Page 256 of Double Daddies
“It’smylife, Tris. I’m not stuck in an office or the labs for twenty hours a day and spending the other four worrying about what consequences my team’s inventions will have on the world. I’m not stressing over corporate espionage, hostile takeovers, and all the other bullshit that comes along with running a business of that size and nature.” Mack sighed and lifted his face to the sky. “I get into bed at night and I’m surrounded by the two people I love. I’ve got laughter and love, the support of twoamazing people, and that… it’s more fulfilling than all the money I made.”
Personally, Tristan couldn’t imagine choosing heart over money. The heart was a fragile thing, too easy to snare and far, far too simple to break. It wanted to love and receive love in return—a fair exchange, all in all. But it didn’t matter who it attached itself to—a spouse, a lover, a friend, even family—it would shatter eventually through words or actions.
Money… well, he could drop a quarter million dollars in a night at the casino and the interest on his trust fund would cover that by the next day. It was a tool, an aid, a means to an extravagant end. It couldn’t break a man’s heart unless he was stupid, and Tristan Holdsworth was not a stupid man.
They walked up the steps to the front door and Tristan stepped forward to open it. “I never envisioned this life for you, Mack. You were alwaysMaverick Morehead. Esteemed scientist, developer of untold technological advances.”
Shaking his head, Mack gave him a rueful grin. “I was never the scientist, Tris. That’s why I had the best team available to me. All I did was come up with ideas, viable or not, and they were the magicians. The company was just… a shell that contained all that genius and flaunted it. Turns out, I have a greater purpose here.”
“Must be nice to have a greater purpose.” There was humor in his tone, but Tristan felt his own words bite. After all, there wasn’t one on his horizon. He’d made his bed as a manwhore for years and now… he wasn’t sure fucking half the world’s female population qualified as great or purposeful.
“I’m where I belong, Tristan. How about you?”
As they pushed into the bar, Tristan shot him a side glance. “Am I where I belong?”
“Nice try, smartass. I meant, what have you been doing?”
“Oh, this and that. Jet-setting here, sunbathing naked over there… you know, living the extreme high life where I don’t lift a finger and just exist.” Christ, he was becoming an expert at taking shots at himself today. “Same old, same old. You know how it is.”
“We need to find you a hobby.” Mack lifted his hand to the buff, bearded blond behind the bar who’d served Tristan earlier.
“Sex is my hobby.”
“Sex is the elixir of life, sex is my hobby,” he mocked, rolling his eyes. “Sex can’t be the sole reason for your existence, Tris. Doesn’t it get boring?”
“Doesn’t your dick get bored only fucking your husband and wife? I mean, it makes a change, seeing as you were pretty much a nun before you came here, but the same pieces of ass again and again… yeah, it doesn’t appeal.” At least, it never had. Somehow, the game of hunt and capture was losing its luster and he… something inside him wanted stability, comfort, continuity.
“Liam and I don’t fuck each other. I love Sierra, he loves Sierra, and she loves both of us. Not that I don’t love him—I married them both, after all—but it’s not a sexual kind of love.”
“No crossed swords?”
“No. Maybe if Sierra asked for it, we’d consider it.”
“Mack.” The blond winked at him, then turned gray eyes on Tristan. His eyebrow flicked up. “Back again so soon?”
“I’m a sucker for punishment,” Tristan said dryly, earning a concerned look from Liam and an elbow in the ribs from Mack.
“Ignore him, Liam. He makes it his mission to be an entitled asshole whenever possible. This is Tristan,” Mack introduced, ramming him again with his elbow. “Tris, this is Liam, my husband.”
“Tristan…theTristan?” Liam’s expression altered completely as realization dawned. He leaned over the bar, handoutstretched for a shake. “Why the hell didn’t you say anything earlier? Any friend of Mack’s is welcome here.”
The handshake was brief but warm. The bartender’s grip was formidable; strong, firm, nothing like the weak, lackluster shakes Tristan usually encountered on his travels.
“I was trying to be incognito for a few days, but that didn’t work out.”
“Is Sierra still at the store?” Mack asked, scouring the room.
“No, she closed up twenty minutes ago. She’s tucked away in the back room, doing something delicate and finicky. It’s a DND situation—Do Not Disturb,” Liam explained when Tristan’s brow furrowed. “Our wife often has sharp implements in her hands, so when she calls a DND, we give her space.”
“Sounds… volatile.”
“You’ll love her. Liam, can you take a break while we wait for her?”
“Sure. So, Tristan, met any subs—or Dommes—while you’ve been here?”
“How longhaveyou been here?” Mack demanded.
Ah, and so the inquisition began. Raising his hands in surrender, he watched Liam duck behind the bar and come back up with three dark blue glass bottles. Not a brand of beer he recognized, he thought, but he was willing to try something new. “I’ve only been here a few hours. Decided I’d come for a visit seeing as my invitation to your wedding got lost in the mail.”
