“With Kayla, yes. With her bike? Hell no.”
I groan. “All I did was change some spark plugs, fill it with oil, and let it hum for a little while. I don’t see the big deal.”
“When Kayla finds her bike in my garage, it’s going to become a very big deal.”
“Then we’ll just have to distract her until we find the perfect time to approach her.”
“I’ll give one hundred percent participation on distracting her, but you’re on your own approaching her.”
“Fine.” I roll my eyes. If you can’t count on family, who can you count on?
“Speaking of Kayla,” he changes the subject, “when are you going to tell her you’re leaving? Or are you just going to disappear in the middle of the night again?”
“No, I’m not going to disappear.” I can’t even take offense to that comment, because I’ve slipped out on a woman so many times, it’s become my MO. “But I have no idea when I’m going to tell her.” I wish I didn’t have to. I wish I didn’t have to leave at all. But I’m under contract and sort of itching to get back out there. Domesticity is nice, temporarily.
“Well, you better figure it out soon. Christmas is next week, and January first will be here before any of us knows it.”
I’m well aware. My life will no longer be my own once I step back into those racing leathers. My schedule will be full of testing, traveling, and appearances, not to mention practice and live competitions. It’s a vortex, that’s for sure. But it’s what I know. It will have to become what Kayla knows as well.
As unconventional as it is, I’m grateful for our arrangement. While I’m away, Dev will be here taking care of her. Not that she needs taking care of, but she won’t be alone. And that in itself will help me sleep better at night.
“Get rid of the bike,” Dev orders before he leaves the garage.
I throw my hands up in surrender.“Fine.”
22
Kayla
My aunt hawks me the entire night. She knows something is up. I’ve been dancing around the subject of my relationship with Reese and Dev for weeks, and tonight, it’s all going to come to a head.
This has been the strangest Christmas of my life, waking up next to two men who showered me with presents. And not just small trinkets, either—diamond earrings, expensive clothes, electronics, and brand new leathers Reese had specifically designed for me. Black leather pants with colorful butterflies of different sizes stitched diagonally around one thigh and a matching black leather jacket with the same butterfly design climbing up the lapel onto the collar. So understated, but beautiful.
Dev surprised me with a butterfly necklace made of white diamonds and pink sapphires. Nothing dramatic, but also beautiful. The fact that they took such careful consideration, knowing what butterflies mean to me, put me over the edge. If you’re lucky, you find one person who’ll love you, scars and all. Somehow, I’ve found two.
Christmas dinner was an epic battle. Reese and Dev wanted a big feast, and they wanted us all together, which isn’t irrational, but I had to somehow, some way, include Sam. She’s the only family I have, and there was no way I was going to exclude her. I tried suggesting ten different scenarios, but the guys put their foot down; it was the biggest holiday of the year, and they wanted their woman with them.All day.Stubborn asses.
So that brings me to my current situation. My aunt and I sitting down to dinner with both Reese and Dev. To an onlooker, this picture might not be anything unusual. A girl making Christmas dinner for her boyfriend, aunt, and boyfriend’s brother. I’m sure many holiday dinners look exactly like ours—except they’re not. Because said girl is dating both boys, and said aunt had no idea, until now.
I heard the question in her voice when I called to invite her over to Dev’s in the first place. He has the larger house and a dining room table, even if he never uses it. I made him and Reese rearrange the entire room so it looked somewhat presentable. They moved the table to its rightful place, got rid of the gaming chairs, and shoved the weight set into the corner. It’s not picture perfect, but it works.
I set the table with pretty snowflake plates and a wreath-like centerpiece adorned with red pillar candles and small red and gold balls. If I’m going to be forced to host a holiday, I’m at least going to do it right. Everyone at the table seems to appreciate my efforts, but it’s abundantly clear the dynamic is off. Sam isn’t stupid. She knows I’ve had a thing for Dev and vice versa, but I can see her trying to figure out exactly how Reese fits in. She catches everything, like the way Dev places his hand protectively on my neck or how Reese grips my hips possessively when I brush past him. The gestures are subtle, but still loud and clear.
The conversation is light throughout dinner, and I’m thankful Sam is looking better and acting more herself.
With the boys’ help, I clear the table, while Sam takes it upon herself to inspect the first floor. I see her casually canvassing the tree and all the presents underneath it. If I know her, she’s taking a tally. I can tell you now, there are double the amount of girlie things.
Sam returns to the dining room with inquisitive brown eyes but doesn’t comment. No, she wouldn’t. She knows better than that. She does things tactfully, like cornering her niece while no one is around to interrogate her. While no one is around to defend her or stick up for her.
It’s close to nine p.m. by the time Sam is ready to say good night. As apprehensive as I was for this dinner, it wasn’t as painful as I expected.
“Walk me out?” she asks as Reese and Dev start a fire in the living room.
“Of course.” Here it comes, the inevitable.
We both slip on our coats and walk out into the brisk December air. It’s a beautiful night, so crisp and clear the stars are actually twinkling. I barely have the front door closed before Sam attacks. “What the hell is going on?”
I should have drank more wine to prepare for this conversation.
