Sharing shane, p.7
Sharing Shane, page 7
“Take your time,” Wyatt told her. “I’ll wrangle Grumpy here into some clothes, and we can call room service. Do you know what you’d like?”
“A club sandwich would be great.” Her smile warmed slightly. “Thanks. I’ll be about twenty minutes or so.”
“Take your time,” Wyatt repeated and waited until she’d disappeared into the bathroom before rolling his eyes at Shane. “Way to go, Romeo.”
“Oh, bite me,” Shane muttered back, and since the coast was clear, stepped out from behind the counter and headed for his duffle bag.
“Tell me what you want for lunch, Mr. Smooth,” Wyatt said, picking up the phone on the kitchen wall.
“A burger,” Shane told him and dug clean clothes out of his bag.
Wyatt called in their lunch order, then wandered into the living room to flop onto the sofa. “’You should eat’,” he drawled mockingly and shook his head. “I don’t know how you ever manage to get laid.”
“I’m not trying to get laid,” Shane reminded him, fresh jeans in hand. “And I didn’t have any trouble getting into your bed.”
“Yeah, but grumpy and brooding works for me.” Wyatt reached out to toy with the edge of the rumpled sheet. “It means I get to do most of the talking.”
“You’d do that anyway,” Shane pointed out and hitched his jeans over his hips.
“True.” Wyatt wrinkled his nose. “You know, you’re at a beach resort. You can wear shorts.”
Shane looked down, frowned, and shucked the jeans off. He pulled out a pair of cargo shorts in faded olive green and tugged them on. “Better, Mom?”
“Marginally,” Wyatt allowed. He picked up the sheet and began folding it. “She’s cute, Shane.”
“I know.”
“Seriously cute. And built.”
“Keep it down, will you?”
“Relax, Grandpa. She’s not going to hear anything from the shower.”
“I mean it.” Shane yanked a white T-shirt over his head. “It’s rude.”
“You’re suddenly concerned with rude?”
Shane scowled at Wyatt. “Making her uncomfortable by talking about her tits would fall under the heading of asshole-ish, don’t you think?”
“Okay, fair point. Anyway, I only meant that I like her.”
“You don’t know her,” Shane pointed out.
“That’s what lunch is for.” Wyatt finished folding the sheet, then with a faint frown, sniffed. “What am I smelling?”
“Peaches.” Shane jerked his chin toward the bathroom, where they could hear the shower running. “She was sleeping out here before I made her take the bed.”
“It’s peaches, yeah, but there’s something...” Wyatt put his face to the sheet and inhaled deeply. His eyes drifted closed as he concentrated, then popped wide. “Oh, shit.”
“Don’t say it,” Shane warned.
“But it’s peaches and—”
“Don’t,” Shane repeated, and yanked the sheet out of Wyatt’s hands. “Get outside, jackass.”
Wyatt waited until they were on the patio and Shane had closed the door behind them. “It’s peaches and pussy, Shane.”
“I know.”
“Peaches. And. Pussy,” Wyatt repeated. “Does she smell like that all the time?”
“Yes.” Shane dragged his hands through his hair. “Why do you think I’m dealing with a perpetual boner, here?”
“Man.” Wyatt dropped into one of the chairs at the small patio table. “What are you going to do?”
“Nothing.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” Shane sank into the chair next to Wyatt’s. “Hitting on her is a dick move under the circumstances.”
“She can say no,” Wyatt pointed out.
“And then she has to spend the rest of her vacation worrying about whether or not I’m going make things awkward, or worse, ignore the no.” Shane shook his head. “Better to just leave it be.”
Wyatt looked at Shane with sympathetic eyes. “You’re fucking screwed.”
Shane laid his head back and closed his eyes. “I know.”
WHEN VERONICA STEPPED out onto the patio thirty minutes later, she was feeling slightly more relaxed. Switching out the clinging red bikini she’d let Delia talk her into for a simple tank dress in black cotton helped, as had the stern lecture she’d given herself in the shower. But as soon as she saw them again, sprawled in the patio chairs with lunch waiting on the table, all the dirty, sexy thoughts that had bloomed in her mind when she’d seen them kissing came roaring back.
