt behind the building.

As she ripped into the brisket Grover had cooked to perfection, she forgot her momentary guilt over closing early. “This is delicious,”

she said. “I’m telling you, you should sell this.”

He laughed. “Naw, that’d be too much like work. I have fun in the bakery with you. I’ve learned a lot about baking. This is going to stay for fun, too.”

When two men walked around the corner and headed their way, Libbie felt her heart race. The same height, a little over six feet tall, even from a distance she could see they both had gorgeous blue eyes.

One was blond under his baseball cap, the other had dark brown hair, neatly trimmed.

Down, girl, she told her libido.

When Grover stood to intercept the men, she sensed his sons tensing, waiting. In school, she’d never been overtly picked on, because the Johnson boys and girls treated her like a sister.

It’s a Sweet Life

41

And no one messed with one of their own.

But when the two strangers showed Grover the pink index card they’d apparently gotten from Mandaline, Grover relaxed. Everyone else took that as a cue they could stand down as well.

Except Libbie.

And as she shoveled a forkful of brisket into her mouth, Grover turned and pointed her out to the men.

Ben wasn’t in the mood to put up with his brother’s crap. “Shut up,” he told Allan. “This place sounds perfect on paper.” He didn’t want to admit that when the clerk’s hand touched his, he’d felt some sort of weird spark, like static electricity. And the woman’s gaze had widened slightly before a beaming smile split her face.

Not to mention he had the distinct feeling she’d suddenly known everything about him, and Allan. Including the fact that they weren’t gay.

That’s stupid. You’re just tired and jittery.

They walked up to the bakery, which, sure enough, was closed. As instructed by the clerk, they found their way to an alley and walked around back where it looked like a regular family party was going on.

Ben quickly scanned the group. No gangbangers from the looks of them, but among the nearly twenty people there, only one of them was white. A woman sitting on a step while balancing a plateful of barbecue on her lap.

A large, older black man Ben guessed was either a father or uncle of the group stood at their approach. The man’s gaze suspiciously narrowed as he studied them. “Can we help you, gentlemen?”

Before Ben could speak, Allan did. “Yeah, we just came from the coffeeshop across the square.” He snatched the card from Ben and held it up. “The clerk there gave us this. We’re looking to rent an apartment in town for at least six months.”

42 Tymber

Dalton

The man’s face cleared as he smiled. “Welcome.” He pointed to the woman sitting on the step, who was mid-bite. “That’s the lady you want to speak with right there.”

Ben slowed as Allan stepped ahead. The woman wore a nervous expression as she looked up at them. Her sweet, green eyes glanced from Ben back to Allan. A light dusting of freckles across her cheekbones looked gorgeous against her milky skin. She wore her long, auburn hair pulled back in a loose braid.

I’d love to wrap that around my hand while she—

He blinked. What the fuck? He uncomfortably shifted position and hoped his rapidly growing erection wasn’t visible.

“Ms. Addams?” Allan said, holding up the pink index card. “Sorry to interrupt your lunch. May we talk with you about the apartment?”

She nodded. Ben thought she looked like a frightened deer.

“We—”

“We’re gay,” Ben blurted out as he stepped forward. He glanced around, but now that they knew the two men weren’t a threat, the others had gone back to their meal and weren’t paying any further attention to them. “Wanted to say that up front in case it’s an issue for you. We’re cousins, not involved with each other. We needed to get away from our families and find some peace.”

She visibly relaxed, but Allan shot him a deadly glare Ben wasn’t expecting. Ben didn’t understand why Allan was upset, because that was the cover story they’d agreed upon.

They’d also agreed not to get involved with anyone while they were in hiding. It wouldn’t be fair to a woman to do that to her, knowing they had to stick to their lie. Plus it could put her, as well as them, at risk.

Allan picked up the thread again. “We’re really interested in looking at the apartment, if that’s okay?”

“Oh, sure.” She stood, carefully balancing her plate of food, and slowly led them up the stairs. “This way.”

The upstairs smelled like fresh furniture polish, which did little to It’s a Sweet Life 43

disguise the delicious mix of bakery and barbecue aromas wafting up from downstairs. She set her plate on a small bookshelf in the hallway and led them to an open door. “This is the apartment. I’m sorry about the mess, but we’ll be done in a few hours. I was using this one, but I moved into the other one because this one’s bigger. It’s basically ready to move into, once we get done switching the furniture around.

And if you don’t mind rearranging stuff. Or if you want to wait until tomorrow—”

“Today’s fine,” Ben said, giving her a smile. She was so cute, her black plaid baker’s pants and grey T-shirt not hiding the sweet curves of her figure. She wasn’t skinny, but she wasn’t fat, either. She wore her beautiful figure in the sweetly self-conscious way of a woman who didn’t realize how pretty she really was.

And she thinks we’re gay.

He hoped he stifled his groan.

If he caught her trying to diet, he’d be tempted to spank her beautiful ass to stop her from losing weight. Another thought he clamped down on. “We can pay first, last, and deposit if you want.

Cash.”

He didn’t miss her surprised blink. She was hurting for money, no doubt. “Okay,” she said, a slight squeak in her voice. “That’ll be fifteen hundred. Is that okay?”

He frowned as he quickly did the math in his head. “That’s only a hundred-dollar deposit. That’s not very much.”

“I could drop the last month requirement?”

Bless her heart, she wasn’t used to dealing with tenants. From the looks of the furniture, and her lack of makeup, she appeared to be a down-home girl, not one of the skinny and looks-obsessed women he’d grown to hate dealing with while undercover in Miami.

One of the vacuous kinds of women Allan was notorious for dating.

“We’ll pay twenty-one hundred,” Allan said, surprising Ben. “A month’s worth for the deposit is standard. And we’ll be paying cash 44 Tymber Dalton

every month, if that’s all right with you.”

Ben breathed a silent sigh of relief that his brother had latched on to the same wavelength he had.

She nodded, but looked a little confused, in addition to overwhelmed. “May I ask what you do for a living?”

“He’s a struggling artist,” Ben said, tipping his head toward Allan.

“He just quit his job at an insurance firm. I’m working on starting my own Internet consulting firm.” He held out a hand. “I’m Ken. Ken Dougherty. This is my cousin, Charles Stackhouse.” When she slipped her hand into his to shake with him, he immediately lightened up on his grip when he noticed her wince. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He let go and she pulled her hand back. “No, it’s okay,” she said as she gingerly cradled her hands. “I’ve got arthritis and fibromyalgia.

My hands almost always hurt. Especially this time of year.”

The older man had climbed the stairs and caught her last statement. “Did you take your medicine, young lady?”

Ben successfully stifled his laugh. From the man’s tone of voice, he definitely considered himself her father.

The woman’s face reddened. “No, not yet, Grover. I took it this morning. I can’t take another one for an hour yet.”

Grover nodded. “Make sure you do.” He pointed at them. “You boys thinking about renting the apartment?”

They both nodded.

“Good. Then I expect you to help me keep an eye on her. She’s stubborn.”

“I’m sorry,” Ben said to the woman. “What was your first name again?”

“LacieBelle. LacieBelle Addams. But you can call me Libbie.”

As much as she loved Grover, Libbie wanted to smack him. Okay, It’s a Sweet Life 45

so the cousins were gay. Big whoop. They were still handsome, and now she felt like a scolded schoolgirl in front of them.

“Did you say Mandaline sent you?” she asked. “From Many Blessings?”

The men nodded. The dark-haired cousin, Ken, said, “I’m guessing you mean the lady from the coffeeshop?”

“Yeah.” Maybe there’s something to Mandaline’s magic after all.

She couldn’t get over how alike they looked, including their beautiful blue eyes.

Charles said, “She seemed really nice.”

“She is. They buy their pastries from me.” She realized they both carried small paper bags bearing the store’s logo.

Ken smiled, turning his stern expression into a handsomely playful sight. “We hadn’t got that far yet,” he said, holding up the bag. “But we bought cheese danishes.”

“Well come on in here. You can eat at the counter. We’re still moving the furniture and stuff around.” She led them into the apartment. “Charles, since you’re an artist, you might like that this apartment gets really nice light during the day and afternoon.” She pointed to two large windows against the living room wall. “That’s another reason I decided to move to the other apartment. It’s darker later in the day. I’m an early riser and go to bed early. Occupational hazard of owning a bakery. Plus I didn’t need the second bedroom.”

The men set their snacks down on the counter and followed her to the bedrooms. Both were empty.

Ken said, “I saw the mattresses and box springs.”

Still shrouded in plastic storage bags, the twin bed sets leaned against the wall out in the hallway.

“Those come with the apartment. I don’t have much in the way of extra towels and bedding,” she said. “That’s still boxed up. I’ll need to find it and get it all washed for you. It’s been packed for a while.

But the mattresses and box springs for the beds are brand new. My parents had put them in their guest room a few months before…” She 46 Tymber Dalton

cut herself off and quickly continued. “They’re several years old, but they’ve never been slept on.”

“That’s okay,” Charles assured her. “We can pick some bedding and towels up somewhere.” He looked at his cousin. “I like it. Let’s do it.”

She fought the urge to hold her breath while Ken slowly nodded.

“I’m in.” He pulled out his wallet and counted out fifties. “We’ll sign the lease for six months, if that’s okay? And then possibly extend it after that. We don’t know what our plans will be by then.”

Her heart fluttered. Six months wasn’t that long, but it would get her through snowbird season and take some financial pressure off her.

“And I’m willing to take some off the rent every month if you wanted to help out downstairs. I can always use another set of hands in the bakery.”

“I don’t know anything about baking,” Ken said, “but Charles is pretty good in the kitchen. Let’s pay you for this right now, and we can negotiate the rest later. Seven hundred a month is more than a fair price.” He offered her another smile that not only set her stomach fluttering, but warmed up places lower in her body that hadn’t felt like that in years.

“Great. I’ll go get the lease.” She hurried downstairs to her office, to where she’d printed off a generic lease form for Florida rentals.

So what if they’re gay? Her immediate problems were solved.

It’s a Sweet Life

47

Chapter Five

Ben waited until she was out of earshot. He kept his voice low.

“This is perfect.”

“She’s cute.”

Ben glared at Allan and reached for his cheese danish. “Don’t even. We’ve talked about this. It wouldn’t be fair to her. That’s why we’re telling folks we’re gay, remember?”

“Dude, you have to admit she’s a sweetie. She’s tripping all over herself.”

He found his hand fisting the front of Allan’s shirt collar before he realized what he was doing. “No. We will not put someone else at risk. I’ve seen what those fuckers do to people. Especially what they can do to the women of men who cross them.”

Allan stared at him. “Let me go,” he said, his tone strained, but calm.

Ben let out a breath and released him. “Sorry.”

Allan straightened his shirt. “One of the executive assistants in my office has fibromyalgia. Some days, she can barely function. I don’t have a problem helping Libbie out in the bakery if she needs it. And you can’t dictate who I can and can’t be friends with.”

“Friends, fine. No problem. But don’t go dragging an innocent woman into our crap. I won’t put anyone else at risk.” He bit into his danish. As he chewed he struggled not to moan. It was, no lying, the best pastry he’d ever had. And he’d consumed more than his fair share during stakeouts while working his way up to detective.

He glanced at Allan, who bit into his. His eyes widened. “Fuck, this is great!”

48 Tymber

Dalton

Ben nodded as he devoured his. “Yeah.”

Libbie returned a few minutes later with the papers and a pen. “So where are you from?”

“Omaha,” Ben said, sticking to their story. “Born and raised there.”

“Wow. That’s a long way to move, huh?”

“We’re tired of the winters,” Allan said. “Been there all our lives.”

“What made you pick Brooksville?”

Ben started filling out the forms. The PO Box address he listed in Omaha actually was a generic drop-box used by the DEA office out there for undercover operations. “We stopped for the night over at I-75 and decided to explore before we got to Tampa. I can work from anywhere I have Internet.” He looked at Allan. “So can he. We sold everything, cashed out, and said good-bye to cold-ass winters and judgmental family.”

“You’ll like it here,” she said. “Small town, very quiet.”

“And great coffee,” Allan added as he sipped his.

“Everyone loves Many Blessings,” she said. Her expression grew wistful. “We all miss Julie, the former owner. She was such a sweetheart. She was a good friend. We knew each other growing up.”

She let out a sad-sounding sigh. “It was especially hard on Mandaline.

She was even closer to Julie than I was.”

“What happened to her?” Ben asked, his senses on alert at her tone.

“You remember that horror writer, Stephen Corey?”

Allan frowned. “The novelist? Didn’t he die a few months ago?”

She nodded. “He killed Julie before he died. He went crazy.” She shuddered. “Actually, if you’re staying at I-75, you’re not far from where it happened. They lived in the Croom Motorcycle area there at the northeast corner of 75 and 50.”

Ben remembered reading about that case in the news. It had made national headlines due to the brutality of the crime, as well as the It’s a Sweet Life 49

fame of the guy. Corey didn’t just murder the woman. He raped her first, before almost killing his wife and friend in the rampage. The tabloids especially had gone nuts over the story. Autopsy revealed the guy was a severe alcoholic as well.

“That kind of stuff isn’t normal around here,” Libbie said. “It’s usually very quiet.”

Ben finished filling out the lease, signed it, and handed it to Allan to sign. “Here you go, Charles.”

Allan shot him a glare, but signed it correctly.

While he did that, Ben said, “We’ll run over to the hotel and get checked out. Then we’ll come back and help you all finish up with the moving, if that’s okay?”

“Oh, sure. I appreciate that. I’m sorry it’s not ready right now.”

“We don’t mind,” Allan assured her. “We’re just glad to find such a nice place so quickly.”

She took them on a quick tour of the rest of the building before handing them a set of keys. “Those are for your apartment and the back door over there.” She pointed down the hallway to the door to the stairs where they’d come in from the outside. “You can park in back behind the building. There’s only room for one more car in the carport. I usually park in front of the door.”

“We only have one truck,” Ben said.

“Oh, okay. There’s a washer and dryer downstairs, in the utility room. The key is the same for the back door.” She led them outside and introduced them to everyone.

Ben was glad to see his instincts were still sharp. Grover turned out to be the father, or father-in-law, of most of the others.

Grover smiled as he shook hands with them. “Welcome to the family, guys. We have plenty of food left, if you’d like some.”

Allan reached for a plate before Ben could stop him.

What the hell, why not? Can’t hurt to be friendly. “Thanks, Grover,” Ben said. “We appreciate it.”

By nine o’clock that night, the moving had been completed, the 50 Tymber Dalton

men had taken a quick trip to the store for sheets, pillows, towels, and groceries, and they were settled in for the night. Before Grover had left for the day, he’d slipped Ben a piece of paper with his name and several phone numbers written on it.

“You call me if she has trouble,” he told Ben. “Girl’s too damn stubborn to ask for help when she needs it the most. I’m counting on you two to help me keep an eye on her when I can’t be here.”

Libbie had gone to bed nearly two hours earlier, her face pinched with pain as she bid the men good-night.

I wish I could make her feel better. Ben shoved the wistful thought back into its cage again and slammed the door shut. He really liked Libbie and could tell Allan did, too. That was dangerous.

Very dangerous.

It wouldn’t do to fall for her. From the way she’d acted that afternoon, Ben could tell she’d quickly grown comfortable around them.

It would be too damn easy for him to fall for her.

You’re just lonely. Don’t be a dick and hurt her. Keep your distance.

Later, as he collapsed into bed, alone, after taking a shower, he couldn’t help but think about her sweet green eyes.

Libbie slowly sank into the deep tub of hot water with a relieved groan. Galileo, still disgruntled by the upheaval, strolled into the bathroom and put his front feet up on the tub’s edge.

“Mwrao.”

She closed her eyes and put her head back against the tub pillow.

“Stuff it, buddy. This is Mommy’s time.”

Everything hurt. Hurt worse than it had in a long time.

At least something makes my hands seem to feel better. She smiled at the irony. Tonight, her total pain level was through the roof, It’s a Sweet Life 51

meaning her hands were the least of her problems.

And now she had some nice man-candy to think about while waiting for sleep to kick in later. Ken and Charles were sweethearts.

Just my luck they’re gay.

Didn’t it figure? The first two decent guys, not to mention hunktacular guys, to cross her path in years, and neither was available.

Too bad. At least I have Bob. He never let her down as long as she kept fresh batteries in him. And he could stay in her bedside drawer, so she knew he couldn’t sleep around on her or lie to her about who he’d been with.

Bonus.

She’d learned the hard way it wasn’t worth having a relationship with someone who couldn’t give as much as she did. She’d divorced her first mistake, fortunately before her parents had died, eight years ago. They’d been totally supportive when she’d found out he was a cheating, lying bastard.

Especially when she admitted he gave her a hard time about her fibro and accused her of faking it.

After she caught herself drifting off, she drained the tub and got out. She rubbed more of both the ointment and oil mix Mandaline gave her into her hands and headed for bed. Tomorrow, with the shop closed, she could sleep late. And she would. As well as spend most of the day curled up on the couch with Galileo, a heating pad, and her Kindle. She had a new Cooper McKenzie ménage waiting for her.

If only those kinds of things happened in real life. Well, they did to lucky people like Mandaline. While initial scuttlebutt about the woman’s triad with Ellis and Bradley had been scandalous, eventually the rumors died down when people realized they didn’t do anything shocking like have sex in public or try to convert everyone to their lifestyle.

Libbie could give a flying rat’s ass what Mandaline did in her bedroom. Truth be told, she was a little envious.

52 Tymber

Dalton

She let out a wistful sigh. Maybe I should ask Mandaline what they’re putting in their drinks over there and order a buttload of it for myself.

It’s a Sweet Life

53

Chapter Six

Libbie’s first thought upon waking Sunday morning was that she was caught in a nightmare. The light looked wrong, her whole bedroom seemed out of place, and it felt like every single muscle in her body was simultaneously caught in a horrible spasm.

Even rolling over proved out of the question. She was caught on her side, tangled in the sheets and blankets without the strength to free herself.

As her panicked brain struggled out of sleep, rational thought took over. I switched apartments.

That slowed her racing pulse and allowed her to calm down.

It left her, however, with the problem of pain she could barely grit her teeth against and the stupid thought that the headline about her death would read “Woman Trapped and Killed By Her Own Tasteful, but Deadly, Bedding.”

That set off laughter. Soon followed by tears of pain and self-pity.

After taking a couple of deep breaths and trying to calm herself again, she started with her feet. Feeling around with her toes, she managed to wiggle her feet enough to get a grip on the sheet with them and slowly tug it down a little.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she did that several more times until she had gotten her lower legs and ankles limber enough she could draw them up and carefully shift onto her back.

That triggered another round of tears as pain wracked her body.

I’ve got to pull myself together. The pain and weakness scared her more than anything. Pain alone she could deal with. Hell, she had more than her fair share of experience dealing with it. But she’d never 54 Tymber Dalton

felt that level of weakness before in more than just her hands.

Remarkably, she realized her hands, while achy, felt reasonably good.

Figures. Maybe I can bathe in that damn stuff Mandaline makes.

It’d be worth it.

After a few minutes, she finished freeing herself from the covers and slowly stretched her legs out again with a pained groan.

Thank god it’s Sunday. She no doubt had way overdone things yesterday. She’d need every bit of her two days off to recover enough to work Tuesday morning.

It took her twenty minutes and a few more tears, but she eventually managed to get herself into a sitting position on the edge of the bed and stand up. Which was a good thing, because now she had to pee.

The bathroom felt like it was a thousand miles away, but as she slowly stretched, her protesting muscles and painful joints allowed her to shuffle into the bathroom.

As she sat on the toilet, she stared at the tub. While it called to her, she was afraid if she did get herself into it, she might not be able to get back out again as weak as she felt.

That would be embarrassing as hell.

She looked at the smaller shower in the corner. That would have to do. But later.

Coffee.

She eventually shuffled herself into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. Galileo strolled in after her. “It’s not even eight, yet,” she told him. “You’ll have to wait until later to give me trouble.”

He head-butted her shin, rubbing his head against her leg and loudly purring.

After an hour, a pain pill, a cup of coffee, and with her heating pad warmed up, Libbie’s strength had returned and she felt slightly more human. She curled up on the couch with a soft blanket wrapped around her. Galileo jumped up with her and made himself a nest down It’s a Sweet Life 55

by her feet.

She turned the TV on more for noise than anything and powered up her Kindle.

Allan found Ben sitting at the table, checking his e-mail, when he finally arose a little before nine Sunday morning. “Morning.” He walked over to the counter where Ben had already brewed a pot of coffee.

“Morning.”

“So what’s our plan for today, Brain?”

Ben’s glare slid across the room at him. “Funny.”

“Well, we’re here. Not sure what we’re supposed to do now but wait. And why do you get to check your e-mail, but I’m not allowed to?”

“You are allowed to, as long as you do it from this computer. You just can’t use Facebook or Twitter or Pinterest or any of those places you like to troll through. I have it logged into an IP anonymiser. We don’t know who we can trust. We don’t need someone getting a hold of the full headers of one of your e-mails and tracking us here.”

Before Ben had ended up in deep undercover for organized crime, he’d pulled a stint with the computer crime unit.

Allan walked over to the table and sat across from Ben. “I seriously doubt anyone in my office is on the take. Especially not on my team. I trust them.”

“You willing to stake your life on it? Literally? I know I’m not.”

Allan sipped his coffee. “You sound like one of the IA guys you always say you’re less than fond of.”

Ben shot him a dirty look but didn’t respond.

“You won’t even let me check Facebook from a phone. How the hell can someone track me from that when I have my profile set to friends-only?”

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Dalton

Ben didn’t look up. “Why don’t you stand outside of Bianco’s office and hold a ‘shoot me’ sign?”

“Can I at least wander around town?”

“Sure. Just remember to pay in cash if you buy anything.”

Allan rolled his eyes and headed out the door. He hesitated as he stared at Libbie’s apartment door. He faintly heard what sounded like a TV inside.

I could check on her. She’d looked like she was in a lot of pain the evening before. Despite having just met her, he couldn’t shut down his desire to help her. He stepped over to her door, pausing as he raised his hand to knock.

What if she doesn’t want to be bothered right now?

He lowered his hand and headed toward the back stairs. Instead of taking the truck, he opted to walk around town. Not many businesses surrounding the town square were open yet, or would open at all on a Sunday.

Buzzing in his brain, his aggravation at Ben warred with feelings of guilt. If it wasn’t for protecting him, Ben easily could have stayed in Miami in a loose form of protective custody with the most basic of disguises. Instead, he’d opted to take charge as he always had and declared they’d leave town for a while.

Then again, I guess I should be glad I’m not stuck in a dumpy hotel somewhere in Hialeah and unable to leave.

He did want to spend a little time on this unwanted and unexpected vacation brushing up on his art skills. He hadn’t picked up a sketch pad in what felt like years.

Beautiful, old live oaks were scattered around the square and between the buildings surrounding it. Old homes, still used as residences as well as having been converted to office and shop space, were mixed with commercial buildings ranging from pre-1930s to the present.

How long, exactly, since he’d been able to casually stroll along a city sidewalk and enjoy the sound of birdsong without the It’s a Sweet Life 57

overbearing blare of traffic and urban noises?

That would be forever.

He parked himself on a bench and studied the courthouse. He enjoyed his job, no question there. He thrived on the energy and intensity.

Then again, he missed companionship. He missed having real-life friends he could socialize with, like he had in college, instead of a series of hangers-on he had to carefully keep at arm’s length.

Especially when he didn’t know their true motives after having handled several high-profile drug and murder cases over the past couple of years.

Even his boss had approached him about grooming him to run for his job when he retired in a few years.

It felt surreal.

Ben enjoyed teasing him about going to nightclubs, not having any serious relationships, and being a party boy. But what Ben didn’t know—what no one else knew—was that it was all for show. A way to fill the empty time.

A way to keep from getting close to anyone, just to lose them.

A way to keep the loneliness at bay in a town where sharks didn’t just swim in the ocean. Plenty of them walked on two feet.

He wistfully studied the dark window of a family law office nestled in the first floor of one of the old, sprawling Florida mansions.

Gingerbread trim painted pale yellow highlighted the neat light blue clapboard sides of the two-story house. A wraparound porch, complete with a swing, completed the charming look.

How nice would it be to close the office at five o’clock on a Friday and be able to actually relax for the weekend? No pressure to go out with fellow office workers or high-profile political acquaintances, no career-ending cases to stress over.

Maybe even have a life. A wife.

Hell, when was the last time they’d celebrated Thanksgiving or Christmas with their cousins, or even together as brothers? Allan was 58 Tymber Dalton

sick of going to Thanksgiving dinners at other people’s houses.

Or worse, alone to a restaurant.

Then again, maybe his tough-as-nails, kick-ass brother didn’t feel like that. Maybe curmudgeonly Ben was perfectly happy with his life and Allan should suck it up and deal.

He looked up at the sound of church bells somewhere north of the square. How long since he’d heard that sound?

He returned to the apartment later that afternoon and slumped on the couch to channel surf. Ben wasn’t in the living room, and he didn’t know if the closed bedroom door meant he was in there or not.

If he was, napping or…otherwise busy, he didn’t want to bother him.

Barely paying attention to the programs, he started flipping through channels, one by one, until he stumbled upon a James Bond marathon on BBC America and settled in to watch it.

A little before noon, Libbie forced herself to put down her Kindle and headed for the bathroom. She felt strong enough now to enjoy soaking in the tub without worrying about not being able to get back out again. Earlier, she’d heard one or both of the men leave their apartment and head out, but they apparently hadn’t taken their truck, since she hadn’t heard it start.

She knew it was stupid, but something about the two men put her mind at ease. Comforted her. It made absolutely no sense whatsoever, but a feeling of safety seemed to surround them. For all she knew, they could be a pair of serial killers, but the fact that even overprotective Grover had given them a nod of approval had to be a good sign. Grover was especially protective of her once her parents had died, and had always been an impeccable judge of people.

There definitely wasn’t anything wrong with making the cousins stars of her personal fantasies.

That’s what I could use, an endorphin boost.

It’s a Sweet Life

59

She changed direction, instead heading to the bedroom where she dug a duffel bag out of her closet. Inside, she’d stashed her sex toys before the Saturday move so they wouldn’t be accidentally discovered.

The last thing she’d needed was teasing from any of Grover’s kids, who treated her like a sister. No one else was allowed to mess with a Johnson, adopted or otherwise, but they wouldn’t hesitate to tease each other.

She put most of the items, including assorted dildos, vibrators, and lube, into the drawer except for her backup plan.

The Hitachi Magic Wand.

She didn’t use it all the time, because she frequently found it to be too intense, even on the low setting. Today, she felt she needed it, knowing her pain levels might interfere with her ability to orgasm.

She stripped and plugged the vibrator in before climbing in under the covers to keep warm. Closing her eyes, she let thoughts of Charles and Ken float through her mind. She pictured their firm, trim bodies, their handsome faces.

Their killer blue eyes, the same light blue of a Florida sky during a high pressure system, a little on the grey side but clear and piercing.

She found the Hitachi and drew it close, pressing it between her legs. She normally kept her mound trimmed close because she liked it better that way. As she thought about what it would feel like to have both men in bed with her, she clicked the vibrator’s switch to low.

Her entire body tingled as the vibrator pushed pleasure through her clit, spreading into a fire throughout her whole body. What would it feel like to be sandwiched between those two men? Just like in the ménage books she read?

She wiggled her hips a little, getting more traction against the vibrator’s head nestled deeper between her labia as her other hand drifted up to her breasts. She tugged at one nipple, then the other, back and forth, wishing it was two sets of hands not connected to her doing the work for her.

60 Tymber

Dalton

Pulling herself even more deeply into her fantasy, she envisioned riding Ken’s cock, having it deep inside her pussy while Charles knelt behind her and played with her ass.

Her cunt walls clenched at that thought. Her juices ran as the fantasy played out in her mind.

He would go slow and gentle, working a finger or two into my ass before the head of his cock pressed against me. She flipped the Hitachi’s switch to high and had to turn her face sideways into the pillow to muffle the cry she let out as she came. Breathless and trembling, she switched the vibrator off and took a deep breath as a smile played across her face.

Oooh, yeah. That’s better.

It wasn’t until she made herself move to head for the bathroom that reality poked its head around the corner when she glanced back at her bed. A king-sized bed because she liked lots of room.

Her heart ached. A king-sized bed to be lonely in.

Forcing that thought out of her mind, she headed to the bathroom to go soak in the tub.

It’s a Sweet Life

61

Chapter Seven

Monday morning, Libbie felt marginally better than she had the day before. Still, her body groaned in protest as she slowly rolled onto her side and pushed up into a sitting position. She hadn’t set eyes on her tenants since Saturday, although a few times she’d heard them come and go via the outside stairs.

Not even the sound of their TV filtered through her walls.

In a way, it was a relief.

She made her way out to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee, glancing over to where her purse sat on the counter. The money they’d given her was tucked inside the zippered interior side pocket where she kept her tampons.

I need to run to the bank and deposit that. She didn’t like having that much cash on hand. She’d put the security deposit part of it in her savings account where it would stay, untouched. The rest of it would go straight into her business account so she could pay bills, with some held back as cash to pay Jenny.

As she tried to stretch, her muscles protested. A trip to the bank could wait until after she’d had a pain pill, a hot bath, and rubbed some of Mandaline’s miracle cures all over her.

An hour later, she felt strong enough to make the trip. That would be about all she’d accomplish, but she was used to that. The sudden fatigue could hit her and make her feel like someone had flipped a switch on her energy. Even in the middle of a shopping trip, she’d find herself looking for a place to sit down and rest for a couple of minutes with barely enough strength to go on, much less the energy to schlep her groceries upstairs when she made it home.

62 Tymber

Dalton

She’d learned to save large grocery trips for days when Jenny was there. The girl was happy to help out and traipse up and down the stairs for her.

Libbie had found sometimes she only had enough strength to get back up the stairs and crawl into bed, much less repeated trips.

Today, however, she slowly made her way down the stairs, the ones that ended in the hallway leading to the outside at the back of the bakery. They put her closer to her car because the door opened onto the carport. She rested for a moment after getting in, then carefully backed out. Ken and Charles had backed their pickup truck in. She briefly wondered whether or not Nebraska was a single-plate state like Florida when she saw no license plate attached to the front bumper, but by the time she reached the street the thought had already been chased out of her head by her need to concentrate on her driving.

By eleven, she was back in her apartment and curled up on the couch with her Kindle and Galileo. She’d had all sorts of plans for today, such as working on paperwork and washing her car, but knew if she wanted to be able to work in the morning she had to take it easy.

A little before ten Monday morning, Allan decided to leave their apartment again to get some air and look around some more. Going downstairs, he noticed Libbie’s car was gone. He took another turn around the center of Brooksville again on foot. Stores closed the day before had opened, including Many Blessings.

“What the hell, I could use a coffee.” He stepped inside, surprised to find it nearly deserted except for a woman dusting a bookshelf, and another woman standing behind the counter.

As he stepped up to the counter, he recognized the woman who’d given them the information about Libbie’s apartment.

She also apparently recognized him. She greeted him with a It’s a Sweet Life 63

beaming grin. “Ah, I see you’re still around.”

He nodded. “Yes, thank you. The apartment you told us about was perfect.”

She waggled her eyebrows at him. “I did mention Libbie was single, didn’t I?”

He felt the blush reach his cheeks. Dammit, what the hell’s wrong with me? He was used to standing up in court without breaking a sweat. Why was he suddenly getting all bashful when he thought about their cute landlord? “Um, yes, you did. I’m sure we also mentioned we’re gay.”

She let out a snort. “Sure you are, sweetie. What can I get you this morning?”

He wanted to argue the point then realized how absolutely stupid that was. Somehow, this woman had seen through their charade.

The fact that it was a New Age shop didn’t escape him.

Maybe she’s a witch. He could barely think it and manage to hold back his laughter at the same time. “Just a large coffee, please. House whatever. Black.”

She nodded and turned to get it, but he didn’t miss the tickled smile on her face. When she returned with his coffee and he reached for it, she grabbed his hand with her free one and stared into his eyes.

He felt frozen in time and space, locked onto her gaze.

“Hmm,” she muttered, frowning slightly. “You aren’t what you say you are. Neither of you are, but you have good reasons for it.

You’re good men.” She released him and smiled, holding his coffee out to him. “Here you go.”

He stood there blinking and wondered for a moment if he’d imagined the whole thing. “How much?” he asked, feeling rattled.

She shook her head. “No charge. Not today.” Her eyes narrowed.

“I know you’ll do the right thing by her, won’t you? She needs good men like you.”

Mumbling his thanks, he took the coffee and hurried out of the shop.

64 Tymber

Dalton

Something about that woman, what was her name? Mandaline? It unnerved him. Not in a serial killer sort of way. While the peaceful atmosphere of the shop had felt calming, he wasn’t sure he believed in psychic abilities.

Still, he couldn’t help but feel like all his secrets had been laid bare before her with just the touch of her hand to his.

He decided to return to the apartment and noticed Libbie’s car was back in her normal parking space. He wanted to spend some time with her. Nonwork time. He assumed when she was in the bakery that she was all business and not able to socialize very much.

Wouldn’t hurt to ask her out to dinner. He found himself hesitating at their door instead of going in. Allan wasn’t sure what Ben would say about it. Frankly, he didn’t care. Decision made, he turned, strode over to Libbie’s door, and knocked.

From inside, he heard her faint reply. “Just a minute.”

He regretted disturbing her when he realized how long it was taking her to get to the door from the sound of her slow progress across the apartment. When she opened the door, the pinched look of pain on her face wasn’t easy to miss.

“Hi,” he said, his heart aching for her. “Sorry to bug you. I just wanted to know if we could make dinner for you tonight.” Screw going out, it looked like she could barely walk, much less go down the stairs and be sociable in a restaurant. “As a token of our appreciation.”

When it looked like she might refuse, he quickly added,

“Seriously, we don’t want you to bring anything but yourself. Please?

We’d like to do this for you.”

Her green eyes stared up at him. He suspected her pale complexion was due more to her pain than lack of sun exposure. After what felt like hours, she slowly nodded, the ghost of a smile curving her lips. “Okay. Thank you, Charles. I appreciate it. What time?”

“How about six? Is that okay?”

“That would be great. Thanks.”

It’s a Sweet Life

65

She’d started to step back, as if to close the door. He couldn’t bear to let her go just yet. “Listen, Libbie, is there anything I can do to help you?”

She hesitated. “We can talk about the bakery at dinner.”

“I didn’t mean that. I meant anything else. Can I carry laundry down or up for you, or take out your garbage, or…anything?” He felt his face heat as he realized how lame that sounded.

She started to reply when her huge, orange tabby stepped through the doorway and curled himself around his legs.

With a smile, Allan reached down and picked him up. “Hey, fellow.” He glanced up at her. “I saw you had a cat, but I didn’t get to see much of him during the move.”

Her eyes widened. “He…seems to like you.”

The cat loudly purred in his arms. He rubbed under the cat’s chin.

“I love cats. I haven’t been able to have any pets for a while now. Too busy,” he added.

“No, you don’t understand. He hates everyone. Well, except me and Grover. And sometimes I think he only tolerates me because I feed him and keep his litter pan clean.”

The cat looked at him and head-butted his chin. Allan laughed.

“He seems to like me. Maybe he knows I’m an easy touch. Is he allowed outside?”

She shook her head and reached for the cat. “No. He’s not allowed in the bakery, either. But he’ll go downstairs with me sometimes when I do the laundry.”

“We’ll make sure we keep an eye out for him then so we don’t let him out.” He reached over and stroked the cat’s head again. The cat stretched his neck to keep contact with him. “What’s his name again?”

“Galileo. Or asshole, when he’s being a real pill.”

Allan’s eyes locked with hers. For a moment, the heat rising inside him took away his ability to speak. Then she shifted her gaze to the floor as another ghostly smile flitted across her features before 66 Tymber Dalton

disappearing again. “I’ll see you at six,” she softly said, stepping back inside the apartment.

“Six,” he repeated.

He turned and heard her door shut behind him. Kicking himself, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Gay. I’m supposed to be gay.

He adjusted the semi-stiff chubby in his jeans before returning to their apartment.

Libbie closed the door and leaned against it with Galileo tightly snuggled in her arms. She buried her face in the cat’s coat. For a moment, when her eyes had locked on Charles’, she felt something, like a bolt of heat streaking straight through her.

Except for the fact that he was gay, she would have sworn he felt it, too, from the way his eyebrows arched.

“Mrwao.” Galileo struggled to free himself from her grasp. She let him jump from her arms. He landed on the floor where he sat and proceeded to groom himself.

“Ungrateful ass. What was that all about, anyway?” She looked down at him. “You hate everyone. Why’s he special?” Galileo never friendlied up to anyone. Including the three guys she’d had less than stellar onetime dates with in the past couple of years.

Hell, even the vet techs drew straws to see who had to deal with him when she took him in for checkups and vaccinations.

But that was yet another point in the men’s favor. Grover and Galileo, the only two important men in her life, had apparently signed off on the cousins.

Well, Galileo had signed off on Charles. He had yet to officially meet Ken, but she had a feeling the cat might like him as well.

Being sociable hadn’t blipped her screen of daily tasks, but she suspected spending time with others outside of the bakery would be a It’s a Sweet Life 67

good thing for her. Grover was always bugging her to get out and socialize more often.

Come on, six o’clock.

Ben glared at his brother. “Thanks for asking me first.”

“Hey, I didn’t think it’d be a big deal.”

Ben leaned back and scrubbed his face with his hands. It still caught him off guard sometimes that he was now clean-shaven. “I’m sorry. Look, I’m just not in much of a socializing mood tonight.”

“Then leave. Go to a movie or something.”

He studied the stern set of Allan’s jaw. “This really means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, it does. If you’d seen her, how much pain she’s obviously in, you would have agreed with me. Besides, I want to be nice to her.”

He wanted to be nice to her, too, but the kind of nice he wanted involved no clothes, a bottle of Astroglide, and a marathon lovemaking session. His dreams the night before had been consumed by her, so much so that he’d rubbed two out that morning before getting out of bed.

A record even for his healthy libido.

“Earth to Ben.”

He looked up and realized Allan had been saying something else.

“What?”

When Allan’s brow furrowed, Ben knew he’d been made. “Oh, shit. You like her, too, don’t you?”

“That’s not the issue here.”

Allan pulled out a chair and sat across from him at the table.

“Yeah, it is. You feel it, too. Don’t lie to me. You might be a great undercover cop, but I’m your twin.”

“Okay, she’s cute. Is that what you wanted to hear me admit? And yeah, it’s been a long damn time since I’ve had anything resembling a 68 Tymber Dalton

relationship. But she’s still off-limits. You got it?”

Allan slowly nodded. “Yeah, I got it. I’m just wondering how much you’ve got it.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I’m the one who said we’d tell everyone we’re gay cousins.”

“I know.”

Ben didn’t like the way the conversation was heading. “Listen, Counselor, that shit might work on someone sitting on the witness stand, but it won’t work on me. Fine, she can come over for dinner and we’ll cook for her.” He slapped his laptop closed a little harder than he’d meant and headed for his bedroom, remembering at the last moment not to slam it shut behind him so Libbie couldn’t hear it from across the hall.

He leaned against the door and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand as he closed his eyes and tried not to recall last night’s scorchingly hot dreams.

The one person he couldn’t lie to—Allan—was the only one who understood exactly what he was going through.

He turned and snatched the door open and stalked across the apartment to where Allan still sat at the table. He jabbed a finger at him. “We can’t do that to her,” he said, forcing himself to keep his voice down.

Allan stared up at him, a look of cool, calm determination on his face. “Can’t do what, bro?”

He leaned in. “You know damn well what. Besides, we already told her we were gay cousins.”

Allan shrugged, infuriating Ben.

“We cannot drag an innocent woman into our lives right now. She deserves better than that.”

“You want her as much as I do.”

“And we can’t have her,” Ben said, poking the table with his finger for emphasis. “We. Can’t. Have. Her. Besides, we don’t even really know her.” Which was all the more reason he was freaking out It’s a Sweet Life 69

over his sudden feelings about her.

“Dude, all I did was ask her over for dinner. You’re the one wigging out.”

