“I think the steaks are close,” Tristan says, dusting off his hands and tilting my chin up until I’m blinking into his soft, hazel eyes. “How about I pop the pies in the oven while you take the sides out to the table?”
“But they’re not finished,” I murmur, suddenly lost in the seductive swirl of his scent. “Maybe I should make some peppermint ice cream.” Some small part of my still-functioning brain knows I should leave it there, but my tongue has other ideas. “You smell sogood, Tristan, sometimes I have to stop myself from leaning over and licking you.”
I’m pretty sure I can hear Kaysie snickering at me, but embarrassment can’t compete with the wave of longing as he lifts a hand to brush my cheek. “You smell pretty amazing, too.”
“As good as cheery… I meancherrypie?”
“Even better,” he murmurs, tucking a wild curl behind my ear. “But I think you’ve worked hard enough for one day. You should lean on us more, okay?”
“Mmm.” It’s an even better suggestion than Tristan-scented ice cream, and I rest my head on his shoulder, tipping my head back to sniff his neck. He’s wearing a soft linen shirt, the top two buttons undone, and I have to bite back a moan. The fact that there’s now two of him seems irrelevant when they’re both so damn pretty.
I must have said that part out loud, because I can feel his soft chuckle against my cheek, which is now firmly pressed to his throat. “Thank you, sweetheart. You’re pretty amazing yourself, you know?”
“I’m a mess,” I mutter, lifting my hand to rearrange my bandana, but all I manage to do is snag my fingers in my curls. Huh. I’m not wearing a bandana, because I’m not at the farm. In fact, my days on the farm might be numbered, like some doomsday countdown clock… A wave of misery grips me so hard, I feel tears burn behind my eyes. “I think I’m going to lose the farm, Tristan.”
“No, you’re not.” I’m vaguely aware of movement off to my left, but the fierce expression Tristan turns my way is breathtaking, like it belongs to some angry, fae prince. “Whatever money you’ve lost because of us, we’re going to cover it. You don’t have to worry about that, sweetheart.”
“My problems are bigger than you know,” I whisper, feeling a familiar panic claw at my throat. “We work so hard, but there’s so much you can’t plan for. Droughts, supply problems, canceled orders, not to mention all the repairs we need to do… Don’t tell Otley or Ellis, but I’m one bad season away from not being able to afford new clothes for Leo, and he’s growing like a pole bean.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” Now Tristan looks likehe’sgoing to cry, and I have to bite hard on my lip so I don’t set off a chain reaction. “You’ve done so well, Lily, but you don’t have to be strong all the time.” His thumb feathers over my neck, an inch from my bonding mark. “You’ve got a mate now, and you have the guys and me if there’s room for us. We all want to take care of you, sweetheart.”
I take a shuddering breath, leaning into his touch before pulling back with a watery smile. “I have room,” I say quietly. “I don’t know how we’ll make it work, but I want to try.”
“Me too.” The grin he gives me is electric. In fact, it should come with a warning label, because as we turn towards the door, I’m hit by a wave of dizziness. Tristan catches me before I can fall, his arms wrapped tightly around me. “Whoa! You’re nearly out on your feet. Want me to take you upstairs to bed?”
“The answer to that question is, and always will be, yes,” I tell him solemnly and I feel his chuckle against my temple as he steers me towards the service elevator that backs onto the kitchen. “Oh, this is fancy,” I murmur as we step inside and he presses the button for the next floor. “Why, exactly, have I been hauling my butt up and down the stairs?”
Tristan hums a laugh. “I’d like to sweep you into my arms like Logan, but alas, I’m not quite alpha enough for that.”
“Maybe not, but you’re still the perfect amount of man for me,” I tell him, squeezing the arm he has looped across my chest. The doors aren’t mirrored, but I can feel the long, lean length of him behind me, and there’s no doubt in my mind that he is as masculine as any other guy in this house. It’s just a softer, sweeter version, and not for the first time, I realize how comforting it is to be close to him.
I’m also aware that there’s more than just exhaustion making my head swim, but when he walks me into the suite and guides me over to the bed, I feel bold enough to turn in his arms and press a soft kiss to his lips. Watching him shiver at the brush of our mouths is more intoxicating than all the wine I shared with Kaysie. Still, I’m not quite confident enough to take more than that small taste, and I sink onto the side of the bed with a hopeful look. “Can you help me with my shoes?”
“Of course.” He goes to a knee in a graceful move, plucking at my laces until my toes are curling on the silk rug. When he’s done, he sits back on his heels, his gaze sliding up my legs and over my torso before settling on my flushed face. “You okay with the rest of it, or would you like me to give you a hand?”
“Iloveyour hands,” I admit, watching them flex on the denim stretched over his thighs. But before he can act on the invitation in my voice, Logan appears in the doorway, concern etched on his face. “Hey, LeeLee. Kaysie said you’re feeling tired.”
“Tired and a little drunk,” I admit, tilting my head back as he comes to stand by the bed. His fingers thread through my curls, somehow managing to pet me without turning my hair into a nest of knots. “I should go feed Leo…”
“No need.” Logan grunts out a laugh. “He’s already eaten his body weight in hotdogs.”
“But I should be putting him to bed…”
Tristan clicks his tongue at me. “Are you kidding? The guys are probably arguing over which World Series they need to recount as his bedtime story.”
“Let them take care of him while we take care of you,” Logan murmurs, already kicking off his boots and reaching for the zipper on my hoodie. “There are plenty of helping hands, okay?” I can’t resist glancing at Tristan, whose fingers are still curled on his thighs. I’m not sure if Logan can read my mind through the bond, but he gives him a nudge. “You want to pull down the covers so we can get our girl snuggled in?”
I’m pretty sure that’s the first time Logan has ever talked about snuggling anyone, but I’m not going to squander the chance to enjoy it. Once he’s removed my hoodie, I peel off my jeans and scoot between the sheets. While Logan strips down to his boxers, I look up at Tristan, who’s still hovering on the other side of the bed. When I pat the pillow next to me, he looks down at me with gleaming eyes. “Are you sure, sweetheart?”
“I want to snuggle,” I insist, giving a happy sigh as Logan wraps around me from behind. Tristan’s eyes widen as he takes us in, but then he quickly kicks off his shoes and drops his shirt on the floor. He leaves his jeans on, but I’m hardly complaining as he slides under the covers and wraps his hand around mine. When his head settles on the pillow, he’s so close I can see the specks of gold in his hazel eyes. There are a lot of things I want to say to him, but now that I’m warm and cozy between two pretty epic snugglers, my vocabulary has deserted me. Sleep pulls atme, and I give a happy sigh as Logan presses a soft kiss to the back of my neck.
The last thing I register is Tristan squeezing my hand and murmuring, “Rest now, sweetheart. We’ve got you.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN – TRISTAN
Being bonded to two virile, attentive alphas means that most days I wake up with a smile on my face, but nothing prepares me for Lily Percy peppering kisses over the knuckles of our joined hands. Somehow, I’ve maneuvered her across my chest in the night, probably because her perfect omega scent has invaded my senses and turned my brain to mush. It’s about a thousand times more intoxicating now we’re sharing the same pillow, and I feel my cock give a hungry throb as her thigh nudges between mine. My zipper drags painfully against my shaft, but it doesn’t stop me from rolling my hips, heat pooling in my groin as her toes skim down my denim-clad calf.
Why am I wearing jeans again?