Surprise had come first—she just hadn’t been expecting it—followed swiftly by disappointment. She’d known Shane was gay, of course, but she’d had incredibly vivid sex dreams about him last night that had skewed her sense of reality. She’d forced herself to leave the condo to clear her head, but unfortunately, the image of him lying sprawled on the sofa in nothing but a pair of white boxer shorts had kept popping up. She’d gotten a good look at his back last night when he’d unexpectedly stripped off his shirt, but this morning he’d been lying face up, and the sight of him had nearly brought her to her knees.
The tattoo on his right arm went all the way up, wrapping around his shoulder and extending halfway across his chest, intricate swirls of black ink interspersed with splashes of color, modern art in flesh and blood. His chest was lightly furred, with curls that began under his collarbone, formed a V to the middle of his chest, then tapered off to a light trail down the center of his abdomen. It circled his belly button and then disappeared beneath the waistband of a pair of white cotton boxer shorts that had no business looking that sexy.
The strength of her desire to see what was behind that plain white cotton had surprised her, and she’d gotten out of there as quickly as she could. She’d hoped the long walk followed by a dip in the ocean would be enough to cool her libido, but she’d still been thinking about licking her way down his belly and diving under those shorts when she’d walked in on him kissing his boyfriend.
It had been, to her honest shock, the hottest thing she’d ever seen in her life. She was clearly missing out by keeping her porn consumption strictly hetero.
It didn’t hurt that Wyatt was just as attractive as Shane. He was white, about a head shorter than his boyfriend, with gilded blonde hair and striking blue eyes that danced with charm and mirth. Dimples popped in each cheek when he smiled, and he seemed to smile just about as often as Shane frowned.
So, a lot.
Wyatt spotted her first and stood, smiling. “Perfect timing. The food just got here.”
Veronica smiled back automatically and stepped forward. “Great, I’m starving.”
She glanced at Shane as he, too, pushed to his feet, then quickly looked away. He was frowning at her—again—and even through the spurt of annoyance she felt a flutter in her belly. His dark hair was unbound, hanging loose nearly to his shoulders, and her fingers practically twitched with the desire to run her fingers through it.
Down, girl, she admonished herself and walked around him to take her seat across from Wyatt.
She eyed the drink on the table in front of her, a froth of pink in a hurricane glass with a pineapple wedge and an umbrella. “What’s that?”
“I forgot what the waiter said it was called,” Wyatt told her as he sat, and Shane followed suit. “I assume the pink means strawberries, but other than that I have no clue.”
She took an experimental sip and nearly choked. “Well, it has rum,” she wheezed.
Wyatt laughed. “Is that a good thing?”
She took another sip, the taste of the alcohol fighting with the frozen slush of strawberries, bananas and pineapple. It went down smooth as silk. “Yeah, I think it is.”
“Good guess, Shane,” Wyatt said and Veronica blinked.
“You ordered this?”
He shrugged and picked up the beer next to his plate. “You looked like a fruity frozen drink kind of person.”
“I’m not sure, but I think there’s an insult in there somewhere.”
Shane grunted, and Wyatt shot her a wink across the table. “How’s your vacation so far, Veronica?”
“It’s great,” she told him and picked up a section of her club sandwich. “Beautiful weather, first class hotel. What’s not to like?”
“Getting along with this grumpy bugger okay?” Wyatt jerked his head at Shane, who snorted and sipped his beer.
“Aside from the issue of the sleeping arrangements—which is not yet settled—so far it’s been fine.”
“It’s settled,” Shane put in, his tone brooking no argument and automatically putting Veronica’s back up.
“Just because you cheated—” she began.
“Cheated?” His scowl was so fierce he looked like he only had one eyebrow.
“Carrying me to bed after I was already asleep on the sofa is cheating,” she informed him archly.
“I didn’t carry you,” he told her.
“Then how did I get from the sofa to the bed?”
