hard. It happened one time. So keep wishing and dreaming.”
She took the tray back from Charles and kissed both men on the cheeks. “Regardless, you three have my blessings.”
Ken watched her make a circuit of the cozily crowded storefront.
At least twenty-five people were gathered for the evening. “She freaks me out sometimes. In a good way, but still.” He sipped his glass of spiked cider.
“You still not a believer?” Libbie teased.
Charles chimed in. “I’m not. But I won’t deny she’s good at reading people. I’m glad she uses her superpowers for good and not evil.”
Libbie had fun, glad she could enjoy the holiday in a way she hadn’t been able to enjoy Christmas. Someone, whether her men or Grover she didn’t know, had ratted her out to Dr. Smith. He showed up bright and early the day after Christmas for his cruller order and to ask when she was going to let him prescribe her something stronger for her pain.
She still hadn’t made the appointment.
After dinner, and as the clock drew closer to midnight, Libbie snuggled on one of the comfy sofas in the Many Blessings storefront with Charles and Ken, their hands in hers. At midnight, everyone cheered and the men leaned in and kissed her.
“Happy New Year,” she told them. “And may we have many more together.”
Both men smiled. “To many more,” Ken and Charles echoed.
Back at home, they slowly undressed her in the bedroom, kissing every inch of her flesh as they bared it. She loved the tender, nurturing, sensual sides to them every bit as much as she did their horny, rough, down-and-dirty sides.
Tonight, Charles took the lead, rolling her onto her side with her cradled against him as he carefully entered her. He took his time, slowly making love to her while Ken lay behind her and brushed kisses across the nape of her neck that made her shiver with pleasure.
It’s a Sweet Life
175
Then Ken draped an arm over her waist until his hand nestled between her legs. With Charles’ cock slowly stroking inside her, and Ken’s fingers stroking her clit, she quickly came like that.
Charles swallowed her soft cries with his mouth, his hips moving faster until his release joined hers.
Could I be any more in love with them?
But she stopped herself short of saying it out loud. She couldn’t.
She wouldn’t.
She didn’t need to hear them say they loved her, because their every action spoke of it. But she wouldn’t say it to them until she knew how they felt. If she never said it, on the off chance they broke her heart, she’d feel like less of a gullible asshole.
And maybe she’d be able to talk herself out of admitting she loved them.
But if she said it, that made it real.
When she caught her breath, the men carefully turned her over.
Ken kissed her as he made love to her, this time Charles the one to strum her clit while Ken’s shaft slowly fucked her pussy.
He didn’t take as long to climax as Charles had, but Charles still managed to make her come with him.
As she lay there in their arms, drifting to sleep between them, she heard them whisper, “Happy New Year, baby,” one in each ear.
“Happy New Year.”
January saw several brutal cold fronts blast through Brooksville, severe by local standards. The weather forecasters said it was the coldest January on record in over seventy-five years.
Allan, who spent more time in the bakery than Ben, found himself forcing Libbie to slow down and not overtax herself. He made her spend a lot of time taking it easy, soaking in the hot tub, and being cared for by her men when she could barely get out of bed on her 176 Tymber Dalton
worst days.
Then it eased up a little in the beginning of February, allowing Libbie a chance to recover some energy and emerge from her cocoon of pain to the point she almost felt normal by the Monday of Valentine’s Day. Allan looked forward to getting Libbie all to himself for part of the day. Ben had to go on one of his Monday errands, but he promised to be back by four so they could spend the evening celebrating together.
The Monday errands were good cover excuses for the scheduled conference calls they had to make regarding the trial. Ben would be driving south to St. Pete for today’s calls.
Allan still thought Ben was being overly cautious, but since they’d so far successfully remained hidden, he wouldn’t fight him on it.
They both gave her beautiful Valentine’s Day cards, which made her cry the good kind of tears.
After they opened her cards to them, Ben spoke up. “Listen, there’s a part two to all of this, but it’s going to wait until tonight, after I get back. Okay?”
“Okay.” She glanced at Allan. “I suspect he’ll take good care of me.”
“I know he will,” Ben said, “or I’ll kick his ass.”
After a round of good-bye kisses, Libbie wrapped her arms around Allan. “I want to go up to Webster.”
“To what?”
“Webster. It’s a flea market. It’s really famous. It’s only open on Mondays. It’s a farmer’s market and livestock market, too.”
“I’m sooo not buying you a pony.”
She laughed. “You’re silly.”
“Why is it only open on Mondays?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Don’t you have farmer’s markets in Nebraska?”
Allan caught himself before asking what she was talking about.
Nebraska hadn’t come up in conversation, casually or otherwise, in It’s a Sweet Life 177
several weeks. “Yeah, but flea markets and stuff are usually weekend events.”
“Can we go? Please?”
“Of course we can. I’m not letting you drive all that way alone.”
“It’s not that far. It’s just one exit up from 50.”
“Oh. Well, still, I’ll drive you.” He kissed her. “And I’ll be your gallant pack animal.”
She draped her arms around his neck. “Well, Mr. Gallant, we need to get moving. They opened over two hours ago.”
They had flea markets in Miami, but nothing the likes of what he saw when they made their way to the Webster flea market.
Admittedly, his experience was more urban than rural, but he felt like a Miami native transplanted to Nebraska instead of just a few hundred miles north in his own home state.
He dutifully followed Libbie around the flea market, constantly observing her to make sure she wasn’t getting too cold in the chilly breeze, or overexerting herself. He wouldn’t let her carry any of her purchases, which included a few books, some fresh produce, and a glass, antique fishing net buoy that caught her eye for some reason.
It was after he’d sensed she was starting to wear down that he gently suggested they call it a morning.
When she didn’t argue with him, he knew his instincts had been spot-on. “Okay. Back to the car. You feel like lunch?”
“Lunch I could definitely do.”
Libbie gave him directions, taking them back the long way south down Highway 471 so she could show off more of her home state, including parts of the Richloam Wildlife Management Area, to her Cornhusker. “So how are you liking Florida winters so far?”
He smiled. “They’re definitely not Nebraska winters. Thank god.”
She never failed to giggle when he said something along those 178 Tymber Dalton
lines. It had become something of a running joke to them, to quote The Big Bang Theory several times throughout the course of their day.
She loved it.
They stopped at a small café not too far south of Webster for lunch.