“So fuck ‘em,” he said glibly, and she rolled her eyes. “Hope, who cares? Who gives a rat’s ass what anyone else outside of this house is going to think about us? It’s a lifestyle that a lot of people have embraced all over the world. I don’t care what anyone says. It’s you and me and that grumpy fucker out there, and everyone else can take a hike.”
Hope laughed, despite the anxiety that clawed at her. She kissed him, sweetly, slowly, before drawing away. “How do we make this work?”
“That is a discussion we need to have with all three of us. Preferably clothed, because I can’t concentrate when you’re naked.”
“Why me?” she asked quietly. “I highly doubt I’m your usual type, Van…”
His hands smoothed down over the curves of her ass and down the backs of her thighs. “Why us? Grant and I are polar opposites from each other. One of us is bound to be more ‘your type’ than the other. So, why both of us?”
She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at him. “Touché.”
He squeezed the backs of her thighs in his hands. “I need you to get up, because if we lay here like this for much longer, I’m going to get hard again and then I won’t want to get out of this bed and let you go to Grant.”
She laughed and sat up straighter. He groaned, his gaze zeroing in on her breasts, his hands coming up to cup them fully, his thumbs sweeping over her nipples. She breathed out a sigh, her head tipping back as each stroke of his thumbs shot sparks down into her core.
“Stop it,” he groaned, sitting up as if hinged at the waist, releasing her breasts and bracketing her face in his hands. “Fuckyou’re gorgeous, and I don’t want to stop. But that jealous beast out there is probably driving himself crazy waiting for us. Now get, woman.”
She sighed against his lips and smiled, murmuring a quiet, “Yes, Chef.”
He nipped her lower lip with his teeth, making her gasp. “You. Are. Trouble,” he ground out, kissing her between words. She laughed throatily, but then swung her leg over to the side and climbed off the bed. He stood, too, and she stared at his nakedness, his impressive length that was again half hard. He swatted her lightly on the butt, below the light bruises, and then crossed the room to the dresser, pulling out two pairs of sweatpants and two t-shirts. He handed her a set and then pulled his own on. “Come on, love. Let’s go find Grant.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Stepping out of the hallway and into the living room, hand in hand with Van, Hope found Grant immediately. Standing in the kitchen on the other side of the marble topped island, he had changed clothes. He too, wore a pair of gray sweatpants and a long-sleeved t-shirt with the sleeves pushed up his forearms. Two pizza boxes and a fresh tossed salad sat on the counter, plates and silverware at the ready.
“You were busy,” Van said with a chuckle, indicating the food as they entered the kitchen. Grant shrugged his impossibly wide shoulders as he glanced their direction. “Smells good.”
“It sounded good, and I needed something to do while I waited,” Grant said and then turned toward them. Hope released Van’s hand and stepped forward, wrapping her arms around Grant’s thick waist. His arms closed around her and she sighed when he rested his cheek on the top of her head. They remained that way for a long minute, and then she pulled back just enough to look up at him. He lowered his head and kissed her gently, so sweetly it made her heart ache in her chest. “Are you well?”
“I’m perfect,” she whispered, smiling up at him, then turned her head and rested her cheek against his chest, listening to his heart beat steadily. Her stomach growled and he chuckled,the sound rumbling out of his chest and into her ear where it was pressed. She liked the sound of it. “Apparently I’m starving, though.”
Grant pulled back and stepped over to the counter, lifting one of the pizza box lids. “It’s no Chicago deep dish, but I think it’ll do.”
“Is that a Northmen?” Hope asked, her mouthwatering at the sight of the local favorite. She clapped her hands together and bounced where she stood. “Ugh I haven’t had one of those in years.”
“I thought it was a safe choice,” he laughed, the sound low and gentle. This was the Grant she knew. The one she had fallen head over heels for in Chicago. Her gentle giant. He dished up two slices, put a helping of salad on her plate, and then handed it to her, which she took with a heartfelt thank you as her stomach growled again noisily. Van and Grant stepped up to the counter to dish their own plates, both men taking twice as much food as she had.
Van directed her to one of the plush bar stools pulled up to the opposite side of the island counter and she took a seat. Van snagged three beers out of the refrigerator and then he and Grant took seats to either side of her. She smiled at each of them in turn, happier than she’d been in a long time.
It felt like Chicago all over again. The companionability. The conversation. The laughter. The sexual tension and the sparks and heated glances that grew hotter as the time wore on.
She told them about applying for and securing the position at the school for early childhood development. “I love kids. I used to nanny for families in the area when I was a teen, and then through college. I feel like I’ve been waiting my entire life for my sister to give me a niece or nephew… not that that’s going to happen anytime soon,” she laughed.
Hope was surprised to learn that Van was the youngest of four, his siblings all significantly older than him. He had just turned thirty-six. “I was an oopsie,” he laughed, taking a long drink of his second beer. They’d pushed their plates away, content and full. “My siblings were all in high school when my parents had me. They’re both gone, but my older brother Noah and one of my sisters lives up here. My other sister is out in California.”
She squeezed Van’s hand. “I’m sorry to hear about your parents. I wish I could have met them.”
He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed the knuckles gently. “They would have adored you.”
She learned that Grant was forty-two and had a twin sister that was younger than him by two minutes and thirty-eight seconds. She was married and had two high school aged kids, though they lived downstate now. His parents were in the area, but elderly, and he’d set them up comfortably in a home not too far from himself, with live-in assistance.
They had migrated to the giant U-shaped sectional that took up most of the living room. Grant reclined in one corner, and she lay with her head in his lap, his fingers idly sifting through her hair, fanning it out over his abdomen and thighs. Her feet were in Van’s lap, his legs stretched out next to her. She kept one hand on his leg, just to remain in contact. He squeezed one foot and she smiled over at him. The rain had never let up, remaining steady as the evening wore on. The sky out the wide windows was dark, the rain continuing to splatter against the panes in a soothing cadence.
“Jenny, our hostess, reminds me of my niece. They lived up here for a long time, but my sister’s husband got a job offer he couldn’t refuse downstate, so they headed south. I try to get down to see them once every few months,” he said, sweeping herhair off her shoulder, just to start strumming through it again. It felt so good. “Especially after…”
She felt him tense and looked up at him. Was this the big thing? Whatever it was that Van had alluded to, that he had said was Grant’s story to tell? Clasping his hand in hers, she tucked his arm against her chest and kissed his fingers.
She saw his gaze drift to Van and she glanced over just in time to see Van nod slowly. Grant took a deep breath in, letting it out in a heavy exhale. His hand cupped her jaw from beneath her chin, his fingers sweeping over the underside of her jaw, beneath her ear. “Ten years ago, I was diagnosed with cancer. Prostate.” Her mouth fell open slightly, shocked, and her heart rate tripled in her chest. He smiled down at her. “We caught it early, started treatment, and within three years I was in remission and have some incredibly lucky stars to thank that it remains that way.” Brushing his other hand up through his hair and then smoothing it over his beard, he continued on a chuckle, “The chemo made my hair fall out, and when it came back, it came back a whole lot grayer than I expected.”