He straightened, looking down at Allan. The smug smirk that curved his twin’s lip made him want to reach out and slap it from his face.

“I just want to make sure we’re on the same page.”

Allan slowly nodded. “We are. But I won’t lie and say I’m not attracted to her when I am. You obviously are, too. We can be attracted to her and still be just friends with her.”

Clenching his jaw to hold back his retort, Ben spun on his heel and returned to his room.

He was attracted to her.

Too damn much.

Allan took the truck and headed out to the grocery store. He hadn’t cooked for anyone other than himself in months.

Tonight’s menu would start with Caesar salad. Followed by sweet potato soup, steamed broccoli, and broiled salmon with a parmesan crusted sauce. And for dessert…

He still wasn’t sure what to get. Considering she ran a bakery, it seemed silly to buy a grocery store dessert. After finding the other items on his list, he had an epiphany and returned to the produce section. There, the special was fresh peaches, of all things. Shrugging, he grabbed several, returned to dairy for a quart of vanilla yogurt, and then located a bag of granola.

He smiled at his own cleverness as he made his way to the checkout stands. Sweet, healthy, and not baked.

Hopefully she liked peaches, or he was screwed.

When he returned to the apartment he managed to haul everything up in one load. Ben still sat at the table, working on the laptop.

70 Tymber

Dalton

“You need help?” Ben asked.

“No, I got it.” He piled everything onto the counter. He glanced at the clock and realized he had two hours to get everything ready.

Plenty of time.

“Why is this so important to you?” Ben quietly asked.

He pondered the question as he put things away in the fridge.

Eventually he turned to his brother. “I’m grateful we found such a perfect place, for starters. And yes, I feel sorry for her. So shoot me.”

Allan didn’t miss the slight frown on Ben’s face as his brother refocused his attention on the laptop. “Okay.”

“You know, you can sit there and pass whatever kind of judgment you want on me, but the truth is you don’t know me as well as you think you know me.”

“I know what I read in the gossip columns. And what my friends in the department relate to me on a regular basis. How my party-boy brother lives it up at night on a regular basis and is seen going home with a bunch of different women.”

Allan clenched his fists and took a deep breath. “Fuck. You.”

Ben lifted his gaze to his brother. With his voice soft and level, he said, “Don’t hurt her. Don’t you dare.”

“Or what? Not that that was my plan anyway.”

Ben leaned back in his chair. “If I think you’re fucking playing her, or trying to get into her pants, or any of that kind of bullshit, I’ll put you on your ass myself. Don’t think I won’t.”

Stalemate. They stared at each other in an uneasy silence for several minutes. “Why are you so insistent on goading me, huh?”

Allan asked.

“Because I spent the last three years of my damn life with these fucking animals. I know what they’re capable of. I’ve seen them do stuff to women that made them wish they’d gone ahead and killed them.”

“Well, if you think she’s in such danger, why the hell did we take the place?”

It’s a Sweet Life

71

“She’s only in danger if we put her there. Which we won’t.

Right?”

Allan tried to remember all his brother had gone through. It was the only thing that helped him hold on to his temper and back down.

“Right,” he agreed. He tried lightening his tone. “Look, seriously. I just want to do something nice for her. Have her get to know us, what little we can let her, so she knows we’re not jerks.” He stepped forward and extended his hand to his brother. “Please?”

Like ice calving off a glacier, he watched as Ben deflated, his expression turning sad. He took Allan’s hand and shook. “I’m sorry. I just… You have no idea.”

Allan took this as an opening and put cooking out of his mind for a moment. He slid one of the chairs out and sat, switching to his “kind prosecutor” mode. The I’m-on-your-side persona he’d used countless times to ease witnesses through the trauma of preparing for a trial.

“We’re on the same side, bro. Honestly. The impression I got from Grover on Saturday was that she rarely goes out, has hardly any social life. She could probably use the distraction as much as we could.

That’s it. That’s all. I’m man enough to store it up in my brain for at night when I’m alone, or for in the shower.”

That earned him a smile from his brother, which was what he’d hoped for. “I don’t know who yelled louder,” Ben said, “you or Mom, when she accidentally walked in on you that time. You dumb-ass.

You should have had the water going so she could hear you were in there. Or locked the door.”

“You have no idea how long that ruined shower sexy time for me.”

Ben let out a long sigh. “I missed you.”

Allan leaned over and hugged Ben, pleased when his brother hugged him back. “I missed you, too, bro.”

72 Tymber

Dalton

Chapter Eight

Libbie dove into her Kindle again. Which wouldn’t have been a problem, except that regardless of how the author described the heroes, she now had absolutely no trouble superimposing Charles and Ken on their features.

Unable to focus on her reading without sexy thoughts of her new tenants-slash-neighbors filling her mind with deliciously dirty thoughts, she opted for a little work. She needed to place her wholesale order tomorrow morning in order to have everything delivered Wednesday afternoon.

At least I can get something accomplished.

When she finished that, a sudden, horrifying thought struck her.

What am I going to wear tonight?

This time of year she was completely comfortable lounging around the house in men’s flannel sleeping pants and oversized Tshirts. Especially when it was cool out.

As she stared down at her black and grey plaid bottoms, she knew she couldn’t go over there looking like that. It didn’t matter she’d worn them to the bank, because she’d used the drive-through and never got out of her car.

I can’t have them see me like this. Gay or not, I want to make a good impression on them.

She burrowed into her closet, which was still in disarray from the move, and finally opted for a long, dark charcoal maxi skirt that would be both warm and reasonably presentable. She could wear leggings under it, and her Ugg-lookalike boots, to keep her even more comfortable. She selected a long-sleeved forest green cowl-neck shirt It’s a Sweet Life 73

to complete the ensemble. Laying the items out on the bed, she nodded in approval. She wanted to take another bath before going over there, more to ease her aching body than because she felt she needed one.

As she studied herself in the bathroom mirror nearly an hour later, she opted to let her hair fall loose over her shoulders. Naturally wavy, she only managed to get her hair cut once every few months. Usually, she kept it pulled up in a ponytail, bun, or braid, held in place by a hairnet or bandana while working. She rarely got an opportunity to go out in public with it long.

For the first time, she realized it had crept past her shoulders. I need to call for an appointment and get it tamed.

She briefly considered putting on makeup, then decided against it.

That’s overkill. Not that she had much makeup to choose from. Just powder, two different sets of eye shadow, some tinted lip gloss, and blush.

I really am turning into a schlub.

Galileo watched her from the bed.

“Don’t give me that look. I know what you’re thinking.”

The cat stared at her without blinking.

She looked in the mirror again. “He’s probably thinking he’s owned by a crazy lady who likes to talk to herself,” she muttered.

After taking several deep breaths to calm herself, Libbie walked across the hall and knocked on Charles and Ken’s door at exactly 6:01.

“Come on in,” one of them called out.

It struck her, as she reached for the doorknob, that the men sounded alike in addition to looking very similar. They could almost be brothers instead of cousins.

Well, except for the hair. Why on earth does Charles think that 74 Tymber Dalton

color looks good on him?

She stepped in and felt her stomach immediately growl at the wonderful aromas floating through the apartment.

Charles stood at the stove. He turned and flashed her a grin.

“There’s our guest of honor.”

She felt a heated flush rise through her body at his tone. I really do need to get out more often.

Ken was setting the table. “Come on in and have a seat,” he said, also gifting her with a delicious smile. When she felt heat fluttering between her legs, she quickly broke eye contact with him. Those blue eyes of theirs were deadly to a woman’s reserve, gay or not.

Le sigh. “I appreciate it. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Nope,” Charles said. “It’s all under control.”

Ken held out a chair for her, and she offered him a bashful smile as she sat and he helped her scoot her chair in. “What would you like to drink?” he asked. “We have iced tea, water, or I can make you some coffee.”

“Tea’s fine, thanks.” The caffeine might keep her up, but she didn’t care. She sensed a fairly energetic rendezvous in her immediate future with Bob once she got back to her apartment.

Those always helped her get to sleep.

When they were all seated and working on their salads, Charles asked, “So, have you lived in Florida all your life?”

She nodded while she worked through a mouthful of romaine lettuce. “Born and raised here. I did have an offer to go to New York City after I graduated from school, but…” She felt her face redden in embarrassment, wondering how this would sound. “I turned it down.”

She quickly stuffed another forkful of salad into her mouth.

“Why?” Charles asked.

Why indeed? If anyone else had told her the same thing, she would have called them crazy. Unless they tacked on the qualifier. “I honestly didn’t think I could do it,” she softly admitted. “There are days it’s all I can do to drag myself out of bed and downstairs, It’s a Sweet Life 75

especially in the winter. Here in Florida, winters are nonexistent when you compare them to harsh New England weather.” She shrugged. “It was less disappointing to turn it down, I guess.”

“Ah,” Ken said. “I thought you were going to tell us your boyfriend refused to let you go.”

She let out a snort. “Hell, no. I’m single. I was single then, too. I’d already divorced the asshole and moved back home with Mom and Dad.”

“This sounds like a story,” Charles said.

She shrugged and took another bite of salad to buy her a moment to compose her thoughts. “My fibro cranked up in college. I was in an auto wreck at the beginning of my junior year, and apparently that’s a really common trigger. I barely made it through the full four years at USF. I met my ex while I was going there, in my freshman year. I’d planned on teaching and going for my master’s, but by the time I graduated with my bachelor’s, I knew I couldn’t do it.” She studied her plate for a moment. “I was stupid and married him before my junior year started, not three months before the accident.” She frowned. “I guess he forgot about the ‘in sickness’ clause in our vows.”

With a deep breath, she forced a smile. “He was cheating on me not too long after that, when I wasn’t bouncy enough in bed for him.

Unfortunately, it took me a couple of years to figure that part out.

When I found out, I divorced his ass and moved home. Mom and Dad made me stay with them, to build up my strength and confidence. I always had liked to bake. Dad told me I should look into culinary school. That maybe I could find a job with a catering company or something that wouldn’t be as stressful as a restaurant job.”

She thought back with a wistful smile on her face. “My fibro did get somewhat better after I divorced him. I think the stress of not fighting with Kevin anymore helped.”

“Kevin?” Charles asked. “Your ex?”

“Yeah. The rat bastard.” Her smile faded. “I’d only been home a 76 Tymber Dalton

couple of months with the ink barely dry on our final divorce decree when the accident happened. Kevin had the balls to approach me at my parents’ funeral and ask if I wanted to get back together again.”

She stabbed at a piece of lettuce with her fork. “No imagination needed there. He was all smarmy and fake concerned. I could see the dollar signs in his eyes.”

“Ah,” Ken said.

“Yeah.” She took another bite. “They had insurance, plus Grover helped me file a lawsuit and sue the fuck out of the drunk driver that hit and killed them.”

“I’m sorry,” Charles said. “How long ago was that?”

“Eight years.” She took a deep breath and forced a cheery smile she suspected didn’t fool them in the least. “I decided the best thing I could do would be to live in honor of my parents’ memories and go for it. I sat down one night and thought about what I really wanted to do. The first thing that popped into my mind was what my dad had said about culinary school. I realized I wanted to own my own bakery.

And it wouldn’t leave my head. So off to culinary school I went. And now…” She waved her hand around the room. “I bought this building two years ago, sold my parents’ house, and here I am.”

“I’m sure they’d be very proud of you,” Ken said.

“I hope so. I’d like to think so. Grover keeps telling me they would be, and I have no reason to doubt him.”

“He seemed very protective of you the other day,” Charles observed.

A true smile. “He’s another dad to me. His wife, Connie, she died almost four years ago. My parents weren’t huge churchgoers, but Connie and Grover were my godparents when I was born. Grover and my dad worked together for years, had a law firm together before they both retired. My mom and Connie were best friends.” She swallowed back the unexpected and painful lump in her throat. “I don’t know how I would have made it through the past several years without his family’s emotional support.”

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77

“So,” Ken teased, “does he screen your boyfriends for you?”

She let out another snort. “That’s a laugh. What boyfriends?” She took a sip of her tea. “This dinner with you two is the closest thing I’ve had to a date in a year.” Time to quit talking about myself. “So tell me about your families. What’s Nebraska like?”

Allan frantically groped for a way to fill in the blanks while praying they didn’t end up contradicting themselves or each other in the process. “Well, it’s not Florida.” What he knew about Nebraska was that they had a team called the Cornhuskers, and Penny from The Big Bang Theory hailed from there.

I’m going to need a trip to Wikipedia later if I’m going to do this convincingly for any length of time.

“Thank god,” Ben added, throwing a warning glance his way.

They’d agreed to keep the details to a minimum, lessening the chance of screwing things up. Allan hated lying. As a prosecutor, his job was getting to the truth. Ben on the other hand had way more practical experience in staying undercover and keeping a story straight.

Hell, it was all he could do to remember he wasn’t supposed to be straight and to not start flirting with her. She’d seemed so sad when skimming over the details of her divorce and her parents’ deaths. He longed to reach over and give her a hug, give her a comforting set of arms to relax into.

He mentally shook his head. Must. Focus.

“How are you guys related?” she asked. “You said you were cousins?”

The men spoke at the same time.

“Our fathers—” Ben said.

“Our mothers—” Allan said.

Both men’s mouths snapped shut. Allan thought the fastest and 78 Tymber Dalton

beat Ben to the punch while Libbie’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“My dad and his brother married his mom and her sister,” he quickly said.

He noted the desperate look on Ben’s face, so Allan quickly threw in, “It was a double wedding.”

Libbie was looking at him and missed the arched brow and warning look Ben gave him from across the table. When she looked at Ben, Allan sent him an apologetic shrug.

“What?” she asked.

“Two brothers married two sisters,” Ben added. “Sorry, he always says that confusing. We’re double cousins. Our fathers are brothers and our mothers are sisters.”

“Oh,” she said, not looking like she was any less confused. “Does that happen a lot?”

“It apparently does in Nebraska,” Allan muttered as he took a swig of tea.

If Ben could, he’d reach across the table and slap the crap out of his brother.

So much for keeping it simple.

“They grew up in the same town,” he added as he glared at Allan when Libbie focused on his brother again. “Small town outside of Omaha,” he quickly added when he remembered they were supposed to be from Omaha.

“I imagine the winters are cold there, huh?”

“So do I,” Allan said. “I mean, yeah, you’re right, they are,” he quickly added upon spotting Ben’s frantic warning look.

“Well, I guess that explains why you both look so much alike,”

she observed. “Makes sense.”

“Yeah, we’ve gotten that all our lives,” Ben said. He hoped they made it through dinner without blowing their cover. The guys would It’s a Sweet Life 79

never let me hear the end of it back at the station. I made it three years in a New Jersey mob family, just to have a baker find out the truth in one dinner because my brother’s an idiot.

“Any brothers or sisters?” she asked.

“Nope,” Ben said. “We’re both only children. We grew up like brothers, though. Very close.”

“Ah. Oh, I was curious. I noticed you didn’t have a Nebraska plate on the front of your car when I went out. Are they like Florida and just use one tag?”

Ben didn’t dare risk throwing a glance Allan’s way because he sensed his brother had frozen up. “I hit the tag office first thing this morning,” Ben said before taking a swig of tea to buy him some time.

“Already changed them.”

“Oh.”

“Ready for soup?” Allan quickly asked to change the topic.

Ben breathed a sigh of relief and hoped he could steer the conversation clear of their fictitious families of origin and license plates that didn’t exist. He mentally smacked himself in the head. The truck they’d borrowed belonged to another retired cop friend of his, one he knew was clean, who lived in Palm Beach. His own car was safely stashed in his friend’s garage. Stupidly, in the rush to get out of Miami, he’d forgotten that little detail about license plates.

I need to get my head on straight. Ben stood and picked up his salad bowl, offering to take hers as well since she’d finished.

“Thanks.” She gave him a warm smile with more than just a hint of sadness coloring her features.

His heart raced. For a moment he wasn’t able to make his feet move. “You’re welcome.” Man up, Donohue. This isn’t like you. He pulled himself away from her green gaze and joined Allan in the kitchen.

They were too close to the table for them to say anything to each other, so he stomped on Allan’s foot instead.

When Allan looked at him, Ben made a “quit fucking this up” face 80 Tymber Dalton

at him. Well, he hoped Allan interpreted it correctly.

For all he knew, maybe his twin would think he was constipated.

They managed to make it through the rest of dinner without any other glaring gaffes regarding their supposed roots. Ben refused to let her help clean up. “No, you stay there and talk with Charles about the bakery,” he admonished, sending Allan a look over her head and staying him in his seat.

She’d put on a good show for them, but Ben hadn’t missed the way the corners of her eyes pinched close in pain, or how when she stuck her hands under the table that her upper arm muscles flexed and moved as she rubbed her hands, even to the way she gripped her silverware.

The woman was in a lot of pain. Probably a lot more than she let on.

As he stood at the sink and did the dishes, he listened to them talk.

“I definitely could use the help on Wednesdays,” she said. “That’s the day my wholesale order comes in. Bags of flour, sugar, stuff like that. I try not to keep too much extra on hand so we’re not horribly overstocked in the storeroom or the walk-in cooler, but it would be nice to have an extra set of hands on board. I always feel guilty that Grover jumps in to do so much of that.”

“I’ll be more than happy to,” Allan told her. “I…uh, do my best art work later in the day anyway. That means my mornings are all yours.”

Smooth, Counselor. Ben barely concealed his amused laugh. The party playboy of South Beach getting up at oh-dark-thirty? This I can’t wait to see.

“Well, I definitely don’t expect you to work every day. I’d be happy just to get a little extra help on Wednesdays.”

A lot of people would be taking advantage of any free help they It’s a Sweet Life 81

could get. I really do like her. He thought about that for a moment.

Then again, I’m not used to seeing the better side of people in general, lately.

All throughout dinner, the more Ben learned about Libbie, the more he liked her. He understood and sympathized with the loss of her parents, even if he and Allan couldn’t really tell her about their own.

In many ways, she was as alone as they were.

He wouldn’t mind a few minutes alone with her rat bastard of an ex-husband, either.

At the end of the evening, when they bid her good-night, he felt his heart leap again when she leaned in to hug both of them. The feel of her soft, auburn hair against his cheek pulled at his heart.

I could easily get used to this. He killed that line of thinking.

Stop it!

He watched as Allan hugged her, too, and they didn’t close their door until they saw she was safely in her own apartment and heard the lock click home.

Ben closed the door and leaned against it, blowing a long breath out. Allan stood there, motionless, watching him.

“What?” Ben asked.

Allan silently shook his head.

“What is it? Just say it.”

“If the look on your face means the same thing that I feel, I have a feeling this is going to be a really long six months.”

Ben felt himself slump in defeat. “Yeah,” he softly agreed.

Libbie let out a happy sigh as she leaned against the door and closed her eyes. Gay, gay, gay-gay-gay.

I don’t frakking care.

Two sets of strong arms to give her hugs, even if it meant 82 Tymber Dalton

unrequited panty dampening would ensue as a result, and she didn’t have to share them with any other women.

I hope they decide to stay longer than six months.

She had a full tummy, a nice evening with Ken and Charles, and now she could go to bed, indulge in some sexalicious vibratory visualization, and hopefully sleep well.

It only took her a few minutes to go through her nightly routine.

To scoop Galileo’s box, top off his food, wash out and refill his water bowl, and brush her teeth. She grabbed one of her smaller, battery-operated vibrators from the bedside table drawer and dragged it under the covers with her.

Closing her eyes, she flipped the switch on the vibrator and let out a sigh as she touched it to her clit.

Thaaaat’s it.

In her mind, she stared into Ken’s blue eyes as he knelt between her legs. She found the perfect angle and clamped her thighs together, holding the vibrator in place. She cupped her breasts with her hands, imagining they belonged to Charles, his fingers knowing exactly how to torment her nipples and drive her closer to the edge.

She’d read plenty of ménage fiction in the past couple of years.

More than once she’d had to put her Kindle down to go seek out her vibrator and take care of erotic urges.

Focus. She imagined staring up into Charles’ blue eyes as he tweaked her nipples while Ken’s tongue worked on her clit. It would be heavenly to feel Ken’s hands clamped around her thighs, forcing her to endure the pleasure he’d make her take, neither man relenting or releasing her until they’d satisfied her.

Men to take charge, that she could trust and let go to. Men who would take what they wanted and give plenty in return.

Men who would take care of her.

She softly whimpered as her hips rocked against the vibrator.

She’d love to feel two sets of hands pinning her down to the bed while they had their way with her, completely and utterly owning her It’s a Sweet Life 83

body.

When the first flutters started, she pinched her nipples harder, the little bite sending her over the edge while the vibrator buzzed against her clit, stretching her climax out. She came down from her orgasm and pulled the vibrator from between her legs. She had to fumble to find the switch, but as she dropped it into the drawer where it resided with her other Bobs, she already felt herself drifting.

Too bad it’ll never be anything but a fantasy.

84 Tymber

Dalton

Chapter Nine

Libbie awoke Tuesday morning at her usual time when the alarm went off at ten ’til four. As she slowly flexed her hands, she breathed a sigh of relief. Part of her had worried Mandaline’s miracle mixtures wouldn’t work more than once or twice.

She was happily pleased to admit she was wrong. While achy, her hands weren’t bothering her any more than on a mildly uncomfortable day. The pre-bedtime orgasm had helped her sleep well, too.

She started her coffee, added dry chow to Galileo’s bowl, and headed for the shower. As she stood under the spray for a few minutes, slowly stretching and easing the rest of her muscles, she thought about dinner the night before.

The cousins were handsome. Stunningly so. Their identical blue eyes melted things deep inside her she never thought would see the light of day again.

And dammit, they’re gay.

She let out a wistful sigh.

Charles, the friendlier one. Scratch that, it wasn’t very fair of her to say such a thing. He had a more outgoing personality was all. Ken had his own unique charm, but she got the idea he was used to paying close attention to details for a living. The way she felt his eyes on her several times during their meal, as if evaluating her. Not in a creepy way…

It reminded her of one of her customers, Detective Haines from the Hernando County Sheriff’s Office. He came in once a week to buy munchies for staff meetings.

She felt herself blush over the dreams she’d had about the men. Of It’s a Sweet Life 85

being sandwiched between them, of them doing deliciously immoral things to her, of ravishing her body all night long.

I’m spending too much time on my Kindle. Then again, it made great vibrator session fodder. She was glad she’d accepted their offer for dinner. She’d had a good time and enjoyed talking with them. And she’d have a chance to spend more time with Charles down in the bakery.

The giddy shiver that raced through her body at the thought brought her to a mental stop. They’re gay, she firmly reminded herself. And you’re not in the market for a boyfriend, remember?

She suspected if given a voice in the matter, her pussy would be wearing a sad panda pout at that thought.

Shaking her head to snap herself out of her thoughts, she said, “Damn, I reeeally need a social life.”

She was dressed and down in the bakery less than twenty minutes later, with a second cup of coffee in hand and having started the office coffeepot as well. She fired off a quick e-mail to her supplier with her order before pulling down her Tuesday list.

She crossed send wholesale order off the top of the list with a black dry-erase marker. Every day had a its own list, even though over three-quarters of the daily items were duplicates. Next to the daily list was another laminated sheet labeled Special Orders. On it, written in dry-erase marker, the Palmer order. They’d get those knocked out today and ready to go.

The lists made it easier on her when the fibro fog was so bad she could barely remember her own name. Before, when it was one large list for the whole week, she found herself doing things that didn’t need to be done, or redoing things that had been done days before, despite being crossed off already.

The daily list system was fibro-fog foolproof, as she thought of it.

It also made it easy for Ruth, Grover, and Jenny to see what still needed to be done and take over when necessary.

Libbie wasn’t too proud to admit she had a great capability to 86 Tymber Dalton

screw things up when in the grips of a severe flare.

Hence, the lists.

A noise on the stairs startled her. She turned to find Charles walking through the back door into the kitchen area.

The pleasant thump her heart made at the sight of him caught her off guard. I really need to get better about that. “Hey. Wow, you’re up early.”

He offered her a sleepy smile. He looked delicious in faded jeans, sneakers, and a plain white T-shirt. “I wasn’t sure what to wear in a bakery, so I hope this is okay?”

The T-shirt wasn’t overly tight, just snug enough it clung to him and showed off his physique. She nodded. “Uh-huh. Um, I mean yeah. It’s fine. You didn’t have to come in this early, though.”

He shrugged. “I’m not doing anything else today. Might as well start learning.”

She swallowed hard as she looked up into his blue eyes. “Okay,”

she squeaked.

She started with the easiest, showing him the lists. “Every day has a list. When something’s done on the list, it has to be crossed off with one of these markers.” She used a magnet to hold the list onto the whiteboard near the office door, where it could be seen from anywhere in the kitchen area.

“Are there drastically different routines from day to day?”

“No.” She pointed to a second sheet held to the board with another magnet. “Except for special orders, it’s pretty routine for the most part.”

“Then why does each day have its own list?”

“Because I need it that way.” She tapped her temple. “Fibro fog.

You have no idea how bad it can be.”

His face showed recognition instead of the ridicule or ignorance It’s a Sweet Life 87

she’d prepared herself for. “Ah, that makes sense.”

“You really think so?”

He nodded. “I work…worked with a woman with fibro. I don’t know how she made it through some days.”

“Oh.” Her estimation of him rose even higher. “Okay.”

They were interrupted on the tour of the bakery by Ruth’s arrival.

After the introductions, Ruth looked Charles up and down. “So you’re half of the new tenants, hmm?”

“How did you know?” Libbie asked. “You weren’t here when they got here on Saturday.”

She stepped forward to shake hands with him. “I heard all about them from Grover when I ran into him at Publix Sunday after church.

Nice to meet you, young man.”

Libbie left Ruth to get started on the morning’s preparations while she continued showing Charles around. When they reached the storeroom, he let out a low whistle. “Someone likes their label machine.”

Admittedly, she’d gone a little hog wild with the thing, a housewarming gift of sorts from Grover when she bought the building.

Bless his heart, he’d foreseen her need to stay organized to help combat the fibro fog. Utensils, pans, and tools, along with specialty items that didn’t need to be in the main kitchen all the time were stored on shelves and in two large sets of stainless cabinets with drawers, each one bearing several labels reflecting the contents neatly stored amongst dividers inside.

Along many of the shelves, where pots, dishes, pans, and other assorted items resided were more labels, taped to plastic cards affixed to the wire racks. As well as places for standard dry supplies like sugar, flour, salt, and the like.

“Do you have the cooler labeled like this, too?”

She felt her face heat. “No. They wouldn’t stick.”

“Does the label maker have a label?” He laughed, but she sensed 88 Tymber Dalton

no meanness behind it.

“You think I’m crazy?” she asked.

“Yep. You’re crazy,” Charles gently teased.

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Shows how much you know,”

she lightly retorted. “I’m not crazy. My mother had me tested.”

Charles roared with laughter at her playful smirk. “Ah, you love the show, too, huh?”

“Yeah. The Big Bang Theory has to be my all-time favorite. No matter how crappy I feel, I can watch that and laugh. I practically know all the episodes by heart.” She dumped the ball of dough out onto the floured board. “I have all the past seasons on DVD, and the current ones on my DVR. I can watch them over and over again and never get tired of them.”

“Something we have in common, then,” he said.

He’d finally coaxed a smile out of her. If it meant he had to go around quoting The Big Bang Theory all the time, he’d do it.

Anything to make her smile, to take the perpetual look of pain from her face for a moment.

Admittedly her system, while perhaps appearing to be overkill to those who didn’t understand how bad the mental fuzziness dubbed fibro fog could be, was genius. It meant he’d have little trouble finding things or figuring out what to do next.

She led him over to a little alcove between the office door and the bakery. Several shelves held clean aprons and dishtowels. Another held a box of hairnets. “Sorry they’re not a fashion statement,” she said. “Health regulations. If you’re working the counter, or doing cleanup, you don’t need one, but for actual prep work and baking, you do.” He realized she’d worn her hair in a braided ponytail today. She reached up and deftly twisted it into a makeshift bun before pulling one of the hairnets over her hair and grabbing an apron. She handed It’s a Sweet Life 89

him a hairnet and an apron. “I’m going to have you working with Ruth this morning. She’s handling today’s usuals. We make them every day. Grover takes on the more specialty items and helps me with some of the decorating.”

He pulled on the hairnet before slipping the apron on over his head and tying it around his waist. “Point me in the right direction.

I’m here to help.”

When Grover showed up a few minutes later, he walked over to Allan and, out of earshot of Libbie, leaned in and asked, “She doing okay today?”

He glanced across the kitchen, where Libbie had just headed out into the storefront. “I think she’s hurting, but she’s good at hiding it well.”

“You better believe she is. She don’t like to ask for help. She’s a proud, stubborn, independent woman.” He tapped Allan on the shoulder before wagging a finger at him. “Remember what I told you.

I’m counting on you two being my eyes and ears.”

Allan nodded. “Yes, sir.”

By the time the store opened at seven thirty, the display cases were over three-quarters full with more items on the way out of the ovens or fryers. Three people were lined up outside the door when Jenny raised the shades, unlocked the door, and welcomed them in.

Allan was surprised to discover some of the items, while technically fresh, were prepared in advance and frozen. “I don’t know why I never thought of that,” he said to Grover while lifting a tray of bread into the oven. Libbie was in the store, helping Jenny serve the wave of morning customers as more filtered in.

“It’s a time-saver. Some things, we have to make fresh every day or they just wouldn’t taste as good. Or Little Miss Pigheaded refuses to make them ahead because she prefers to do them the same day. But we do ahead what we can the afternoon before, sometimes even a couple of days before. She don’t like to do them too far in advance.

Special order items are always made fresh, like wedding cakes.”

90 Tymber

Dalton

“How many of those does she do?”

“Not as many as I wish she would. They pay really well, but it’s hard on her. I can do basic stuff, some piping and flowers, but she’s the artist when it comes to the fancy cakes. Not to mention she’s only one person and only has twenty-four hours in a day. She can’t predict when her pain will be bad, so she rarely takes on more than one special order a week that requires a lot of decorating.”

“What about Ruth?”

“She’ll do the stuff we sell in the store, like cookies and cupcakes and the likes, or frost the cakes before Libbie takes over, but she doesn’t do as much as I do when it comes to the special stuff.”

Allan considered that. “How hard is it to do that kind of stuff? I’m artistic. I draw.”

He smiled. “Drawing isn’t the same as sculpting sugar in three dimensions.” He closed the oven and set a timer before walking over to the list and crossing off yet another item. “Come here.” He led Allan into the office and showed him two shelves full of cookbooks, cake decorating manuals, and other food-related guides. “Make sure to ask Libbie first, but I’m sure she’ll say yes to letting you borrow any of these.”

Allan pulled one out, a basic primer on decorating cakes, and flipped through it. “I think this is really neat. Do you think she’d let me practice?”

“Absolutely. If you get to the point where you can do some of that for her, it’d be a huge weight off her shoulders, I’m sure.”

Allan returned the book to the shelf and followed him back into the kitchen. “So what’s next?”

Grover pointed to Ruthie. “She’ll show you how to whip up cake batter for the red velvet cakes. They’re one of our best sellers.” Allan knew he’d never remember everything he’d already learned, much less what he knew was coming. Then he glanced at the list hanging on the whiteboard and he realized he didn’t have to. From the laminated recipe pages in the notebooks, to the well-organized storeroom, all he It’s a Sweet Life 91

had to do was follow directions and enjoy his morning. Ruth and Jenny were as welcoming as Grover and Libbie had been.

It struck him that while he liked what he did in Miami, and enjoyed many of his coworkers, he didn’t have the easy camaraderie there that he’d found after just a few hours in this bakery.

Dr. Smith showed up for his daily cruller fix at his usual time.

When he held out his hands and waggled his fingers at Libbie, she held her hands out for his inspection. “How’s the pain today?”

“Not too bad. The naproxen are helping. Plus Mandaline brought me a couple of things to try.”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “Eye of newt?”

She laughed, knowing the doctor was only teasing. “No, one is a blend of oils and the other is an ointment. They really seem to be helping. They don’t take the pain totally away, but they do seem to tone it down somewhat.”

He grinned. “Hmm. I’ll need to go have a few words with that little witch for trying to steal my patients as well as holding out on me. Seriously, I have a few other fibro patients. If it’s working for you, I’m interested in seeing if my other patients might benefit, too.

I’m always on the lookout for alternative treatments that might help them.” He released her hands and reached for his wallet.

“Well, I’m definitely a happy client.”

“That’s good enough for me.” He handed her a couple of ones to pay for his order and picked the bag up. “I’m just glad to see you smiling again.”

When Mandaline came in for her daily order that morning, Libbie didn’t miss the sly smile her friend wore as she spotted Charles 92 Tymber Dalton

working in the back.

She leaned in, motioning Libbie close with a crooked finger.

“Hang on to them,” she whispered.

Libbie let out a snort. “Sorry to disappoint you, but they’re gay.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Doesn’t mean a girl can’t dream about them, though.”

Mandaline handed her a check and winked. “Wish big, dream hard, and it should come true. What are you doing next week for Samhain night?”

“Huh?”

She giggled. “Sorry. Halloween. I’ve got Samhain on the brain.

I’m teaching a series about Pagan and Wiccan sabbats and esbats.

Tonight’s subject is Samhain. Are you joining in on the festivities?”

The local chamber of commerce held an annual trick-or-treat celebration downtown, both to help promote local businesses and to help cut down on the number of wild little urchins running rampant through the darkened streets of Brooksville proper.

Which also meant, in theory, fewer houses getting TP’d and egged. “I’m going to make and bag a bunch of sugar cookies and hand them out. By the way, thank you for pointing Charles and Ken my way. This worked out well.”

“Nice.” She collected her boxes. “I meant about the cookies. And you’re more than welcome about the hunks. How’s your hands?”

Libbie held them up and flexed them. “Between the stuff you gave me, and the naproxen prescription from Doc Smith, I’m not doing half bad. Oh, Doc Smith is liable to pay you a visit. He’s interested in finding out what you gave me so he can try it on some other patients.”

“Good.” She headed out the door. Over her shoulder, she cast one last thought. “Remember, wish big and dream hard.”

Libbie raised a hand to her as she walked out the door and headed across the square.

Wish big and dream hard, huh? She turned and looked through the doorway. Even the hairnet didn’t detract from Charles’

It’s a Sweet Life

93

hunkalicious physique.

She closed her eyes. Two handsome, straight hunks from across the hall to warm my bed. That’s what I wish.

She opened her eyes to find Charles smiling at her. Her face filled with heat as she looked down. When she glanced back up at him, he winked at her.

Libbie smiled as she turned around and faced the window. Jenny sidled close to her. “Is his cousin as cute as he is?”

She let out a happy sigh. “Yeah. He is. But they’re gay.”

“I don’t care if they’re gay,” the young mom muttered as she glanced over her shoulder at him. “Gay or straight, my vibrator doesn’t care.”

Libbie laughed out loud so hard she thought she might wet her pants.

“What?” Jenny asked.

“That,” she finally managed. “We both have a Bob.”

“Bob?”

“Battery-Operated Boyfriend.”

Jenny grinned. “Ah. I named mine Sheldon.”

Libbie snorted again, but knew she had to hear this one.

“Sheldon?”

“Yeah. You should know. You’re the one that turned me on to that show. Sheldon. He’s got his favorite spot. At least, I sure know it’s mine.”

Libbie was glad there weren’t any customers in the store as she doubled over with laughter.

By the time Libbie brought Allan a sandwich down from her apartment for lunch, he’d learned far more about the bakery business than he’d ever imagined. Jenny had left for the day, and Grover and Ruth had already eaten. As Allan sat in the office and ate with Libbie, 94 Tymber Dalton

he felt even more awed by her perseverance. She’d obviously put a lot of thought and attention into setting up the bakery’s workflow to make it as efficient and easy to run as possible.

“Have we scared you off yet?” Libbie asked with a smirk.

He shook his head. “Nope. This has been really educating. And fun.” He pointed at the shelves of books. “Grover said to ask you if it was okay if I could borrow any of those?”

She looked where he was pointing. “Sure. Why?”

He shrugged. “I’d like to learn that part of it, too. Maybe I could be more help. If nothing else, I enjoy learning new things.”

He loved her smile. “You’d better watch it or you’ll end up chained to the decorating table.”

He waggled his eyebrows at her. “How do you know I wouldn’t enjoy that?”

Inside, he sighed as her bright laughter rang through the small office.

I’ll do anything to keep hearing that sound.

The rest of the day went quickly for Allan. An hour before closing the shop at four, Libbie set him up at the decorating table with some frosting and decorating tools, along with a book on basic techniques and a sheet of parchment paper to practice on. He was intently concentrating on making a series of small roses when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

He turned to see Ben standing there. “What are you doing?” Ben asked him.

“What do you think?”

“Looks good.”

Libbie walked up. “Hey, Ken. Come to check up on him?”

Allan wasn’t fooled in the least by Ben’s cool act. He could tell from the way his brothers’ eyes scanned Libbie, how his posture It’s a Sweet Life 95

straightened at her arrival, that he was as smitten as Allan was. “This is neat.”

“Want to give it a try?” she asked him.

Allan jumped in. “He’s bashful, but don’t believe him. He used to do a lot of drawing and sketching in college.”

“Really?” She handed him a piping bag. “Here, have fun.” A buzzer went off at one of the ovens, and she stepped away to go shut it off and remove the red velvet cakes.

Ben shot him a glare before pulling up a stool next to the decorating table. “I’ve never done this before.”

Allan shrugged. “It’s fun. Give it a try.” He flipped back several pages and pointed to one of the exercises. “It’s not as hard as it looks.

Think of it as edible painting.”

Within a few minutes, Ben was also getting the hang of it and graduated to attempting basic leaves and lines of flowers. When Libbie returned to check on them, she appeared impressed.

“That’s it. You’re both being promoted to decorators,” she said with a smile.

Allan glanced at Ben and didn’t miss the pleased smile on his brother’s face before he once again schooled his lips into his normal stony expression. “I’m not nearly as good as Charles. And definitely not as good as you.”

She blushed, an endearing trait Allan loved about her. “It’s not hard to learn. There’s some crazy complex stuff out there with sugar sculptures and things like that, but I stick to what I’m good at.”

“Did I hear Grover say something about Halloween cookies?”

Allan asked.

“Yeah.” She brightened. “Hey, that’s an idea. If you guys don’t mind?” she added.

“What?” Allan asked.

“Well, I’m doing a few hundred cookies for the trick-or-treaters.

Baking and bagging them is easy. It’s the decorating that’s a pain. It’s just four designs, a ghost, a pumpkin, a black cat, and a tombstone. If 96 Tymber Dalton

you guys wanted to help frost the cookies, that would be a huge help.

It’s easy, just time consuming.”

Allan jumped to volunteer both of them. “We’d be happy to help you out. Wouldn’t we, Ken?”

“Sure,” he said, sending Allan a look. “Be happy to.”

Later, once they were back in their apartment, Ben turned on him.

“What the hell was that?”

“What?”

“Volunteering me to help?”

“Why? Don’t you want to help?”

“That’s not the point!”

“Then what is your point?”

Ben struggled for a reply and finally waved him off before heading for his room. “Never mind.” He didn’t like how he felt around Libbie, how his heart raced to see her, how the sound of her laughter made his body feel a little lighter.

How her smile brightened his soul.

They were dangerous things to feel because he didn’t want to fall for her. He knew it would be way too easy to fall for her.

And the last thing he wanted to do was bring any additional misery to her life when she already had so much to deal with on her plate.

“No,” Allan said, following him to the doorway of his room. “You have something on your mind, say it.”

“I said never mind.”

“There’s nothing wrong with helping her out.”

“I didn’t say there was.”

“Then why are your panties in a twist?”

He took a deep breath and turned to face Allan. “I don’t want to lead her on. I don’t want her to come to rely on us so much that it It’s a Sweet Life 97

hurts her when we leave.”

They stared at each other in silence for a few moments. Allan eventually shrugged. “Fair enough,” he softly said before going to his own room and shutting the door behind him.

Ben collapsed on his bed. He didn’t want to admit what he knew he already felt. That I’m worried it’s going to hurt me a hell of a lot more when we leave than it will hurt Libbie.