He shrugged. “You walked.”
“I walked?”
“Yeah, you walked. I poked you, told you it was time to go to bed, and you got up and walked to bed. End of story.”
“Hmmm.” She took a sip of her drink and wondered what he wasn’t telling her. “Still cheating.”
He sighed, a long-suffering sound that for some reason made her want to smile, and picked up his burger. “I’m not taking the bed.”
“You may as well give in,” Wyatt told her as Shane took a bite. He was watching them with his chin propped on his hands and a gleam in his eye. “He’s stubborn as hell.”
She sighed. “I don’t feel right taking the bed and making you sleep on the couch.”
“Sorry,” he said, looking very not sorry, and took another bite of his burger.
“How about this? I’ll take the bed for the first half of the week, you take it for the second.”
Shane’s eyes were steady on hers as he chewed and swallowed. “Okay.”
She paused, eyes narrowed. “You’re just saying that to get me to shut up, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
Wyatt barked out a laugh. “Welcome to my world.”
Deciding to let it lie for now, Veronica picked up her drink and slipped into small talk. “How long have you two been together?”
“Three years,” Wyatt said, aiming a warm look at Shane. “He swept me off my feet.”
Shane cocked a brow when Veronica choked on her drink. “Don’t believe that, huh?”
“No, no, it’s not that,” Veronica managed. “It’s um...it’s...”
“Good save,” Shane commented.
Wyatt laughed. “It’s true. We met when my husband commissioned him to do some built-ins. We were turning the formal dining room we never use into a library, and Seth wanted custom shelves.”
“Seth is your husband?”
Wyatt nodded and waggled his ring finger at her, making the shiny silver band wink in the sun. “Just over a year now. Shane was my best man.”
Veronica opened her mouth to reply, then closed it again when she realized she had no idea how to respond to that.
Wyatt’s smile was knowing. “Hard to wrap your head around it, huh?”
“Honestly, yes,” Veronica admitted with a wince. “Sorry.”
“Hey, no worries. It bends a lot of brains. But just FYI, we’re keeping our relationship quiet this trip,” he said gesturing between Shane and himself. “Seth and I are here with his work colleagues, and we’re not out as non-monogamous to them.”
Veronica blinked. “Oh. Well, I won’t say anything.”
Wyatt jabbed his fork into his salad. “Appreciate it. And that’s enough about our weird love life. I want to hear about yours.”
Veronica blinked. “Mine?”
“Yeah. Delia said you just broke up with someone.”
She chewed thoughtfully. “You could call it that, I guess,” she began as the phone inside the cottage rang.
Shane frowned. “Expecting a call?”
“No. Anyone who knows me would call my cell.” She started to rise, then sat again when he waved her down.
“I’ll get it.”
She waited until he’d stepped inside, then turned to Wyatt. “Is he always this intense?”
Wyatt grinned. “Sexy, isn’t it?”
She laughed, her cheeks warming. “I guess it is. I nearly swallowed my tongue when I met him.”
Wyatt’s grin turned just a little wicked. “I know the feeling. When I walked in on him fitting shelves, he was sweaty and dusty and had his shirt off, and I thought I was going to pass out. Then he told me to get the fuck out of his way.”
Veronica polished off one section of sandwich and reached for another. “Now that, I believe.”
“The grumpy is only surface,” Wyatt said, crunching on a crouton. “Underneath he’s a big, cuddly teddy bear.”
She couldn’t suppress the snort. “Grizzly bear, maybe.”
“Trust me. I know he’s been a crab ass to you, but that’s just because—” He broke off as Shane stepped outside. “What’s up?”
Shane spared him a quick glance, then turned to Veronica. “That was the front desk.”
Veronica frowned. “Is there a problem?”
“Yeah, you could say that.” He dragged a hand through his hair and grimaced, clearly uncomfortable. “Derek’s here.”
“Derek’s here.” It took a moment for the words to sink in. “Derek’s here?”
Shane nodded, his mouth grim. “The desk clerk said he’s kicking up a fuss, demanding to be shown to your room, insisting he’s on the reservation.”
