Page 50 of Triple Play

Shira shakes her head. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“I wouldn’t blame you,” I say. “It’s not like I don’t know something about you.”

Her shoulders stiffen; her mouth sets in a determined line. “It doesn’t matter because I wouldn’t fucking do that. Because I know there are things you can be proud of that you don’t want other people to know about.”

Said with that Shira toughness that makes me want to kiss her. Shira, with her quick temper and iron will, who knows what it’s like to protect herself. Who, for whatever reason, extends that protection to me.

“Thank you.” My heart rate slows fractionally. “Also, how did you ever try to convince anyone you’re demure?”

She laughs. “No fucking idea.” She plucks her soda from the deck. A few drops rattle inside it. She tips her head back, drinks with a long effusive gulp. “And I’m not gonna say a word to Blake. But…maybe you should.”

And there goes my heart again, racing against my ribs. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I say. “He might not even be…” I think of his startled expression when I was holding his wrist as he was trimming my beard—pleased and terrified at once. “He might not be sure.”

“But you think there’s something there?” Asked with a certain Shira bluntness I appreciate, the same tone that said it’d be a problem if I didn’t kiss her all those months ago.

I could deny it, could assure her that I’m not after Blake the same way I’d assure Blake I’m not after her. But she doesn’t sound jealous. Not with how her brown eyes are practically glowing in the dark. Not with how his pulse thrummed against my thumb.

“Yes,” I say, honestly, “yes, I think something’s there.”

I don’t have time to add anything else when Blake comes back with three drinks: two beers and a can of hard seltzer that he hands to Shira unopened. A gentleman in the truest sense.

Fuck, I like them both so much. Shira plants herself back on Blake’s lap, facing me. After a second, he slides his palm on Shira’s stomach, on the low curve of it that hides the strength underneath. The kind of strength it took to work a pole, to navigate handsy customers, to rebuild a life after injury.

Maybe you should say something. The kind of strength it takes to sit in a hot tub and tell me I should kiss the man she’s dating.

Blake pulls her to him. “You doing okay, sweetheart?” he breathes, low.

Shira laughs and settles against his chest. She bites her lip—something knowing and easy. Fuck, they look good together. Especially when Shira snakes her arm up and finds the back of Blake’s neck. He lowers his mouth to hers. Their kiss deepens, with a teasing slide of their tongues.

He must be getting hard. I know I am—at the memory of how she felt all those months ago, breathing the same charged air, when she’d roll herself against my lap and asked if that was all for her. How I always said yes and pretended I was only talking about my cock.

“I should turn in,” I say. “Give you some privacy.”

Neither of them moves. They glance at each other, having one of those wordless couple conversations. It only makes things worse: how right they are together.

Eventually, Shira leans up to whisper in Blake’s ear.

His eyes go wide. Shock? Outrage? Something else? He looks between us a few times in slight disbelief. Color flushes his cheeks. Whatever she asked him managed to surprise him—possibly in a good way. “Are you sure?” he asks.

She gives a tiny acceding shrug, her teeth playing at her lower lip.

“You don’t have to be,” he adds.

She leans up, says something else, something low and heated that I only catch the edge of. Blake goes even pinker, but he’s nodding as if he’s agreeing with whatever she’s saying. The word share floats across the hot tub like steam.

She isn’t suggesting?—

We couldn’t?—

Blake’s clearing his throat like he’s gathering courage. “Counteroffer: you don’t leave,” he says to me.

“Weren’t you about to…” There’s no real nice way to say fuck. “I don’t want to intrude.”

This time Blake’s answer is surer. “What if that’s what we’re asking you—to intrude?”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Shira

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