98 Tymber

Dalton

Chapter Ten

Four days before Halloween, while Libbie struggled with the pain, fatigue, and fibro fog accompanying another cool front that had gripped the region, Mandaline came into the shop for her daily order.

“So, it’s almost the big day. What are you dressing up as for the trick-or-treaters?” she asked Libbie.

Libbie let out a little snort. “A baker.”

Mandaline’s eyes widened. “What?” She emphatically shook her head. “No. Absolutely not. You have to do something different.”

“It is different. I’m willing to bet I’m the only person dressed up as a baker.”

Mandaline rounded the counter and stuck her head through the door. “Grover, do you mind if I borrow Libbie for a few?”

“Naw, take her. We’ve been trying to get her to rest today and she won’t sit down for a minute.”

Mandaline grabbed her wrist and led her from behind the counter.

She handed the check to Jenny. “Here, you take this, I’ll take her.”

“Mandaline, what are you doing?” Libbie protested. “I need to work.”

As one, Grover, Ruth, Jenny, and Charles all yelled, “Go!”

Mandaline’s triumphant grin lit the store. “There. You’ve been given your marching orders.” She released her friend, grabbed her boxes, and said, “Come on. Follow me. This won’t take long.”

After throwing a glare back at her traitorous staff, Libbie followed her out the door and across the street. Glad for the sweater she’d pulled on earlier, she pulled the front closed and crossed her arms in front of her. According to the weather reports it was supposed to It’s a Sweet Life 99

warm up for Halloween, something she felt thankful for.

In Florida, weather this time of year could fluctuate wildly. It could be humid and in the nineties one day, and a cold front could drop the temps into the low thirties the next. The fluctuation in the barometric pressure, temperature, and humidity played an evil role in her pain levels. And she had no control over the weather.

“Where are we going? And what do you have up your sleeve?”

Mandaline didn’t look back. “We’re going to dress you up for Halloween and I won’t take no for an answer. You’re about my size. I have a whole storage tub full of costumes.”

When Mandaline inherited Many Blessings, the business as well as the building, she’d moved from her run-down rented mobile home into the apartment over the shop, where Julie had lived. Libbie had donated pastries and desserts for the wake for Julie, whom she’d considered a good friend. Julie had even been the one to suggest the name of her bakery. Since Julie’s death, Libbie had been over to Mandaline’s a few times for both dinners and after-hours social gatherings.

Other than occasional dinners with Grover and Jenny, it was the sum of her social life, before Charles and Ken moved in.

Sachi, Mandaline’s friend and employee, was working behind the counter when they entered the shop. Mandaline set the boxes on the counter. “We’ll be right back.”

“What’s up?”

Mandaline hooked a thumb Libbie’s way. “Can you believe she wasn’t going to dress up for the Halloween thing?”

“Hey,” Libbie grumbled. “I was going to be a baker.”

Sachi let out a laugh. “Just go with it, hon. You know darn well that when Mandaline sets her mind on something, there’s no changing it. Don’t worry, she’ll do right by you.”

Mandaline led Libbie through the back and to a narrow set of stairs leading to her apartment. The funky, welcoming décor ranged from an antique secretary cabinet to a ’50s mod chair, a ’70s couch, 100 Tymber Dalton

an Ikea television and bookshelf unit, and a shaggy green ’80s area rug. Her small kitchen table was a linoleum and aluminum throwback to the early ’60s, with four mismatched chairs from at least four different decades. Most of the furniture had belonged to Julie.

Mandaline had once confided to Libbie that she didn’t have the heart to change it yet, if ever. Except for the secretary cabinet, the rest of her furniture had been secondhand or crappy discount pressboard stuff she’d sold or donated when she moved in.

They continued to the bedroom, where in one corner she had large blue plastic storage tubs stacked nearly to the ceiling.

“Excuse the mess,” she said. “All three of us are crammed in here while they finish the house renovation. I’ll miss the twenty-foot commute in the mornings, but I’ll be glad to have a whole house to ramble around in with the guys.”

After consulting with the handwritten duct tape labels, she went for the second from the top without collapsing the entire stack. “Here we go.”

Mandaline pulled the lid off the tub and unceremoniously upended it, dumping the contents onto her neatly made king-sized bed.

“Um…wow.” Libbie couldn’t make heads nor tails of the conglomeration, but apparently Mandaline knew exactly what she was looking for.

She began rooting through the pile, grabbing a few items and holding them up. “Here they are. This will be perfect. Your guys will love it.” She shoved the items into Libbie’s arms, grabbed her by the shoulders, spun her around, and began marching her toward her bathroom.

“My…what? Did you say my guys?”

“Duh. The ‘gay’ cousins.” Libbie could practically hear Mandaline’s finger quotes around the words. Mandaline gently pushed Libbie into the bathroom and pulled the door shut behind her.

“Put those on and let me see how you look.”

“They are gay,” she called through the door. “How many times do It’s a Sweet Life 101

I have to tell you that?” She held the items up, wondering if she could even pull it off. She was broader across the shoulders and hips than Mandaline, and a few inches taller. Knowing she couldn’t emerge from the bathroom without the costume on for Mandaline’s inspection, she slipped off her sweater and started working on her other clothes.

Mandaline snorted from the other side of the door. “Yeah, suuure they are.”

“I’m not saying I don’t wish they weren’t gay, but they’ve been nothing but gentlemen.” She left her socks on to keep her feet from getting chilled on the tile floor as she kicked off her sneakers and dropped her pants.

“I didn’t say they weren’t gentlemen,” Mandaline replied. “Don’t forget what I said. Wish big and dream hard, little lady.”

Libbie pulled the skirt up and was pleased to find it fit. “I’m going to freeze my ass off in this.”

“No you won’t. The weather will warm up enough for it. If I didn’t think so, I’d be putting you in something else.”

She pulled off her shirt and bra and pulled on the black sequined push-up bra and peasant blouse. When she opened the door, Mandaline let out a whistle. “Perfect.” She handed Libbie a pair of flat sandals. “Try these.”

Libbie leaned against the bathroom doorway and pulled her socks off so she could try them on. They fit perfectly. When she straightened, Mandaline handed her a pair of hoop earrings, and a jingly bracelet.

“That goes on your ankle, by the way,” she said with a smile as she made the bells on the anklet tinkle. “They won’t be able to resist you.”

Libbie stared at her reflection in the long mirror hanging opposite the bathroom door. “Unless you have a magic spell that can grow me a penis, I’m sure they will.”

Mandaline snorted. “You could wear a strap-on under the skirt, 102 Tymber Dalton

but not only will you not need it, it might scare the kiddies trick-or-treating.” She cocked her head. “Make sure you wear your hair down.”

“Down? Why?”

Mandaline rolled her eyes. “You really are out of practice in the ‘how to catch a man’ department, aren’t you?” She handed her a scarf. “Tie this around your head like a hair band. It’ll look beautiful with your hair.”

“Do I get extra points for difficulty for going after gay men, or do I get a handicap for my score?” Libbie snarked back.

Mandaline let out a sigh. “What I wish I had was something to fix your self-confidence.” She hugged Libbie. “Just this once would you please go with it and don’t fight it? I wouldn’t lie to you and send you out in something I didn’t think flattered your figure.”

Libbie blinked away the tears that wanted to flow as she hugged her friend. “Thanks,” she said. “I appreciate this. I’m sorry I’m sounding so ungrateful.”

“You’re not ungrateful. Your ex and this damn fibro have just done a number on your head is all. That rat bastard is lucky I’m not into throwing hexes.” She held Libbie’s hands as she stared into her eyes. “So what if your thighs and butt aren’t model-perfect? Guess what? Neither are mine. Most guys like their women to be real and not stick figures. You have beautiful curves. Any guy not willing to take you the way you are isn’t worth your time. But trust me, these guys are worth your time.”

Libbie decided Mandaline’s overall message was valid, even if she disagreed with her friend on the most salient point about whether or not the men were gay. “Thank you. And I appreciate this, really.”

“You’ll wear it?”

Libbie sensed how much this meant to Mandaline. The least she could do was be gracious. “Yes, I will.”

Mandaline let out a pleased little squeal that brought a smile to Libbie’s face. “Great! I also have a black crocheted shawl I’ll loan It’s a Sweet Life 103

you, too, just in case you need it. It’ll look perfect with the outfit. I’ll dig it out of my closet while you’re changing back.”

By the time Libbie reemerged from the bathroom with the costume in hand, Mandaline had found the shawl as well as a cloth Publix bag to stash everything in. She took the clothes from Libbie, handing her a zip-top baggy for the jewelry, which was then added to the bag. Mandaline proudly presented it to her. “There you go. One sexalicious Gypsy-in-a-bag, ready to wear.”

“I really do appreciate this. I’m sorry I’m being so snarky.”

“Sweetie, I understand. No, I don’t know what it’s like being in pain all the time. Frankly, I don’t see how you manage to do everything you do. I don’t know if I could function as well under the circumstances. But you’re my friend and I know I’ve been remiss in saying this to you, but I appreciate all the love and support you gave me after Julie…”

She sniffled and pasted a smile on her face that Libbie knew all too well from her own experience. “Julie really loved you as a friend, and I know you loved her back. I just feel blessed to have you in my life.”

They hugged again, the last of Libbie’s reluctance to dress up dissolving in a wave of gratitude. “Thanks, Mandaline.”

“I mean it. Anytime you need an ear, come see me. Please?”

Libbie nodded as she stepped back and shouldered the bag. “I will. I promise.”

“Good.”

Libbie made it back to the bakery a few minutes later. As she walked through the kitchen, Grover, Ruth, Jenny, and Charles all turned her way. “What’s in the bag?” Grover asked.

Libbie smiled. “Mandaline fixed me up with a costume.”

“Ooh, what is it?” Charles asked.

“Nope. It’s a secret.” She smiled. “Y’all will just have to wait and see.”

“Well,” Grover said, “since you’re going to have Charles and Ken 104 Tymber Dalton

here to help you out Halloween night, you mind I don’t come?

Louanne asked if I’d come over and go trick-or-treating with them for the twins.”

“Of course I don’t mind, as long as you bring those little girls in for cookies.”

He grinned. Next to Libbie, Grover’s twin four-year-old granddaughters were the center of his life. “We can do that.”

Libbie went upstairs to stash the bag in her bedroom. Galileo, disturbed by her arrival, followed her into the bedroom and jumped onto the bed, his tail in the air.

“Mwrao.”

“Mwrao yourself, buddy. You’ve got a whole bowlful of chow in there.”

He settled onto the blanket, kneading it with his front paws, his loud purr filling the room. She reached out and stroked his head.

“Maybe I should get you a Halloween outfit.” She let out a laugh at that thought.

Likely, he’d pee on her bed in retaliation over the indignity.

It’s a Sweet Life

105

Chapter Eleven

Libbie examined the trays of treats laid out on the work tables after they closed the shop on Halloween afternoon. With Charles and Ken helping, they had the cookies decorated, bagged, and each one tagged with an It’s a Sweet Life business card tied to each little bag with an orange ribbon in plenty of time. She took a deep breath and realized she could relax, unlike the previous year, where she’d nearly been in frantic tears and still decorating cookies on Halloween morning.

They’ve been a huge help.

She went upstairs to take a hot shower and change clothes. The men had remained mum about their costumes, as had she. It amazed her how, in just a little over two weeks, the men had become such a large part of her life. They ate together almost every night, either in her apartment or theirs.

Not to mention Galileo had taken to Ken as well as he had to Charles.

Definitely another point in their favor.

Mandaline had eased up a little on her teasing over the past few days, but she still left Libbie’s shop every morning after reminding her to wish big and dream hard.

Libbie closed her eyes as the hot water sluiced over her body.

Fortunately, the weather had warmed up, which did help somewhat with her pain levels. Unfortunately, the change in barometric pressure negated some of those gains.

Come on, April. The weather would be consistently warm then, making her life much more comfortable.

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Still, as he pictured the men in her mind, she saw no harm in wishing. I wish those two men were big and hard in my bed. Hell, even if it was only in her vibratory fantasies, she’d take it.

Allan stared in the mirror as he fussed with his outfit and made sure the lines were straight. “Are you almost ready?” he called out to Ben.

“Almost.”

He turned when Ben stepped into the bedroom doorway. “How do I look?” Ben asked.

Ben had refused help and settled on a generic black vampire cape from a discount store, along with fake plastic vampire fangs. Allan successfully held back the snort. He didn’t want to hurt Ben’s feelings, but Ben was the dorkiest non-sparkly vampire he’d ever seen.

More importantly, he didn’t want Ben to back out of helping Libbie. “You look great.”

“I feel stupid,” Ben rumbled. “I had enough of disguises working undercover.”

Allan gentled his tone. “You look fine. Let’s get downstairs and help before Libbie tries to set up on her own.”

“What are you, anyway?” Ben asked as he followed Allan to the front door. “That’s the weirdest-looking zebra getup I’ve ever seen.”

Allan had spent a day online searching for the zentai suit with vertical black and white stripes. He’d used one of their prepaid credit cards to order it, and had it shipped overnight to Many Blessings, where he picked it up. “I’m not a zebra. I’m the Doppler effect.”

Ben blinked. Allan watched as he tried to process that. “The what?”

“You don’t watch The Big Bang Theory, do you?” Allan asked.

Now he got the arched eyebrow. “The what?”

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107

“It’s a TV show. Never mind.” He opened the door and headed down the hall toward the stairs leading to the bakery.

All I care about is that Libbie will like it. If he was lucky, maybe it would make her smile and take the pain away from her sweet face for a few moments.

If he was really lucky, maybe she would laugh for him.

Libbie examined herself one more time in the downstairs bathroom mirror. This is stupid. I look ridiculous. Why did I let Mandaline talk me into wearing this?

The gauzy, short, low-cut peasant-style blouse emphasized the deep valley created with the help of the black sequined push-up bra underneath, giving her natural B-cups an artificial boost. The beautiful embroidered silk scarf in tones of turquoise and gold wrapped around her hair looked gorgeous.

Too gorgeous for me.

The layered, handkerchief skirt swirled around her ankles with every movement. At least it was warm out tonight, or she wouldn’t have been able to wear the skimpy outfit.

The large hoop earrings, jingling bells on her ankle bracelet, and flat, strappy sandals completed her gypsy fortune-teller costume.

She turned at a noise behind her to find Ken and Charles standing there. She wondered about the look of surprise that flitted across Ken’s face before he schooled it back to his usual stonewall expression.

Charles, on the other hand, looked delighted.

He gently grabbed her hands in his and held her arms out so he could get a better look at her. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.”

She felt the warm flush fill her face despite her best efforts to hold it back. “Thanks,” she mumbled before focusing on his costume.

“Nice! The Doppler effect. Where on earth did you manage to find 108 Tymber Dalton

that?”

“You like it?” Charles asked.

She nodded, grinning. “I love it. That’s great!”

He turned to Ken with a triumphant grin. “Ha! See? Told you she’d love it.”

If I didn’t know he was gay, I’d think Charles was trying to impress me. She ignored the painful little thump her heart made at the thought and pushed it away.

“What do you need us to do?” Ken asked.

“Well, the folding tables are in the back. If you want to set them up inside the doorway, then we can get the boxes of cookies moved out there.”

Ken nodded and headed off to do it.

Charles cocked his head at her. “You feeling okay?”

“I’m a little tired. That’s all.”

“How’s your pain?”

Her breath caught in her throat at his tone. Stupid, he’s just a concerned friend. “Maybe a six.”

He frowned. “Did you take a pill?”

“No. A six is okay. Not a bad day, actually.” She forced a smile.

The skintight outfit he wore showed off every etched muscle in his body. Too bad he’s wearing the running shorts over it. The loose black shorts concealed the muscle she’d most like to see outside of her hot, wet nighttime speculations.

“Just take it easy tonight,” he cautioned. “You’ve got us to help you. All you need to do is sit there and look cute.” He caught one of her hands again and brought it up to his lips, where he brushed them across her knuckles. “And you look damn cute. Let us be your brawn tonight.”

She nodded, her voice failing her. I wish!

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They were fifteen minutes past the official start time when Mandaline, dressed as a sexy, yet PG-13-rated zombie princess, bounded into the store with a Many Blessings bag in her hand. Ken and Charles were busy handing out cookies. Mandaline grabbed Libbie’s hand and pulled her around the counter.

She leaned in close. “This is for you for tonight.”

Libbie took the bag, which was heavier than it looked, and peeked inside. A large bottle of homemade cider took up most of it. “What is this?”

“Sachi made a batch of her favorite Samhain beverage,”

Mandaline admitted with a giggle. “It’s strong, so don’t go driving after you’ve had some. And there’s a little something in there for you and hopefully those two hunks.”

Libbie felt deeper inside the bag, her face heating to supernova proportions when her fingers found the plastic strips of condom packages.

She jerked her hand out of the bag like she’d just been bitten.

“Thank you,” she mumbled. “I think the cider will get a lot more use than the…other stuff.”

Mandaline hugged her. With her lips pressed against Libbie’s ear, she gently scolded, “Don’t forget. Wish big, dream hard. Especially tonight of all nights when the veil is thinnest. The Universe will hear you, believe me.” After pressing a kiss to Libbie’s cheek, she bounded out of the store as fast as she’d entered after giving a wave of her fingers to the men.

“What’s in the bag?” Charles asked.

She grabbed the bottle of spiked cider and quickly shoved the bag out of sight under the counter. She’d also caught sight of three small bottles of flavored lube in the bag along with the condoms. “Adult beverage, courtesy of Sachi. I’ll go get cups.”

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The evening went well. Ken had ditched his plastic fangs early on when he realized they interfered too much with his speech. After two cups of the delicious spiked cider, Libbie relaxed and completely enjoyed herself and the trick-or-treaters that filtered through. Grover stopped by with his daughter, son-in-law, and the twins, who were both dressed as little princesses.

Libbie felt giddy, whether from the spiked cider Mandaline had brought over, or the attentiveness and flirting of Ken and Charles all through the evening, she didn’t know. The three of them finished off the cider and she didn’t think it was her imagination that the men were friendlier and more flirty with her than normal.

She wouldn’t question it, and she’d enjoy every minute of it. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this good or had this much fun. By eight o’clock they’d handed out nearly all the cookies and the flow of young trick-or-treaters had ended with just the occasional high school pair or trio stopping by.

“I think it’s time to close up shop,” Charles said.

She licked her lips, fighting the urge to beg them to take her to bed and knowing that couldn’t possibly end well for her ego when they would inevitably refuse. “Okay.”

Ken locked the door and pulled the shades in the front windows.

“How you feeling?”

Horny. Reeeally horny. And probably intoxicated. “I’m okay.

Good.” Make that definitely intoxicated. I hope I have enough batteries for Bob or I’m going to be a really sad panda later.

“How’s your pain?” Charles asked as he broke down one of the folding tables.

“Good, really. I’m okay.” She walked over to help him. Only a few feet away from the table, her feet somehow got tangled up in her skirt and she let out a little yelp as she started to fall.

Charles dove for her, snagging her with a strong arm around her waist and pulling her body tightly against his.

She was startled to feel a hard, generous bulge pressing into her It’s a Sweet Life 111

lower back.

That’s…oh my.

“You all right?” Ken asked as he rushed over.

She nodded, barely able to speak as Charles righted her on her feet. “Yeah, just tripped. You know me, klutzy.”

Libbie suppressed a disappointed moan when Charles released her and stepped away. He quickly turned his back to her to finish collapsing the table, meaning she couldn’t see the front of his shorts.

Ken touched her hand and she found herself staring up into his eyes.

She wanted them both. Really wanted them.

Why can’t life be more like those books I read?

“You sure you’re okay?” Ken asked.

“Uh-huh.” She threw a glance over her shoulder. Charles still managed to keep his back to her as he worked on collapsing another table.

Hmm.

She wasn’t so intoxicated, or had been celibate for so long, that she couldn’t recognize a generous erection when she felt one pressed against her ass.

She threw her arms around Ken’s neck and wiggled the length of her body against his. When she did, his arms encircled her waist as if on autopilot. She immediately felt a generous bulge spring to life against her lower belly.

Hmm. That’s promising.

His eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Are you okay?”

“I know what would make me feel better.” Fuck it. Either they’d put a stop to it immediately, and she could feign no memory of it in the morning and blame it on being drunk on Sachi’s cider, or…

Or.

It was that or upon which she hung her hopeful hat.

She didn’t miss how he swallowed, hard. “What?”

She looked back at Charles again and found him staring at them, 112 Tymber Dalton

his jaw slightly agape. She crooked a finger at him before draping her arm around Ken’s neck again.

Charles looked at the table he’d been fumbling with before forgetting it and hurrying over to them.

Ken started to speak. “Libbie, I—”

She laid a finger across his lips. “Shh.” She reached behind her and pulled Charles close. Fortunately for her, he appeared to be a quick study and pressed against her back.

Yep, that was definitely a well-endowed erection rubbing against her ass. Front and back.

Bookends. Yum! She stifled the snicker as she put her hand back around Ken’s neck yet again. She was afraid to let go of him for fear that when she did, it would all be over. Standing on tiptoe, she angled her lips, closed her eyes, and prayed for a touchdown. Or a field goal.

Or…whatever the hell it took to score.

Ben wasn’t sure what to do. The thought of shoving her away and shooting her down broke his heart.

Not to mention it wasn’t like she couldn’t feel his cast-iron hard-on trying to fuck her through his costume and hers. Lying to her about them being gay was useless. With a groan, he locked down his brain, closed his eyes, and kissed her. His tongue brushed against the seam of her lips, which parted immediately, welcoming him.

Fuck.

She tasted like cookies and cider and all the sweet dreams he’d had about her. Heaven in a kiss. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t turn back now, no matter what they’d sworn, what they’d promised. This little baker had done in the space of two weeks what he’d avoided for over three years. She’d broken into his heart and stolen it.

And he wasn’t about to let her go now.

His eyes opened just long enough to see Allan kissing the back of It’s a Sweet Life 113

her neck, his hands cupping her breasts through her flimsy outfit. His dick had ached all night long seeing her in that getup, and his first order of business would be to bend her over her bed, flip that skirt up, pull down her panties, and fuck her…

“Shit!” he gasped.

Her eyes flew open. “What? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t have any rubbers.”

Her playful smile filled her face and lit his world. “Mandaline strikes again. She brought us a care package.”

“Remind me to thank that witch tomorrow,” Allan muttered, his lips never losing full contact with the nape of her neck.

“Amen,” Ben muttered as he crushed his lips against Libbie’s again.

Her soft whimpers fired his need. He knew if he worked a finger between her legs right then that he’d find her wet and ready for a good, hard fucking. Followed by hours of loving her, showing her how beautiful and desirable she was.

“Upstairs,” he whispered. “Now.”

Her eyes barely fluttered open. “My place, or yours?”

“Yours,” both men said.

“Your bed is bigger,” Allan added.

“O–Okay!”

Allan whisked her away to the back while Ben retrieved the bag from under the counter. He peeked inside and, sure enough, found the package of condoms and lube.

He smiled. Ten? Damn, that woman is good .

He hurriedly followed them up the stairs.

Allan kept his arm firmly around Libbie’s waist all the way up the stairs. Not out of worry of her falling, but out of worry that his dick would explode if he didn’t get it buried inside her and soon. At her 114 Tymber Dalton

door he spun her around, pressing her against the door, and ravaged her mouth with his even as he heard Ben pounding up the stairs with the bag in hand.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and hooked one leg around his, rubbing herself against him like she was trying to start a fire.

He broke free for a moment, his forehead pressed against hers.

“You have no idea how badly we want to make love to you, baby.”

Her face looked pink, flushed with passion. “You two owe me for a ton of batteries.”

“What?” Ben asked from the top of the stairs.

“For my vibrator,” she said.

A slow grin broke across Allan’s face. “Oh, baby. You’re in trouble now. You have toys?” He looked over at Ben and spotted the evilly playful gleam in his brother’s eye. “You’re our kind of woman.”

“It doesn’t bother you that I’m five years older than you guys?”

Ben laughed. “Ooh, you’re a cougar. No, of course it doesn’t bother us.”

Allan leaned in and nibbled at her neck, his cock twitching at the way she gasped and moaned as his teeth clamped down on her flesh.

“Guess what? We’re going to fuck your brains out and drive every last thought of any other man clear out of your head. Women are blessed with the curse of multiple orgasms. And even when you wear us out, we’re still going to keep you coming…All. Night. Long. We’ll use toys. Mouths. Fingers. Hell, if we had a strap-on we’d be taking turns riding you. You won’t sleep at all tonight, and you’re going to need our help walking tomorrow, you’re going to be so well fucked.”

He lifted his head so he could meet her gaze. Her mouth had formed a small O.

“Okay!” she squeaked.

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Ohmygodohmygodohmygod! She stared into Charles’ eyes and felt the breath being sucked out of the depths of her very soul.

They want me!

Wish hard, dream big, isn’t that what Mandaline had said? Or was it the other way around?

She probably didn’t mean this.

Then again, maybe she did.

No matter, both men were definitely hard. From what she’d felt of them, big to boot.

Charles’ lips crushed hers again, and as she squirmed against him, his body pressed her into her door. She felt his hard erection rubbing between her legs through her flimsy outfit. Her nipples felt like they were on fire, aching and tight and begging for his fingers to touch them again.

Ken caught up with them and nudged in. “Quit hogging her,” he grumbled, the smile on his face belying his tone. He reached up and met her unspoken demand, his hand cupping her right breast as he rubbed his finger over her nipple through her clothes. “Did I hear someone say they have toys?”

She swallowed hard and nodded.

She nearly came just from the sight of his sexy smile. His hand squeezed her breast, harder, tighter, stopping at the good side of that pleasurable kind of pain. “Expect to call in to work tomorrow,” he whispered. “Because I’ve wanted you for weeks, and I have a whole lot of fantasies stored up that I need to work off.”

“Ditto,” Charles chimed in.

She let go of Charles and reached behind her, fumbling for the doorknob. She’d stopped locking her door, trusting that the men wouldn’t rob her or breach her privacy. She gave up a private prayer of thanks for that as she found the knob, wrenched it, and nearly fell backward into her apartment as it opened.

Charles reached out and saved her from herself. Again. This time, he pulled her body against his with the full, hard length of his erection 116 Tymber Dalton

rubbing against her mound.

“That’s all for you,” he whispered. “Every last bit of it.”

“I can’t wait to taste it,” she said.

His grin nearly broke his face. “Well, hot damn, don’t worry, you’ll get your chance, too.”

“I…” She glanced over at Ken, who came through the door and shut it behind him. “I’ve never been with two guys before.”

Charles’ expression softened. “Don’t worry, baby. You say the word, you say no to anything, we’ll stop. I promise.”

“Absolutely,” Ken echoed, his expression now serious. He stepped up. “Anything you don’t want, we’ll stop.”

She licked her lips and nodded. “I…I’ve read a lot.”

“Have you now?” Ken asked. “Like what?”

She felt more heat fill her face. Now she couldn’t look either of them in the eye. “I buy a lot of erotic romance. Ménages,” she mumbled. “On my Kindle.”

Ken tenderly palmed the nape of her neck and made her look at him. “Where is it?” he asked.

“On the table by my couch.”

He glanced past her, then back to her, his playful smile holding promises of untold pleasures. “Well, let’s just see if we can’t make a few of those hot fantasies come true for you.”

“I—” She stopped, not sure she wanted to go down this path right now. “You said you guys are gay.”

Ken let out a sigh and touched his forehead to hers. “It’s complicated, baby. We didn’t want to fall for anyone.” He placed a tender kiss on the bridge of her nose. “We’ll never hurt you, I promise. And we’ll keep you safe. I’m sorry we lied to you about that.

But no, we’re not gay. And we mean it when we say if you change your mind at any time and say no, we stop. Immediately.”

Keep me safe? She didn’t want to ponder that, either. She suspected there was more to the story, but as long as they weren’t serial killers, child molesters, or animal abusers, and they had no It’s a Sweet Life 117

problems using condoms, she’d put off that line of questioning until later.

Much later. “I don’t want you to stop.”

“Good,” Charles whispered as he nibbled on her earlobe.

“Because we want to show you how sexy we think you are.”

On the way into the bedroom, she didn’t miss that Ken grabbed her Kindle from the side table and brought it in with him. Charles turned her around at the foot of the bed to face him, gently palming her cheeks. “Where are your toys, baby?”

“Bedside table,” she replied automatically. “Left side.”

“Good girl,” Charles said as he kissed her.

She was vaguely aware of Ken walking around the bed. Followed by the sound of the drawer opening. “Found them. And there’s lube in the bag, too.”

Charles looked down at her. “You ever had anal, sweetie?”

Her breath stuttered in her throat. “No,” she gasped. “Not…not with a guy. Just…you know, really small toys in the shower a couple of times.”

“Ooh,” Ken said as he joined them. “You want to check that off your bucket list tonight?”

Blinking, she looked from one identical pair of killer blue eyes to the other. She nodded.

“Any special requests?” Charles asked.

Heat rebounded from her pussy to her face and back again. “Some of…the books…” She couldn’t believe she was actually saying this!

“They…you know, the guys…front and back at the same time.”

“Ahh,” Charles said, a pleased smile on his face. “Double penetration. We can oblige. It’s one of our favorite things, too.” His face flashed back to serious. “But only if you want to. We can’t just go to town and have you enjoy it. We need to loosen you up first, or it’ll hurt and you won’t enjoy it. Okay?”

She nodded.

“But first.” His mouth slanted down on hers. She closed her eyes, 118 Tymber Dalton

moaning as her arms found his neck again and she held on for dear life as the world melted away. “First,” he repeated when he broke their kiss, “we need to do something else, or we won’t make it five seconds inside you doing DP. We’re good, but we’re not that good.”

She nodded.

Ken turned her to face him. She found her arms automatically wrapping around his neck as they had with Charles. “And you’re going to have to talk to us,” he said. “We need you to tell us what feels good, as well as what doesn’t. We don’t want to hurt you.” He brushed a stray strand of hair from her forehead, tucking it behind her ear with a tenderness that nearly broke her heart. “We know you have a lot of pain in your life. We only want to bring you pleasure.”

The power of speech had apparently escaped her. She nodded.

Charles nibbled at her earlobe again. “That’s our good girl.”

She felt her heart crumbling into pieces as she fell in love with them. Both of them. It was stupid and irrational and most likely the result of her hormones and lack of real sex in a long, long time. She also knew she could never admit it to them, so she wouldn’t be faced with the humiliating prospect of them not returning her feelings.

But there, deep inside her, she knew the truth, even if she couldn’t admit it.

Charles stepped away for a moment as Ken took over kissing her again. She caught a flurry of movement out of the corner of her eye and realized Charles had stripped. If there was a world record for getting naked without the use of Velcro seams, he’d probably set the bar high.

He pulled her from Ken and kissed her. She ran her hands over his body, over the light dusting of dark hair sprinkled across his pecs, including a treasure trail that led down to a gorgeous and rigid cock jutting from his body. Beside them, Ken dropped his clothes, too, then turned on the bedside lamp and turned off the overhead light. His body looked identical to his cousin’s, his cock every bit as deliciously large and hard as Charles’s.

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Ken rummaged through the bag Mandaline had given her and pulled out the condoms. “I hope you’ll indulge me, but I need you, baby. I need to feel my cock in you right now.” He ripped the foil pouch open and rolled it on over his cock. Then he grabbed her, kissing her hard and fierce and sucking the breath right out of her. As she felt her body nearly go limp, he gently pushed her facedown onto the bed, her feet on the floor.

He pulled her skirt up around her hips as her clit throbbed, her whole pussy aching. She felt her face heat as his hands found and yanked down her panties.

“Oh,” he moaned, “you’re soaked, baby.” She helped him by stepping out of the sodden garment as his fingers pressed for entrance.

As the bed dipped in front of her, she let out a loud moan as one, then two fingers slipped inside her cunt, slowly thrusting.

She wanted to cry from how good it felt. Not enough to get her off, but more than enough to drive her close to the edge.

Charles cupped her cheeks with his palms and lifted her face from the bed. She found herself inches from that delicious cock. With a will of their own, her lips parted and her tongue tried to reach out, to lick the pearly drop of pre-cum sliding from the slit at the end of the engorged head.

He obliged by scooting a little closer. She didn’t know who moaned more loudly, him or her, when the hot, silken iron of his shaft slid between her lips and down her tongue, filling her mouth. Behind her, she felt Ken step between her legs, his sheathed cock nudging between her labia for entrance. When he slid home, deep and hard and pushing her farther onto Charles’ cock, she moaned again.

Ken’s voice sounded strained. “Can you come just from being fucked, baby?”

Charles pulled out long enough so she could answer. “Sometimes, I don’t know. Not all the time.” She reached for Charles, grabbing at his thighs to pull his cock back into her mouth.

“Okay, baby,” Ken said. “This is going to be hard and fast and 120 Tymber Dalton

I’m sorry if you don’t come this time, but I promise I’ll make it up to you.” He started slow, making her whimper as he bottomed out inside her, the pleasant ache that turned into pleasure as his cock stretched her pussy and churned her juices.

Every time she moaned, Charles moaned, too. He scooped her hair into his hand, holding it out of her way as he flexed his hips to thrust between her lips. As hot and hard as he was, she suspected he wouldn’t last long, either. Lost in the spiral of passion, she sucked down the pre-cum streaming from his cock, sweet and tangy and salty at the same time.

She imagined what she must look like, still dressed while being spit-roasted between these two hunks, how wild they were being, and how good it felt. Then Ken reached around her and slowed his strokes, fumbling and finally locating her swollen clit.

Libbie groaned as his fingers roughly clamped down on it, brilliant shards of pleasure streaking through her body and driving her closer as her need took over. She fucked herself between the men, driving the cock in her throat as deep as she could take it, to slam back against Ken’s cock buried inside her.

“That’s it,” Charles grunted. “You were made for us, baby.

You’re perfect. You’re beautiful.”

Ken’s fingers rolled her clit, and the shards blossomed into blades of gorgeous sharp-edged ecstasy that made her cry out around Charles’ cock and deep-throat him at the same time.

His fingers gripped her head as he started fucking his cock into her mouth while Ken began slamming into her from behind. All she could do was lie there as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through her and she sobbed in relief at the beautiful feeling of completion in her soul. Charles came next, his cock exploding in her mouth, sending jet after jet of his hot cum down her throat. Then Ken, his fingers digging into her hips as he let out a cry before he fell still with his cock buried inside her.

Afraid to open her eyes, she reached out and found Charles and It’s a Sweet Life 121

wrapped her arms around his waist, unwilling to relinquish his softening cock. She smelled his heat, his sweat, the sweet and tangy aroma of his cum, and she didn’t want to move from the aura of his warmth. He released her head and stroked her back through the blouse, leaning forward to kiss the nape of her neck.

Ken let go of her hips but didn’t withdraw. He braced himself against the bed with his arms on either side of her as he caught his breath. “Damn, baby,” he hoarsely said. “I thought you were going to squeeze my cock off when you came.”

She let out a little giggle around the now-soft cock in her mouth, which, impossibly, twitched a little as it grew a wee bit firmer once again.

After a moment, Ken carefully withdrew. She heard him walk into the bathroom, followed by the sound of water running. While she listened, she started gently sucking Charles’ cock again, carefully, suspecting he would be very sensitive.

At first he tried to protest. Then she felt him lean back, propped up by his arms, and start to enjoy it. It didn’t take her long to get him hard again, but Ken returned and made her stand.

“Up, baby. We have plans for you.”

With a whine, she let his cock go. She opened her eyes and spotted Charles’ smile. “I wouldn’t argue with him, sweetheart. He might spank you.”

A delicious tingle ran through her body. That might be something she’d want to try at some point, but not tonight. She had other items to check off her bucket list.

Ken made her roll onto her back, her legs still hanging off the bed.

He climbed up next to her and looked at Charles. “Put that tongue of yours to work on her. I made her come once. It’s your turn.”

“Huh?” she asked as Charles laughed and climbed off the bed.

Ken shushed her with a deep, soulful kiss. She tried to encircle him with her arms but he pushed her back onto the bed. “Nope, just lay there and relax.” He reached down her blouse, pushing the 122 Tymber Dalton

neckline down and freeing her left breast from her bra. “We haven’t been able to do this in years, but you aren’t the first woman we’ve made love to together. His tongue will have you speaking in tongues in short order.”

She started to reply, but the combination of Ken’s hot, wet mouth clamping down on her nipple at the same time Charles knelt between her legs and swiped his tongue over her clit shoved the ability to form coherent words clear out of her brain. She let her head flop back on the bed and buried her fingers in Ken’s soft hair.

Charles used his shoulders to hold her legs apart. His tongue pressed deep inside her, fucking her as each draw of Ken’s mouth on her nipple sent another jolt of need straight to her clit. Ken reached over and freed her other breast, using his thumb and forefinger to roll and pinch her nipple just hard enough that the pleasant bite of pain only served to make it feel that much better.

She rocked her hips against Charles, urging him on but he wouldn’t be rushed. He’d flick her clit with his tongue, then use his lips to lightly suck on it, keeping her passion high but not pushing her over. It was like he could sense when she was about to tip into orgasm and then he’d pull back and keep her on the edge.

Breathless, she begged for relief. “Please, make me come!”

Ken reached over her head and caught her free hand in his. He laced his fingers through hers before pinning it to the bed. Something about the action made her gasp, her need to orgasm overwhelming.

She thought she might burst into tears if they didn’t make her come soon, and just as she was about to scream at them to do it, Ken lifted his head from her breast. “Now,” he mumbled.

Simultaneously, several things happened. Ken eased his weight onto her while his grip on her hand tightened, the fingers on her breast pinched her nipple hard, his teeth clamped down on her other nipple, and Charles sucked her clit into his mouth as his hands clamped around her thighs to prevent her from moving away.

Dying. I’m dying. Nothing had ever felt this good. She sobbed, It’s a Sweet Life 123

helpless to move as Ken and Charles held her pinned to the bed and kept her orgasm going for what felt like hours. She wasn’t even aware of them releasing her while her climax wouldn’t stop because Charles continued to gently lick and suck at her oversensitive clit.

Finally, he lifted his head and kissed the insides of her thighs as she lay there and cried with the sheer blessed relief.

Ken pulled her into his arms and kissed her forehead. “Better?”

He apparently understood. She didn’t know how he knew, but he did. All she could do was nod as the last remnants of her climax made her shiver in his arms.

Charles stood and joined them, nestling in beside her. She felt his stiff cock poking into her side, as was Ken’s on her other side.

“Good?” Charles asked.

She managed to pry an eye open to look and nodded at his pleased smirk before closing her eyes again.

“And that’s only two, baby,” Ken murmured in her ear. “You’ve got a looong night ahead of you.”

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Chapter Twelve

The sound of her cries as she orgasmed sent blood flowing straight to Allan’s cock as he buried his face in her pussy and refused to let her stop coming.

I. Love. This.

He’d forgotten how good it felt, how much pleasure the two of them could bring one woman. How he’d never felt jealous when sharing a woman with Ben because of the huge burst of joy he personally felt making her come.

And come.

And come.

When they finally let her catch her breath, Allan reached down and unfastened and removed her sandals so he could gently rub her feet. She let out a soft moan of pleasure.

“Don’t put her to sleep,” Ben teased from up on the bed.

He kissed her thigh and stood, his cock once again hard and aching and wanting to feel it planted deep inside her pussy. “No chance of that,” Allan said. He grabbed a condom and quickly rolled it onto his shaft before lying back on the bed. “Sit up, baby.”

She did, a glazed look in her eyes that would have made him laugh out loud if he didn’t think she’d take it the wrong way. Her eyes had fallen closed when Ben quickly helped her out of her top, bra, and skirt before having her kneel over Allan.

Allan grabbed her hips and lined his cock up with her pussy.

“Look at me,” he said. “I want to see the look in your eyes when my cock slides into you.”

As if struggling from a sleepwalking episode, she did, her sweet It’s a Sweet Life 125

green gaze meeting his. He wouldn’t let her hurry, slowing the embedding of his cock inside her hot, wet cunt a centimeter at a time until she was seated all the way on top of him. She braced her hands on his pecs and tried to bounce, but he stopped her.