“He’s not,” she said numbly. “I changed it.”
“Which is why they’re not giving him any information,” he said. “They want to know if you’ll come up and talk to him.”
“Oh, hell.” She sat back with a groan and stared up into the sky. “I don’t want to do that.”
“Okay, I’ll tell them.”
“Wait.” She took one more moment to look at the sky—blue, cloudless, perfect—then back at Shane. “I’ll go.”
“You don’t have to,” he told her.
“Yeah, but maybe I can keep things from escalating.” She worked up a smile and pushed to her feet. “If I’m not back in an hour, send out a search party.”
Wyatt pushed back from the table and stood. “Oh, we’re coming with you.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Yes, we do,” Shane said and her startled gaze flew to his. He stared back unblinking, his face like a thundercloud.
“Really, it’s ok. Stay and finish your lunch.”
“We’re going,” he told her and turned back to the cottage. “I’m getting my shoes.”
Veronica stared after him, completely nonplussed, then looked at Wyatt.
He shrugged. “He’s getting his shoes.”
Five
The walk from the cottage to the main hotel seemed to take forever, but in reality, it only took ten minutes. Veronica chatted amiably with Wyatt along the way about nothing in particular—her job, his job, the fact that Delia was a loose cannon and would surely, at some point, cause a great big scandal somewhere, likely involving huge quantities of marijuana and a rescue squad. Shane was silent, apparently content to let Wyatt carry the conversation.
By the time they approached the wide front doors of the hotel lobby, Veronica was feeling almost relaxed. Then they pulled open the doors and heard the shouting.
“I demand to be taken to my room immediately. This delay is unacceptable. I want to speak to a manager.”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Veronica muttered. The check-in desk was around the corner, so she couldn’t see Derek, but she could hear him, along with everyone else within a hundred feet.
“He sounds like a prize,” Wyatt commented, and Shane grunted in agreement.
“I told you, I’ve called my fiancé, but she isn’t answering her cell phone. The reception here is terrible.”
“Fiancé?” Shane asked.
Veronica glanced up at him. “No,” she said firmly and saw a hint of amusement creep into his dark eyes.
“How do you want to do this?” Wyatt asked.
Veronica wrinkled her nose. “He’s not going to go away unless I make it clear that I don’t want him here.”
“Honey, if uninviting him from this trip didn’t convince him, I’m not sure what will.”
She looked at Wyatt. “I have an idea, but it’s kind of underhanded.”
“I love underhanded,” Wyatt proclaimed.
“How do you feel being party to a big, fat lie?”
He grinned, blue eyes dancing. “Oh, I’m in. Shane?”
Shane grunted, and Wyatt shot Veronica a wink. “That’s his “game on” grunt. Let’s do this, beautiful.”
She squared her shoulders. “Okay, follow my lead.”
She strode forward, Shane and Wyatt close behind, and rounded the corner. Derek was at the check-in desk, leaning so far over the counter that the poor girl behind it had taken a couple of steps back to avoid the finger he was trying to jab into her face.
“That’s him?” Shane rumbled, his voice just loud enough to carry. The sneer on his face had Veronica holding back a laugh. “Think you can do better, babe.”
The ‘babe’ made her blink, but she recovered quickly enough. “I agree,” she said and Derek spun around at the sound of her voice.
“Veronica, there you are,” he exclaimed and strode forward, arms outstretched.
Shane stepped neatly in front of her, and Derek skidded to a halt.
“Excuse me,” he said icily.
“No,” Shane said and Wyatt snorted out a laugh.
Veronica leaned to the side to peer around Shane. Derek was attempting to look down his nose at Shane, which, considering their height difference, was pretty funny.
“What do you mean, no?”
Shane shrugged. “No, I don’t excuse you.”
Derek’s eyes narrowed. “Please move. I would like to speak to my fiancé.”
Shane didn’t budge. “No.”
Veronica rolled her eyes at Wyatt, who winked back, a wicked grin on his face. “Derek, why are you here?”
