Page 20 of Triple Tidings
“We wanted to apologize,” says August, after a moment of silence. “Both of us.” He glances at Wells, who nods in agreement.
I blink, taken off guard. “Apologize?” I echo, searching my memory for anything that either of them might have done that constitutes an apology.
“Yes,” August confirms grimly. “We shouldn’t have put you in that position earlier. Things got a little…” He trails off, glancing at Wells.
“Intense?” supplies the second man, his tone dry.
Looking a little embarrassed, August continues, “Wells and I obviously have a history, but that’s our problem. This is your workplace, and I’m sure we made you uncomfortable by dragging you into it. It won’t happen again.”
Biting my lip, I look back and forth between them, trying to dismiss the prickly, restless sensation that seems to be spreading beneath my skin the longer I spend alone with both these men.
“I wasn’t uncomfortable. I just… I like both of you.” Wells and August glance at each other, then back to me, and I hear a nervous giggle bubble from between my lips. “Together, I mean. Or separately. I mean—” I literally don’t know what is coming out of my mouth right now, I’m so nervous. Is this an appropriate response? Am I speaking English? Who knows.
Whatever the case, Ireallyneed to get out of here.
“We talked today,” says August at last, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “We put a lot behind us, thanks to you.”
Thanks to me?
“Oh. I-I’m really happy for both of you,” I reply a little lamely as I battle with my desire to ask a whole lot of follow-up questions. I don’t trust myself to say more than the bare minimum right now, especially with the way my heart has sunk right into my shoes at this news.
Are they getting back together? Picking up where they left off?
Maybe they’ll come back to visit The Chestnut every year at Christmas, celebrating where their new start began, happy and in love, while the friendly neighborhood B&B manager dies a bit more with each visit.
Wells leans forward, bracing his forearms on his knees, and even as I lower my eyes to the floor, I can’t escape the weight of his gaze. “You don’t seem very happy for us, Lacey. Is something bothering you?”
Oh my god, he can’t actually be expecting me to admit it, can he? I’m so confused that I can barely acknowledge the truth of my feelings tomyself, never mind speak it out loud. It’s already pretty clear that these guys have a little more insight into me than I’m entirely comfortable with, and I need to get my butt out of here before I embarrass myself further.
“I—I—” I take a step back toward the door. “I should go.”
“Or you could stay,” August suggests mildly, lifting his eyebrows. “No pressure. I believe I’m speaking for Wells and myself, though, when I say we’d like you to.”
Is he asking me to… I’m not confident I’m actually breathing when I find the courage to look at them. “Are you inviting me to have a threesome?”
Nine
Lacey
In my experience, mortification is the correct response when one says something incredibly inappropriate, and asking my guests if they’re inviting me to have a threesome certainly qualifies. Yet, as I stare at the two men in front of me, the hot, twisty feelings of horror and shame never come.
Probably because, when someone says something incredibly inappropriate and unwarranted toyou, the correct response also happens to be mortification, and neither Wells nor August looks particularly troubled by what I just said.
Silence stretches on for seconds as all three of us seem to process the words that just came out of my mouth—the ones I still can’t decide whether I want to shove back in or not.
“I would be lying if I said the idea isn’t… appealing to me,” offers August at last, his voice a note lower than it was a moment ago, and each word carefully measured.
A weight drops into my core as my eyes flick automatically to Wells, searching for signs he doesn’t agree with what August just said. There is something in his expression that I’ve seen before, though, something that makes the tugging sensation below my navel grow much more insistent.
Hungry.
He lookshungry.
“Is that what you want, Lace?” he finally asks, the words a deep, gravelly rumble. “To fuck us both?”
The question isn’t veiled behind anything, as mine was. There is nothing suggestive or subtle about it, just the truth I really believed I wasn’t ready to acknowledge to myself only a few moments ago. There’s nowhere to hide except behind lies, and if these men have the courage to be honest…
I push out a long, uneven breath, my head spinning as my head bobs up and down in a shaky nod. “Yes.”