“No, not yet. There’s plenty of time for that.” He reached up and grabbed her hair and pulled her down on top of him, his lips capturing her soft moan of protest at not being able to fuck him the way she wanted. His other hand stroked down her back until it reached the seam of her ass. He splayed his fingers, spreading her cheeks for Ben.

His brother gasped. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

Allan heard the plastic snick as Ben opened a bottle of lube and drizzled it down her rim. Then she loudly moaned into his mouth. He didn’t need to see what Ben was doing to her to know what had happened. Ben had worked at least one finger into her ass. He’d seen Ben bring back a towel and a wet washcloth from the bathroom earlier and knew the girl was about to get her wish fulfilled.

Allan kept Libbie firmly in place with his hand fisted in her hair as she tried her best to wriggle and move on his cock. She desperately whined, her tone pleading even as he fucked her sweet mouth with his tongue, her tongue meeting his stroke for stroke.

She wanted to be fucked, and hard.

He could feel a little of what Ben was doing to her through the thin wall of muscle separating her achingly tight cunt from her back channel as Ben finger-fucked her, loosening her tight rim so he didn’t hurt her, as well as driving her need up to insane levels once again.

She froze, then moaned louder.

Aaaand that was two fingers.

Her desperate wiggles grew more frantic. Ben laughed. “Easy, baby. We’re almost there. You’ll get what you want.”

After a few minutes he felt the bed move, in time with Libbie’s disappointed whine in his mouth, as Ben withdrew his hand.

“Just a minute,” Ben assured her.

Allan could see Ben wiping his hand off with the damp washcloth 126 Tymber Dalton

before he grabbed another condom, which he rolled onto his shaft.

Then he picked up something and placed it on the bed within Allan’s reach. Allan sent him a questioning look, so Ben held it up.

Allan didn’t bother trying to stifle his amused chuckle. It was a small, battery-operated vibrator.

Allan knew exactly what Ben wanted him to do with it.

Allan let go of her hair and dropped his other hand to her ass, where he held her cheeks spread wide open. She rested her forehead against his chest, her breath coming hard and fast as Ben slathered more lube on him and her both. Then Ben slowly pressed forward, Libbie gasping as the head of his cock breached her rim for the first time.

“Breathe, baby,” Allan said.

An explosive breath escaped her, followed by her sucking in another gasp of air and trying to rock against them.

“Stop rushing me, sweetie,” Ben playfully warned, “or I’ll take even longer.”

She whined, apparently beyond the ability to speak, but fell still except for the rise and fall of her chest.

“Good girl.”

Libbie struggled to stay still. At first she’d felt little discomfort when Ken worked one, and then two fingers into her ass. She was used to that feeling from her solo explorations.

But the huge, hard cockhead now lodged inside her ass, and not moving, was almost more than she could take.

“Relax,” Ken coaxed. “Breathe.”

She tried. Oooh, how she tried. Then he slid in farther. She felt stretched beyond her limits, the walls of her pussy clamping down on the hard cock stuffed deep inside her and pressing on delicious places inside her she didn’t even know she had.

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Oh, that must be my G-spot.

Then Ken was buried all the way inside her. She felt the hair on his thighs pressed against her ass.

And still, they wouldn’t move.

“Clench your muscles around us,” Ken said. “Feel us inside you.”

She fisted the sheets with her hands, trying not to wiggle her aching clit against Charles as she did what he’d said.

Both men moaned then, and she realized she wasn’t the only one barely holding on to control.

“Please,” she finally whined. “Please, please fuck me. Please make me come.”

Ken started taking long, slow strokes, creating a burning pinch in her ass that soon transformed into pleasure, but not enough to get her off. Then he made her sit up. Reaching around her, he cupped her breasts in his hands, pinching her nipples between his fingers.

She looked down in time to see Charles flash her an evil grin before she heard a click, followed by the low hum of a vibrator. He pressed it against her clit. She leaned back, a cry escaping her as her body clamped down on both of their cocks and an orgasm even larger than the last one ripped through her.

Now it was Charles thrusting up into her with Ken holding still except for his hands squeezing her breasts, alternating with pinching her sensitive nipples.

As that orgasm faded, Ken used a hand in the middle of her back to push her down on top of Charles again. He grabbed her hips and took several strokes inside her, making her moan and try to move with him.

She lost track of time as they fucked her, back and forth like that, Ken stopping to pull her up against him while Charles used the vibrator on her to force another orgasm out of her while he fucked her. They repeated it several times until her body trembled, on the brink of exhaustion, tears rolling down her face with every climax they wrung from her.

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Ken leaned in close and nipped her earlobe to get her attention.

“Had enough, baby? You ready to let us come now?”

Let them come? She nodded, barely able to keep her head upright.

Ken wrapped his arms around her as Charles grabbed her hips once more. With the men seesawing inside her body, all she could do was sit there and moan at the pleasure robbing her of coherent thought.

They fucked her harder, faster, and then just as she thought they were going to come, she realized Charles had let go of her and she heard that click again.

She closed her eyes and cried out as the orgasm flashed through her like a firestorm. Sobbing, she was barely aware of the men taking their last thrusting strokes, both of them grunting and moaning as they fell still and she felt their cocks swelling and throbbing inside her.

She kept her eyes closed as Ken gently lowered her onto her side as he withdrew. Charles rolled with her, enveloping her in his strong grip, all the while as she sobbed against his chest.

Ken cleaned her up before returning to lie behind her, the firm warmth of his body helping to keep away the chill her sweaty body felt in the room. He kissed the back of her neck while Charles nuzzled the top of her head.

Never had she ever felt so good, so fulfilled—not to mention filled full. It felt like the men were there for her, not for themselves. It would be too easy to mistake their care and tenderness and soft, gentle words for love.

Libbie eventually calmed herself and took a deep breath. Her ass still pleasantly burned a little from the way Ken had fucked her.

Charles slid out of her pussy and stepped into the bathroom to clean up.

Ken rolled her over to face him, his blue eyes full of concern.

“Good?”

She smiled, nodding.

He smiled back. “Was it as good as you’d hoped?”

She licked her lips, still bruised and swollen from Charles kissing It’s a Sweet Life 129

her. “Better,” she whispered.

He laced his fingers through hers and brought her hand up to his lips to kiss her. “And we’re still not done yet.”

She let out a loud laugh.

Then she realized he was serious.

Allan brought her back a cup of ice water to drink when he returned to the bedroom. He didn’t know how many more he’d have in him, but the fact that she had a Hitachi vibrator amongst her sex toys made his stamina, and Ben’s, irrelevant.

“How you feeling?” he asked her.

She nodded, a sleepy smile on her face. “Real good.”

He grinned, taking the chilled glass back when she’d finished her drink. He met Ben’s gaze, grinned, and held it up.

His brother knew what he meant. Faster than she could respond, Ben had changed positions, holding her against his chest and grabbing both her arms and pinning them over her head, trapping her against his body. She squealed in surprise and tried to struggle a little.

Allan knelt between her thighs and, forcing them apart with his legs, pressed the cold glass to her swollen labia and clit.

She let out a shocked cry, but when he wet a finger with the cold water and began to stroke her clit, she stopped squirming and moaned.

“Feels good, doesn’t it,” Ben spoke in her ear. “Poor baby, poor fucked pussy, poor swollen clit. Feels so cold but so good, doesn’t it?”

Her chest heaved with her breathing as her body struggled to interpret and process the conflicting stimuli. He knew the cold had to feel both shocking and soothing at the same time.

Now that she’d stopped resisting and trying to close her thighs, Allan pulled the cup away and reached over to one of the other toys lying on the end of the bed. The dildo wasn’t as big as their cocks, but 130 Tymber Dalton

it would do.

He changed position so he could hold the glass in his lap without freezing his own dick or spilling it and pulled out an ice cube. Then he dropped the dildo into the glass and started stroking the ice cube up and down her clit after grabbing the towel and sliding it under her bum.

She looked at him, desperation in her face as her hips tried to rock against him.

“You can say no at any time and we’ll stop,” he reminded her. He pulled the ice cube away and watched her face.

She swallowed.

“Yes or no, baby?” he asked, his tone stern.

Libbie slowly nodded, as if her body fought her mind for control of the show.

“Good girl,” Ben cooed.

Allan grinned and began tormenting her with the ice cube again.

Then he pulled the cold dildo out and slowly began fucking her with it. Her moans of pleasure drove deep into the center of his being, making his dick twitch and regain interest.

When that ice cube totally melted, he grabbed another and started again, repeatedly soaking the dildo in the cold water before fucking her with it. He knew they had driven her into a blissful realm she’d never before experienced, where her body had shut her mind down in an attempt to glean every last bit of pleasure it could from them.

Still sitting cross-legged between her thighs, he pushed the dildo deep inside her and held it in place with his foot. He grabbed the vibrator again and flipped it on, trapping her clit between the ice cube and the vibrator.

It was a good thing Ben had a hold of her, because she nearly came off the bed as another orgasm exploded through her.

That time, he didn’t torture her for too long as he read her body and relented once he knew she’d had enough.

“Good girl,” he said, shutting off the vibrator. “Time for a little It’s a Sweet Life 131

break.”

Ben’s cock had already regained more than enough interest as he watched his brother working between Libbie’s legs and giving her a taste of something Ben had dubbed “the polar bear” during a slightly inebriated tryst in college.

It had seemed a lot funnier moniker midway through tequila shots, but after they’d sobered up he couldn’t think of anything better to call it so the name had stuck.

It’d taken every ounce of his self-control not to burst into gales of laughter when he’d seen Allan return to the bedroom with the glass of ice water. The move never failed to bring a woman to another explosive orgasm, even when she claimed she couldn’t take any more.

And it had been years since they’d had the opportunity to work together to bring a woman pleasure like this.

Damn, I’ve missed this.

The revelation shocked him. He had missed this. In college, he’d idly thought on more than one occasion that it would be nice to find a woman who could settle down with both of them on a permanent basis. He didn’t mind sharing a woman with his brother. Allan could be there for her when he couldn’t, and vice versa. She’d have twice the love to keep her happy, twice the support.

Twice the cocks.

And knowing that he wanted to be a cop, it meant she’d have someone to help her with her grief if she ever received the same call their mom had. And Allan would have someone to lean on as well.

Together.

He didn’t resist when Libbie rolled in his arms and nuzzled around until she found his half-stiff cock and sucked it between her lips.

With his eyes closed and his head flung back, he leaned against 132 Tymber Dalton

the pillows with his hands buried in her hair and enjoyed the way she went down on him.

Perfect. She was absolutely perfect.

And they didn’t dare put her in danger.

He shoved the thought out of his mind and let the scorching heat of her mouth suck him completely hard again.

When he felt the bed move, he cracked an eye open and saw Allan had helped her roll completely onto her tummy, her ass in the air, and was lining up his condom-sheathed cock for another go at her pussy.

He closed his eyes and stroked her hair while Allan fucked her, driving her onto his cock with each stroke. She was so good, so perfect. Then her fingers cupped his balls and he groaned, trying to hold back and make it last.

The click of the vibrator again, and Libbie’s loud moan vibrated throughout his body via his cock. When she came, he quit holding back and let his balls empty stream after stream of cum down her throat. After a minute or so, the vibrator shut off, and she fell limp into his lap while Allan frantically fucked her to finish as well.

Now worn out, the two men collapsed on either side of her, their arms wrapped around her.

This has to be the best night of my life.

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Chapter Thirteen

Libbie awoke before dawn the next morning aching and unable to move. The aching wasn’t entirely unpleasant, and the “unable to move” part wasn’t related directly to the aching. It was due to the fact that Ken had his leg slung over hers, while Charles had an arm draped around her waist.

Wow.

She thought about the night before, everything that had happened.

Wow.

She craned her head around Charles to look at her alarm clock and saw she needed to get up in ten minutes to get ready to go downstairs.

Wow.

She didn’t want to move. The two sleeping men on each side of her were a warm bubble of goodness that made staying in bed and being an irresponsible business owner look like a totally acceptable option.

Wow.

Yes, as she took mental inventory of her bits and pieces, she found her ass felt pleasantly achy, her pussy felt completely and utterly plowed, and her clit still seemed to throb from the attention they’d given her the night before.

And they didn’t even get a chance to read my Kindle.

It was her soft snickers over that thought that awoke the men.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” Charles said, pulling her in for a kiss.

Then Ken grabbed her and kissed her, too. “How do you feel?”

She nodded. “Not bad. Sore in the good ways.” Totally truthful because the rest of her body, other than the miscellaneous aches she 134 Tymber Dalton

knew were due to their wild sex, felt good.

Damn good.

Ken glanced at the clock, then sat up. “I know, you have to get ready.”

She let out a sigh. “Yeah.”

He scooted down the bed and had her legs pushed apart before she could protest. “Can’t send you down there frustrated.” He buried his head between her legs and flicked her clit with his tongue.

She’d started to protest that they didn’t have time, then gave up and let Charles kiss her. Ken was as skilled as his cousin in the oral department. He had her coming in just a couple of minutes.

When he sat up and grinned at her, she couldn’t help but laugh at the pleased look on his face. “From now on, baby, every morning, you don’t set foot out of this apartment until we’ve made you come at least once.”

Her heart shivered in her chest. “Okay,” she squeaked.

“Such a good girl,” Charles said as he kissed her again.

Ken helped her get out of bed. “Well, obviously, if you’re really in a lot of pain, or you know, it’s that time of the month, we’ll take a rain check.” He pulled her to him and kissed her as the heat from his body rolled through her. “We’ll just make you come extra hard the next time.”

Charles stepped out of bed and joined them, his firm body pressed along her back.

And his stiff cock pressed against the seam of her ass.

Fuck it, I can be late once. “What about you guys?” she asked. “I feel bad leaving you hanging.”

Ken and Charles exchanged a glance and smiled at her. Ken helped her sit on the floor at the end of the bed as both men sat in front of her on the bed, their cocks ready. They placed her hands on their cocks. “Have fun,” Charles said.

She began stroking them with her fingers wrapped around their cocks, alternating going down on one man, then the other, back and It’s a Sweet Life 135

forth until she knew they were both close to exploding. Ken fisted her hair and held her head in place in front of them as she stroked them harder and faster, their cocks pointed at her mouth. Charles came first with a moan, some of his cum making it past her lips, the rest of it going all over her face and chest. Ken followed right behind, and by the time their cocks were limp, she was covered in their cum.

Ken grinned. “I think that’s an appropriate pre-morning-shower look for you, baby.”

Charles nodded. “Me, too.”

She laughed, imagining what she must look like. “Well, there’s not room for three in my shower. One of you could do me the favor of making me coffee.”

Charles looked at Ken and made a fist. “Rock-Paper-Scissors-Lizard-Spock?”

“Huh?”

Libbie giggled. “Don’t be mean to him. You know he doesn’t watch the show.”

Charles dropped his fist and shrugged. “Eh, you’re right. We really need to catch him up. I’ll make the coffee.” The men stood, helping her to her feet. “You go help our messy girl get cleaned up.”

Ken took her by the hand and led her to the bathroom. “With pleasure.”

It was nearly four thirty in the morning when Libbie and Charles finally made it downstairs to the bakery. Charles went back to their apartment to shower while Ken did his best to distract Libbie from getting ready in hers.

Grover and Ruth looked up when they walked in, and for a moment, Libbie was a teenager again, caught sneaking in after curfew by her dad.

“You all right, Libbie?” Grover asked, concern on his face.

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Her face grew even hotter as she nodded. “Sorry we—I overslept.” She forced a laugh. “Mandaline brought over some of Sachi’s spiked cider last night and I think I overimbibed.”

“Ah. Okay.”

A little while later, however, Grover cornered her in her office.

Keeping his voice low, he asked, “You didn’t just oversleep, did you?”

She felt the blood jump to her face again as she stared at her hands in her lap. “Not exactly.”

“You all right? Everything okay?”

She nodded her head and didn’t resist when Grover gently took her chin in his large hand and made her look up at him.

He arched an eyebrow at her. “I’m not gonna have to run those two boys through my woodchipper now, am I?”

She shook her head. “No, Grover, please.” She couldn’t help but smile. “It’s okay.”

A slow smile of his own took over. “Ahh. Now I see what’choo all embarrassed about, little girl.” He lowered his bulk into the chair next to her desk and leaned in. “It was all consensual?”

“Grover!”

“Answer me.”

“Yes!”

“They do right by you?”

“Define that.”

He rolled his eyes. “You okay with what happened, or are they gonna go streaking out of here to some other port of call?”

For such an enlightened man, in some ways, Grover was rather old fashioned. “A shotgun wedding won’t be necessary, Dad,” she snarked. “But I feel really good for the first time in a long time. Be nice to them. Please?”

He smiled and patted her knee. “Honey, any man or men who can put a smile like that on your face, I’ll be plenty nice to them.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead before returning to the kitchen.

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The men wouldn’t let her cook dinner that night. They made her relax and put her feet up while they whipped together a quick and hearty meal that they ate spread out on Libbie’s sofa while watching TV.

The late night, combined with their nocturnal aerobics in bed the night before, had worn her down. “I think I want to take the TV party into the bedroom.”

“You want company?” Ken asked.

“Of course.”

“Both of us?” Charles confirmed.

She kissed Charles, then Ken. “Yes, both of you. You two don’t need an engraved invitation to crawl between my sheets. I think we’re well past that stage, don’t you?”

The men sent her to bed while they cleaned up the kitchen. When they joined her, they found her lying naked under the blanket.

The men stripped and joined her. “You know,” Ken warned, “we come in and see you like that, you’re inviting trouble.”

“Yep,” Charles said. “It’s like asking us to ravish you.”

“Who’s arguing?” she asked.

Ken gently laced his fingers through hers. “How are you feeling, though? Really.”

“I’m okay. I don’t think I’m up for a full repeat of last night, but I saved you guys a little energy.”

Charles stretched out on his side. His cock, growing stiffer, pressed against the seam of her ass. “How much energy?” He nibbled on her shoulder.

“Maybe not raunchy-book-sex energetic. Something a little closer to the milder scale.”

Ken sucked her index finger into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it, setting off a flurry of activity in her pussy. “We can do 138 Tymber Dalton

milder,” he said when he released her finger from the wet heat of his mouth.

They rolled her onto her back. Charles deftly turned around and buried his face between her legs. When she moaned, Ken lightly nipped and sucked on her lower lip. “Does that feel good, baby?”

“Uh-huh!” She didn’t know how Charles did it, but he managed to short-circuit the portions of her brain that controlled coherent speech and allowed her to speak in intelligible sentences. His tongue circled her clit, flicking at it a few times before sucking it between his lips and starting the pattern over again.

It nearly drove her crazy with need. Her pussy ached, pulsing with each draw of his mouth.

“Is that good? How does it feel having him making that sweet clit all swollen and tingly?” Ken whispered in her ear. His hand lazily moved from one breast to another, back and forth, teasing and tormenting her nipples and adding fire to her already soaked pussy.

“Uh-huh!”

He chuckled. “I think she’s ready for some relief,” he said to Charles.

Charles buried his face even deeper between her legs and redoubled his efforts, his tongue and lips moving faster until he slipped two fingers into her wet cunt and started finger-fucking her.

That sent her over the edge.

She moaned, her back arching as her orgasm swept through her.

With her eyes closed she rode the wave at the mercy of Charles until he was ready to let her stop.

When he finally lifted his face from between her legs, he sat up.

Ken got up, and when he returned to her side, she realized he’d fetched condoms from where she’d stashed the remainders in the bedside table with her toys. He handed one to Charles and kept the other, showing it to her. “You have no idea what you do to us, do you, baby?”

Charles quickly had his rolled onto his cock. The hot, engorged It’s a Sweet Life 139

head pressed against her labia. “She makes me lose my mind is what she does.”

She moaned again as he slowly seated himself inside her pussy.

Ken leaned in and sucked one nipple into his mouth while he played with the other with his hand.

Charles took long, slow strokes inside her, his blue eyes piercing through her. “Do you think you can come for me like this, baby?”

She wanted to. Lord how she wanted to. His attentions had left her clit hot and swollen and still throbbing. He fell still, stopping with his cock buried deep inside her. He licked his finger and started stroking her clit with it.

She felt her muscles clench around his cock. Both men were large, bigger than some of her toys but not monstrously so. It felt so good having a warm, pulsing cock inside her instead of a plastic toy.

Libbie’s eyes met his. If he just…doesn’t…stop…

Another orgasm hit her, not quite as strong as the first. When he felt her coming, he started fucking her again, harder, faster, rubbing against her clit with every stroke. It drew out the ripples of pleasure bursting from her core as his cock pounded her until Charles finally came.

She held on to his arms as he caught his breath, watching the way his chest moved, the sculpted muscles across his torso.

She loved everything about him. About them.

Realizing the L-word had just crossed her mind again, she quickly struck it from her thoughts.

Nope. Won’t go there.

If she didn’t admit it, she didn’t feel it.

When Charles carefully withdrew, Ken moved to take his place while Charles headed for the bathroom. Ken sheathed his cock in a condom and quickly filled her cunt with it, slowly stroking inside her.

Charles returned from the bathroom and stretched out next to her with her head cradled in the crook of his arm.

“How do you want it, baby?” Ken softly asked, looking down at 140 Tymber Dalton

her. “Do you want one more, or are you worn out?”

She stroked his arms. “I want to watch you come.”

She loved his smile. Their smiles. Damn, they were so much alike.

He leaned forward and kissed her as he slowly made love to her. He took his time, and she felt the tension building in his body as he tried to hold back.

Libbie hooked her legs around his and met him stroke for stroke, their rhythm timed perfectly. He leaned in and kissed her as he picked up speed, until she felt his entire body stiffen when his cock grew and swelled inside her.

He let out one last moan before falling still. Then he rested his forehead against her chest as she wrapped her arms around him.

She snuggled securely between them with a happy sigh. Can life get any sweeter?

The men were good to their word. While they didn’t rudely invite themselves, she did ask them into her bed every night.

And every morning, the wake-up was fabulous.

The first weekend after their Halloween night tryst, Libbie barely made it out of bed Sunday or Monday. The men hadn’t exaggerated when they said they were going to keep her well fucked and well orgasmed.

She idly wondered if someone could die from too much pleasure before she decided she didn’t want to know, even if they could.

I’d die happy, at least.

After a couple of weeks, the men relented in their morning accosting of her. She’d felt guilty that plenty of mornings they took the time to get her off at least once, yet didn’t let her give them pleasure in return.

It wasn’t uncommon for Ken to go back to sleep after Charles and Libbie got up to get a shower following their morning romps. She It’s a Sweet Life 141

started getting down into the bakery a little later every morning, but with Charles there to help out, it didn’t slow them down too much.

Unlike most autumns, time seemed to streak past, her pain and symptoms no longer the barometer of her life. During the times when her pain reached the point she had to retreat to bed earlier than usual at night, she had one or both of the men there beside her, even if only cuddling with her and watching TV.

One Tuesday evening, after a brutal cold snap had set in during the day and dropped the temperature twenty degrees between lunchtime and dark, she was curled in bed with Galileo and Ken, watching TV and dozing. Charles had left two hours before the bakery closed to go run a few errands for himself. When Charles left, Ken had come down to the bakery to pitch in and help close down for the day, even though she really didn’t need him there.

Ken was perusing her Kindle, making cute little clucking and hmmm noises when a particular passage gave him ideas. “You’re sooo in trouble when you’re feeling better,” he teased when he finished reading one section. “I just saw something I want to try.”

She snuggled tightly against his side. “Is it in a hot tub?”

He laughed. “No. Why?”

“I’ve always wondered what that’s like. Or in a swimming pool.

Or even the ocean. When I still had a gym membership, before I opened the bakery, I would go work out for a little while and then soak in the hot tub to help my muscles loosen up. I wish I could have one.”

“Hmm.”

“What’s that hmm for?”

He shook his head and smiled down at her. “Nothing, baby. You just rest up and feel better.”

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Chapter Fourteen

Charles and Ken both grew adept at baking and decorating pumpkin, pecan, and apple pies as Thanksgiving approached and people got their orders placed. Libbie sold them both fresh and frozen.

Admittedly, it was nice having two extra sets of hands instead of just one. It meant that even on her bad days, her fatigue wasn’t as bad.

And apparently a cleaning fairy had started taking care of her apartment. She’d go up for lunch to find the kitchen clean, the litter pan scooped, laundry clean and folded on the bed, and other things.

Neither man would own up to it, but she loved them even more for the care.

For her part, she didn’t ask for a discussion of “the future,” which she thought about as a vague, hopefully nonexistent theoretical event that would never arrive. Neither man ever spoke about leaving despite only having a six-month lease.

And Grover invited all three of them to come to his house for Thanksgiving dinner, although he did give her a caveat. “You might want to warn your men that Derrick’s mother-in-law has a stick wedged so far up her ass you can see it when she yawns. She’s not afraid to loudly condemn people to Hell when she don’t even know them.”

Libbie had never met the woman, but had heard stories about her.

She felt sorry for Derrick, but at least the woman lived in Atlanta and they didn’t have to put up with her most of the time.

I wonder how many other people out there will hassle me or the guys?

The Tuesday before Thanksgiving, despite a morning rush of It’s a Sweet Life 143

people picking up special orders, the customers slowed down to a trickle by ten. She’d shooed Charles out of the bakery because she’d overheard him discussing with Ken that he had an errand to run, and they were caught up on the daily list.

She also felt the urge to talk. Inside the bakery, she sometimes felt protected from the big, bad outside world. She didn’t have a lot of socializing other than with Grover and his family, and Mandaline and Sachi and a few others at Many Blessings. None of them gave a damn about Libbie’s unconventional arrangement.

And what kind of future do we have? The longer they went without talking about it, the more she worried about admitting to the men how she felt. Neither had yet to utter the L-word. Then again, neither had she. Did they see this as a fling that would end when the lease was up, or were they waiting to say anything until she did first?

Or would she admit how she felt and get her heart shot down in the process?

Still, Grover’s gentle but serious comments once again reminded her that yes, she had a fantasy come true, but it was one that most of her community might seriously frown upon. And one that could easily lead her to a shattering heartbreak that would make her divorce feel like a splinter in comparison to a serious bodily impalement.

I wonder what Mandaline’s doing. She called out to Grover, “I’ll be back in a few,” and headed out the door.

Apparently, Libbie’s shop wasn’t the only one in town having a slow day. When she walked across the square, she found Mandaline and Sachi were the only ones in the New Age shop.

“Hey,” Mandaline greeted her when she walked in. “How you doing?”

“Do you have a few minutes?” Libbie asked. “To talk?”

A small furrow momentarily appeared in Mandaline’s brow before her skin smoothed again. “Sure. Let’s go in back. Sachi, can you watch the store for me?”

Sachi, who was engaged with an amethyst rune set, didn’t look 144 Tymber Dalton

up. She waved her hand at the empty storefront. “Sure. It’s packed in here and you want to goldbrick.”

Libbie didn’t miss the smile on her face.

Mandaline laughed. “When’s your client coming?”

Sachi glanced at the clock on the wall. “Two hours. You have plenty of time. I’ll holler if we get an early Black Friday rush in here.” She snorted.

Mandaline led Libbie through a beaded curtain and down a short hallway to a small private room. A tall, antique iron floor lamp with an imitation Tiffany glass lampshade stood in one corner and cast warm light through the room. A short bookshelf on one wall held many tomes new and old, mostly concerning New Age and mystical topics.

Mandaline indicated Libbie take a seat at one of the two chairs at the small, round table, which was covered with a fringed tablecloth in swirling rust and turquoise patterns. Before Mandaline sat, she turned to a white, antique cabinet behind her, which had glass-front doors.

From the top shelf, her finger paused over several different small boxes before she chose one and removed it. When Mandaline turned back to the table, Libbie saw the box was a Tarot deck.

“I didn’t mean for you to give me a reading,” Libbie said.

Mandaline waved her objections away. “For you, no charge. And since you’re looking for an ear and advice, the best advice I can give you comes from here.” She tapped the deck’s box with an unpolished fingernail. “You strike me as a Celtic Dragon Tarot kind of soul.”

Mandaline removed the cards from the box and smoothly shuffled them with practiced fingers. “So talk to me, girlie.”

Libbie had a hard time taking her eyes off the cards quickly flowing through her friend’s fingers. “You…” She lowered her voice.

“You have two guys.”

A sultry smile curled Mandaline’s lips. “Yeesss. It doesn’t make you a slut. It makes you a smart woman for seeing a golden opportunity. Lots of people are poly. It’s not just something that It’s a Sweet Life 145

happens in those sexy books you read.” She set the deck on the table in front of Libbie. “Cut it.”

Libbie reached out, hesitating only briefly before pinching the deck partway down and moving the top stack beside the lower half.

Mandaline quickly reached out with the speed of a Vegas pit boss and scooped the cards up, regrouping them into one pile with the cut lower deck on top. She pulled the top card and flipped it right-side up, laying it on the tablecloth in front of Libbie.

The bottom of the card read Three of Cups. On it, a dragon stared at three chalices in what appeared to be shallow water.

Libbie looked up and saw Mandaline grinning ear to ear.

“What?”

“In this deck, this card usually signifies prosperity, good times on the horizon.” Her grin broadened. “Three of Cups? Seriously? Three?

Do you not see the significance?”

Libbie felt her face flush. “It’s just one card,” she mumbled.

Mandaline cocked her head to one side “Are you looking for permission to be in a triad? Because you don’t need it from me or anyone else.”

“I don’t know what I want or what I’m looking for.” Her gaze fell to her lap, where she twisted her hands in the hem of her T-shirt. “All I know is the thought of losing them breaks my heart. And it scares the crap out of me that I’m this much in love with them this soon when I barely know them. And I can’t even tell them.”

“Can’t, or won’t because you’re worried what they might or might not say?”

She didn’t answer, but she stared at Mandaline.

Her friend’s smile faded. “We all have to take chances. That’s what separates us from those who’ve moved on to the Summerland.

Or Heaven. Or Valhalla or reincarnation or take your pick of hereafters.”

“I don’t know what I believe.”

“Then all the more reason to take chances in this life, no? If we’re 146 Tymber Dalton

all wrong and it’s only one time around this existence followed by a forever dirt nap, we shouldn’t waste a moment of it worrying about what others think of us as long as we aren’t harming anyone else in the process.”

She flipped over another card and placed it, faceup, next to the first.

The bottom read 8 - Strength. On it, a woman in a yellow dress caressed the chin of a large, orange dragon while several smaller dragons gathered around her feet.

Mandaline let out an amused snort. Libbie thought she muttered “fuck me” under her breath, but couldn’t be sure.

“What?” she asked.

“In this deck, Strength means you should use your intuition. Have the courage to take a stand and follow through with it, basically.”

Mandaline lifted her gaze to Libbie’s. “We can do this all day, but I can already tell you what the cards will keep saying.”

“What?”

“Shit or get off the pot.” She grinned and turned the Strength card over so its back was visible. The background of the card was a marbled light grey, with a round, pewter-colored symbol in the middle. Three stylized animals surrounded a center of three spirals.

“What’s that?” Libbie asked.

“It’s a type of triskele,” Mandaline said. “Tri. Three.” All that was missing was the audible duh. “Why are you afraid to let this happen?”

Mandaline asked.

Libbie finally blurted it out. “Because my ex lied to me and cheated on me. I ended up divorcing him, and just the thought of both of them lying to me breaks my heart. How do I survive it if they really do it?”

Libbie didn’t miss Mandaline’s sympathetic sigh. “Oh, sweetie.

You don’t know they’ll lie to you and break your heart,” she gently said. “You really don’t. You’re painting them with your ex’s sins when they haven’t done anything to earn your mistrust. Have they?”

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Libbie tried not to think about how they never really talked in great detail about their past. How they always managed to distract her from the topic with other topics…or really good, hot, raunchy sex.

And her mind flashed back to the Florida tag on the back of their truck and the troubling, niggling thought in her mind that maybe they weren’t telling the truth about that. That she never remembered seeing a Nebraska plate on the truck, front or back.

Then again, she couldn’t be sure, either. Especially not with how bad her fibro fog had been lately. Hell, there were mornings, literally, she awoke with no idea of what day it was.

“No,” Libbie finally admitted. “They’ve been nothing but sweet.”

“Want one more?” Mandaline asked, tapping the deck with her finger.

Libbie shrugged.

Mandaline flipped over the next card and laid it before Libbie.

Two dragons flew over a beach, each holding a wand. The third wand was stuck in the sand below them. The bottom of the card read Three of Wands.

The women’s eyes met. Mandaline arched an eyebrow.

“Tell me,” Libbie finally said.

“Good planning creates success. Possible partnerships.” She smiled. “It’s no coincidence it’s a three. Did you know a tripod is one of the most stable structures there are?”

“All right, all right already. I get the picture.”

Mandaline covered Libbie’s hand with hers and waited until she met her gaze. “Take a chance,” Mandaline softly said. “If nothing else, the endorphin rush you’ll get from really great, raunchy sex with those two hunks will help your fibro for a while.”

“What helps me if they break my heart?”

Mandaline’s expression softened. “We will all help you then. You have way more friends in this community than you realize. But I really think that’s not going to be an issue. I’ve seen the way they look at you, and the lust and love in their eyes has nothing to do with 148 Tymber Dalton

your fabulous red velvet cakes.” She gently squeezed Libbie’s hand again. “Look, you remember how I was totally the queen of the commitmentphobes. Between cheats and liars and jerks who pretended to give a damn about my beliefs, just to turn around and throw them in my face later. If I can empty and get rid of my baggage, so can you. It’s all going to be okay.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“The cards don’t lie.”

“I love you, Mandaline, but you know I’m not…” She didn’t know how to finish that statement without hurting her friend’s feelings.

“I know you don’t follow the same path I do. That’s okay. But as one friend to another, don’t sit on your butt and think about what might have been because that’s the safer, albeit more depressing option to actually living your life.”

Grover was taking care of smoking three turkeys, as well as a brisket, a ham, and who knew how many other delectable meats.

Libbie had been assigned to bring desserts and dinner rolls for the Johnson brood’s annual Thanksgiving bash, the total headcount of which would likely top fifty people.

Grover never turned anyone away from holiday dinners. It wasn’t uncommon for one or more of the kids to bring an “orphaned” friend or two with them for dinner, someone who had no other place to go and knowing there would be more than enough food for all, in addition to their own significant other. Jenny and her two sons would also be in attendance, liable to receive an early visit from Santa Claus.

Although Santa would be black and sound like Grover behind the red suit and fake beard.

Libbie had awakened stiff and sore—due to her fibro and not a vigorous fucking—a little after seven Thanksgiving morning. It didn’t It’s a Sweet Life 149

help that an early frost had also dipped the temperatures down to near freezing and left a thin layer of ice on the men’s truck and her car, even under the protection of the carport.

Both men took one look at her and ordered her to go soak in the tub and leave all the car loading to them. Charles brought her coffee and a naproxen, while Ken prepared a bowl of Cream of Wheat for her to eat in the tub. She couldn’t hear exactly everything going on, but heard the men making several trips in and out of the downstairs door, and the sound of things being loaded into the back of their truck.

They were bringing what few folding chairs they had, as well as the folding tables, to help seat everyone at the feast.

By eight, Libbie had worked the worst of the kinks and stiffness out of her body. The men were downstairs when she got out of the tub, pulled on her robe, and made her way into the kitchen.

Two envelopes with her name on them sat propped up on the counter.

Her hands shook as she opened the first one, which turned out to be from Ken. The outside read On Our First Thanksgiving. Tears welled up in her eyes as she read his inscription inside.

May this be the first of many more together. — K.

No, not a declaration of love, but wasn’t looking toward the future a good sign?

She opened the card from Charles, which had a funny picture on the front of a turkey doing an imitation of a lamp while a farmer carrying an ax searched for it in the kitchen.

I’ll never get tired of gobbling you, babe. — Charles.

She snorted with laughter, then felt badly that she hadn’t thought to get either man a card. She’d been fairly busy with the bakery and preparing Thanksgiving orders and it’d slipped her mind.

When the men returned to her apartment a short while later, she hugged them both. “Thank you for the cards.” She kissed them. “I’m sorry I didn’t get you two cards.”

“It’s all right,” Ken said.

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“You’ve been busy,” Charles added.

“We just wanted to show you how special you are to us.”

“If it wasn’t for the fact I know I wouldn’t want to go to Grover’s after if we did, I’d show you how special you are to me right now.”

“We’ll take a rain check,” Charles said.

“Until tonight,” Ken said with a deliciously wicked smile.

Fortunately, Libbie already knew most of the people in attendance at Grover’s house. Otherwise, she would have felt completely overwhelmed by the number of people. As it was she spent most of the afternoon in the kitchen, helping keep the food moving and washing up dishes.

Some of the family gathered in the living room in front of Grover’s large TV to watch football. Some went outside to play a version of the real thing in Grover’s enormous backyard.

“So are the Cornhuskers playing today?” she asked Ken on one of his many trips through to check on her.

She didn’t understand the momentary confusion on his face. “Oh.

Oh, um, I’m not a big football fan.”

“I thought it was mandatory if you lived in Nebraska to follow football.”

He smiled and leaned in for a kiss. “Only if you follow football in the first place.” Before she could figure that out, he left the kitchen.

She got busy and didn’t have time to question him about it later.

It was nearly dark. Most of the people had left, but Libbie refused to leave the kitchen, insisting she didn’t want to leave Grover with a ton of cleanup to do. Charles and Ken had been gently hinting to her for over two hours they thought she’d pushed herself too far, but she kept waving them off.

It was only when Grover himself walked into the kitchen and took the dishtowel from her that she finally listened. He placed his hands It’s a Sweet Life 151

on her shoulders and marched her out of the kitchen to where Charles and Ken awaited in the living room.

“Take her home and make her rest,” Grover told them.

“But there’s still dishes to do!” she protested.

He crossed his arms over his massive chest and stared down his nose at her. “Listen here, you go home and you rest. You’re worn out.

Now, git.”

Knowing he wouldn’t be swayed, she let the men lead her out to her car where Ken drove her home, followed by Charles in their truck with the folding tables in back.

They made her take a hot bath while they unloaded the truck. By the time they returned upstairs, she realized they’d been right to make her leave Grover’s. She only had a little energy left.

And she knew exactly how she wanted to expend it.

Charles helped her out of the tub. “See? You need to listen to us.

We can tell when you’re exhausted.”

“At least I don’t have to open the shop tomorrow.” On Black Friday, she didn’t leave her apartment unless it was an emergency.

She did a lot of her holiday shopping online, or earlier in the season before the stores got crowded. She couldn’t handle the additional stress of driving in holiday traffic, negotiating crazy, full parking lots, and threading her way through massive throngs of people.

She wrapped the towel around her after drying off. She slipped her arms around Charles’ waist and tucked her hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “I know what I’d like to do now, though.”

She rose up on her toes to kiss him, thrilling at the way the hard bulge in the front of his jeans sprang to life.

His hands brushed down her back, to her ass, where he grabbed her and pulled her body tightly against his. “You sure you have the energy, baby?”

“Uh-huh. I saved enough for you two.”

She loved the way he kissed her. The cousins were so much alike, but just different enough. Charles was teasing and playful, always 152 Tymber Dalton

leaving her wanting more no matter how thoroughly he kissed her.

Ken was passion on two legs, even the lightest of kisses sometimes leaving her breathless and feeling like she’d just had the romp of her life.

Charles scooped her up into his arms. “Time to put you to bed, little baker.”

Ken called out from the kitchen. “She feeling frisky?”

“Yeah,” Charles called back as he carried her into the bedroom.

“She was trying to hump me in the bathroom.”

She lightly swatted his chest. “I was not.”

He dropped her onto the bed and met her gaze as he started unbuckling his belt. “You were ready to climb and ride me like a pony,” he teased.

He kicked off his sneakers and socks before he shoved his jeans down and off. The outline of his rigid cock pressed against the fabric of his briefs. They, too, joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor.

He pulled his shirt off, leaving her sighing at the sight of the lean muscles rippling across his chest. He straddled her on the bed and pulled the towel away. Then Ken walked into the room.

“Starting without me?”

Charles leaned in and nibbled the hollow of her throat. “Yep. You don’t show up on time, you don’t get any.”

She poked him in the thigh. “Be nice. You have to share.”

