Page 102 of Sharing Shane

“I do, but you’re still a fucking disaster.”

“Are you sure you can’t film this?” Delia asked, swiping a finger through the whipped cream on a slice of key lime pie.

“I really need a new best friend,” Veronica sighed, and bit into her cheeseburger.

Fifteen

The following Saturday Veronica found herself in Shane’s house with a glass of wine, two sexy men, and a big fat case of nerves.

She listened to Shane talk about the technique he used for the bookshelves he’d added to his basement library, not really hearing any of it, sipping her wine and wishing they could just move past the chit-chat and get on with it so she could stop freaking out. Then she realized he’d stopped talking a while ago, and both men were staring at her.

“Sorry.” She winced. “Shit. Um.”

Wyatt’s lips were curled up in a smile, but his eyes were kind. “You’re just about ready to jump out of your skin, aren’t you?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Yeah,” he said bluntly.

It surprised a laugh out of her, and she felt herself relax just a little. “Sorry.”

Shane shook his head, sending his hair dancing. He’d left it down, and it had grown a bit, almost past his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I thought taking it slow would help you relax.”

“I know. And I appreciate it.” Screwing up her courage, she sucked in a deep breath. “But I’m too nervous and too horny to wait any longer, so if you don’t want to explain to the paramedics why some woman collapsed from a hormone-induced panic attack, you’ll take me to bed and fuck my brains out.”

Both men stared at her, their faces frozen, and for one horrible moment she was afraid she’d wrecked the whole thing. Then Wyatt began to laugh, and a slow grin split Shane’s beard.

“Shane, I really love this woman,” Wyatt said, his blue eyes dancing as he reached out to grab her hand. “Come on, beautiful. You haven’t seen the bedroom yet.”

Shane took her wine glass. “Go on. I’ll be right there.”

“Okay,” she said and allowed Wyatt to tow her out of the room.

“You’re going to love this room,” Wyatt told her, leading her down the hall. “Shane made the bed himself, and it’s awesome.”

“I’m sure it is,” she began, then they turned the corner into the room and she stopped dead. “Oh, wow.”

“I know, right?”

She stared at it, momentarily struck speechless. “He did all of this himself?”

Wyatt nodded, his hand resting lightly on her waist. “He used a standard bed frame for the base, but the rest of it is all him.”

“I knew he was talented.” She lifted a hand to stroke the bedpost, the finish smooth as glass under her fingertips. “I’ve seen Delia’s sideboard. But this is…wow.”

It was art. The light streaming in the windows bounced off the gleaming wood, making it glow a deep reddish-brown. The headboard was high and intricately carved, as was the footboard. The posts at the four corners were nearly as thick as her thigh at the base, then grew progressively narrower as they rose up. They stopped a few inches from the ceiling, narrow and impossibly delicate, and each topped with a small carving.

She squinted at the one in front of her. “Is that…a frog?”

“Yeah.” Wyatt chuckled. “There’s a frog, a piglet, an otter, and a hedgehog.”

“Oh my god, this is amazing,” she breathed and walked toward the headboard to see the hedgehog better.

Shane walked into the room. “What’s awesome?”

“She likes the bed,” Wyatt said.

“That’s good,” Shane said mildly, and she glanced over her shoulder at him. “She’s going to be spending a lot of time in it.”

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