Page 16 of Triple Tidings
We’re so close I can smell his aftershave, and a warm weight drops in my pelvis as he draws nearer, his abdomen brushing my knees. “A bonk,” August echoes, obviously amused at this as he shines the phone’s light into each of my eyes in turn. “Just here?” He lowers the device to the desk beside me and lifts his hands to cradle my head, brushing both thumbs over a place in the center of my forehead.
Um. Okay. This is… Okay. Wow.
I’m not sure I’m breathing as another figure appears in my peripheral vision.
Wells has come to stand beside August, frowning as he watches the doctor press carefully against the place where I hit myself. “What kind of doctor are you, anyway?” he asks, still a little gruff, but less frosty than he was earlier.
As close as we are, I see the corners of August’s lips pull up ever so slightly. “An ophthalmologist.” My expression must lookas bemused as Wells’, because after a quick glance at the man beside him, August chuckles, shaking his head. “Eyeballs. I fix eyeballs.”
“Ohhhh,” is the unified response from me and Wells, as the doctor finally lets his hands fall back to his sides.
“You’re fine,” he decides, his tone dry. “It was, indeed, just abonk.”
Wells frowns at him, unconvinced. “You’re sure?”
The doctor glances at him. “As sure as I can be without a CT machine.”
This doesn’t seem to be an acceptable answer for our not-so-friendly neighborhood bookstore/coffee shop owner. “You do eyes, not heads. Should we get her to a doctor who deals with heads?”
“Oh, come on.” I nudge Wells’ knee with my foot, shaking my head in disbelief. “My eyeballs are in my head, so August is definitely qualified for this totally unnecessary medical evaluation. It doesn’t even hurt anymore. You can stop fussing,daddy.”
What I feel following this statement is similar to what one would feel watching your freshly cooked dinner slide off a plate and onto the floor. My stomach basically flops over and off the desk, landing on the floor with a splat, exactly like my handmade pasta primavera did that one time.
I didn’t actually just say that, did I?
Oh my god.No.I did.I did say it. It was a joke, but I’m guessing it didn’t read as a joke, judging by how the newly relaxed atmosphere hastightenedsomehow.
When I can’t stand even another second of it, I let out a feeble, semi-hysterical laugh. “Sorry! Just joking!” I assure the two men, who are staring at me, like… No. I’m wrong. This is… notthat.
Thatdoesn’t even happen in real life, does it?
I always thought threesomes were kind of an urban legend. A hot, mythical occurrence, only spoken of during drunken, highly exaggerated girls' night stories. I mean, come on. Apart from my two ill-advised one-night stands, I haven’t been able to find a single decent man to have sex with in ages. Purely from a statistical standpoint, what are my chances of bagging two at once?
It seems to take an age for the three of us to pull ourselves free from whatever weird time warp we were stuck in. When we finally do, and I can breathe again, August seems to shake himself, clearing his throat as he steps back from the desk.
“She’s fine,” he assures Wells again, offering him a cautious smile.
The gesture isn’t returned. Casting a long look between us, Wells’ lips tighten, and he turns toward the stairs with only a curt nod in way of goodbye. As he ascends toward the second floor, I notice how his hands have balled into fists at his sides.
His big, strong, calloused hands, which felt so good when he—oh my god. I need to get it together.
“I’ll let you get back to work,” August tells me once Wells has disappeared from view and we’ve heard the distant sound of a room door opening and closing. When I turn to meet his eyes, I see he’s shoving his hands in the pockets of his coat. I’m not sure if it’s my imagination or not, but I swear I see him shift the material over his lap.
Nodding, I avert my gaze and retreat to the back of the desk, where the produce order form is still waiting for completion. Rather like myself.
“Of course, I shouldn’t have kept you. Let me know if you need anything, Doctor Vogel,” I say hurriedly, heat rushing to my cheeks at the thought of precisely how one of those urgent tasks could be finished up.
“August,” he corrects me again, but I keep my eyes on the form, pretending to read the meaningless jumble of words as August’s footsteps retreat toward the upper floor.
Finally, when I hear a second door open and close, I sag against the reception desk, pressing my palms to my burning cheeks. It takes a few minutes of breathing in and out through my nose to get myself under control. What started out as a whole lot of potential awkwardness now feels charged for something else entirely
This whole situation… I mean,come on.
Two really hot, older men who apparently used to fuck, and found themselves staying at the same bed and breakfast over Christmas. Alone. With the manager they both slept with, and her newly rediscovered libido.
Thank god my vibrator is charged.
Seven