“I don’t mind sharing,” he said. “But I’m not waiting on him, either.” His cock stood out hard and proud, a pearly drop of pre-cum already awaiting her tongue at the slit in the engorged head.

Ken laughed and started undressing. “I’m here, I’m here.”

She wrapped her fingers around the silky heat of his cock and gently tugged. “Come here and I’ll take care of something for you.”

He grinned and moved up her body so she could reach his cock with her mouth. When the head slid past her lips, both of them moaned, him at the sensation, and her at the taste and feel of his hot It’s a Sweet Life 153

flesh.

She felt the bed dip. Then Ken pushed her legs apart. “I know what’ll keep me busy.”

Libbie couldn’t help but moan again as Ken used his thumbs to spread her labia apart, exposing her clit to his eager mouth. He blew hot breath across it, teasing her and turning her eager moans into plaintive whines.

Charles shifted position again, giving him the angle he needed to take over and fuck her mouth. “Just lay there and take it, baby.” His voice sounded thick with need. “We’re going to do all the work for you.”

She relaxed her lips, flicking her tongue over his glans with every stroke. Charles knew exactly how deep to thrust without gagging her.

Soon, as Ken started sucking on her clit in earnest, Charles was fucking her mouth, his balls lightly bouncing against her chin with every stroke.

He reached for and found her hands, lacing his fingers through hers and pinning them to the bed over her head. That only served to ratchet her passion up another notch. They’d quickly learned how her body responded when they took total charge, pinning her to the bed and having their way with her.

She loved it.

Libbie imagined what she must look like, held down by two hunks and being both serviced and used without any say in the matter. It was that thought that triggered her first orgasm.

Charles leaned forward, his weight pressing her deeper into the bed as he quickened his pace. “That’s it, baby. Give him another one.

I want to shoot my cum down your throat while you’re screaming around my cock.”

His sexy tone was all it took to trigger the second one. And scream she did when Ken began finger-fucking her with two fingers as he lightly nipped her clit.

“Yes!” Charles let out a groan as his cock hardened against her 154 Tymber Dalton

tongue. He buried his cock deep inside her mouth, forcing her to swallow even as she tried to scream her pleasure.

Ken wouldn’t stop, however, forcing her body through wave after wave of pleasure. Charles’ cock softened and he withdrew, but he didn’t let go of her hands. “Take it, baby,” he hoarsely said. “Loud as you want. You take it from him. You take every bit of it.”

It felt like she floated free from her usual cloak of pain and fatigue as Ken stepped up his efforts, adding a third finger to her soaking cunt and slamming his hand against her pussy with each stroke even as his mouth tormented her swollen clit.

She rode yet another orgasm, startled midway when the men suddenly released her and changed position. She heard one of them yank the bedside table drawer open and rummage around. Charles knelt over her chest, his legs pinning her arms to the bed. Ken grabbed her legs and spread them farther apart.

She felt a condom-clad cock spear her core, making her gasp with pleasure.

Then she heard a click and didn’t have time to fully process it was the sound of the Hitachi firing up on high speed when Charles pressed it firmly against her clit.

Her world exploded. She let out a cry, unable to move as her cunt walls squeezed Ken’s cock.

“Holy fuck,” he gasped. “Don’t stop,” he told Charles. “Keep her coming.”

He fucked her hard and fast as her cries turned into sobs. They held her immobile and unable to escape the vibrator as wave after wave of blindingly intense ecstasy drilled through her body.

Charles used one hand to twist her nipples, triggering even more biting pleasure. “Take it, baby,” he ordered. “Keep coming for us.”

She gasped for air between her cries. The men had learned not only did she love it when they fucked her hard and deep, it didn’t hurt her. Their timidity had eased up, and they enjoyed forcing her to come until they were satisfied she’d had enough.

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“You love this, don’t you?” Ken asked, ramming his cock home.

“You love being our sweet plaything, don’t you? Poor Libbie, forced to come while being fucked. Poor, sweet girl.”

That only made her come harder, and they knew it was the result they’d get.

Ken could have been fucking her for minutes or days, she didn’t know. Her world shattered until all she could focus on was breathing through each intense wave of pleasure Charles forced her to take with the Hitachi.

He slung her legs over his shoulders and held on to her thighs.

“Take it deep, baby. Like you want to. Take my cock.”

Her fingers clawed at the bed, the only movement she could make besides thrashing her head back and forth. She felt utterly helpless and completely owned as he drove his cock into her.

Finally, she heard his tone of voice change, strained, holding back. “Get one more out of her,” he ordered Charles.

“With pleasure, bro.”

She let out a cry of agony and ecstasy combined as he twisted her right nipple harder than before and one more explosion ripped the breath from her lungs.

“That’s…it!” Ken rammed deep into her one last time and fell still, her and him both gasping for air.

Charles immediately climbed off her and shut down the Hitachi.

As she caught her breath, the crying started. Another thing they’d discovered sometimes happened after really intense lovemaking.

A good thing, cathartic.

Ken gently lowered her legs and pulled her up to cradle her in his arms. She sat there, still impaled on his softening cock while she shivered and cried against his chest.

“Shh, baby. We’re here. It’s all right.”

Charles sat behind her. He stroked her shoulders and back with tender caresses. “We’ve got you.”

It took her several minutes to regain her wits. When she did, she 156 Tymber Dalton

kissed Ken, deep and slow, then turned her head to kiss Charles. Both men’s blue eyes were filled with concern until she gave them a smile.

“Now I think I’m ready for bed.”

Both men smiled in return. “Not too much?” Ken asked.

She shook her head. “Nope. That was…” She sighed. “Fantastic.”

It wasn’t until both men had already fallen asleep, and she was quickly drifting into it herself, that she pondered the “bro” comment Charles had said.

Well, they are close. Sleep took over, driving all thoughts from her brain.

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Chapter Fifteen

A little after eight the next morning, Libbie was watching the morning news and scoffing at the hordes of Black Friday shoppers when a knock on her door surprised her.

She looked at Charles. “Did someone leave the back door unlocked downstairs?”

He grinned as he rose from the sofa to answer it. “Guilty.”

Mandaline and Sachi stood in the doorway. “Hey, right on time.” He greeted them with friendly hugs.

She shot a glare at Ken. “Now I know why you insisted on me getting up and dressed.”

“Come on,” Sachi said with a playful smile. “Chop-chop. We’re going to be late if we don’t get on the road.”

“Look, guys, I’m sorry, but I’m not a Black Friday shopper.”

“Nope, that’s not what this is,” Mandaline said. “A friend of mine down in Tampa is holding a nutrition seminar at her store, for people with chronic pain and health conditions such as fibro, lupus, and things like that. Her brother-in-law is a homeopathic doctor. He’s the one doing the seminar. Sachi and I are driving you down and going with you.”

“Don’t you guys have to watch the shop?”

“Nope,” Mandaline said. “I’ve got Ellis and Bradley behind the counter today.”

She looked at Ken and Charles, who both wore decidedly sneaky grins. “Why do I have the feeling you’re trying to get rid of me for the day?”

“Because we are,” both men said before laughing.

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“We have a surprise for you, but you’ll have to wait until you get back,” Ken added.

“Come on,” Mandaline said as she walked over to the couch and held her hands out to Libbie. “Comfy shoes, and grab gloves and a sweater if you want. They’re serving lunch as part of the seminar.”

“I really appreciate this, but you don’t need to drive me down to Tampa and waste your day.”

“Hey, it’s not wasted,” Sachi said. “We’ve had a bunch of people asking for more seminars on health topics. It’s research. We want to sit through the seminar before we ask him to do one at the store.”

Looking around at the four people, she knew she was

outnumbered and outvoted. She let Mandaline help her up from the couch while Charles brought her purse over and Ken went to retrieve a sweater and her gloves. “Will it do me any good,” Libbie asked, “to grill you and Sachi about the surprise they obviously don’t want me to know about?”

She laughed. “Nope. Your guys have kept us in the dark, too. All we know is they asked if we could spirit you away for a day and this was absolutely perfect timing. I’d planned on asking you to go with us anyway when they mentioned it. So it’s a double surprise.”

“How expensive is this seminar?”

“Nope, you’re not paying me back. It’s on me. I’m writing it off as a business expense. I did some research on this guy and he has a good reputation in his field. He’s not a hoo-hoo quack, as Grover might call them.”

Libbie had to laugh at that. She slipped on her imitation Ugg boots and let Ken help her put her sweater on. “Okay, I’ll have to wait until we get back, then.” The men walked them downstairs and she kissed them good-bye. “Is Galileo going to be pissed when I return?”

Ken smiled. “Nice try, but no. His world won’t be any more upended than it already has been.”

Sachi insisted on letting Libbie have the roomier front passenger seat in Mandaline’s car while she climbed into the back. The drive It’s a Sweet Life 159

down to Tampa went well, and they soon arrived at the store, which occupied a large space in a shopping center in Temple Terrace.

While larger and with more inventory than Many Blessings, Libbie wondered if it was personal bias that made her still favor Mandaline’s store over this one. Not that there was anything wrong with this one. The fact that the classroom in the back was filled with over thirty chairs, and at least twice that many people were either in the store for the seminar or Black Friday shopping, proved that the store was successful.

Still, Libbie liked the quiet intimacy, the feeling of love that flowed through Many Blessings. Mandaline had added a few of her own personal touches to the store after inheriting it, but she hadn’t changed Julie’s original vision or direction.

And every evening, the fact that her classes were usually full, as well as the store was popular with the after-work crowd, showed that Mandaline was doing something right.

Libbie had to admit the class was interesting. The class price included handouts and two of the doctor’s books on nutrition and dietary supplements.

Still, she couldn’t help but wonder what the men had up their sleeves that was so important they felt they needed to get her out of the way for the day.

Once Mandaline’s car was safely down the street, the men looked at each other. “Time to get busy,” Ben said. He grabbed his cell and called Grover. “The coast is clear.”

“We’re on our way.” Fifteen minutes later, the male contingent of the Johnson brood arrived. One of Grover’s sons towed a trailer filled with building supplies Allan had bought on Monday while on one of his “errands.”

“When’s the rest of it coming?” Grover asked Ben as everyone 160 Tymber Dalton

got to work unloading the trailer.

He glanced at the time. “They’ll have it here by noon. Said because it’s going on an asphalt base, no extra setup required. I had the outside electrical circuit installed last week when I told her I was having the utility room panel checked out because I thought there might be an issue.”

Grover’s laugh rolled out of him. “You’re a sneaky one, Ken.”

“I have my moments.”

Allan moved Libbie’s car and their truck out of the way, and the group got to work. Within an hour, they’d screened in one half of the carport and installed latticework for privacy as well. They also hung a light. They were down to the last panel of screen and latticework when the delivery truck showed up with the new hot tub.

Allan stood next to Ben with a grin on his face. “She’s going to love this.”

“I know.”

He leaned in close and dropped his voice. “We break it in tonight?”

“Hell yeah. If she feels up to it.”

The wooden lattice would keep prying eyes out, not that there were any neighbors on the back side of the building to see. The screen would keep bugs and mosquitoes out. Having it under the carport meant Libbie could use it in any weather.

After the hot tub was positioned, they got the remaining screen panel up while Ben and Allan were shown how the hot tub worked and the chemicals explained to them.

By two o’clock, Ben and Allan had fed the Johnson brood in appreciation for their help and sent them on their way. When Ben had first brought up the idea to Grover, it had been Grover who’d volunteered his substantial in-family workforce to help make it a reality.

And because it was something that would hopefully make Libbie’s life a little more bearable during the worst times, everyone It’s a Sweet Life 161

was happy to pitch in and keep it a secret.

Mandaline called them with a five-minute warning later that afternoon. The men were both downstairs waiting when they pulled up.

Libbie got out of the car, her eyes wide. “What did you two do?”

“Surprise!” the men said, coming over to kiss her. “We got you an early Christmas present,” Ben said.

Libbie couldn’t believe her eyes as the men proudly led her over to the new outdoor room that made up half the carport.

“You can still park here,” Charles said. “We don’t need to park under here. And it means you can use the hot tub in any weather.”

She blinked away tears as she hugged both of them. “I…I just never…Wow. Thank you.”

“We checked it a few minutes ago,” Ken said. “It’s not quite hot enough to use now, but it should be perfect after dinner.”

Mandaline and Sachi both hugged her. “Congratulations,”

Mandaline whispered in her ear. “You’re getting scary good at this wishing stuff.”

When the three were alone again, Libbie turned to her men. “How in hell did you two manage this in one morning?”

Charles shrugged. “We had more than a little help.”

“From the Johnson clan, I’d imagine.”

“Yep,” Ken confirmed. “Grover and the guys were sworn to secrecy.” He pressed her against Charles, who slipped his arms around her waist from behind. “And I think we can check another item off your bucket list tonight. If you feel up to it.”

Her pussy fluttered at the thought. “I can’t wait.”

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The men prepared her a scrumptious, candlelight dinner that night.

While they cleaned up the kitchen, Charles sent her into the bedroom with a pat on the rump. “Go change into your bathrobe and nothing else. And grab some towels.”

She grinned. “Time to break in the hot tub?”

“You’d better believe it,” Ken said.

Ten minutes later, they were downstairs and Libbie slowly eased herself into the hot water. “Oh, my god, this feels great!” She slid all the way down to her chin, the built-in lounge perfectly shaped for her.

“Wait’ll you see this,” Charles said. Both men had come downstairs with nothing but flip-flops on their feet and towels wrapped around their waists and carrying extra towels. He reached over and flipped a switch on the control panel and jets started bubbling the water.

One hit her perfectly in her lower back.

“Ooohh!”

“Good?” The men shed their towels and climbed in with her.

“Uh-huh!”

Ken pulled her off the lounger and turned her around so she was facing the side of the hot tub. “Feel this.” He nudged her forward until a jet hit her right between the legs.

She let out a moan and braced herself against the side. “Yes!”

Ken reached between her legs from behind and started fingering her pussy. “You’re not going to have so much fun in this that you won’t need us, will you?”

She wiggled her hips at him. “Nope.”

“Good,” Charles said. Without blocking the jet, he reached around her and began playing with her nipples.

She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip to stifle the loud moan of pleasure she wanted to let loose.

“Good, baby?” Ken asked.

All she could do was nod.

Ken grabbed a condom from where he’d left a couple on the side It’s a Sweet Life 163

of the tub and rolled it on. “It’s going to get better.” He lined up his cock with her pussy and pressed in. Between the sensation of the jet on her clit, and his large member shoved deep inside her cunt, she came.

Charles laughed as he held her. “That was fast.” He climbed onto the edge of the tub and sat with his feet in the water. His cock was hard and ready. Needing no encouragement, she went down on him while Ken repositioned her so she was kneeling on the seat in front of the jet and it still hit her pussy.

She held on to Charles’ waist as she went down on him. The cool night air was a pleasant contrast to the heat building inside her and the hot water of the tub. Ken grabbed her hips and set up a hard, fast pace.

“Look at our dirty girl,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Such a sweet little slut for her men, being fucked in a hot tub where anyone could walk up and hear.”

She knew the likelihood of that at night was slim to none, but his dirty words amped her need and passion.

Charles buried his fingers in her hair and took charge, fucking her mouth and making her a totally willing prisoner to both men. “Yes, she is,” he said. “Using that jet to make her come while she’s got two cocks inside her. Such a horny girl she is.”

Aaaand that was two. She cried out around his cock, not afraid of making any noises at that point and knowing the sound would be muffled by his body.

“Did she just come again?” Charles asked Ken in a teasing tone.

“Yes, she did,” he confirmed. “Squeezed my cock like a good little fuck toy.”

She moaned, helpless to their passion and hers. Her deep, dark desires were no match for the two men. They treated her like a cherished princess most of the time.

And their horny little slut the rest.

And she prayed they never grew tired of her.

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Ken pressed forward, shoving her closer to the jet and deeper onto Charles’ cock. She twisted and squirmed and tried to escape the relentless feel of the jet quickly pushing her to another orgasm, but the men wouldn’t be denied.

“No you don’t,” Charles said. He grabbed her arms and pulled them from around his waist and forced them behind her back. Ken took over, grabbing her wrists and using the leverage to fuck her even harder while Charles retook his hold on her head. “Now you sit there and come for us until we let you stop.”

The third orgasm robbed her body of all strength. The water buoyed her as Ken and Charles seesawed her between them, obviously in no hurry to come themselves. Sometimes, the men were borderline sadists in their pursuit of her orgasms.

Not that she was or ever would complain about it.

By the time the sixth orgasm rolled through her, neither man had come yet. They both withdrew and made her stand there, swaying in the water, while they changed position. Ken took the condom off while Charles put one on, and they assumed the position the other had vacated. In seconds, she was once again spit-roasted between the two, this time with Ken’s cock down her throat and Charles pounding her pussy.

She lost track of time as each climax rolled through her. Finally, Charles said, “Think she’s had enough yet?”

Ken laughed. “Yes, probably. I know I can’t hold it much longer.”

“Neither can I.”

Libbie rocked between them, unable to move between their secure hold on her and her lack of strength from her orgasms. “Come on,”

Charles urged. “You’ve got one more in you.” He shoved her even closer to the jet as he fucked her hard, and that was all it took to trigger one more climax.

“Good girl,” Ken grunted. His cock erupted in her mouth and she struggled to keep up with the spurts of his juices going down her throat even as Charles slammed his hips against her.

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Moments later, the three of them were panting, relaxing in the water with Libbie blissfully floating between them with her eyes closed.

Ken chuckled. “I think we wore her out.”

“We always wear her out,” Charles said. He leaned in and kissed her forehead tenderly. “That’s why she puts up with us.”

She blindly reached for their hands and pulled them to her chest with her fingers laced through them. “I’ll put up with you forever,”

she whispered.

The men took turns placing kisses on her lips. “Watch out, or we’ll hold you to that,” Ken said.

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Chapter Sixteen

Between the weather fluctuating and holiday stress, despite the benefits of the hot tub and plenty of endorphin boosts from really great sex, Libbie realized her pain levels were still slowly climbing, although not as bad as in past years. She had bouts of fibro fog, and her fatigue would sometimes hit her from out of the blue. The worst days of pain were made easier to bear by having her men beside her.

Besides the obvious perk of having two hunks in her bed every night, Charles’ amazing progress in decorating skills was a godsend as far as Libbie was concerned. Her holiday special orders had gone through the roof, but with Charles and sometimes even Ken pitching in, she wasn’t afraid of being overwhelmed and didn’t have to turn away any orders. She even tried to give them a break on their rent, but the men insisted on paying the full price.

She didn’t know how or when Charles found time to get any work done, because he was always helping out in the bakery even though she told him it wasn’t necessary for him to be there every day.

The only exception seemed to be on Mondays, when one or both of the men left to run errands since the bakery was closed.

The first Friday in December, she asked Charles to run an errand with her. He drove her car, and she gave him directions to a liquor store on the other side of town, where they had an order waiting for her.

He loaded the six cases of bourbon into her car for her. “You taking up a bad hobby I don’t know about?” he teased.

“No, silly. It’s for my fruitcakes.”

He made a face. “Blech. Sorry.”

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“Oh, don’t be that way until you taste one of them. They’re not like the grocery store bricks you see for sale. It’s sort of like a boozed-up pound cake with fruit and nuts and a sugary glaze drizzled on top.”

“Hmm. Then I’ll withhold my judgment.”

“Good.” She closed the trunk. “Because you’ll be helping me make a bunch of them.”

“That explains the cases of raisins, cherries, nuts, and cranberries you got in this week.”

“Yep.” She smiled. “It’s my own recipe. I started with a recipe of my grandmother’s and modified it over the years. I used to make a bunch of them every year for gifts, and people loved them. So when I opened the bakery, I decided to sell them and people seem to love them.”

“By the way, when are we putting up your Christmas tree?” he asked.

Allan watched as she suddenly found her hands very interesting.

She picked at her cuticles. “I’m probably not going to.”

“Why not?”

She shrugged.

“Come on, Libbie. Talk to me.”

“I haven’t put one up since Mom and Dad died. I have all their ornaments, but I just didn’t have the heart or energy or strength to do it.”

His heart ached for her. “Oh, sweetie.” He placed his hand over hers and waited until she finally looked at him. “Will you let us put up a tree for you?”

He read the old pain in her sweet green eyes. He longed to tell her he loved her, but since she hadn’t yet said it to either of them, they didn’t want to make her feel obligated to say it.

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And truth be told, he worried maybe she wasn’t saying it because she didn’t feel the same way about them despite her actions. Although the men had noticed she had no objections to them mentioning a future together.

They still didn’t know how they’d handle the trial. Their best idea thus far was waiting until right before they had to leave and then sitting down with her and telling her the full truth about them.

And praying she didn’t hate their guts for it.

For his part, Allan knew that once the trial was over, if Libbie didn’t hate them, he was going to sit down and talk with her about their future together. He didn’t know what Ben’s plans were.

He damn sure didn’t want to jinx anything by forcing him to talk about it, either.

She let out a sad sigh and nodded.

He pulled her in for a hug. “Let’s go shopping for a tree tonight after Ken gets back. A beautiful live tree. It’s…” He didn’t want to trip himself over saying the wrong thing. “I haven’t had a tree in a while, either.”

In fact, he hadn’t had one since their mom had died. He’d been too busy with school, and then working, to even think about it.

Besides, what was the point? It wasn’t like he had a significant other in his life to share it with.

It was far easier to spend every waking moment away from home.

Then he was too busy to notice how his house was as empty as his heart.

Until Libbie.

“Okay,” she softly agreed.

Ben was down in Tampa making conference calls regarding the case. On Monday, Allan would have to go make some calls of his own. He resented the lying more every time he had to do it. It wasn’t fair to her.

He only hoped it wouldn’t damage her trust in them beyond repair when they finally admitted the truth.

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When Ben returned that afternoon, he found Allan had sent Libbie upstairs for a nap because she looked exhausted. Allan had already arranged with Grover to go and pick up the boxes of ornaments from his storage shed.

“We should really get her some lights,” Ben added. “If they’ve been sitting that long, they might not work.”

“Will you go do it now?” Allan asked. “I’ll finish up down here with closing. And grab the ornaments from Grover.”

“Yeah.” He headed out again. By the time he returned an hour later, he admitted he’d gone a little crazy with buying new lights, but wanted to make sure they had enough. Any extras, he thought, they could hang in the windows or something for her.

He welcomed any opportunity to bring a smile to her face. Lately, her pain levels, while not too bad, had been creeping steadily up but she refused to admit it to them. Ben knew from close observations of her, in subtle ways, of how she climbed the stairs, or how long she stood in the shower in the morning, to how she held her utensils when she ate, that she wasn’t admitting how bad her pain was.

All they could do was keep a close watch on her and try to make her take it easy.

When Libbie awoke and saw the boxes of ornaments in her living room, she sat down next to them and started opening them. Ben watched as she slowly went through them, sometimes pausing with a wistful smile on her face, until she unearthed three plastic bins the size of shoeboxes.

Then silent tears slid down her cheeks.

He caught Allan’s attention and they sat on either side of her, both their arms around her as she opened the first box.

Inside, safely nestled in white tissue paper, were beautiful glass flamingoes in different poses. Some were of handblown glass, and 170 Tymber Dalton

some painted glass.

She let out a sad laugh. “These were Mom’s favorites.” She held one up, which appeared to be wearing red high-heeled shoes and a fancy hat. “Dad always got her a new one every year. She loved flamingoes. He’d stick it on the tree Christmas morning and make her hunt for it. She knew every one of them and always found it.”

She laid her head on Ben’s shoulder. “I miss them so much. I wish you could have met them.”

His heart ached for her. “We wish we could have met them, too,”

Ben said.

“Yeah,” Allan echoed.

After she composed herself, she replaced the ornament and continued looking through the boxes. When she finally located the Christmas tree stand she was ready to go in search of a tree. She held her hands up to both men and they helped her to her feet.

Crowded in the cab of the truck, they drove to a nearby lot and Ben relaxed as her spirits seemed to improve.

In the back of his mind, in sharp contrast to their happy scene, lay echoes of the conversation he’d had on the phone with one of the federal investigators that afternoon.

And the news they’d told him of one of the witnesses being murdered, found dismembered in a drainage canal in Naranja.

He hadn’t yet had time to tell Allan about it where he could be sure Libbie wouldn’t hear. But it drove home even more how important it was to make sure there was never a way for Bianco to tie her to them.

Even if it meant he’d have to walk away and break her heart and his in the process, he would keep her safe.

Christmas morning dawned cold and wet with temperatures in the upper forties. A weather front had marched through two days earlier It’s a Sweet Life 171

and hung around with a brutal tenacity that had them wondering whether or not they should force Libbie to see Dr. Smith for stronger pain meds.

The men had put Libbie’s presents under the tree before they started the coffee and gently awoke her. Allan had the idea of enlisting Mandaline’s help in picking special presents for her, and they bought her a matching set of rose quartz earrings and a necklace, with Ben giving her the earrings and Allan giving her the pendant.

Mandaline had told them rose quartz was a stone of love, and the delicate pink color would look beautiful with Libbie’s green eyes.

This was in addition to the playful things they got her, such as a hoodie with the “Soft Kitty” song from The Big Bang Theory on it, and a T-shirt with Sheldon’s trademarked Bazinga! emblazoned on the front.

Allan knew his and Ben’s original plans of bringing Libbie home and boinking her brains out after the family lunch at Grover’s house would have to be put on hold. As it was, Allan wasn’t even sure he wanted Libbie getting out of bed.

She looked up at them, her eyes red and full of pain as they carefully helped her sit up. “I’m okay,” she weakly said.

Allan exchanged a look with Ben before returning his attention to her. “We could stay home, you know.”

She shook her head. “No. Absolutely not. I won’t miss the boys or the twins opening presents.” They’d bought extra toys for Jenny’s sons. Jenny and her boys would also be going to Grover’s for the holiday.

She insisted on them taking her over to the couch, where they got her settled with a soft blanket and her heating pad. “Grover helped me go shopping for you,” she said. “I’m sorry I didn’t get them brought upstairs yesterday. They’re down in a box in my office.”

Ben kissed her forehead. “I’ll go get them.”

Galileo jumped up onto the couch and crawled into her lap.

“Mwrao.”

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She scratched his head. “Yes, Santa Claus even brought the grouchy tabby something.”

Allan fixed her a mug of coffee and brought it over to her. “I wish I could make your pain go away, baby.”

“Me, too.”

Ben returned with the box of gifts. They saved giving her the jewelry for last. When she opened them, tears welled up in her eyes and they helped her put them on because her fingers hurt too much to manage it.

The men finally gave in and helped her get ready to go to Grover’s. “I don’t want to miss Santa Grover,” she joked with a pained smile as Allan helped her shower while Ben grabbed his over at the other apartment.

“We’ll pull rank on you if you look like you’re really bad off today,” Allan said.

“I’ll be okay.” She snuggled against his chest. “I have the two of you. As long as I have you guys, I’ll always be okay.”

Allan and Ben kept a close watch on her during the day and festivities, refusing to let her help in the kitchen, or even get her own food. They made her stay planted on the couch in the living room where she could take part in the celebration without getting up.

By the time they settled in bed with Libbie tucked in between them, Allan knew he’d do whatever it took to keep her safe. He stared at her peaceful, albeit pain-filled face, and wished he could banish the bad from her world.

He caught Ben’s gaze across her visage, sharing a long, silent look before nodding to each other and trying to fall asleep.

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Chapter Seventeen

The three of them went to Many Blessings for the private New Year’s Eve party Mandaline and Sachi were throwing for their closest friends. Fortunately, the cold front had moved on, allowing Libbie some respite from the pain she’d suffered through Christmas week.

Libbie knew some of the people there, and others she’d never met before. Of particular interest to her was watching Mandaline and her men, Ellis and Bradley. The three of them all wore matching wedding bands, although Libbie knew they weren’t legally married.

Ken, who hadn’t spent as much time around Mandaline as even Charles had, leaned in and spoke softly in Libbie’s ear. “Are those the guys you were telling us about?”

“Yes.”

It was still early in the evening when Mandaline made her way over to them with a tray of canapés an hour before dinner was scheduled.

Charles was the one to ask. “I noticed all three of you wear rings?”

Mandaline smiled. “We had a handfasting ceremony,” she said.

We’re not married-married, but we’ve all got powers of attorney and that stuff. Since we didn’t get a marriage license, we technically didn’t break any laws.” She winked. “By the way, I am a Notary, and I do perform marriages and handfastings, if you ever get to that point.”

“Mandaline!” Libbie gasped, her face growing hot and red.

Her friend handed the tray off to Charles before hugging her.

“Remember,” Mandaline whispered in her ear. “Wish big, dream 174 Tymber Dalton

hard. It happened one time. So keep wishing and dreaming.”

She took the tray back from Charles and kissed both men on the cheeks. “Regardless, you three have my blessings.”

Ken watched her make a circuit of the cozily crowded storefront.

At least twenty-five people were gathered for the evening. “She freaks me out sometimes. In a good way, but still.” He sipped his glass of spiked cider.

“You still not a believer?” Libbie teased.

Charles chimed in. “I’m not. But I won’t deny she’s good at reading people. I’m glad she uses her superpowers for good and not evil.”

Libbie had fun, glad she could enjoy the holiday in a way she hadn’t been able to enjoy Christmas. Someone, whether her men or Grover she didn’t know, had ratted her out to Dr. Smith. He showed up bright and early the day after Christmas for his cruller order and to ask when she was going to let him prescribe her something stronger for her pain.

She still hadn’t made the appointment.

After dinner, and as the clock drew closer to midnight, Libbie snuggled on one of the comfy sofas in the Many Blessings storefront with Charles and Ken, their hands in hers. At midnight, everyone cheered and the men leaned in and kissed her.

“Happy New Year,” she told them. “And may we have many more together.”

Both men smiled. “To many more,” Ken and Charles echoed.

Back at home, they slowly undressed her in the bedroom, kissing every inch of her flesh as they bared it. She loved the tender, nurturing, sensual sides to them every bit as much as she did their horny, rough, down-and-dirty sides.

Tonight, Charles took the lead, rolling her onto her side with her cradled against him as he carefully entered her. He took his time, slowly making love to her while Ken lay behind her and brushed kisses across the nape of her neck that made her shiver with pleasure.

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Then Ken draped an arm over her waist until his hand nestled between her legs. With Charles’ cock slowly stroking inside her, and Ken’s fingers stroking her clit, she quickly came like that.

Charles swallowed her soft cries with his mouth, his hips moving faster until his release joined hers.

Could I be any more in love with them?

But she stopped herself short of saying it out loud. She couldn’t.

She wouldn’t.

She didn’t need to hear them say they loved her, because their every action spoke of it. But she wouldn’t say it to them until she knew how they felt. If she never said it, on the off chance they broke her heart, she’d feel like less of a gullible asshole.

And maybe she’d be able to talk herself out of admitting she loved them.

But if she said it, that made it real.

When she caught her breath, the men carefully turned her over.

Ken kissed her as he made love to her, this time Charles the one to strum her clit while Ken’s shaft slowly fucked her pussy.

He didn’t take as long to climax as Charles had, but Charles still managed to make her come with him.

As she lay there in their arms, drifting to sleep between them, she heard them whisper, “Happy New Year, baby,” one in each ear.

“Happy New Year.”

January saw several brutal cold fronts blast through Brooksville, severe by local standards. The weather forecasters said it was the coldest January on record in over seventy-five years.

Allan, who spent more time in the bakery than Ben, found himself forcing Libbie to slow down and not overtax herself. He made her spend a lot of time taking it easy, soaking in the hot tub, and being cared for by her men when she could barely get out of bed on her 176 Tymber Dalton

worst days.

Then it eased up a little in the beginning of February, allowing Libbie a chance to recover some energy and emerge from her cocoon of pain to the point she almost felt normal by the Monday of Valentine’s Day. Allan looked forward to getting Libbie all to himself for part of the day. Ben had to go on one of his Monday errands, but he promised to be back by four so they could spend the evening celebrating together.

The Monday errands were good cover excuses for the scheduled conference calls they had to make regarding the trial. Ben would be driving south to St. Pete for today’s calls.

Allan still thought Ben was being overly cautious, but since they’d so far successfully remained hidden, he wouldn’t fight him on it.

They both gave her beautiful Valentine’s Day cards, which made her cry the good kind of tears.

After they opened her cards to them, Ben spoke up. “Listen, there’s a part two to all of this, but it’s going to wait until tonight, after I get back. Okay?”

“Okay.” She glanced at Allan. “I suspect he’ll take good care of me.”

“I know he will,” Ben said, “or I’ll kick his ass.”

After a round of good-bye kisses, Libbie wrapped her arms around Allan. “I want to go up to Webster.”

“To what?”

“Webster. It’s a flea market. It’s really famous. It’s only open on Mondays. It’s a farmer’s market and livestock market, too.”

“I’m sooo not buying you a pony.”

She laughed. “You’re silly.”

“Why is it only open on Mondays?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Don’t you have farmer’s markets in Nebraska?”

Allan caught himself before asking what she was talking about.

Nebraska hadn’t come up in conversation, casually or otherwise, in It’s a Sweet Life 177

several weeks. “Yeah, but flea markets and stuff are usually weekend events.”

“Can we go? Please?”

“Of course we can. I’m not letting you drive all that way alone.”

“It’s not that far. It’s just one exit up from 50.”

“Oh. Well, still, I’ll drive you.” He kissed her. “And I’ll be your gallant pack animal.”

She draped her arms around his neck. “Well, Mr. Gallant, we need to get moving. They opened over two hours ago.”

They had flea markets in Miami, but nothing the likes of what he saw when they made their way to the Webster flea market.

Admittedly, his experience was more urban than rural, but he felt like a Miami native transplanted to Nebraska instead of just a few hundred miles north in his own home state.

He dutifully followed Libbie around the flea market, constantly observing her to make sure she wasn’t getting too cold in the chilly breeze, or overexerting herself. He wouldn’t let her carry any of her purchases, which included a few books, some fresh produce, and a glass, antique fishing net buoy that caught her eye for some reason.

It was after he’d sensed she was starting to wear down that he gently suggested they call it a morning.

When she didn’t argue with him, he knew his instincts had been spot-on. “Okay. Back to the car. You feel like lunch?”

“Lunch I could definitely do.”

Libbie gave him directions, taking them back the long way south down Highway 471 so she could show off more of her home state, including parts of the Richloam Wildlife Management Area, to her Cornhusker. “So how are you liking Florida winters so far?”

He smiled. “They’re definitely not Nebraska winters. Thank god.”

She never failed to giggle when he said something along those 178 Tymber Dalton

lines. It had become something of a running joke to them, to quote The Big Bang Theory several times throughout the course of their day.

She loved it.

They stopped at a small café not too far south of Webster for lunch.

“Ooh, they have Cuban sandwiches.” He closed his menu with a flourish. “I know what I’m having.”

“That sounds good. Make it two.”

“And I’m buying. No arguments,” he said when she’d opened her mouth to do just that.

She smiled. “All right.”

“We took your car and used your gas. It’s only fair I buy you lunch.”

“Hey, I’m still up to my ass in debt to you two for the hot tub.”

He caught her hand in his and feathered his fingers across her knuckles. “And you know damn well that was a gift, so knock it off or I’ll spank you.”

It was his arched eyebrow that set her off on a giggle fit. Charles had to order for her, because she was still giggling when the waitress stopped back to take their orders.

When the waitress left their orders a few minutes later, Charles stared at his sandwich in disgust.

“What’s wrong?” Libbie asked.

He pulled the pressed sandwich apart and picked up the top bun to show her. “It’s not a Cuban sandwich.”

She frowned. “Huh?” While she admitted the bread wasn’t technically Cuban bread, it contained the right ingredients—mustard, ham, roast pork, swiss cheese, and pickles. And it was hot and pressed.

He pointed at the bun. “You’re a baker. You of all people should know this isn’t real Cuban bread.”

She eyed him cautiously. “Oookay. Yeah, you’re right, it’s not.”

Traditional Cuban bread wasn’t something she made in her bakery It’s a Sweet Life 179

because there wasn’t a great demand for it in their area. “But how would someone from Nebraska know that?”

She wasn’t sure, but thought a guilty look might have flashed across his face for a moment. “I…I went to visit a cousin of mine in Miami one year at Spring Break. He educated me on what a real Cuban sandwich is.” He reassembled the sandwich and picked it up, taking a bite. “I mean, it’s okay,” he managed around a mouthful of bread, “but it’s not a real one.”

Libbie had a suspicion there was more to it, but decided to let it drop. “Okay. It’s not a real Cuban sandwich.”

Allan mentally kicked himself. How could I be so damn stupid?

Few people outside of Florida, who’d never spent time in the South Florida or Tampa regions, knew a “real” Cuban sandwich from a regular sub sandwich.

When he’d seen Cuban sandwich on the menu, he’d jumped at it, having been denied one of his favorites ever since October, when they’d arrived in Brooksville. He’d been raised on the real thing and knew that arcane little nugget about Florida cuisine.

He longed to take Libbie to Miami and give her a tour of all the best eateries he knew, many looking like dives from the street, yet sparkling clean inside.

I don’t want to let her go. I can’t lose her.

The truth hammered him. No matter what happened with the trial, he couldn’t walk away from Libbie. There was no way.

That he’d built his relationship with her on a stack of lie upon lie ate at his conscience, no matter how valiant and noble the reasoning behind it.

Not for the first time, fear gripped him. Will she even want us back in her life when we eventually have to reveal the truth to her?

She might end up so disgusted at them for the breach of trust that 180 Tymber Dalton

she’d throw them out.

Libbie soon forgot the incident as she started playing tour guide.

By the time they returned to the apartment, Charles apparently had other things on his mind, too. He grabbed towels, her bathrobe, and waited by the apartment door. “Strip, baby.”

She felt her face heat, with passion instead of embarrassment.

“Yes, sir.”

He grinned. “Hey, don’t tempt me to get all spanky on your sweet ass. I’ll do it.”

She did a little striptease for him, leaving articles of clothing strewn across the apartment floor in her wake as she walked up to him. “Like this?”

His hard cock pressed against the front of his jeans. “Exactly like that.” He draped the robe over her. “Now let’s get your cute ass in that hot tub before my cock explodes and you have to lick a wet spot off the inside of my briefs.” He quickly stripped and helped her downstairs.

Normally, they didn’t make love in the hot tub in the daytime. But there was no one lurking around in the wooded area behind the building when they went out to the screened room. Charles quickly dropped the towel he’d held around his hips and helped her out of her robe and into the hot tub. Then he followed her in and pulled her onto his lap so she straddled him.

His stiff cock pressed against her ass. She braced her palms on his chest. “What exactly do you have in mind?”

He waggled his eyebrows at her as his hands disappeared in the water. One hand pulled her ass cheeks apart as he pressed a finger against her rim. “I want you there, baby. I want that sweet, tight ass of yours fisting my cock.” His finger breached her rim, making her gasp with pleasure. Several times since their first night they’d taken her at It’s a Sweet Life 181

the same time like that, one of their large cocks buried in her pussy while the other fucked her ass.

He pushed it deeper inside her. “Play with your nipples, baby. Get yourself hot.”

Her face filled with heat but she complied, cupping her breasts with her palms and tweaking her nipples until they were hard peaks.

He leaned in and licked one, then the other. “You like it when we fuck your ass, don’t you, baby? Use you like you need to be used?”

She nodded, his rumbling tone making her cunt pulsate.

Surprising her with his swiftness, he shifted her off his lap and positioned her in front of one of the jets, which weren’t turned on yet.

“Don’t move,” he whispered in her ear.

She closed her eyes and wiggled her ass at him.

She heard the sound of him ripping the pouch open and rolling the condom on. Then he stepped behind her and raised her ass out of the water so he could lube her.

“I also got you a present,” he said when he’d finished lubing her dark hole.

“What?”

She felt something large, even larger than their cocks, press between her pussy lips. When she tried to turn to see what it was, he stopped her with a hand between her shoulder blades holding her in place. “Oh, no you don’t. You stay right there.” The dildo was large, enough so he had to go slow and carefully work it inside her. She whimpered and tried to fuck herself back on it, but he wouldn’t be rushed. Only when it was buried all the way inside her pussy and pressing on her G-spot did he move the hand from her back. He hit the switch on the jets. The water immediately began hitting her clit.

