“No?” Wyatt chided as they all started to walk again. “You’re sure “sex with a guest” isn’t on your color coded fridge calendar.”
Bennett shot Wyatt a glower that was intended to make his brother’s head pop off. It didn’t work.
“I mean, you schedule everything else,” Wyatt went on. “Hell, even I know you always take a shit between seven twenty-five and seven forty in the morning. After your run, and shower, and first cup of coffee. And I should not know that, but I do. Because you are a creature of habit and your entire body and life is scheduled. You’re as predictable as the damn tides.”
Heat filled Bennett’s chest and cheeks as they reached the junction where one road took them to the pub and cabins and the other took them up to their houses. They all headed toward the pub and cabins. The work day started as soon as the kids were off to school.
Next week, when the kids were out of school for the summer, things would be a bit different. But every house had a walkie-talkie and the dads all had one too. So the kids could radio whenever they needed something. They were also free to come to the pub or kitchen or brewery and find one of them if they needed anything. Jagger was usually around to keep an eye on them too, as he worked from his home office managing the social media and event planning for the cabins, pub, and brewery.
“So now what?” Clint asked.
“What do you mean?” Bennett’s gut spun with regret.
Clint looked at him like he just sprouted a second head off his shoulder. “Well, you guys had sex. She’s staying in your house. She’s also a paying guest. How are you handling this?”
“Wait, could this somehow be considered prostitution?” Wyatt asked, smacking the back of his hand against Bennett’s chest. “She’s paying to stay here. You had sex. Did she pay you for sex? Are you a gigolo now?”
Dom and Clint snorted.
Bennett spied his closed office door and picked up his gait to reach it sooner. “You’re a fucking idiot.”
“Not that I disagree with that statement,” Clint started, “but seriously. What is the plan now? Are you guys just fucking around for fun? Or is this serious? That run back had potential to be awkward.”
“It was,” Bennett grumbled.
Wyatt chuckled and shook his head. “Jesus.”
Dom exhaled and shoved his fingers into his hair that didn’t have the man-bun in it yet. “And here I thought Clint hooking up with Brooke was complicated. You’re fucking a guest and she’s staying in your house.”
“Only until Friday. Then the trailer is coming.”
“And then the fucking stops?” Dom asked. “How is that going to work?”
“I don’t know,” Bennett exclaimed. “I don’t know if there will be a second time. I don’t know if she wants there to be. Or if I want there to be.”
Oh, he definitely wanted there to be a second time. And a third. And a fourth. And fifty-sixth.
His brothers looked at him curiously. “Was it bad?” Wyatt asked.
Bennett rolled his eyes again and glanced away. “No. It wasn’t bad.”
“Then what’s the problem?” Wyatt fished his pub keys out of his pocket.
Bennett shook his head and stared at the gravel parking lot for a half second before lifting his gaze to his brothers. “I feel guilty. She’s the first woman since Carla and … I feel guilty.”
Understanding dawned on all their faces, and their expressions of confusion and criticism softened until they disappeared.
“It was weird the first time after Jacqueline too,” Clint said gently.
“Yeah, but at least you and Brooke are together now. In love. And you did it in your house like normal people. Not sex-crazed animals. What kind of respect does it show Carla—or Justine, for that matter—that I was unable to control myself and had to have her up against a fucking tree.”
“Well, as far as respect for Justine goes, I think a woman would be pretty thrilled to know she got you so hot you lost composure and all rational thought and threw her up against a tree to have your consensual way with her. I don’t think they’re thinking too much about being respected when their back is being scratched up by bark and they’ve got their pants hanging off one leg.” Wyatt shrugged. “That’s just my opinion. And experience.”
Dom and Clint both nodded.
“And as far as Carla goes … it’s been five years,” Clint said. “And even though Jacqueline and I had been on the road to divorce when she died and we hadn’t had sex in over a year before that, it was still weird. But I wouldn’t want her to be celibate if I died. I would want her to feel passion, and love, and lust again. Wouldn’t you want that for Carla?”
Bennett barely nodded, but he nodded.