She had to bite back the loud cry struggling to let loose.

Then he lined his cock up with her well-lubed ass and pressed in, giving her enough time to get used to it before he slid all the way in.

With his legs rubbing the backs of her thighs and his body holding the dildo inside her pussy, he moved her closer to the water jet.

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She was nearly close to coming when one of his hands reached around her and did something. Inside her, the dildo sprang to life, vibrating and tossing her over the edge as if she’d jumped off a cliff.

“It’s waterproof,” he growled in her ear. Then he grabbed her hips and started fucking her ass hard, viciously. She had to hold on to the edge of the tub and dug her fingers in hard as she tried not to scream.

Even the Hitachi didn’t do this to her. Whatever deliciously evil thing it was, it felt like there was no escaping the pleasure for even the briefest of respites like she could when it was just the jet of water striking her clit.

He fucked her hard and fast, keeping her pressed against the water jet with his fingers digging into her hips. “Come for me, my sweet little slut,” he rumbled. “You know you want to come with me fucking your ass and that huge toy fucking your pussy.”

Libbie’s back arched as another orgasm shattered coherent thought. The pleasant, burning pinch of her pussy and ass being stretched only made the release feel that much better.

“There’s my good girl.” He took several more hard and deep strokes before his cock exploded inside her. Panting for breath and without withdrawing, he grabbed her around the waist and flipped onto his back with her resting against his chest. He reached down and turned the vibrator off, but didn’t withdraw it.

“Holy fuck,” he muttered. He nibbled the back of her neck.

“Good?”

“Uh-huh!”

“I could feel that thing vibrating inside you right through to my balls. I never thought I’d be able to hold on as long as I did. Holy crap.”

She giggled. “Is that my Valentine’s Day present?”

He nipped her earlobe. “One of them.”

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Charles wouldn’t let her stay dressed once they were back upstairs. He turned up the thermostat and made her stay naked. When Ken returned home later, they cooked her a nice dinner before ordering her to bed.

“I heard there might be more Valentine’s Day presents in my future,” she teased as she looked up at Ken.

He grinned, but directed his question to Charles. “You already got her, huh?”

Charles laughed as he crawled into bed. “Yep. Thought she was going to crawl out of her skin she came so hard.”

“Did you save some energy for me?” he asked her.

“Uh-huh. I think so.”

He laughed. “I hope so.”

He wouldn’t let her see what his surprise was. Charles kept a hand over her eyes while Ken tucked a towel under her ass. She felt Ken press something against her pussy, and as it slid home, she moaned when she recognized the feel of the vibrator Charles had used on her earlier.

It was impossible not to wiggle her hips and whine when they wouldn’t turn it on. “Not yet,” Ken admonished. “I’m not done with you yet.” He made her pull her legs up and hold them, wide open, knees up to her chest. She felt his fingers probe her ass and the sensation of cool lube being slicked around and in her rim.

Already her pussy clenched around the big toy inside her in anticipation.

It was when he started pressing something against her rim that she froze. It wasn’t his cock.

“What is that?”

“Just relax and breathe, baby.” He slowly fucked her with it, pressing a little more of its length inside her with each stroke. It felt like it took hours until the widest part of it had finally stretched her to a nearly painful width before her body sucked it in, her ass clamping down on the narrow base that broadened to a flange and kept it from 184 Tymber Dalton

disappearing inside her.

“What is that?” she whined.

Only then did Charles remove his hand from her eyes, but he sat up behind her and grabbed her wrists, pinning them over her head.

Ken held up the package. The dildo looked a lot like a regular one, except for the large flare near the bottom, like a butt plug.

“It…vibrates?” She blinked as she looked at the words written on the package.

Uh oh. I’m in trouble.

Ken waggled his eyebrows at her. “Oh, yes, it certainly does.” He grabbed her ankles and stretched her legs out in front of her, ankles together. The vibrators in her ass and pussy felt huge, almost uncomfortably so.

There was a sexy, evil gleam in Ken’s eye. He stretched out so her ankles were pinned under the length of his body. Then he wiggled a hand between her legs and found the switches for the two vibrators and turned them on.

It was a good thing the men were holding her down, or she might have come off the bed. The first orgasm hit her almost immediately, but when Ken held up the Hitachi, she tried begging for mercy.

“Please, wait…”

“Just say no, baby, and we’ll stop.”

She gasped as another orgasm hit her.

“Say no, baby,” Charles said. “That’s all you have to do.”

“I…I…” She pleaded with Ken with her eyes, but she couldn’t bring herself to say the word.

He grinned and hit the switch, turned the vibrator on low, and pressed it between her legs.

She cried out as the overwhelming supernova hit her. Thrashing against the men proved useless and only seemed to turn them on more.

“That’s it,” Charles rumbled in her ear. “Show us how much you like to come, baby. Only when we think you’ve had enough, then It’s a Sweet Life 185

we’re going to fuck your brains out.”

Her eyes rolled up, trying to see him, but then they clamped closed as another wave took her breath away. It wouldn’t stop, felt like she couldn’t control her muscles.

Eventually, Ken pulled the Hitachi away and gave her a moment to catch her breath, but he wouldn’t turn off the two vibrators inside her. They made her body tremble as she never totally stopped orgasming. Little flutters constantly shimmied through her in endless waves.

Charles smirked. “You have one of three choices, baby.”

She tried to focus on him and finally succeeded in nodding.

“Ten more minutes of the Hitachi, but on high this time, or you have to keep both vibrators in all night and sleep with them running.”

Ken grinned. “Decide fast, or we’ll decide for you.”

“Hitachi,” she gasped.

Both men laughed. “I noticed she didn’t ask for the third choice,”

Charles said.

She looked up at him. He kissed her on the lips. “You could have simply said no.”

She tried to respond, but then Ken turned on the Hitachi and held it against her clit.

Libbie, caught between a laugh at the thought that she’d never say no and a cry of pleasure, struggled to catch her breath. Instead, from nowhere, tears started.

Ken immediately pulled the vibrator away. “Are you okay?”

She nodded through her tears.

Charles asked, “Do you want him to stop?”

She vigorously shook her head.

Both men laughed and the Hitachi returned to her clit.

Libbie felt like her soul had cut free of her body. She could hear the men talking to her, praising her in their deliciously dirty, sexy way, but she couldn’t have stopped them at that point if she’d wanted to. Her entire existence seemed centered on her clit, from which hot 186 Tymber Dalton

lava swirled through her body. It felt like an infinite forever before she gasped when the Hitachi shut off and the men released her.

Then the other two vibrators were shut off and removed from her.

She couldn’t have moved if she tried.

Charles stretched out beside her and with Ken’s help, had her straddle his cock. When he was deeply seated inside her, he pulled her down onto his chest and kissed her.

She closed her eyes and softly moaned as Ken knelt behind her.

His lubed cock easily slid into her stretched ass, which greedily sucked his cock deep into her body.

“Should we make her come one more time?” Ken playfully asked.

Charles brushed the hair away from her forehead. “No, I think we’ve worn our poor girl out.”

She softly moaned against his chest, enjoying the feel of them inside her even knowing she couldn’t come again. They took their time, making love to her, the gentle, sweet side to her sinfully sexy sadists.

They both came, falling still for a moment. Ken brushed his lips down her spine while Charles kissed her again. “You okay?” Charles whispered.

She nodded. She started drifting to sleep before Ken had even withdrawn from her ass. She barely noticed when he did, asleep before they even got her rolled onto her back.

It’s a Sweet Life

187

Chapter Eighteen

The first Monday in March dawned cold and damp, the sky full of gunmetal grey clouds angrily chased across the horizon by a northern breeze that felt like a special delivery direct from the Arctic. Ben frowned at the weather when he looked out the window while waiting for the second pot of coffee to brew.

He knew it would mean a day of misery for Libbie who, after rising, had bundled herself in several layers before moving to the couch, while giving thanks she didn’t have to open the shop.

Allan pulled Ben into the bedroom and whispered, “Maybe I shouldn’t go today.”

“You have to.” He glanced out to where Libbie watched TV on the couch. “I’ll be with her. It’ll be okay.”

“I feel like I’m abandoning her. And that’s such a chickenshit excuse, that I’m going to buy art supplies in Orlando.”

“Hey, it’s not a chickenshit excuse. The bakery is closed today.

It’s the only free day you can go and not worry about leaving her shorthanded downstairs. That’s your rationale.”

Allan scrubbed at his face with his hand. “I still feel like a shit.”

Ken handed him the disposable cell phone they only used to make contact with Miami. “Go. It’s okay.”

Allan returned to the living room and leaned in to kiss her. “Are you sure you’re okay with me going?”

She forced a smile through her pain as she nodded. “I’m okay.

Ken’s here with me. Please, I want you to go have fun. You’ve been working your ass off for me and I really want you to go do this for yourself.”

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After lunch, she announced she wanted to go to Walmart to pick up some things and headed for her purse. Ben frowned when he saw how much pain Libbie was in. He suspected she thought she was hiding it well from him, when in fact her every expression and movement telegraphed it loudly to his trained eye.

He reached over and took her car keys from her. “I’ll go with you and I’ll drive.”

“That’s really sweet, but—”

“But what?” He arched an eyebrow at her. “I don’t have anything going on this afternoon that can’t wait until tomorrow. You’re obviously in a lot of pain. I’m driving you, and that’s that.”

He suppressed his wistful sigh at the sweet pink blush that colored her cheeks. “Thank you,” she softly said as she picked up her purse from the table.

He did love her, even though he knew he couldn’t tell her. It wouldn’t be fair to her, especially since she’d never said it to them.

How will I ever say good-bye to her?

It was something he refused to think about.

He offered her his arm. “You’re very welcome,” he said as she finally slipped her arm through his. He patted her hand. “Are you going to be warm enough dressed like that?”

She nodded even as she tugged a little at her fingerless gloves.

“Yeah.”

He slowly walked with her downstairs and out the back door, locking it behind them. “I worry about you,” he said. “I don’t want you overdoing things.”

“I’m okay.”

He drove them to the store, offering his arm to her and keeping his pace slow to match hers. “What are we after today, anyway?”

She pulled a list from her pocket. “Assorted odds and ends.” She looked up at him and smiled. “And we’re almost out of Astroglide.”

He laughed as he leaned in to place a kiss on her lips. “I’ll be the gentleman and go grab that for you. I suppose I should get more It’s a Sweet Life 189

condoms, too?”

“Yeah. At the rate we’re using them, though, we might need to see if we can purchase them in bulk somewhere.”

“I’ll take the cart and go do it. Where will you be?”

She handed him the list. “I need some new socks. I’ll go get those and catch up with you by office supplies. I need a few things there, too. If you want to grab me shampoo and toothpaste while you’re over there, that would be great.”

“Done.”

He headed over to the health and beauty section and quickly found lube, condoms, and other items on her list from that section. As he headed over to the office supplies, he wasn’t paying any attention to his surroundings as he scanned the shelves for the items on her list.

Pens, printer paper, envelopes.

That was why he was startled, his head snapping up at the woman’s voice, when she called out.

“Allan!”

He turned, ready to shove the cart into the person and run, if necessary. But the young woman, wearing a tight sweater and even tighter jeans, was too fast for him and threw her arms around his neck.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

His mind raced. He had no clue who this woman was. That she called him Allan briefly blipped his see-I-told-you-so meter to mention to Allan later.

For now, he had to get away from her.

“Um, hi.”

She planted a kiss on his cheek before stepping back, her hands on her hips. “Leeza Maxwell.” She poked him good-naturedly in the chest. “You don’t remember my name, do you?”

“Sorry, Leeza. Yeah, just took a moment to process. Didn’t expect to run into you here. How are you?”

She rolled her eyes. “Stuck living here with my sister, if you can believe that.” She grabbed his shirtfront again and pulled him in. “I 190 Tymber Dalton

miss Miami. I don’t suppose you’re single and available right now, are you?” He tried to pry her fingers loose without hurting her, but didn’t manage to do it before she planted a kiss on his lips.

“Actually, yeah, I’m seeing someone. Sorry. And we’re only here for a little while. Just visiting family.”

“Dammit. I knew I should have tried calling you when I moved away.” She didn’t appear to be seriously upset, however.

Thank god. The last thing he needed was an attention-drawing lover’s spat with one of Allan’s club bimbos in the middle of Walmart.

Although that likely wasn’t the most dysfunctional event to ever occur in the aisles of a Walmart.

Libbie let out a soft sigh as she watched his ass in his jeans as he walked away with the cart. They were both good-looking hunks of men.

I still don’t understand what they see in me, but I guess I should quit questioning it.

She found herself some warm socks, as well as two new flannel pj sets that would help keep her warm throughout this cold snap. As she made her way across the store to the office supply section, she froze at the end of the aisle.

There, Ken stood talking with a woman.

Libbie watched from the far end of the aisle as the woman tried to rub herself against Ken as she kissed him. Without thinking, Libbie shifted everything to one arm and fumbled her phone from her pocket with her free hand. She quickly snapped a couple of pictures.

He can’t deny it and say I was wrong. He can’t lie and say I imagined it.

No bullshitting his way out of it. And she wouldn’t be tempted to pretend she was mistaken. She’d already caught them in one whopper It’s a Sweet Life 191

of a lie, that they weren’t gay.

Okay, not that it was a bad lie, because damn, she benefitted from the truth.

And she had ignored the fact that their truck hadn’t had a Nebraska plate on the front when they arrived. Maybe they did hit the DMV office like they’d said. And the weird feeling that Charles had lied when she questioned him about his knowledge of Cuban sandwiches.

And what about Charles? Was he lying the same way Ken was?

What else had they lied about?

Who’s to say what they might lie to me about?

It felt like a block of ice now resided where her heart had strongly beat for the men.

And I was stupid enough to fall in love with them.

She stepped out of the aisle and into a different one to get herself under control. She’d sworn she wouldn’t do it, that she wouldn’t lose her heart to them. That it would be about fun and sex and getting some help in the shop in the bargain and extra money to help pay the bills every month.

But that she wouldn’t fall in love with the men. Either of them.

As hot tears threatened to sting her eyes, she knew that was exactly what she had done—fallen in love.

With both of them. On Halloween night, the first time they’d made love to her, she’d lost her heart to them even though she wouldn’t open herself to more pain by admitting it to them.

How fucking stupid am I?

After a few minutes of deep breaths to calm her shaky nerves, she returned to the aisle where he was and found him alone, looking over the pen selections as if he hadn’t just had another woman in his arms.

Two can play that game.

She dumped her stuff in the cart.

“You all right?” he asked.

She nodded. “I’m fine. Let’s get this done and over with.”

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They got the rest of the items on her list. Any time he spoke to her, she kept her answers short, monosyllabic when possible. Staying in front of him the entire way, she swiped her credit card at the register and let him deal with loading the bags in the cart. Then she briskly marched in front of him all the way to the car, waiting while he unlocked the door for her and let her in. He rounded the car to pop the trunk and start the car so the heater would run for her.

Libbie pressed her lips tightly together to keep the scream locked inside her throat. If she started, she feared she might not be able to stop.

They might have shattered her trust, but they wouldn’t take her dignity from her. She’d wait until she was home and alone and safely locked behind a closed door before breaking down and crying.

She heard Ken close the trunk. When he walked around to the driver’s door and got in, she turned to the passenger window, unable to look at him.

He didn’t put the car in gear. Despite the heavy silence, she kept her eyes fixed on the bank building at the far end of the parking lot.

“What’s wrong?” he softly asked.

She shook her head, still not trusting her voice.

She felt him touch the back of her left hand and forced herself not to flinch. “Libbie, talk to me, sweetheart. What happened? What’s going on? Something happened in the store, and I want you to tell me what.”

With pain building inside her chest, she finally let go of it and allowed it to burst from her. “I saw you. I saw you with that woman in there. I saw her all over you and saw her kiss you. And I heard her call you Allan. Take me home. Now.”

“Libbie, listen to—”

“I’m done listening. You guys aren’t gay. You aren’t from Nebraska, either, probably. You have a girl. The lies stop here and now. I’m done. I—”

“Libbie!”

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She jumped at the force and depth of his voice. Her head involuntarily swung around, her eyes meeting his. She thought he was going to say something else, but instead, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. Opening it, he laid it in her lap without a sound.

The badge cast a shine in the late afternoon sunlight. Blinking, she looked up and stared at him.

“Go ahead,” he quietly said. “Then we can talk. It’s time you know it all, I guess. We never planned to get involved with you. We didn’t want to put anyone at risk.”

With her fingers trembling, she silently read the inscription on the badge. Miami-Dade. She flipped past that and saw another driver’s license. The picture with Ken’s blue eyes, but with shaggy, dark hair and his face covered with a dark beard and moustache.

Benjamin Donohue, with a Miami address.

A Florida concealed carry permit, with the same picture and name. A photo ID from the Miami-Dade Sheriff’s Office.

She flipped through it. Credit cards, a bank card, Social Security card, voter registration card.

All in the name of Benjamin Donohue.

Trying to catch her breath, she slowly looked at him. Both his hands rested on the top of the steering wheel, his gaze transfixed somewhere out in the distance ahead of them.

“Who are you really?” she whispered.

Without looking at her, his voice sounding tired and drawn, he softly said, “Detective Benjamin Donohue, Miami-Dade Sheriff’s Office. I spent three years in deep undercover to bring down the Bianco crime family.”

She looked back at his wallet, once again flipped open to the badge. “Why are you here?”

“We’re in hiding.”

“We?” She closed her eyes. “Duh. You and Charles.”

“Allan,” he softly corrected.

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She felt her heart clench. “That woman in there called you Allan.”

He slowly nodded, then finally looked at her. “We’re not cousins.

We’re identical twins. Allan is an assistant state’s attorney on the team prosecuting the case. She thought I was him because when we went into hiding I made myself look like him and made him totally change his appearance.”

Her mind swam with questions. She suddenly remembered the night she’d heard Charles… Allan, call Ken… dammit…Ben “bro”

while they were making love to her.

The only word she could give voice to was, “Why?”

He released the steering wheel and she allowed him to carefully take her hands in his. He brought them up to his chest and tucked them into his jacket. Beneath his shirt, she felt his heart pounding.

“Let’s get the groceries home and I promise I’ll tell you everything.

Okay? No more lies. The whole truth.”

She nodded, not understanding why he now sounded so sad.

And worried what it meant.

Despite the countless questions swirling through her mind, Libbie kept herself quiet all the way home. When they got there, Ken— Ben, she reminded herself—helped her upstairs to her apartment before going back for the groceries.

When he got everything put away, he went to his apartment and brought back a laptop. Settling next to her on her couch, he brought up The Miami Herald’s website, keyed in a search, then handed the laptop to her.

BIANCO FAMILY TRIAL TO PROCEED read the headline. The story, a Sunday feature piece from several months earlier, detailed how undercover detectives had gathered enough evidence to make an arrest of a mob family member, which led to even more charges on the state and federal level. While Ben wasn’t mentioned in the article, It’s a Sweet Life 195

it did have a picture of one of the lead prosecutors in the case.

And while he looked like Ben, she could tell from the expression in his eyes it wasn’t, that it was Charles. Or Allan, or whatever his real name was. The cutline under the picture identified him as Allan Donohue.

Ben remained silent while she read. When she finished, she returned the laptop. “So, where is he? Charles. I mean Allan. Where did he really go today?”

He closed the laptop and set it aside. “He’s on his way back from Orlando by now, I imagine. He really did go there, but not for art supplies, although I’m sure he’ll come back with some. He had to be on conference calls with the prosecution team today.”

“Why Orlando?”

“We use disposable cell phones and put at least fifty miles between here and wherever we call from.” She heard his deep sigh.

“It’s paranoid, but I don’t want anyone able to track us back here to Brooksville. I don’t know that woman who saw me today,” he said.

“Obviously, she’s a friend of Allan’s. I haven’t had a girlfriend in a couple of years, since before I went in undercover with the Biancos. I couldn’t risk it while I was undercover.” He looked down at his hands. “I’m sorry.”

At war within her, anger and love and dread. “How many more lies are there?”

He shook his head, not meeting her gaze. “That’s the full truth.”

“Why Nebraska?”

“Because I’ve got a friend in the DEA at their Omaha office. I went to college with him. He was able to set me up with some quick IDs and backgrounds and I knew he was clean. I trusted him not to tell anyone who we were or where we were living. It was either that, or we would have been forced into protective custody, and no way in hell was I doing that.”

“So…all this has been one big lie? Everything?”

The way he shook his head surprised her. He turned to her and 196 Tymber Dalton

took her hands again. “No. How I feel about you isn’t a lie. I’m sorry you got pulled into this. I never meant for you to get hurt. I didn’t want to fall in love with you, but I did. I’ve never felt about someone the way I feel about you. I love you, Libbie.”

Her mouth snapped closed at his words, nearly biting her tongue in the process. As she stared into his eyes, she realized she no longer gave a damn about protecting her heart. It had already jumped the walls without her permission, running straight to the men a long time ago.

“I love you, too,” she whispered, relieved to finally be able to admit it out loud. “Both of you.”

She felt even more relieved to know he felt the same way.

His expression softened as he opened his arms to her. She crawled into them, letting out a content sigh as she closed her eyes and breathed in his scent.

He kissed the top of her head. “I don’t know where to go from here,” he said. “All three of us. He loves you every bit as much as I do.”

“That’s why you said six months when you first got here, isn’t it?”

she asked, the fact hitting her squarely between the eyes. “Because that’s when the trial starts?”

“Yeah.” His breath felt warm against her scalp.

“So when the trial starts, you’ll both leave, won’t you?”

When he didn’t answer her right away, she thought maybe he hadn’t heard her. As she was about to ask again, he whispered, “Yeah.”

She kept her eyes closed. She didn’t want to think about losing him.

Of losing them.

“What happens then?”

His hand tenderly gripped her chin and tilted her face up to his.

His lips brushed hers before he touched his forehead to hers. “I don’t know about him,” he said, his voice sounding choked. “After the trial, It’s a Sweet Life 197

I plan on moving.”

“Moving?”

When his thumb stroked her cheek, she opened her eyes to find him staring into hers. “Yeah. Moving here. I can’t lose you.” He studied her. “If you’ll have me.”

“What about Allan?”

“That’s for him to decide. If he wants to pick up stakes and move here, then fine. If not…” He let out a sigh she couldn’t interpret.

“Then I guess it’d be the two of us.” He kissed her again. “But the trial is going to be a long one. Several months or longer. I won’t have to testify that whole time, but Allan needs to be there to work with the team and I can’t leave him on his own, unguarded. I’d feel horrible if Bianco got to him because I wasn’t there watching his back.”

“Can you come here on the weekends? Or I could go there.”

He vigorously shook his head. “I won’t put you in harm’s way.

Those people are vicious. They wouldn’t hesitate to stoop to hurting you, especially if they found out how much you mean to both of us. I won’t do it. I won’t risk it. I don’t want you anywhere near Miami.”

She clutched at his shirt. “I can’t lose you. I love you.” She wanted to say it all the time now, to never stop saying it in hopes it would keep both of them forever by her side.

He stood, then easily scooped her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom. When she tried to speak again, he shushed her with a finger to her lips. “I love you,” he said, then kissed her.

He slowly undressed her before tossing his own clothes to the floor. While most of her encounters with the men were with both of them together, there was something even more special about having one of them to herself.

Ben rolled a condom onto his cock and slowly entered her. Then he laced his fingers through hers, holding them above her head and leaving her feeling like she was in a safe cocoon formed by his body.

“Slow and steady,” he said, his blue eyes boring into hers. “Try to come for me like this, baby.” He dipped his head and kissed her.

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Libbie closed her eyes and let not just the sweet sensuality of his body, but the knowledge of his love flow through her. She felt connected to him like never before. Moving together, she matched his movements, her clit brushing against his body with every stroke.

When many long minutes later her orgasm struck her, it might have been less powerful physically, but it brought her to tears.

“I love you, Libbie,” he whispered in her ear as his hips quickened, staying with her and waiting until he knew she was finished to pick up the pace even more.

Her fingers clutched at his, squeezing as she felt as well as heard his release.

“I love you, too, Ben,” she said back.

He cleaned up and returned to bed, tucking her into his arms and whispering “I love you” into her hair, softly, until she fell asleep.

She was tightly snuggled against Ben when she heard the men’s truck pull up outside and park under her living room window before the engine shut off. Ben had fallen deeply asleep, his arms securely wrapped around her and his warm breath blowing against her shoulder. Then the sound of the downstairs door opening and closing came to her, followed by Allan’s steps on the stairs.

She still had to pause to think of him as Allan. Although, in retrospect, the name fit him better than Charles.

She heard their apartment door open and close. A few moments later, her apartment door opened and his footsteps crossed the living room.

Libbie looked up when he stepped into the bedroom doorway. He smiled at her and crossed the bedroom, prepared to give her a kiss.

“Hi, sweetie,” he whispered as he leaned in.

She smiled. “Hi, Allan.”

He froze, blinking in shock. “What?”

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Behind her, Ben stirred. “Secret’s out, bro,” he mumbled.

Before Allan could straighten, she grabbed the front of his jacket.

“What about my kiss?”

He smiled, but it looked a little odd. He leaned in and kissed her hello. “What happened?”

She patted the bed next to her. He pulled off his jacket and dropped it on the floor. Then he kicked off his shoes and settled next to her.

“We went to the store,” Ben said, sounding a little more awake.

“An acquaintance of yours thought I was you. She got friendly with me, and Libbie saw it. I didn’t have a choice but to come clean with her.” He brushed the hair away from the nape of her neck and kissed her, making her heart and her pussy flutter.

She poked Allan in the chest. “She’d better be a past acquaintance.”

“Who was it?” Allan asked.

“Some woman,” Ben said. “A Leeza something or other. Said she’ll hit you up on Facebook.”

Allan closed his eyes and groaned. “Shit. Leeza Maxwell?”

“Yeah. That was it.”

Allan looked at her. “Babe, I’m so sorry. She’s definitely a past acquaintance. She was a bartender I dated for a few weeks early last year. She moved and I didn’t keep in touch with her.”

Libbie arched an eyebrow at him. “Dated?”

“Slept with. All right?” He palmed her cheek. “But not now. Now, I don’t want to be with anyone but you.” His eyes searched her face as he waited for her to speak.

“He told me about the trial.”

“Yeah.” He glanced at Ben behind her before holding her gaze again. “It’s going to be a long one, unfortunately.”

“And I can’t see you guys while it’s going on?”

He shook his head. “It’d be too dangerous. Bianco is notorious for using whatever means necessary to get his way.”

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“I thought mobsters didn’t mess with families.”

“They didn’t used to,” Allan said. “Years ago, that was taboo.

Now, they don’t care. And Bianco is too desperate, wants to make as much of this go away as possible. That’s why I’m taking a backseat and only doing support work on the trial, but I still have to be there during the trial. I know the entire case front to back. I’ve practically memorized the files, and no one in my office knows it the way I do.

We don’t want to give them any reason on appeal to use Ben and me being brothers to force a review or retrial for conflict of interest. The Feds have too much involved in this to let it get sunk like that. Our trial comes first, then the Feds are building on that for their case.”

“Then what?”

“What do you mean?”

She felt Ben’s arm tighten around her in support, but she forged ahead. “After the trial,” she softly said. “What happens then? What do you do?”

He smiled and leaned in, kissing her. “I’m thinking a private practice in a small, west central Florida town a little north of Tampa is just what I need now in my life.” His thumb stroked her cheek. “If you’ll have me.”

“Us,” Ben said.

Allan nodded. “Us. Both of us.”

Relief flooded her heart. She sat up and threw her arms around him. “Yes.”

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201

Chapter Nineteen

“We’ve got a tip,” Barry Conner softly said from the doorway.

Victor Bianco looked up from his papers at his resident computer geek standing in the doorway. Bianco had been reduced to holding court in the back room of an auto repair shop he owned and used to launder cash through. The air compressor for the shop was positioned five feet directly behind his desk. He flipped a switch that made it spring to life. The noise defeated any electronic surveillance the Feds might have used. He motioned for Barry to come closer and leaned in to hear and be heard. “Well?”

“Brooksville. North of Tampa. Apparently, some woman who used to date Allan Donohue tagged him on her Facebook wall yesterday.”

Victor Bianco leaned back and templed his fingers together.

“Really? I thought Donohue’s Facebook page was set to private and locked down tight.”

“Right. It is. She tagged him.” Bianco noticed the man held several pages of paper in his hand. He waved Barry closer to his desk, where Bianco took an offered piece of paper.

“Kelly, guess who I ran into in Wallyworld? Allan Donohue, ” he read. The comment was tagged onto a picture over eight months old, of Donohue, along with several others, taken at a bar.

“She checked in via Foursquare at the Brooksville Walmart a little while before she made the comment.”

“Brooksville, hmm?” Bianco mused as he studied the picture. “Do we know where this Leeza Maxwell lives?”

“Yep,” Barry said, handing him another piece of paper. “I tracked 202 Tymber Dalton

her down. She lives in Spring Hill, just west of Brooksville.”

Bianco smiled up at his man. “Excellent. You don’t disappoint, do you?”

Barry’s face turned pink. Bianco had quickly learned the young man wasn’t used to receiving praise. He’d discovered that soon after hiring him upon the young man’s release from jail for hacking into a bank. “Just doing my job, sir.”

“And you do it well. On your way out, please send Enrique in.”

Barry quickly turned and left. Bianco was still studying the papers in his hand when Enrique walked in.

“You wanted to see me, boss?”

Bianco nodded at the door. “Close it.”

Enrique did, quickly closing the distance to Bianco’s desk, where he leveraged his bulk into the chair in front of the desk and leaned forward so he could hear over the compressor noise. “Whatcha got?”

“Let me thank you again for scouting Barry. He is an asset to our organization.”

Enrique’s massive shoulders lurched in a shrug. “Easy way for him to pay off his vig. My cousin gets the credit for the tip.”

“That’s another thing I like about you. You share credit but accept full blame when something goes wrong. I like that I can count on you.” Bianco handed over the papers. “Find her. Find out everything she knows about Allan Donohue and his current whereabouts. And then lose her. Permanently. I don’t care how it’s done or what it’s made to look like, because she has no ties to us.”

Enrique pinched the papers between fingers like sausages and looked them over. “Will do. Any deadline?”

Bianco arched an eyebrow at Enrique. “As soon as possible.”

“I’ll personally get right on it.”

Bianco flipped the switch again, shutting down the compressor.

Enrique nodded and left the office without further comment, leaving Bianco to rub his temples. The compressor’s noise would drive him deaf or crazy if he couldn’t figure out a way to make the case go It’s a Sweet Life 203

away.

Ben sat at a table next to the front window of Many Blessings, sipping his coffee while reading the morning paper. He’d had an odd feeling ever since his run-in with Leeza Maxwell two days earlier.

And cabin fever wasn’t helping the situation.

After the unnerving brush with the blast from Allan’s past and confessing the full truth to Libbie, he wanted Allan and himself to stay as close to the bakery as possible, excluding their runs elsewhere for conference calls. Even Allan agreed, when they discussed it outside Libbie’s presence, that it would be best for them to keep their heads even lower than before.

Libbie wouldn’t reveal their secret. Ben felt a mixture of relief and guilt over their secret being out, yet her now bearing the additional burden of keeping it.

I won’t let her get hurt.

At least now they had their true feelings out in the open and he could release his guilt over lying to her. She not only didn’t send them packing, she seemed to bear a deeper, more peaceful air about her.

He kept the final goal in mind. Yes, they would have to spend time away from her during the lengthy trial. No doubt they could arrange some sort of getaway, maybe once a month, fly her somewhere and meet her there.

After taking all precautions to not be followed.

He’d seen firsthand the lengths Victor Bianco would go to stay ahead of law enforcement. The men whose deaths he’d helped fake were only the ones he’d been able to save. The lucky ones.

To this day, he was haunted by crime scene and autopsy photos of the victims he’d been unable to help. Including women.

Not to mention the people who’d disappeared without a trace.

Patience pays, he reminded himself. He’d testify, Victor Bianco 204 Tymber Dalton

would go down for life in prison, and the three of them could have a life together.

Four days after Ben’s encounter with Leeza Maxwell, he was again sitting in Many Blessings and reading the newspaper when what little feeling of security he had shattered.

On the front page of the local section, a headline and picture screamed at him.

Local Woman Killed in Apparent Home Invasion.

Leeza Maxwell.

“Shit!” He grabbed the paper and bolted from the store and across the square, dodging cars and pedestrians alike. When he stormed into the bakery, he ran past a woman at the counter, ignoring Libbie’s concerned look as he did. He snagged Allan’s arm and dragged him into the back.

“Dude, what the he—”

Ben shoved the paper in his brother’s face and waited as he caught his breath.

“Shit.” Allan took the paper from him and turned away, reading.

Libbie finished with the customer and hurried into the back.

“What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

Ben swallowed hard. He’d hoped they would have another month with her, at least. Maybe longer if Bianco’s legal beagles stalled things and filed motions to delay.

But not now. They couldn’t risk it.

They couldn’t put Libbie at risk.

Allan had finished reading and turned. “This…this has to be a coincidence.”

“Bullshit,” Ben said. “You know it as much as I do. She runs into ‘you’ and then days later, she’s dead?”

“What’s going on?” Libbie demanded again. “Who’s dead?”

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Ben took the paper from Allan and handed it to Libbie. “That’s Leeza Maxwell, the woman who mistook me for Allan.”

Her mouth formed a shocked O as she read the story. Her hands shook, and he gently placed his over hers, waiting for her to look up at him once she finished reading.

“Baby, it’s not safe for us to stay here now. It’s a matter of time before Bianco finds us. We can’t risk you being caught in the middle like that.”

She shook her head. “I don’t care. You don’t have to go yet. The trial isn’t supposed to start for a while.”

He didn’t take his eyes off her but heard Allan’s resigned sigh.

“He’s right,” Allan quietly said. “It’s too risky.”

Ben hated that tears brimmed in her sweet green eyes. “How could they possibly find you here? You could be anywhere. You don’t even know it was Bianco who killed her. It could have been a coincidence.”

“In law enforcement,” Ben said, “you learn that coincidences like this happen far less often than we wish they did. Usually, there is a connection.” He looked at Allan. “We’ll need to go talk to the detective in charge of the case.”

“And what if there isn’t a connection?” she said, sounding borderline hysterical. “What if they find out it’s an ex-boyfriend or stupid junkie that killed her? That means you can stay, right?”

He gently cupped her cheek. “Libbie, we can’t—we won’t—put you in danger. This is too much of a coincidence to not be related.”

Allan stepped behind her. His arms encircled her waist. “We need you to be strong, sweetheart. We’ll be together when the trial is over, but until that wraps up, we need you to be strong for us. We need to know you’re okay.”

“Okay?” Libbie spun in his arms. She felt like she couldn’t 206 Tymber Dalton

breathe. “No, I’m not okay! You two are going to walk out of my life, and you want me to be strong? Bullshit! I love you, both of you, and you said you love me. If you love me, you can’t leave me like this!”

Worse than it being hard to catch her breath, it felt like her heart was breaking.

Allan stared down at her. “Sweetheart, we do love you. That’s why we can’t risk Bianco finding out who and where you are. You can do this for us. I know you can. We’ll figure out something. We’ll talk on the phone. We’ll figure out ways to meet with you, but we can’t risk him finding out about you right now and coming after you.”

She stared at them, numb. She never dreamed they’d have to leave this soon. “This isn’t fair,” she finally managed. “Not now, not so soon after…” She couldn’t say it.

Not so soon after finally knowing you love me as much as I love you.

Ben pulled her to him and kissed her. “We have to go talk to the detective in charge of the case. We’ll know more then. Okay?”

She nodded.

Ben knew the grim look on Allan’s face mirrored his own. He drove them to the Hernando County Sheriff’s Office headquarters, where after a call he’d learned the detective in charge of the case was based. Detective Anderson led them to his office, where he shut the door behind them before taking his seat.

“What can I do for you gentlemen today?”

Ben and Allan both showed him their real IDs after they sat, but Ben did the talking. “We need to discuss Leeza Maxwell’s murder with you.”

Detective Anderson frowned. “No offense, but why is Miami-Dade interested in a home invasion in Hernando County?”

“Get comfortable,” Ben said. “This will take a while.”

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207

Twenty minutes later, when Ben finished telling their story, Anderson wore a frown. “I’m glad you came forward.” He tapped on his computer keyboard for a moment before turning the screen to face them.

On it, Leeza Maxwell’s Facebook page. Specifically, a comment she’d posted on a photo.

Ben and Allan both leaned in to read it.

“Damn it,” Allan whispered.

Anderson nodded. “It would seem not to be a random

coincidence, based on what you’ve just told me.”

Ben scrubbed at his face with his hands, feeling weary to the core of his being. “That does it.” He looked at Allan. “We have to leave.

We can’t stay here and put Libbie at risk.”

“Who’s Libbie?” Anderson asked.

“She’s…a friend of ours.” Ben stared at the screen, at the profile pic of the young woman who died three weeks shy of her twenty-seventh birthday. “We’ve been renting an apartment from her.”

“Presuming there is a connection to the Bianco case, is there any information Leeza Maxwell could have given them that would lead them to you?”

Ben shook his head. “No. And she thought I was Allan anyway.”

An hour later, they sat in silence in the truck outside the sheriff’s office building.

Allan spoke first. “Tomorrow, at least? Not tonight. Please, not tonight.”

He had to catch his breath and nodded without speaking.

More silence. “How do we do this? I know it’s temporary, but how do we get through this knowing we’re leaving her alone?”

Ben started the truck. “I don’t know,” he hoarsely said, trying to swallow back the lump in his throat. “If you figure it out, please tell me.”

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Libbie knew it from the looks on their faces when they returned.

Allan took her upstairs while Ben went to pull Grover aside and talk to him.

“When are you leaving?” she asked, dreading his answer.

He gently cupped her cheeks in his palms. “Tomorrow.” When she started to cry, he said, “But remember, it’s only temporary, baby.”

Ben joined them a short time later. “I…ah, I told Grover the basics. He understands and he’ll do the daily closing. And he said he’ll handle opening tomorrow, too.” He pulled her to him and kissed her. “Please, we need you to be strong for us. We don’t want to do this, but it’s to keep you safe.”

“Why can’t I go with you?”

“You have a business to run, and it won’t be safe to have you stay with us.” He scooped her up and carried her into the bedroom where he gently laid her on the bed. “But we aren’t leaving right this minute.”

The men slowly undressed her and them and gently made love to her until well past dark. Then Allan got up and fixed them some leftovers. They ate in bed and watched TV, Libbie nestled between them.

Libbie curled against Ben’s side. “Ben fits you better than Ken,”

she said.

He kissed her temple. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She looked back at Allan. “You’re sooo not a Charles.”

He gave her a sad smile. That more than anything nearly broke her heart and started her crying again. “I don’t care what you call me as long as you still love me the way I love you.”

They made love several times into the night, and again the next morning. Then they took turns showering with her, Allan first, then Ben, and helped her get dressed.

She sat on the couch in their living room with Galileo in her lap.

Even the cat seemed to sense something wrong in the air and didn’t It’s a Sweet Life 209

object to her frequently hugging him to her chest.

They were packed and ready to go by nine. Ben gave her a new, disposable phone.

“We’ll call you on this, okay? It’s going to come up unavailable, and I don’t want you calling us. I’m not kidding when I say these people are vicious animals. I know what I’m doing. I have to keep you safe.”

She nodded. “What if there’s an emergency?”

He handed her one of Allan’s business cards. “There’s my work cell, on the back, and his. But never call these unless it’s an emergency, okay?”

She nodded, her hands trembling as she held the card. “Where will you be? Can I send you cards or letters, at least?”

He sighed and took the card back, jotting Allan’s home address on it. “Never put your return address on it. Do not mail anything from Brooksville. Mail it from Tampa or Orlando. And don’t ever write your name on anything. If someone snags our mail, I don’t want them having a way to trace it back to you.” He returned the card to her.

She walked downstairs with them, struggling not to cry.

Allan wrapped his arms around her. “Remember, I love you, baby.

And I’m coming back to you. I promise. This is only temporary. You have to be strong for us.”

“I love you, too.”

Ben hugged her next. “We’ll call you on Sunday, every Sunday, around ten at night. I promise. When I figure out a better way to stay in touch that’s safe, we’ll do it. All right?”

She nodded.

He kissed her. “I love you. Like he said, this is temporary. You can do this, I know you can.”

“I love you, too.”

She watched their truck until it turned the corner. Then she sat on the back stoop and cried. That was where Grover found her almost an hour later, and he sat with her, an arm around her shoulders, until she 210 Tymber Dalton

finally let him take her upstairs and help her into bed.

Allan stared out the window. “Why did you tell her we were staying at my house?”

“I needed to give her an address. Something.”

“I don’t like lying to her now.”

Ben let out a sigh. “Your mail is still getting forwarded to the private box by the remailer. It’ll be untraceable.” He’d set up permanent forwarding to a pack and ship place, who then mailed everything in weekly batches to another box where they had instructions to hold it. His same friend who was holding on to Ben’s car went once a week to empty the box. All of Allan’s regular monthly expenses for the house, like electricity and water, were deducted automatically from his bank account. Even his lawn maintenance company received an automatic payment.

The wonders of technology.

Allan watched the landscape speed by as they headed south on I-75. Since they were returning to Miami, Ben saw no need to take the slow, circuitous route they’d used to leave it. They’d spend the night at a hotel before contacting their bosses and the investigators in charge of the case and deciding what to do next.

They’d agreed they would not mention Libbie or where they’d been staying. They didn’t know who they could trust, or who might accidentally reveal information to someone working for Bianco.

Ben drove in silence. Allan finally spoke when they stopped for gas south of Sarasota. “This fucking sucks,” he quietly said.

Ben hesitated before getting out. “It’s for the best. You know it is.

I didn’t say I liked it.” He got out and pumped gas.

When he returned, Allan looked at him. “We’ve broke her heart by leaving like this. You realize that, right?”

He slammed his fists against the steering wheel. “She’s fucking It’s a Sweet Life 211

alive to be hurting. You realize that, too, right? And to me that’s a lot more fucking important fact.”

They didn’t speak again for the rest of the drive.

212 Tymber

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Chapter Twenty

As March bled into April, time seemed to slow and drag, every overcast day reflecting Libbie’s mood, while every sunny day mocked her for thinking she could ever be happy.

The only consolation she felt was that at the end of the trial, she’d be together with her men again. Hopefully for good this time.

She followed the case’s progress online via both The Miami Herald’s website and local TV station reports. There wasn’t information every day, because testimony wouldn’t start for a couple of months yet due to more issues raised by the defense.

Occasionally, she was rewarded with a brief glimpse of Allan standing in the background during press conferences.

Well, she suspected it was Ben and not Allan, from his dark hair and the hard look she spotted in his eyes, always searching the crowd.

She’d avoided talking to Mandaline about her issues, managing to disappear when her friend came for her daily order. Grover knew the full truth about why they’d left. Grover told Ruth and Jenny that one of the men’s relatives had been diagnosed with terminal cancer, and the men had traveled back to Nebraska to be with their family during the trying time.

One Friday toward the end of April, she couldn’t take it any longer. She needed more than just Grover’s sympathetic expressions and hugs.

She needed to vent.

Libbie walked across the square to Many Blessings, relieved to find the storefront empty and Mandaline the only one behind the counter.

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Mandaline grinned when Libbie walked in. “You’re looking good, mama! You’re positively glowing…” She rounded the counter to hug Libbie, her expression changing. “Except for that Goddessawful frown. Why are you so sad? What happened? What’s wrong?”

Libbie had given up trying to deny her friend apparently had a hot line to the supernatural. “I miss my guys.” Then, surprising herself, she burst into tears.

Mandaline hustled her back through a beaded curtain into the tiny office and made her sit in a comfy chair next to her desk. “Spill it.”

She couldn’t tell all of it, not without breaking Allan and Ben’s strict admonitions about keeping the truth hidden. But she told what she could. “I can’t tell you everything, but…Ken and Charles aren’t who they said they were. And you can’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you.”

Mandaline crossed her heart and twisted her fingers over her lips.

“They were hiding out ahead of a trial. They’re on the good side, don’t worry. And they’re brothers, not cousins. And…well, obviously, they aren’t gay.”

Mandaline let out a braying laugh full of warmth. “Sweetie, I knew from the moment I laid eyes on them that they were neither gay nor country boys from Nebraska.” Her smile faded. “I just didn’t know what or why they felt they had to lie about who they were. All I knew was their auras were warm and full of light.” She sighed. “I wondered what had happened, why you were so scared. When do you get to see them again?”

Libbie shrugged. “It’s not safe. It’s a mob trial. They’re worried if the guy finds out about me that he’ll try to hurt or kill me to get to them.”

“They’re within driving distance?”

“Yeah.”

“You should go see them.”

“But they said it wasn’t safe.”

“Does this mobster know who you are?”

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Libbie shook her head.

“Does he even know you exist?”

“No.”

“Okay then. Your overprotective men are likely suffering from an overabundance of caution. Admirable, but misguided.” She smiled again. “They’ll get over it when you show up on their doorstep. I guarantee they’re missing you as much as you’re missing them. And they need you now as much as you need them.”

Libbie decided to leave on Sunday, after stewing about it for more than a day following her talk with Mandaline.

“You sure you want to do this, sugar?” Lines of concern etched Grover’s face.

“Yeah. I miss them so much.” She wasn’t looking forward to the drive with the deep ache in her body, not to mention the occasional queasiness she’d been having, but she knew a night in her men’s arms would make it more than worth it. “They’re all I can think about. I’ll come back Tuesday night. You can put up a sign on the door if you want instead of opening.”

He waved that suggestion away. “We can run the place, don’t worry. I’ll just make the usuals, nothing fancy. And I’ll take care of the brat cat for you.” His brow furrowed. “They said it’d be dangerous to be with them until after the trial ended.”

“I know. But I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself. Miami is a really big place. I can’t imagine there being any trouble.”

He let out a heavy sigh and straightened, taking a step away from the car door. “Yes, you are a big girl. But it don’t mean I won’t worry about you every minute you’re gone. You make sure you call me, okay?”

She nodded. “I will.”

She pulled out and made her way to head east on SR 50 to the It’s a Sweet Life 215

interstate. She’d take I-75 all the way down to Alligator Alley and across to Miami. With gas and bathroom stops, she figured she could make it in about five hours.

I’m done waiting. Sitting on her hands praying their weekly call would come sucked.

Libbie glanced at the phone they’d given her, which sat on the passenger seat. Yes, tonight was their call night. She planned to be in Miami by the time she received it, to meet them somewhere, even if only for a few hours. She missed them, wanted them. Wanted to be in their arms.

Wanted to have a good, long cry, with more than her pillow and Galileo to comfort her.

When she reached the eastern end of Alligator Alley just after ten that night, she heard the disposable phone beep that a voice mail awaited her. Which was odd, because she’d never heard it ring.

They should have called by now.

Frowning, she reached for it while not taking her eyes off the road. She held it up and glanced at the screen.

No missed calls, but the voice mail icon flashed. So did the roaming icon.

Swearing, she put it on speaker mode and hit the speed dial button for voice mail.

“Hey, babe, it’s Allan. We’re just checking in for our weekly call.”

“I’m here, too,” Ben chimed in.

“We miss you. We’ll try calling back in a little while. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” Ben added.

She hit save and dropped the phone back onto the passenger seat.

From the time stamp on the voice mail, it had arrived while she was in the middle of the Alley.

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Must not have had cell reception.

When she stopped for gas twenty minutes later, taking a moment to run inside to use the bathroom and grab a snack, she swore again upon finding she had another voice mail waiting on her phone when she returned to the car.

And still no missed call alerts. The flashing of the roaming icon seemed to mock her.

“Shit!”

As always, she had no phone number where she could call them back. The number showed up as unavailable on her screen.

For the hell of it, she tried the cells Ben and Allan had used while in Brooksville and left voice mail messages for both of them.

While she appreciated their concern, the situation wore on her and had taxed what little remained of her patience. “Bianco be damned, I’m sick of not being with my guys,” she muttered under her breath.

Another beep caught her attention. Her regular cell phone, which she’d forgotten to put on the charger, was almost dead. The low battery warning appeared on the screen. Too tired to hunt down the car charger for it in her overnight bag, she turned it off and dropped it in her purse.

Not like they’d call me on that one anyway.

Armed with the maps she’d printed out before leaving home, she headed toward Miami.

Libbie sat in her car and stared at the deserted house, her tears of disappointment rolling down her cheeks, hot and burning. It was hard to tell if they weren’t really staying there, because the lawn was well kept and there weren’t any old papers in the drive or unclaimed mail in the mailbox out front.

By 1:00 a.m. she knew they weren’t staying there. Worse, the deep ache in her body from the drive had now turned into a screaming It’s a Sweet Life 217

agony she knew she’d pay for the next morning.

Well, later this morning.

Defeated, she drove back the way she came until she found a hotel in what looked like a reasonably safe neighborhood. Fortunately, they had a room available. She went ahead and booked it for two nights, hoping she would need it that long.

Even luckier, she’d only packed one bag, easily toted up to her room on the third floor. Locking herself in, she immediately headed for the tub. Only once she’d sunk into the hot water did she let her tears flow again.

Getting out of the tub thirty minutes later proved problematic. Her body had revolted, turning traitorous and stealing her strength even as unrelenting pain assaulted her. She finally managed to get out. After drying off, she climbed into bed and pulled the covers over her.

Ben hung up, a frown on his face as he studied the phone.

“What?” Allan said.

He shook his head. “This isn’t right.”

“What do you mean?”

He looked at Allan. “Something’s wrong. No way she would miss our call. She never does.” Seven weeks away from Libbie, and his heart ached. He dreamed of her nearly every night and longed to hop in the car and just drive to Brooksville to see her.

He didn’t dare. He suspected Bianco had people trying to figure out “Allan’s” every move, waiting for a chance to strike.

Maybe it was overkill, as Allan had accused him on several occasions. He didn’t care. He couldn’t risk her safety, or Allan’s. Not to mention he had to stay in Miami to protect Allan. Several times he’d eluded people he discovered following him. It was why they moved from hotel to hotel, never staying in the same one more than a week.

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They just couldn’t risk it.

Ben knew he could testify in full disguise, and Bianco would still never know what he looked like for sure. After the trial, he’d shave or dye his hair and disappear to Brooksville for good.

By then, it wouldn’t matter. Bianco would be in jail, and the least of the mobster’s problems would be hunting him or Allan down with the Feds crawling up his ass with their separate trial looming on the horizon.

Not to mention figuring out how to fend off takeovers from within his own ranks.

But until the trial was complete and a verdict rendered, Ben knew he had to bide his time.

He found himself unable to sleep, and was still mulling it over the next morning as they were preparing for their usual routine. He tried calling Libbie again and silently swore when it went immediately to voice mail.

“Call Grover,” Allan suggested.

Ben nodded. But instead of using the phone they used to call Libbie, he retrieved another disposable cell phone he’d yet to use, one registered to a New York State number, and called from that.

A paranoid abundance of caution, granted, but he wouldn’t put his friends at risk, either.

When Grover’s voice mail picked up, Ben silently swore again and waited for it to play through before leaving a message. “Hi, Grover. This is Ken. I’m having trouble reaching that person you referred me to. I’ll try calling back later.” He hung up without leaving a number. Yes, Grover knew the truth about their identities, but he also knew as a former lawyer, the man would understand why he insisted on elaborate precautions.

And Grover would know exactly who he was referring to.

When he tried ten minutes later, just as they were getting ready to leave the room, he was surprised when Grover answered on the first ring. “Ken?”

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“Yeah.”

“She’s not there yet?”

Ben felt his guts ice over at the frantic tone in Grover’s voice.

“What do you mean she’s not here yet? What are you talking about?”

“She left here late yesterday. Should have been there last night.

Said she was heading to…ah…Charles’ place.”

Fear gripped Ben as he turned to Allan. “We’re not there.”

“What? I tried calling her cell this morning and it’s going to voice mail.”

“What’s going on?” Allan asked. “Is Libbie okay?”

Ben waved at him to shut up. “I’ll try her regular cell phone.

Look, take my work number. Do you have something to write with?”

“Yeah. Go ahead.”

He rattled off his county-issued cell phone number. “Call me immediately if you hear from her.”

Grover repeated the number back. “Will do.”

He hung up and looked at Allan. “Change of plans. I need the keys to your house.”

“What? Why? What the hell’s going on?”

“Apparently Libbie decided to come to Miami to see us. We need to get you to work—”

“Fuck that. I want to help find her.”

“Listen. I need you to get to the office. I can’t find her if I’m worried about keeping you safe. We’ve managed to keep you under the radar and out of Bianco’s line of fire—”

“Fuck. That. I love her, and I’m going to help find her. Try calling her regular cell phone.”

Ben dialed it from memory on the New York phone, swearing as it, too, went immediately to voice mail. “Listen, honey, we just talked to Grover and found out you’re traveling. You need to call me immediately.” He left the New York cell number.

Allan looked as grim as he felt. “So we start at my house? I know she has that address.”

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“Give me a minute to think.” He stared at the cell phone in his hand and willed it to ring.

“Can’t we issue a BOLO on her car or something?”

“No!” Ben turned and stared at Allan in shocked disbelief. “You want to paint a target on her back? And you cannot show up at your house. They see you and realize who you are, the whole charade’s busted. They need to keep thinking I’m you.”

“This is stupid,” Allan insisted. “This is Libbie we’re talking about. Fuck your damn paranoid procedures. We need to find her.”

“Shut up!” He paced a circle around the hotel room, finally stopping midway through his third circuit. “We’ll go pick up your car, but you have to stay down in the backseat.” He pulled on the suit coat, which completed the look and made him look like Allan the assistant state’s attorney, as well as helped conceal his bulletproof vest. Allan, dressed in khakis and a button-up Oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up his forearms, looked like a paralegal or office assistant. His now-shaggy dyed-blond hair hung past his shoulders and was pulled back with a ponytail band. Allan grabbed his battered canvas messenger bag, which housed his laptop and looked like it belonged in a Dumpster, before following Ben out the door.

The next morning, even though Libbie awoke at eight, it took her nearly twenty minutes to flex and stretch enough she could force her arms and legs into obeying her commands to get out of bed. Then back to the shower, where she stood under the spray, as hot as she could stand it, for twenty minutes. Not to mention her stomach was upset, feeling queasy, likely due to her pain. She’d noticed it happening more often over the past couple of weeks, usually disappearing once she got some food into her. She’d stopped taking her pain medication to see if that helped, thinking maybe the medicine was causing it, and that seemed to alleviate some of it.

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No way I’m driving back today, regardless of whether I find them or not.

Just the thought of going downstairs to the hotel’s restaurant almost felt like more than she could take.

Ben refused to give her details of their work days, deftly stepping around her questions to guide the conversation in other directions. She loved him for his concern, but it irritated her that she had no idea where he lived, or where they were staying since they obviously weren’t staying at Allan’s house, much less where he worked now that he wasn’t on the street any longer. And the thought of visiting every sheriff’s station in the county filled her with dread.

Or was he with Miami-Dade police?

She couldn’t remember for sure now, the foggy fuzziness refusing to release its tenacious hold on her mind.

Allan, however, would be easier to find. She’d already looked up his office information. Remembering his admonishments to never call him at work from a traceable phone unless it was an absolute emergency, she hadn’t bothered phoning him.

But maybe he’ll be there. Or have an office assistant who can find him for me.

With a deep sigh, she shut the water off and climbed out, slowly toweling herself dry with muscles that refused to loosen up.

When she went to get dressed, she realized not only was her regular cell phone dead, so was the disposable one.

“Crap.” She dug the chargers out of her overnight bag and finally settled on the outlet in the bathroom, since it was the easiest for her to get to.

With purse in hand, she headed downstairs for coffee and breakfast. The restaurant was moderately busy, being on the tail end of the morning rush. She patiently waited for her server to bring her coffee and take her order, then sat back to read a Miami Herald that had been left on a room divider next to her booth.

She kicked herself in the ass that she’d missed their calls the night 222 Tymber Dalton

before. Maybe this was a mistake. Except that Mandaline had been spot-on about a bunch of things.

Then again, she knew she shouldn’t be trying to shoulder blame for her decision onto her friend. Libbie had wanted to come find her men, wanted any excuse to do it. Mandaline just happened to provide exactly the justification she’d been looking for.

She took her time eating and perusing the paper. After her third cup of coffee and nearly finishing her mushroom and swiss omelet, she was ready to go hunt down one or both of her men. Not to mention her stomach had settled again.

Except that when she tried to stand after signing the credit card receipt the waitress brought her, she realized how sore and tired she still was.

“Crap.”

She quickly consulted the maps tucked in her purse. One of them a highway map she’d bought at her first gas stop east of the Alley, the others printouts from Google Maps after she looked up Allan’s office address.

I’m not that far away. She could call a cab to take her to his office. It meant she wouldn’t have to tax her already struggling brain, which didn’t seem to want to take the upper hand against her fibro fog that morning, or her achingly sore body with any more activities than she had to.

“That’s settled, then,” she mumbled to herself.

Her second attempt to stand proved successful. She made it to the front desk. The clerk called her a cab, which arrived in a few minutes.

It wasn’t until she was almost to Allan’s office building that she remembered both cell phones lying on the bathroom counter in her room, still plugged into the wall.

She laid her head back against her seat. Frak.

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Chapter Twenty-One

Ben left Allan waiting for him in the stairwell of the parking garage while he retrieved the rental car. When he pulled up to the stairwell door, Allan dove into the backseat and kept his head down.

“We’ll go get your car,” Ben said. “Hopefully, no one’s found it yet. You stay down when we get there, and I’ll get into your car. Give me ten minutes before you get out of the backseat, and then you drive straight to the office.”

“Bullshit. I’m going to the house with you.”

Ben fought the urge to pound on the steering wheel. He’d quickly grown used to taking evasive maneuvers in busy Miami traffic and spent fifteen minutes weaving his way north before jumping on the Florida Turnpike to head south again toward the parking garage where he’d left Allan’s car the night before. They’d been using the garage for nearly two weeks, with no sign yet of any of Bianco’s men finding or following them there, but he’d felt the need to start using yet another one.

Paranoid, yes. But they were both still alive.

“Why the hell would she do this?” Allan asked from the backseat.

“We told her it wasn’t safe.”

“I don’t know, but I’m going to spank her ass for it when we find her.”

“If we find her.”

Ben’s fingers clamped tightly around the steering wheel. “When,”

he insisted.

Allan went silent for a few minutes. “It’s got to be rough on her. I don’t see why we can’t call her more often.”

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“Look, this isn’t a perfect solution, I know, but it’s what’s safest for her.”

More accusatory silence from the backseat. Then, “I miss her.”

Ben tried to rein in his anger. “I miss her, too. Believe me.”

“I’m turning in my resignation this week.”

The announcement startled Ben so much he nearly missed his exit.

“What?”

“Yeah.” Allan’s voice sounded quiet.

“But what about the trial?”

“I’m done. I’m sick of Miami. I used to think it’s what I wanted. I know we haven’t talked about this a lot, and I don’t know for sure what your plans are, but I’ve been thinking a family law practice in Brooksville sounds like a good idea. Now, I’m sure it is.”

An additional weight Ben hadn’t realized he’d been carrying suddenly rolled from his shoulders. No, they hadn’t talked much about it. He’d been too busy caught up with Libbie and then trying to get them back to Miami and keep them safe. “I think every law practice needs an in-house security specialist.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He rolled to a stop at a red light and forced himself not to look over the seat at his brother in case anyone had followed them. “I looked into what it’d take for me to get a PI license. I could also check into doing work for insurance companies. You know, claims work.”

“I know a certain sweet little baker who would enjoy your help in her shop.”

Ben felt a smile crease his lips. It felt like weeks since he’d smiled. “Yeah, I’d also thought about that.”

“Look at that, we both have baking to fall back on if our careers don’t pan out,” Allan joked, getting a laugh from his brother. “I never thought you’d ever give up being a cop.”

Ben urged the car forward when the light turned green. “Neither did I. But I never thought we’d ever meet a woman like Libbie, either.

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And I’ve given up enough of my personal life. I’ve lived, eaten, and breathed the Bianco crime family for the past three years. I’m ready to start living again. I’m too young for this shit. I want a family. And I also don’t want Libbie to get a call in the middle of the night like Mom did.”

“You mean it? You want a family?”

Ben felt his face heat. “Yeah,” he quietly said. “If Libbie does.”

It seemed like forever when Allan finally said, “Me, too.”

They reached the parking garage and Ben looked around. After parking on the second floor and waiting several minutes, no other cars came up. He moved to the fifth floor and shut the car off, leaving the keys in the ignition. Without turning around, he said, “Looks clear.

Give me ten, then please, go to your office. Okay? I’ll call you if I find her.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to your house. I want to cruise by first, see if there’s anyone watching it. See if she’s there, waiting. We lied and told her we were staying there, remember?”

Allan sounded angry. “Yeah, I remember. I also told you I thought that was a bad idea at the time.”

“Yes, you told me so.” Ben let out a sigh. “Happy?”

“No. Not until we know she’s safe.”

“Go to your office. Wait for me there.” He got out before Allan could say anything else, closing the door and pocketing the set of house keys as if they were the car keys, just on the off chance anyone was watching them. He found the stairs and took them, two at a time, down to the third floor where Allan’s car was parked. From the safety of the stairwell doorway, he hit the button on the key fob to start the ignition and waited. After two minutes, when the car didn’t explode, he slowly approached it, opened the driver’s side door, then closed it again without getting in and retreated to the stairwell, leaving it sitting there running.

After another two minutes he deemed it safe and returned to the 226 Tymber Dalton

car. He got in, quickly leaving the garage after paying cash.

Yes, an overabundance of caution, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Bianco stooped to desperate measures to get Allan and him out of the way. Using explosives wasn’t Bianco’s method, but there was always a first time.

And he didn’t want to be that first time.

What he hadn’t revealed to Allan was that he no longer had a permanent address. He had a triple storage unit in West Palm Beach with most of his things in it, and a month-to-month cash lease on an extended stay hotel studio room in Margate before he checked out when they left for Brooksville. When he’d realized the Bianco case was going to trial, he’d quickly packed and moved out of his rented condo, knowing he needed the ability to leave fast with little trace.

Bianco was not a man who gave up easily. A permanent address was far less important to Ben than staying alive and healthy and keeping his brother in the same condition.

He quickly drove to Allan’s house, in a middle-class suburb almost all the way to Coral Gables.

He circled the block once, twice, happy to see people didn’t park on the street around here, meaning less likelihood of someone watching the house at that moment.

He pulled into the driveway but didn’t pop the garage door.

Walking around back, he didn’t see anyone inside the house, which he knew didn’t mean anything, but still was a good sign. He also didn’t see any signs of forced entry.

He returned to the front door and hurried in, shutting the alarm off.

Empty.

“Dammit.” No sign she’d been by, no note on the door, nothing.

While he was there he took the opportunity to grab a couple more suits out of Allan’s closet, then reset the alarm and locked the door behind him.

The only place he could go was to the office and to keep trying to It’s a Sweet Life 227

call her.

Allan forced himself to stick to the routines Ben had set up. He took an indirect route to the office, constantly checking his rearview mirror for anyone following him, and doubling back several times just in case.

All clear.

At the parking garage, he swiped his ID, which had Ben’s name on it even though it was his own picture, to get into the garage.

Because of the case, his office had issued “Ben” a special employee access pass to go through the back entrance, avoiding the main public entryway and enormous, and extremely busy, lobby area. He nodded to the bailiff on duty at a desk inside, showing his pass.

The bailiff waved him through.

Yet another of Ben’s ideas, to keep everyone in his office thinking he was Ben, and that Ben was him. Ben knew the case as well as he did. Depositions were actually handled by the lead attorneys on the case, so they didn’t have to worry about any charges of impropriety should the ruse be discovered before the trial started. Once the trial started, Ben would completely disguise himself and Allan would go back to his normal appearance.

They’d even swapped wallets.

Only behind closed doors would Allan get on the phone and handle calls related to the case, Ben listening in from behind Allan’s desk. No one could tell their voices apart.

Well, maybe Libbie can by now, he wistfully thought.

Ben, while still officially employed by the sheriff’s office, was only working behind the scenes doing support work and research on tech crime cases to keep him out of the office and out of harm’s way.

He could work on his cases from anywhere he had an Internet connection.

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Allan made it to his office without interruptions and closed the door behind him. His office assistant, thinking he was Ben, wouldn’t come in to bug him.

He started tackling calls to take his mind off the wait.

Libbie stared at the enormous lobby behind the glass entry doors.

As foggy as she felt, she wasn’t sure she could handle it.

I want to see my guys.

With that thought in mind, she got in line behind several dozen others waiting to pass through a metal detector to gain entry to the building. By the time she made it into the main part of the lobby, she already felt mentally exhausted in additional to physically, and she had to sit down for a moment to rest.

There were signs all over, people hurrying to reach their destinations, and an ever-present loud buzz of voices, cell phone ringers, and noise from the metal detectors and waiting people reverberating off the tile floors and through the large space.

She felt like crying.

Buck up. You can do this.

Her flare was worse than she’d originally thought. She hadn’t had fibro fog this bad in months. No doubt triggered by the drive combined with stress and exhaustion and loneliness and worry about her men.

She started with one large sign of office listings and scanned through it when she realized her brain didn’t want to pick out a pattern to the arrangement. She could read names and office numbers, but it just didn’t make any sense. Allan’s business card had a street address, but no suite or office number. And without her cell, she couldn’t call to have him come down and meet her.

Looking around, she almost smacked herself in the forehead when she spotted two uniformed bailiffs standing behind an information It’s a Sweet Life 229

desk on the other side of the lobby. Libbie hurried over and waited her turn.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“I’m here to see Allan Donohue. He’s in the State Attorney’s office.”

The bailiff nodded and said, “440.” He pointed. “To the left, elevator’s on the right, go left when you get to the fourth floor. Next.”

She put out a hand. “I’m sorry.” She offered him what she hoped wasn’t too pitiful a smile. “I’m…I’m not feeling good this morning. I have difficulty remembering things. Could you please write that down for me?” His eyes narrowed as he turned his attention more fully upon her. She took a deep breath. “Please? I have fibromyalgia and I couldn’t even drive this morning it’s so bad. I had to take a cab.”

His expression immediately softened as he reached for a piece of scrap paper. “Sorry. My sister has lupus. She has bad days like that, too.” He scribbled the information onto the paper for her and handed it to her. “If you can wait a few minutes, I can have another bailiff escort you if you need it.”

She wanted to cry at his kind tone. She took the paper. “No, that’s okay.” She glanced at the paper and it made sense to her foggy brain.

“This helps a lot. Thank you so much.”

He nodded. “Next.”

She found the elevators. She stood in line again, waiting, her heart racing. I’m so close. So close to seeing them.

When the sudden sting of tears prickled her eyes, she stepped out of line and hurried into the women’s room across from the elevators.

Locked into a stall, she cried for a few minutes.

Jeez, I’m even more emotional than usual. She didn’t know if it was the stress, or her frustration, or the kindness in the bailiff’s tone that triggered her. She hated the crying jags almost as much as she hated the fibro fog. And they’d been happening a lot lately over the past couple of weeks.

Once she composed herself and washed her face in the sink, she 230 Tymber Dalton

returned to the elevators and waited. The ride up felt like an eternity.

When she reached the fourth floor, she followed the instructions on the paper and ended up in front of the correct office.

After a couple of deep breaths to calm herself, she walked in. She had to wait for the receptionist at the front desk to finish with a call before she could talk to her.

“Hi, I’m here to see Allan Donohue, please.”

“I’m sorry, but he’s not in yet. Is he expecting you?”

Libbie struggled not to burst into tears right there. She hadn’t thought about the possibility of him not being in the office that time of morning. “Um, oh. Okay. Do you know when he’ll be in?”

“He’s due in at any time. He’s usually here by now.”

“May I wait for him?”

The phone rang again. Instead of responding to Libbie, she pointed to a waiting area in the corner and answered the phone.

Despondent, Libbie walked over to the waiting area and took a seat.

Allan answered his work cell on the first ring without looking.

“Donohue.”

“It’s me,” Ben said. “No luck.”

“Dammit.” He sat back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. He hated his hair long and shaggy.

And blond. Damn, he hated the blond.

“I’m on my way to the office now,” Ben said. “I should be there in about forty.”

“So what do we do?”

“I’ve already called Grover back. He hasn’t heard from her. He keeps getting her voice mail when he tries her cell, too. I’ve already tried calling both her regular cell and the disposable.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

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“I don’t have a fucking answer, okay? Let me get back there and we’ll talk about it and figure it out.”

Allan hung up and fought the urge to throw the cell phone against the wall. If anything happened to Libbie, he’d never forgive himself.

We should have been there for her. Fuck this goddamned trial.

He needed to get up, to walk around. Coffee. He headed out of the office and down the hall to the break room.

On his way back, he ran into the receptionist from the front desk.

“Oh, there’s a woman waiting to see Allan. Do you know when he’ll be in or should I just have her keep waiting?”

“He’s going to be a while.” He had several witness statements to go over today, but he’d thought the first one wasn’t coming in until well after lunch. “Send her back. I’ll talk to her.”

“Okay.”

He returned to the office and took his seat behind the desk. At least it would be something to keep his mind occupied and off Libbie.

He didn’t even look up from his laptop and the e-mail he was replying to when he sensed the woman step into the doorway. “Please come in and close the door behind you.”

It was the sound of a soft sob that jerked his head up. Libbie looked two seconds from a complete breakdown. He jumped up from his chair and ran over to her, shoving the door shut and snapping the lock before pulling her into his arms. “Baby! Oh my god, we’ve been so worried about you! Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”

“I…I wanted to see you…I’m sorry… I just…It kept roaming and missing calls and it died and I forgot it at the hotel and I needed a cab and I—” Her words dissolved into unintelligible sobs.

He sat with her on the sofa, consoling her, rocking her in his arms with his face buried in her hair. “It’s okay, sweetie. I’m just glad you’re okay.” After a couple of minutes, she took a few deep, hitching breaths. “What’s that about a cab?” he asked. “What happened to your car?”

With her face pressed against his chest, she told him about her trip 232 Tymber Dalton

and her flare.

When she finished, he let out a sigh of relief. “We were so scared something had happened to you.”

“I’m sorry. I really needed to see you.” Fresh tears followed. He didn’t have the heart to get up and grab his cell and disturb her in the process.

“Where are you staying? We need to get you back there.”

“I’m…” She looked up at him, her eyes wide in shock as she started crying again. “I don’t remember! It was so late last night and I was so tired…”

“Shh.” He started rocking her again, this time with his face pressed into her hair to hide the amused chuckle he desperately wanted to unleash. But in her fragile emotional state, she likely wouldn’t understand. He knew it was the fibro, but who the frak forgot where their hotel was? When their car and luggage and everything was there, too?

He had a thought. “Do you have a receipt from checkin?”

She sat up. “Oh. Yeah.” She grabbed her purse and dug through it, handing it to him.

He read it. “Okay. Let’s get you cleaned up and I’m going to take you back there.”

“Are you mad at me?”

He cupped her cheeks with his palms and kissed her, slowly, gently. “No, I’m not mad. Scared and upset and worried, yes. Well, I was. Now that I know you’re safe, no. But we need to get you out of here right now. I can’t let anyone else see you here.”

“What about Ben?”

“I’ll call him when we’re in the car.” He stood, grabbed his laptop and slammed it shut, and shoved it and his cell into his messenger bag, which he slung over his shoulder. He grabbed her purse then held his hand out to her. “Come on. We need to go right now.”

He led her through the back hallways and out to the parking garage. He hurried her to the car and opened the passenger door for It’s a Sweet Life 233

her. He only stopped to grab his cell from the messenger bag before dumping it in the backseat. Then he started the car and headed out.

He was halfway to her hotel when he finally reached Ben. “She’s safe.”

“What? Did you get hold of her?”

They were stopped at a red light. He looked at where she was slumped in the passenger seat with her eyes closed. “She’s right here.”

“What? At the office?”

“No. In the car.”

“Don’t be a smart-ass.”

“I’m not, dude. We’re in the car and heading for her hotel.” He read off the address. “Get your ass over there.”

“What the hell’s going on?”

“Look, we’ll talk when you get to the hotel. She’s in room…” He gently nudged her leg with his free hand.

She looked horrified. “I don’t remember.” A fresh round of tears started again.

“Did they write it on your keycard envelope?”

“Oh.” She sniffled and started rummaging through her purse again. “I did. I forgot I did that. Thanks.” She pulled the card envelope out. “302.”

“302. See you in a few.” He hit end, cutting Ben off in mid-rant.

Setting the phone in the center console, he reached for her hand and laced his fingers through hers. “It’s going to be okay,” he assured her, hoping he could make it all okay for her.

He’d forgotten all about Ben’s safety procedures at the sight of her tears. It broke his heart that they’d done this to her when she already had so much to deal with on a daily basis. That she’d driven down to see them and they’d caused her even more pain and distress by not being where they’d said they’d be.

That she couldn’t even pick up a phone to call them when she just needed to hear their voices.

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He took the keycard from her and held her hand all the way up to her room. He put out the Do Not Disturb sign, flipped the dead bolt and security latch, and stretched out with her on the bed, holding her as she crashed into sleep in his arms.

Allan was almost ready to fall asleep when the pounding on the door startled him. Libbie stirred at the sound. He carefully untangled himself from her and looked through the peephole before unlocking the door for Ben.

When Ben raced in, Allan shushed him and pointed to Libbie asleep on the bed. He locked the door while Ben hurried to her side.

She slowly opened her eyes when he sat next to her on the bed and brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead.

“Hey,” he softly said.

“I’m sorry.”

“Shh, it’s okay.”

Ben stretched out next to her, relief flooding him and temporarily shoving all thoughts of Bianco out of his head. As she snuggled in his arms, he inhaled her scent deeply, reassuring himself that she was truly safe. Until Allan had called him he’d struggled with horrible thoughts of never finding her, of something awful happening to her without him ever getting to see her again.

Or tell her one last time how much he loved her.

“How are you feeling?” he asked her.

Her tiny voice ripped at his heart. “I’m okay.”

“Bullshit,” Allan said. “She’s not okay. She’s in a horrible flare.

She can’t drive back to Brooksville like this.”

“Tell us the truth.”

She wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have come. It was stupid. I’m sorry.”

He pulled her close again. “Shh, it’s done. You’re here, and no, It’s a Sweet Life 235

I’m not happy you put yourself at risk, but I am happy to see you.

You have no idea how much we’ve missed you.”

That seemed to quiet her.

“Now the truth. Tell us what’s wrong.”

She listed what he’d expected, the pain, weakness, lethargy.

“Worse, I think the naproxen’s making my stomach upset so I stopped taking it.”

“Why?” Allan asked as he sat on the other side of the bed.

“I keep feeling queasy in the mornings. It got a little better when I stopped taking it.”

Ben felt like he couldn’t breathe. “Queasy?”

“Just a little. Not bad.” She snorted. “The gift of fibro, symptoms that come and go and no clue if it’s related to fibro or anything normal.”

When he met Allan’s gaze, his brother’s eyes looked as wide and filled with shock as his own.

“Baby, when was your last period?” Allan asked.

“What?”

“Are you late?” Ben asked.

“I’m…” She sat up, her brow scrunched as she tried to think. “I don’t know. It’s nothing to worry about. I’ve been irregular off and on the past year or so. The doctor said I might be going into early menopause.”

“How long have you been queasy?” Allan asked.

“Just the past couple of…” Her eyes widened as she finally boarded their train of thought and handed the conductor her ticket.

“No!” She shook her head. “No. I can’t be.”

“How late are you?” Ben asked again.

“I don’t know. But we used condoms.”

“They’re not perfect,” Allan said.

“Where’s the closest drugstore?” Ben asked Allan.

“I saw a Walgreens a couple of blocks down.” He stood. “I’ll go.”

“Go where?” she asked.

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He leaned in and kissed her. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be right back.” He glanced up at Ben. “Come lock the door after me.”

When they were alone again, Ben removed his jacket and tossed it on the other bed, then removed his gun and holster and placed them on top of the jacket, followed by his shirt and bulletproof vest before rejoining her.

She looked shell-shocked. “I can’t be pregnant,” she said as she crumbled into his arms again. “I just can’t. We used condoms.”

Except for how upset she was, he would have laughed. “Sweetie, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay.”

That set his worry off. “Why? You don’t want kids?”

“I can’t do this alone!”

He made her look at him. “You are not alone. You have both of us.”

“You’re here in Miami. Plus I was taking the naproxen. What if…” She buried her head against his chest again. She didn’t cry out loud, but he could tell from the irregular rise and fall of her chest and her frequent sniffling that she was crying.

He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t have words. Instead, he opted to call Grover and tell him she was safe and sound, but that he didn’t have time to talk to go into details.

He also didn’t tell him she was right there with him, because he suspected the last thing she needed was the tongue-lashing she knew Grover would rightfully give her for scaring the crap out of all of them.

It felt like forever before he heard Allan knock on the door. He checked before opening it, and Allan rushed in with a bag. “Okay, I got three different ones so we can tell for sure. They can’t all be wrong.” He emptied the bag onto the bed.

She sat up and wiped at her face. “I…” She sniffled. “Can one of you help me? I can’t…I can’t focus today. I’m sorry.” Ben worried most about her state of mind. She sounded weak, defeated.

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He took her hand and helped her up. “Quit apologizing. You can’t help that you’re in a flare. And yes, of course we’ll both help you.”

He shot Allan a warning look not to laugh while they opened and read the instructions for all three test kits, which were all two-packs.

“Okay,” Ben said. “This is logistically going to be difficult. I say we go with two of them for now. She’s not a racehorse with a gallon of pee in her.”

Sitting on the bathroom counter and looking even weaker in the fluorescent lighting, Libbie managed a wan smile. “I do have to pee.”

“All right,” Allan said, grabbing one. “Assume the position.” He reached for the second test stick. “Ben, you just stand there and take them from me. I don’t want you getting pee on my suit.”

That earned them a soft laugh that relieved Ben. And how it actually worked was Libbie started out holding one of the test strips, and then Allan made the switch with her while Ben took the first one and snapped the cap back on it and started keeping the time.

A few minutes later, all three of them stood there in silence. Ben wanted to jump up and down with joy. Allan, he suspected, was staying quiet until he read Libbie’s mood.

Ben knew there might be health considerations for both Libbie and the baby, but for now he didn’t want to think about that. He wanted to bask in his joy, something he’d all but given up hope of ever feeling.

Libbie stood in front of them, her full attention focused on the two plastic test sticks.

They both read positive.

Ben gently rubbed her shoulders. “Sweetheart, it’s your body and your decision. But Allan and I both want kids. So keep that in mind.

And we promise we will be there for you, no matter how we need to manage it.”

She still didn’t say anything.

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Libbie didn’t know what to say. She stared dumbly at the two test strips, blinking and hoping they’d change to negative.

Then she thought about Mandaline’s words the other day in Many Blessings, how she’d called Libbie “mama” and said she was “glowing.”

Frak.

Yes, she’d always thought about maybe one day having kids, but at thirty-five, and without a husband, she’d pushed the thought to the back of her mind and forgotten about it.

The truth was staring her in the face. “What…what if something’s wrong with it?” She caught herself laying her palm against her belly.

“And what if it’s totally healthy?” Allan asked.

They made her turn to face them.

Ben asked the question. “Do you want an abortion?”

“No!” she answered immediately without even thinking about it.

As she studied their faces, she realized they were both struggling not to smile. “What?”

“That was a pretty quick answer, don’t you think?” Allan queried.

“Maybe the answer of a woman who’s made up her mind and just needs her men to reassure her everything’s going to be okay because they’re going to take charge and make it okay so she doesn’t have to shoulder the burden alone?”

She nodded, hating that the prickle of tears had returned again.

But then their arms were around her and one or both of them helped her back into bed and she was lying, comfortably sandwiched between them, when she fell into the first truly solid sleep she’d had since they left.

“What the hell do we do now, Brain?” Allan whispered so as not to wake her.

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“She can’t stay here. We have to get her back to Brooksville.”

“I’ll go,” Allan said.

“You can’t. You’re needed here.”

“Then you go.”

“I can’t. You need me here.”

Allan loved his brother, but this was one of those times he wanted to smack him. “Then she stays here with us.”

“What part of ‘she can’t stay here’ don’t you understand?”

“Then what’s your plan?”

“I don’t have one!”

They both lowered their voices as she stirred a little in her sleep before settling again.

Allan looked at his brother. “This does it. I’m turning in my resignation and going back with her. I can use a secure phone to answer questions, but they don’t need me. I’m done.”

“No, I’ll quit. I can shove what few cases I have over onto someone else.”

“Then we’ll both friggin quit.”

They stared at each other over her sleeping form. Stalemate.

“You can’t quit,” Ben said. “Not yet. They need you.”

“She needs me more.”

“If Bianco skates, we’ll never be able to stop looking over our shoulders and you know it.”

Another stalemate.

Ben finally nodded. “Look, I’ll take a leave of absence. Personal leave. That way I’m still on the force and it avoids a ton of bullshit.

Not to mention I have something crazy like two months’ worth of vacation time built up. When I’m due in for testimony, I’ll come down. But you need to start carrying and wearing a vest all the time.

Promise? Deal?”

Allan stroked her forehead. He had a carry permit and Ben had trained him personally, but he didn’t like guns and hated using them.

He would, however, do whatever he had to for Libbie’s sake. “Deal,”

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he softly said.

Once sure she was deeply asleep. Allan carefully climbed out of bed and motioned Ben to do the same. Going into the bathroom, Allan shut the door and kept his voice low so it wouldn’t carry into the bedroom. “I need to call the office and tell them I’m not going to be in.”

“You have to go in. Witness statements this afternoon.”

“Crap.” He ran a hand through his hair. Upon doing so, he turned to the mirror and stared at his reflection. His dark roots were showing.

One of the things he hated most was dying his hair.

“It’s time for me to go back to being me.” He met Ben’s gaze in the mirror. “You don’t need to protect me. I need you to protect and take care of her.” He studied his reflection again. “There’s a place across the street. I’ll go there right now and have them put me back.

And new rules. No more bullshit about her not being able to call when she wants or needs to. If those assholes are truly that tech savvy, we’re screwed regardless. It’s more important for her to be able to talk to us. What if she’d broke down on the Alley on her way over here and couldn’t call for help because the crap-ass phone we gave her couldn’t pick up a signal?”

Ben nodded. Allan had expected at least token resistance to his demands, but Ben seemed broken, hollow. “Agreed,” Ben wearily replied. “And there are some of your suits down in the trunk of your car. I grabbed a few more while I was at the house.”

Allan grabbed the wallet in his pocket and handed it to Ben, who did the same. “So we’re back to being us again,” he said.

A soft snort escaped Ben.

“What?” Allan asked.

“I have a feeling Libbie won’t have any trouble at all telling us apart. Just like we couldn’t fool Mom, no matter how we tried.”

“Yeah.”

He looked at Allan. “We’re in agreement that we marry her, right?”

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“Bigamy is illegal in Florida.”

“Dumb-ass. We can have one of those handfasting ceremonies Mandaline was talking about at New Year’s.”

“I’m impressed. I didn’t think you were paying attention that night.”

“I’m a cop. I pay more attention than you think I do. Are we in agreement?”

“Yeah. How do we decide who legally marries her? Rock-Paper-Scissors-Lizard-Spock?” He smiled.

Ben rolled his eyes. “Libbie gets to decide that.” A brief frown crossed his lips. “Well, we need to propose to her and make sure she actually says yes.” He thought about it. “Then again, which of us has the better health plan?”

“Are you serious?”

“Damn serious. The first thing I want to happen once the ink is dry on the marriage certificate is for her to get put on someone’s health insurance so we can make her get taken care of properly.”

“You don’t think making decisions for her like that will piss her off?”

Ben was through arguing and justifying. “She’s going to learn to stop fighting us and let us take care of her so she can focus all of her energies on taking care of herself. And the baby.”

His throat grew tight, a lump swelling in it at that thought. “Our baby.” He stared at Allan. “If I tell you something, you have to promise not to make fun of me.”

One eyebrow arched. “That’s not an easy promise to make.”

“I’m serious.”

“Fine.”

He gathered his thoughts. “Back in college, I used to think it’d be nice if the two of us could find a woman we could settle down with 242 Tymber Dalton

together. And now we have.”

His brother’s expression softened, and he wasn’t prepared when Allan pulled him in for a brotherly bear hug. “You rat bastard, why didn’t you tell me before? I used to think that, too. I didn’t think back then that you’d want to share someone all the time.”

“So we’re agreed? Our wife, our baby, no matter what the paperwork says?”

Allan let him go, a grin on his face. “Yep. As long as she’ll have us two losers.”

He let Allan out of the room and locked the door behind him.

Then he found the TV remote, kicked off his shoes, and curled up next to Libbie to watch TV.

He wanted to giggle, but didn’t want to disturb her.

I’m going to be a dad. We’re going to be dads.

He wouldn’t let thoughts of Bianco spoil this for him.

It’s a Sweet Life

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Chapter Twenty-Two

“How fucking hard can it be to find a cop and an attorney for chrissake?”

Bianco stared at the three men standing before him in the Cracker Barrel men’s room. He had Feds on his tail every minute of the day, and suspected they were using wiretaps and other electronic surveillance to track his every word. Even Enrique couldn’t go anywhere without an unmarked car pulling out behind him.

“It’s not easy,” Florio said. “They’re not staying in one place. I can’t even find a permanent address for Ben Donohue, even with my sources in the department. And Allan Donohue is never at his home anymore. We can’t keep it staked out because it would look suspicious. That cop, though, he’s fucking cagy.”

“You know where his fucking office is. Find someone in there to get you information. And keep trying his home. He can’t stay away permanently.”

Florio nervously looked at Steve and Carlo, who kept glancing at the floor every time Bianco looked at them. “Is that clear?” Bianco ordered.

“Yes, boss,” Florio said. The other two nodded.

“You know which car is his. Find it, have someone on it all the time until you figure out where the fuck their cave is and smoke them the hell out. I’m running out of time here. I can’t believe no one has wanted to pick up the fucking bounty I’ve got on their heads. Can’t we put one of those fucking GPS trackers on his car or something?”

Florio shook his head. “It’s not like on TV, it’s—”

“I don’t fucking care if it’s like on TV or not, track his 244 Tymber Dalton

goddamned ass even if it means duct-taping a guy under his fucking car with a damn cell phone in his hand, you got me?”

All three men nodded. He dismissed them with a wave of his hand. Then he turned to the mirror. If he wasn’t under constant surveillance himself, he’d be happy to personally wait for Allan Donohue to get off work and have a little talk with him about his brother’s whereabouts before putting a bullet through his brainpan.

He washed his hands. I need them out of the picture now .

Libbie thought she was dreaming when she awoke to see two Allans standing, softly talking, on the far side of the room with their backs to the bed.

“Is double vision a pregnancy or fibro thing, do you think?”

Both men immediately turned at the sound of her voice, identical concerned frowns on their faces.

She burst out laughing. “I’m sorry, but my fibro fog isn’t bad enough, now you’re trying to confuse me?”

“Sorry, babe,” both men said at the same time.

That only served to make her laugh harder. “How long was I asleep, anyway, that they perfected cloning?” she asked.

“Smart-ass,” the Allan on the right said, his smirk betraying him.

She pointed. “Aaand there’s my Benjamin.”

“How’d you know?”

“Your voice. And that little smirk you do.”

They both walked over. “We’ve come to a few decisions while you were out,” Ben said. He laid out their plan for Ben to accompany her back to Brooksville. Then he helped her stand, while both of them knelt in front of her, each holding a hand.

Allan spoke. “We love you, and we’re sorry we had to be away from you. The next few months won’t be perfect, but…” He looked at Ben.

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They spoke at the same time. “Will you marry us?”

Overcome with her emotions, she couldn’t speak. She tightly squeezed their hands and nodded.

They stood and held her. “We’ll work out the details later,” Ben said. “Have Mandaline marry us, if you’d like. We want you to legally marry one of us for the health insurance.” They exchanged a glance. “We agreed it’s your decision, but maybe once we have a chance to look into our health insurance policies and see who’s got the better plan, it might be better to go that way.”

She shook her head. “I can’t decide between you. That’s not fair to even ask me.”

Allan caressed her cheek. “Seriously, we don’t care which one.

You’re our wife.” He grinned at his brother. “And regardless, you’ll still have our last name. If you want to,” he added. “All we care about is making sure you and our baby are well cared for.” Both men pressed their palms to her stomach. “And we don’t care which one of us is the father, either,” he said.

“Seriously,” Ben added.

She looked from one to the other. “Honestly? I don’t know if I can handle a car ride today.”

“We’ll leave early in the morning,” Ben said. “Allan’s going to go get my stuff from the other hotel. And I need to make some calls and hand off cases I’m working on.”

“I, unfortunately, do need to get going,” Allan said. He leaned in and kissed her. “I’ll be back later tonight. It’s going to take me a while. I have to be very careful.”

She nodded. “I understand.” She touched his hair. “I never did like you as a blond.”

He snorted. “See?” he said to Ben. “I told you that looked like crap.”

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Alone with Ben, there was something she wanted no matter how bad her pain. She draped her arms around him and wiggled her hips against his.

Immediately, his cock stiffened in his slacks. “You sure you’re up for this?”

She nodded. “I can see you are, too.”

He edged her over to the bed, where he carefully laid her down.

“You have nooo idea. I’ve had to rub one out every day missing you.”

He nibbled her neck. “How busy have you been, my dirty girl?”

“None,” she meekly said.

He sat up. “What?”

“I missed you guys too much.” She didn’t want to start crying again.

He looked shocked and saddened. “Oh, baby. I’m so sorry.” He lay down with her and held her in his arms. “Christ, I’m sorry.”

“I just couldn’t,” she whispered. “I’d think about you guys and start crying. It…it just wasn’t worth trying.”

“Shh, it’s okay.”

Ben hated himself. He knew she’d been lonely and in pain, but never dreamed this would also be a side effect of trying to keep her safe. Worse, now he felt like a selfish shit for masturbating while she was alone.

He got up, undressed, and quickly rejoined her. Slowly, he removed her clothes and kissed her flesh, wanting to take all her pain away, mentally and physically. He knew today couldn’t be one of their rough-and-tumble romps. She needed tender and sweet, mind and body.

After going down on her and making her come, he started to enter her when he stopped. “Crap.”

Her eyes flew open. “What?”

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247

“I don’t have any rubbers.”

She looked up at him. “What?”

He sat up. “Dammit. I’ll have Allan stop on his way—”

“Seriously?”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have any. It’s not like we’ve needed them.”

She propped herself up on her elbows. “You know, for a cop, you’re being amazingly stupid.”

He didn’t understand her aggravated tone. “What?”

“Think about it for a moment. It’ll come to you.”

Puzzled, he stared at her. Her eyebrows arched skyward.

When it hit him, he felt like the most stupid idiot in the world.

“Oh.”

She let out a snort. “Yeah, oh. You seriously kept you and Allan hid for months, and yet can’t remember I’m pregnant?”

He laughed. “All right, so I’m an idiot. Hey, it’s pretty new to me.” He kissed her, sliding his cock home as he did. Her chuckles turned into soft moans. It felt heavenly to finally be able to feel his flesh joined with hers like that without a barrier between them.

He found her hands and gently pinned them over her head. “I think you’re too mouthy. Let’s take care of that,” he whispered, kissing her again.

She whimpered, her hips rocking with his. It didn’t take but a moment for him to feel her come. While she’d come for him like this before, never had it felt this good. He kept his pace slow and even until he felt her come again a few minutes later. Only then did he pick up the pace, thrusting quickly until his balls drew up tight and for the first time able to bury himself deep inside as his cum flowed into her.

He rolled to his side, still inside her, arms wrapped around her.

“How do you think it happened?” she softly asked a while later.

“How what happened?”

“The baby.”

He laughed. “You don’t know how babies are made?”

“Smart-ass. We fucked like bunnies for months. I’ve only been 248 Tymber Dalton

feeling queasy for a few weeks.”

He shrugged, letting his fingers drift up and down her spine.

“How late do you think you are?”

“I don’t know for sure. I didn’t really keep track of it.”

“It likely happened that last night. Maybe a condom ripped, or maybe one of us stayed inside a little too long after we came. Maybe one of us had some on our hands and it happened that way, I don’t know.” He kissed her. “I don’t care how it happened.”

“You’re really happy about this?”

He tipped her chin so she had to meet his gaze. “Very. No, the circumstances aren’t perfect. But absolutely I’m happy. So’s Allan.”

“I hope it’s okay.”

He squeezed her tightly against him. “It’s going to be beautiful and perfect, just like his or her momma.”

She snickered. “I can’t wait to tell Allan you were really worried about not having a condom.”

He laughed. “Personally, I say wait to tell him. Let’s see if he’s smarter than I am.”

She giggled.

Allan hurried toward his office in his car, taking the time to backtrack a few times even though he knew there was no way in hell any of Bianco’s men could have spotted him. On the way back to the hotel later, sure, he’d damn well take all precautions.

But only after he had a chance to stop by his house first. There was something tucked in a jewelry box in his top dresser drawer that he’d held on to for years and that he wanted to pick up before he returned to the hotel.

Their mom’s wedding and engagement rings.

He suspected Ben would agree that it was perfect. And it would be a tangible reminder, even when both of them had to be away from her, It’s a Sweet Life 249

of their love.

He had to stifle a giggle as he hurried into the back entrance and to his office. I’m going to be a dad! He wanted to scream it to everyone and knew it had to stay secret.

Libbie had to stay secret.

He stopped by the receptionist’s desk. “Sorry I’m so late, had to take care of some stuff that cropped up. Anyone waiting on me?”

Technically, the first appointment wasn’t for another thirty minutes, but it didn’t hurt to check.

“Not yet. You all right, Allan? You look…different.”

He grinned. “I’m great. It’s a great day.”

She made an odd face. “It’s Monday.”

“I know. Isn’t it great?” He walked back to his office, resisting the urge to whistle all the way there. Even the uncomfortable, unfamiliar weight of Ben’s gun pressing against the front of his hip, combined with the bulletproof vest under his suit coat, couldn’t dampen his spirits.

Florio sat parked in a lot across the street from the government building’s employee lot. He’d considered sending a man in there to wait at Allan Donohue’s car and jump him, but realized there was too much security, as well as regular patrol sweeps by bailiffs, to pull it off.

Instead, he sent one of his men to Donohue’s house to watch there. He had two other guys stationed on either side of the parking lot he now sat in, so regardless which way Donohue turned when he left the garage, at least one guy should be able to tail him until everyone else could catch up.

Finally, close to six thirty, he saw Donohue’s car pull out of the garage and head north. He alerted his guys via the two-way phones he’d equipped them with, and soon the three of them were trying to 250 Tymber Dalton

follow Donohue through Miami traffic.

One of his guys was soon left behind, caught at a light behind another vehicle. As Donohue whipped through traffic, he realized if they hadn’t been made, they soon would be. He called ahead to the guy in front of him, who was three cars behind Donohue. “Circle the block and come up behind me,” he ordered. I’ll pull closer. I don’t want him making you.”

“Got it.” His man took the next right turn.

Florio waited until his other guy, the one caught by the light, caught up with him. “We’re going to leapfrog this fucker, got it? I’m going to circle around and come up from behind. Do. Not. Lose him.

Got it?”

“Got it.”

Florio felt his balls crawling up inside him as he turned off, losing sight of Donohue and his two guys. He was making another turn to catch up again when one of them called him. “He just took the Turnpike, heading south.”

“Stay with him. Take turns staying behind him. Don’t tip him off.” Traffic was heavy, but would quickly begin to thin out with the end of rush hour, increasing the chances of Donohue spotting them.

He made his way to the Turnpike and soon caught up with his men. He hung back several cars. “When he turns off, you two keep going and I’ll pick him up.”

That happened five miles later. Florio felt the sweat soaking his shirt despite the AC over the stress of not losing him until he knew his guys were behind him once again in traffic.

“I think he’s going to his house,” one of them said. “We’re close.”

Florio struggled with what to do. “Hang back. Let’s hope you’re right.”

Five minutes later, he nearly cried with relief when the guy staged in Donohue’s neighborhood, parked in the driveway of a foreclosed house nearly a block down, reported Donohue had just pulled in.

“Thank Christ. Something’s going right.”

It’s a Sweet Life

251

Allan had decided to go by his house before stopping by the hotel for Ben’s things. And it was so late that he’d grab his own stuff and check out tomorrow, after Libbie and Ben were safely out of Miami.

He didn’t think anyone had followed him, although once or twice not long after leaving work it had seemed like maybe there was. Each time, however, the car had turned.

I’m just paranoid.

He quickly went to his bedroom and found what he was looking for. He hadn’t opened the velvet jeweler’s box in years. He looked at them, smiling as he thought how beautiful the rings would look on Libbie’s finger.

He closed the case, pocketed it, and hurried back to his car.

“Look sharp, he’s coming,” Florio ordered. He’d told his guy who’d been waiting at the house to take the lead. With it growing dark, it’d be harder for Donohue to spot them. After thirty circuitous minutes, Donohue stopped at a hotel and pulled into their parking garage. Just as Florio was getting ready to send someone in to see what they could find out, Donohue reappeared with two suitcases, which he tossed into the backseat of his car and took off again.

“Now what?” one of his guys asked nearly an hour later after they’d followed him to another hotel, where he’d parked and gone inside.

“Now, we fucking wait, that’s what. Boss wants them both, but especially the cop.”

252 Tymber

Dalton

Libbie still couldn’t believe how much life had changed for her in the past few hours. She honestly had never considered the possibility that her nausea was from being pregnant. Fibro was the gold standard of mystery symptoms, and sometimes they even changed from week to week. But while waiting for Allan to return, they’d gone ahead and used the third test kit.

Positive.

Ben had room service brought up for lunch for them, and was getting ready to order it again for dinner when they heard a knock on the door. Ben silently walked up to the door and looked through the viewfinder before opening it.

Allan rushed in, dumping the two suitcases on the floor before grabbing Libbie and pulling her into his arms.

“There’s my girl.”

“You okay?”

He grinned. “I’m going to be a dad. I’m better than okay.” He looked at Ben. “I had to struggle to keep the shit-eating grin off my face all day.”

“No one followed you?”

“No way. And I got this.” He pulled a black velvet case out of his jacket and showed it to Ben. “Mom’s.”

Ben frowned. “Is that from your house? You went by your house?”

Allan’s smile faltered. “Yeah. What’s the big deal? You went by my house this morning.”

“Dude.” He shook his head. “That was risky. Twice in one day we go there, that’s fucking risky!”

“No one followed me. Now, can we do this right, or are you going to bust my balls all night?”

“What’s going on?” Libbie finally asked, confused by their behavior.

Ben joined Allan. Allan opened the case and withdrew a ring. Ben held her left hand steady while Allan slipped it on her finger. “This It’s a Sweet Life 253

was our mom’s engagement ring,” Allan said. “If it creeps you out, then we’ll get you something else, but—”

“I love it.” It was a simple setting holding a small stone, but to her it could just as easily have been the Hope Diamond.

Ben kissed her hand. “You still want to marry us?”

She nodded. “Yes. Absolutely.”

They got their dinner ordered, and it was all Libbie could do not to rip Allan’s clothes off him during the wait. Once the food arrived and they ate, Libbie didn’t waste any time.

And Allan, unlike Ben, didn’t need a reminder that condoms were unnecessary.

For the first night in months, she fell asleep with a smile on her face.

254 Tymber

Dalton

Chapter Twenty-Three

Florio jumped when the man walked up to his car and tapped on the window a little after one that morning. He rolled it down. “What?”

“Head boss sent this.” He handed Florio an envelope and walked away.

Florio ripped it open. Inside, an orange sticky note, hand-printed in black ink.

WHATEVER IT TAKES. BRING PROOF. BOTH.

He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. He didn’t like the idea of killing. He’d never had to do it before, either. Until last month, he’d been running numbers and doing courier work down in Hialeah, reporting to Enrique’s brother.

He always knew who was really in charge of the operation, but he’d never met Bianco personally until the other day.

Frankly, he’d hoped he never would.

He knew damn well what kind of “proof” he was being ordered to get. The thought of killing someone and taking their head wasn’t on his top-ten list of favorite things.

He also knew it meant his head if he didn’t do it.

He’d ordered in a couple of reinforcements and stationed them in cars on various levels in the parking garage. They would stay on Donohue until he led them to the cop.

He was hoping they’d both appear in the morning, but he didn’t get his hopes up.

In the morning, he sent a guy into the hotel’s restaurant, where he could sit with a clear view of the elevators and front desk. His other guys had the garage covered. Wherever one or both of them came out, It’s a Sweet Life 255

he’d know about it.

At 8:11, his lobby guy spoke into his radio. “Donohue and a woman, coming out of the elevators in the lobby.”

Florio felt a second wave of energy flow through him. “Stay on him.”

Then one of his guys, watching the car in the garage, spoke up.

“Then who da fuck’s getting in Donohue’s car?”

Florio blinked, trying to make sense of it in his sleep-deprived state. “Fuck! They’re both here. Don’t lose either of them!”

Two of his guys followed the parking garage Donohue. He got in his car and headed out, Florio’s guys on his tail.

“What about the other one? Which one is which? They fucking look alike.”

He was betting the one who’d just left was the attorney. “Stay on the guy in the lobby.”

“Got it.”

Ten minutes later, the other Donohue and the woman left the lobby, luggage in hand, and headed to the parking garage, too. They got into an older Toyota Corolla with a Hernando County tag on the back, Donohue driving, and headed out of the garage.

“Stay on him,” Florio said. He grabbed a throwaway cell and dialed a number he’d memorized.

A man answered. “Yeah?”

He read off the plate number and hung up. Five minutes later, the same man called back with a name—LacieBelle Addams. More importantly, he now had an address in Brooksville.

Florio jotted the info down and hung up as he pulled out of the parking lot and followed his men.

“Stay with them,” he told everyone. “You fucking lose them, and I’ll kill you myself.”

256 Tymber

Dalton

Allan headed toward his office. He didn’t bother trying to be evasive. Ben’s plan hinged upon anyone following Allan to take off after him, allowing Ben to get Libbie safely out of the hotel and on the road to Brooksville without detection.

As he drove, he caught sight of a couple of cars who kept an unusually consistent distance between him and them.

“That’s it, assholes. Follow me,” he muttered at his rearview mirror.

Libbie kept glancing behind them but had to admit she had no clue what she was looking for. “I can’t tell if anyone’s behind us or not.”

Ben looked grim. “Two, at least. Possibly a third.”

She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop.” He squeezed her knee before returning his hand to the wheel. “Quit apologizing.” He handed her his cell phone. “Change of plans. Call Allan for me.” He rattled off the number for her and she dialed it and hit send before returning the phone to him.

Without taking his eyes off the road, he talked. “They’re on us…

Right. Plan B.” He hung up and handed her the phone.

“What’s plan B?”

He smiled, but it looked cold. “You have a jacket or something in your bag?”

“Yeah?”

“Unbuckle your seat belt and get it. And while you’re back there, open my duffel bag. In the top, there’s a bulletproof vest.”

“How are you going to put it on if you’re driving?”

He looked at her. “I’m not. You are. And put your jacket on over it.”

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257

Allan swore as he changed directions and jumped back on the Turnpike. He knew what plan B meant, and he didn’t like it in the least. This time, he paid close attention to who was following him and easily lost both cars. As he drove, he pulled up Ben’s friend’s number in West Palm. By the time he got him updated and got off the phone with him, he wondered if Ben’s plan would even work.

He made it to the storage unit complex thirty minutes later. Jake was already waiting for him in the parking lot. When Allan got out, he saw Jake Suarez was also wearing a vest. “Everything ready?”

“Yeah. I unlocked the unit already. I’ve got SO scrambled and on their way now. They’re going to coordinate with the Feds.” The grizzled retired cop nodded. “Those assholes get here, they’re fucking trapped inside the gate.”

They turned as three unmarked units and a SWAT wagon rolled into the parking lot. Jake conferred with the commander of the group, who quickly went inside the storage complex office to commandeer the premises and position his men.

Allan pulled his car into the complex and drove around to Ben’s unit, where he parked in front of it at an angle. The plan was for Ben to pull up behind him, and Libbie could jump out of the car and duck into the unit, shielded by vehicles from both directions. He’d have the door open a couple of feet and would pull it down as soon as she was safely inside.

Jake rode with him, a shotgun lying across his lap.

“You sure you want to be in on this?” Allan asked.

The old Cubano grinned. “Fucking Bianco’s goons killed one of my friends in Narcotics a few years ago. Bastard skated on the charge.

We catch these fuckers, some or all of them will flip. They’re not his A-team, that’s for fucking sure. They’ll have enough against Bianco to revoke his bail and sit his ass in jail for the rest of his miserable goddamned life.”

258 Tymber

Dalton

“What’s going on?” Ben hated the fear in Libbie’s voice, but he knew this was the only way they would ever be free of Bianco’s men.

“Detour. We need to go meet Allan.”

“Then why the vest?”

“Because I don’t know what might happen.”

“Can’t we call the police or something and have them stop these guys?”

He laughed. “Well, I am the police, sweetheart. And believe me, they’ve been called.”

As long as Jake and Allan didn’t screw things up, they should have some of Bianco’s men trapped in the storage complex, which only had one entrance. The SWAT team should have men positioned at the perimeter and on rooftops inside the complex to provide backup.

All he had to do was get Libbie inside the storage unit, pull the door down, and get her deep inside behind boxes until the all-clear was sounded.

That was the one variable he hadn’t counted on when he had created the plan weeks ago when they returned to Miami. They couldn’t very well bring in every single one of Bianco’s men piecemeal with no cause. It wasn’t against the law to safely drive a vehicle on the streets of Miami.

But more than one of them following him into a private facility would show cause. Cause that the Feds could leverage against the assholes to make them flip.

When it was just him and Allan, he felt confident the plan was a slam dunk.

All he had to do now was make sure Libbie stayed safe.

It’s a Sweet Life

259

Libbie fought the nausea rising in her gut as Ben calmly told her what was going to happen. She suspected he was leaving out details out of fear she’d be scared, but she didn’t want to get sick and ruin the plan.

She pulled the jacket on over the bulletproof vest and buckled her seat belt. “This sounds dangerous.”

“It’s okay, baby. We never thought we’d get a chance like this.

It’ll be fine. There will be SWAT all over the place.”

Florio beat on his steering wheel when the ones following the first Donohue lost him. “You fucktards! How the fuck did you lose him?”

He braked hard and hit the horn when a car cut him off, then swerved around the car to pick up the Toyota again. “Fucking get your asses up here, now.” He told them where they were. “Catch up with us.”

Five of them, including himself, were now following the Toyota.

When the Donohue driving slowed down to the speed limit upon hitting the Turnpike and heading north, Florio wasn’t sure if it was sleep deprivation or joy that something had finally gone right that made him smile.

“He thinks he’s clear. Stay close and switch positions often. Don’t lose him.”

One more of his guys had caught up with them before they turned off at West Palm and headed west.

“We’re getting close, I think,” Florio said. “Stay sharp.”

Ben made sure not to lose his pursuers as he made the turn into the storage unit complex. Only once he saw two of the cars pull in behind him did he floor it, whipping the wheel to the left as he braked 260 Tymber Dalton

hard and took the corner at the end of the main aisle. He jammed the accelerator to the floor, braking at the last possible second and sliding in behind Allan’s car with a squeal of tires and a jolt as the Toyota’s front bumper made contact with the rear of Allan’s car.

The airbags deployed, startling Ben. “Fuck! Libbie, get out, now!”

He clawed at the airbag deflating in front of him and unbuckled his seat belt.

Behind them, he heard tires screaming on the concrete and the sound of one of them making impact with a building somewhere.

She struggled with her belt when Allan yanked her door open and grabbed her arm. Ben reached over and got her seat belt unbuckled.

Allan swore as Ben overshot and hit his back bumper. Despite Jake warning him not to, he ducked through the door and yanked the passenger side door open. Libbie was still belted in, but Ben got her unbuckled as he heard the sound of approaching vehicles.

As he pulled her from the car, he handed her over to Jake, who bodily dragged her under the door and into the unit when she tried to resist.

“Go!” Allan screamed at her. He started to see if Ben needed help when the driver’s door opened. He turned back to the overhead door to duck under, into safety, when he realized the impact had pushed the front bumper of his car into the other side of the door.

No way it would go down.

Four cars had made their way into the aisle and were racing toward them. One slid to a stop sideways, catching the rear of Libbie’s car with the passenger door. The driver pointed his gun at Allan and fired.

It’s a Sweet Life

261

Libbie screamed, thrashing, still disoriented from the impact as the man dragged her under the door and into the unit.

“Lady, stop it! I’m a friend of Ben’s!”

She let him lead her through a narrow passageway of boxes in the unit when she turned at the sound of a crash, followed immediately by the sound of a shot.

She pulled her hand free, screaming for her men and racing back to the doorway even as the man tried to drag her away from the door.

Ben had made it around the driver’s door when the car swung around and into the back of Libbie’s.

We’re going to owe her a new car. The thought flitted through his brain in the space of time it took him to draw his weapon and come up, ready to fire. When he saw the driver point his weapon at Allan, he fired first, taking the guy’s head off and leaving a spray of blood and brain matter on the inside of the driver’s window.

He met Allan’s gaze and started to yell at him to take cover, when another car veered past, taking out the driver’s door and throwing him ten feet through the air, where he landed on his back by Allan’s front tire.

His gun flew from his hand as the wind was knocked out of him.

“Yeah!” Florio screamed as he saw the man go flying. He slammed the car into park and jumped out, ready to finish the fucker off when the guy’s twin launched himself at him over the hood of the wrecked Toyota, knocking him to the ground.

262 Tymber

Dalton

Allan lost his gun when he tackled the man. He nearly had him when the fucker got a lucky punch in and broke free, aiming his gun at Ben. He’d started to kick at him when he heard Libbie scream from behind him.

“No!”

Instinctively, as the gunman turned toward Libbie, Allan dove for her, wrapping his arms around her and shielding her body with his.

He didn’t know if the impact he felt in the middle of his spine was from them hitting the pavement, or from the shot that he heard ring out. Either way it felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to his ribs in an attempt to pound the air from his lungs.

Libbie felt the air crushed from her as she hit the ground underneath Allan. She was vaguely aware of people running up, cops in SWAT gear. One of them pulled her out from under Allan, but the world moved in slow motion. She turned back toward Allan as they forcibly dragged her away. She saw he wasn’t moving.

And that the back of his shirt looked like it had been blown open.

She fought, screaming, as she lost sight of him as two men bent over him. Ben was slowly sitting up with the assistance of someone else and she sobbed in relief at that, but still clawed at the two men now dragging her away to get free.

She had to get back to Allan.

Her ears still rang from the sounds of the blasts and she could barely hear what anyone was saying.

“…shot…”

“…officer down…”

“…ambulance…”

That was when her stomach lost the battle she’d fought against morning sickness all morning. Everything she’d eaten in their room a little after dawn came roaring back up as her world went black.

It’s a Sweet Life

263

Chapter Twenty-Four

“Take it easy, ma’am. You’re okay.”

Libbie tried to sit up, but realized she’d been strapped down and from the looks of it was in the back of an ambulance. The weight pressing against her chest from the bulletproof vest she wore didn’t help. She immediately began struggling with the EMT, thrashing and screaming at him to let her up. He tried to hold her down when she slipped an arm free and clawed at him.

“I need some damn help back here!” the man yelled. “She’s going crazy!”

The rear doors flew open. Libbie made out two dark figures backlit by the bright afternoon sun. As they scrambled inside, she sobbed with relief when two Donohue brothers pushed in, one on either side of the stretcher, to calm her. One was shirtless, the other had a streak of dried blood down his left temple.

She grabbed their hands and quit fighting. Her screams turned to relieved sobs as she squeezed their hands as hard as she could to reassure herself there were two and not just one of them in some crazy double-vision illusion.

“You’re okay,” Ben said, the dried blood apparently not indicating a serious wound. “Calm down.”

“You got shot,” she said to Allan, who winced as he moved as if he was in a lot of pain.

“Bulletproof vest.” He leaned in and kissed her, groaning as he did. “Fucker would have shot you if I hadn’t. What the hell were you thinking, baby?”

“Are you all right? Are both of you all right?”

264 Tymber

Dalton

“Yeah, we’re okay,” Ben said, “but Jake is pretty damn upset.”

“Jake?”

Allan nodded. “Poor guy’s sitting on the ground with an icepack on his balls. Did you have to kick him in the nuts? He was trying to help keep you safe.”

She felt her face heat. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

Someone leaned into the back of the ambulance. “Detective Donohue? The major needs to speak with you.”

“Be right there.” He kissed her before he unhooked the gurney straps. “You. Stay. Here. And quit fighting and kicking everyone.

You already threw up on two SWAT guys in addition to poor Jake.”

She didn’t miss the proud twinkle in his eye.

“And she tried to take my eyes out,” the EMT grumbled from somewhere behind her head.

She looked back. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ll behave. I promise.”

Allan leaned back, wincing in pain.

“You want me to take a look at you?” the EMT asked.

He shook his head. “I can wait. How is she?”

“Who’s the lucky father again?” the EMT asked.

“It doesn’t matter.”

The EMT snorted. “Yeah, it will to him. If she’s this wound up and only in her first trimester, I pity the guy who’s got to put up with her hormones for the other six or seven months.”

Allan winked at Libbie. “You just have to know how to hold her down is all.”

It’s a Sweet Life

265

Epilogue

I wonder if the same superstition about rain on wedding days applies to fog?

Libbie looked outside the bathroom window. She’d barely made it to the toilet in time to empty her bladder. Now with that chore taken care of, she saw the fog, which had moved in late the night before, still clung to the ground, swirling around the trees in the wooded lot behind the bakery.

Yesterday had been a foggy Thanksgiving morning. Looked like today would follow suit.

“Did you fall in?” Ben called out.

Somewhere in the living room, Allan snickered. “She’s too big to fall in.”

“Bite me!” she called back, unable to suppress her smile.

“We will!” they both yelled back.

She washed her hands and waddled out into the living room. Ben was starting the coffee, while Allan had turned the TV on to the morning news. He leaned over and lifted her nightshirt to kiss her swollen belly. “Good morning, munchkins.”

“Yeah, you say that now,” she said as she stretched her back with a groan. “You just wait until you and Ben are doing midnight feedings. Mornings won’t look so good then. You didn’t spend the night with them trying to kick your bladder into a pulp.”

She heard the sound of feet pounding up the stairs before someone rapped on the door.

knockknockknock “Libbie.” knockknockknock “Libbie.”

knockknockknock “Libbie.”

266 Tymber

Dalton

“Ah, the bridesmaids are early.” Allan opened the door.

Mandaline and Sachi stood there, Mandaline holding a large, white garment bag, and Sachi carrying a duffel bag.

“What are you two still doing here?” Mandaline scolded. “Get out! You can’t see the bride before her wedding.”

“They did more than see her,” Sachi joked, pointing at Libbie’s belly.

“We’re going,” Ben said. “You didn’t want us leaving you with her without making her coffee first, did you?” He brought a steaming mug over to Libbie, who gratefully took it. He kissed her. “We’re going. We’re heading across the hall to get our showers, and we’ll see you at Grover’s at noon.” He kissed her one more time. “Love you.”

Allan kissed her as well. “Love you.”

She smiled. “Love you both.”

“Oh, for crap’s sake,” Sachi teased, “they knocked you right the hell up already. Quit with the mooney eyes for all of a few hours so we can make an honest woman out of you, cancha?”

The morning flew by, with her friends helping her get her hair and makeup done, helping her dress, and Libbie was ready to go when the limo pulled up, with Grover in the back, at a quarter ’til twelve to ferry them over.

Grover climbed the stairs to help her down. She didn’t miss the way his eyes suddenly looked too bright as he stared at her. “My, you’re beautiful, missy.”

“Dammit, Grover,” Sachi scolded as she fussed with Libbie’s train. “Don’t you dare cry and make her cry.”

Mandaline laughed. “Okay, let’s get moving.”

Grover hugged Libbie. “Your mom and dad would be so proud of you.”

She couldn’t help but think of her parents all morning. The men had immediately agreed to her request to stop by the cemetery after the wedding and reception were over, to lay some flowers at their graves.

It’s a Sweet Life

267

Then when they reached Miami, where they were spending their honeymoon, she wanted to visit the graves of their mom and dad, too.

She tightly held on to Grover’s arm as he helped her down the stairs. “How are those babies this morning?” he asked.

She laughed. “I know the doc said I’m not due for another few weeks, but I’ll be happy when they come.” Two boys, both healthy, as proclaimed by her ob-gyn, who’d performed the necessary tests to prove to Libbie that her babies were fine.

Grover let out a sad sigh. “I know your mom and dad never told you this, but twins run in your family, too.”

She stopped, shocked. “What?”

He nodded. “They had a set of boys before you were born.” He looked sad. “Stillborn. Your momma was heartbroken. Your dad told me they weren’t going to tell you until or unless you had kids of your own. That’s why they didn’t have any other kids after you. Your mom was too afraid to lose another baby.”

“That’s why,” she said, feeling a little numb, “when I asked her why they didn’t have any more kids, she told me that they got it right the first time and didn’t need to try again.”

“Hey!” Sachi yelled up the stairs. “Those kids are going to be in college by the time we get there if you don’t hurry up!”

They continued down the stairs. “She’s feisty, isn’t she?” Grover asked.

Libbie laughed. “That’s one word for it. But I love her.” In the months since returning to Brooksville following the showdown at the storage yard, and the subsequent hearings and depositions and trial, Libbie had become quite close with Sachi, and even closer with Mandaline. As well as several other regulars from Many Blessings.

Mandaline and Sachi had even made several trips with her from Brooksville to Miami when both Allan and Ben were stuck there during the trial.

Bianco had been arrested immediately, his bond revoked after two of his men at the showdown quickly cut a deal with the Feds to testify 268 Tymber Dalton

against him, as did Bianco’s in-house computer geek.

They also provided information tying the mob boss to the death of the witness found in Naranja, and to Leeza Maxwell’s murder.

Libbie didn’t know what she would have done without the women’s support and love throughout the long and arduous summer.

Today, however, Libbie didn’t want to think about any of that.

Bianco would never be free again. Today was about dreams coming true. Sachi would be her maid of honor, while Mandaline performed the ceremony.

And Grover would walk her down the aisle and give her away.

They’d decided she would legally marry Ben. Even though he’d already resigned from the department, she could get coverage through his health insurance.

And she’d already made peace with the fact that she didn’t care which man had fathered her children…or which one might father any future children. They were both the fathers, just as they were both her men.

She blinked as they stepped out the door and into the sunlight.

“Looks like the fog’s finally lifted,” she noticed.

Sachi, who’d grabbed Libbie’s train as she emerged from the building, waved her toward the car. “Fog, schmog. We’ve got a wedding to get to.”

Grover and the driver helped her in, followed by Mandaline and Sachi, before the driver closed the door and they departed for Grover’s house. Between the Johnson brood and her friends and customers, there were over a hundred expected to swarm the house and property.

Luckily, Sachi had suggested renting portable toilets to handle everyone.

It wasn’t until Grover and Libbie paused at the end of the aisle and she looked down to where Allan and Ben waited for her that she finally accepted her dream was coming true. With the wedding processional music softly playing, the crowd stood and turned to It’s a Sweet Life 269

watch her approach.

“Grover?”

“Yeah, sweetie?”

She smiled. “I think you don’t need to worry about needing your woodchipper anymore.”

He laughed and squeezed her arm. “No, baby doll, I’d say those boys have done more than right by you. You happy?”

She nodded. “Happier than I’ve ever been.”

“It’s a sweet life.”

Libbie happily sighed. “It sure is.”

THE END

Content

IT’S A SWEET LIFE
Coffeeshop Coven - 0.5
Tymber Dalton

DEDICATION

AUTHOR’S NOTE

FOREWORD

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Epilogue