2. Modesty Isn’t Really My Thing

2

MODESTY ISN'T REALLY MY THING

Their cabin was barely visible through the haze of snow.

The tires crunched as I carefully maneuvered my car down the sloping driveway, parking it behind Beau and Flora's. Warm light spilled from the windows of the cabin like honey tipped from a cup. Through the flurries, the front door was ruby red against the wood. Christmas lights bordered the roof and twinkled, star-like, in the bushes.

The blizzard continued dumping wet clumps of snow, sealing my fate. And the short drive here felt dangerous enough, my hands gripping the wheel so tightly my joints ached. I'd sent a cautious message to our group chat, which included Beau, Flora and the rest of the people we'd become fast friends with after all meeting at the Mile High Horror Film Festival a few years back. We were a tight-knit group of queer weirdos with a shared obsession for scary movies and camping trips. Though Beau, Flora and I had immediately clicked on a deeper level and spent the first part of our friendship virtually inseparable.

Until they started dating, that is.

The weather's pretty nasty here, was thinking of crashing with Beau and Flora, I'd texted. Unless you all think I can make it back??? I really don't want to miss the New Queers Eve dance party. Already bought my platform shoes!

Within seconds, Flora had responded: Telluride is currently experiencing a snowpocalypse. Visibility: zero. Wind chill: fucking freezing. She's staying. Plus, we can have a big gay dance party once we all return…SAFELY!!!

The rest of the group chimed in and affirmed Flora's explanation, with no understanding of how this situation would affect me . Stranded in a cabin, for who knew how long, with the two people I wanted the most but could never have. Two people whose wedding I was supposed to be planning in a precise and professional manner, regardless of my feelings for them.

Two people who were clearly having problems…but refused to tell me why.

With a heavy sigh, I scanned the responses, which were all some variation of "do you want to die ?"

I didn't. Though death from unrequited love was a possibility this weekend.

Beau's response came through. Told ya, Paige. You're stuck with us.

I released a strangled breath and shot him a glare through the windshield. He managed to look confident and jaunty even in the midst of the snowpocalypse. He knocked on my window, and I reluctantly rolled it down a few inches. Flora appeared by his side, flurries clinging to her golden hair, holding up a house key.

"Come on, Paige," she said. "My plan was to bake all weekend, including gingerbread cake with cream cheese frosting."

My face flushed. "My favorite?"

"Anything for you," she sang. "And if we're snowed in, I'm sure we'll find something to do to pass the time."

That flush turned blistering. My eyes landed on the venue paperwork sticking out of my event binder. "Fine. I'm in. But only if we spend that time nailing down where the hell it is that you're getting married. We need to decide." I coughed, shook my head. " You need to decide before every spot is taken for the summer."

They exchanged another look, partially obscured by the snow. Flora took a step to the side, putting more space between them. Beau squeezed the back of his neck.

"No deal," he said. "No more wedding details. It's almost New Year's Eve. We're snowbound, and we need to have some fun. No meal counts. No dates. No alterations."

I held his gaze. "Are you fucking with me right now?"

"Not one bit. Flor and I need a break." He gave a short nod, like he was tipping a cowboy hat my way. "Now get your sweet ass inside that cabin."

Then they turned and began picking their way through the snow, overnight luggage and grocery bags in hand. I hinged forward at the waist and rolled the window all the way down. "A break? What does that even…a break from what ?"

But they either couldn't hear me over the wind…or were blatantly ignoring me. I narrowed my eyes at their retreating backs. This wasn't my first experience with the mercurial whims of clients. My base skewed toward the queer and quirky, but that didn't mean my job was free of drama. Managing expectations was part of the gig.

I didn't anticipate it from Beau and Flora though. Not this frustrating indecisiveness. And not whatever weird awkward energy was swirling around them. It wasn't only because of our close friendship but who they were as a couple. They were both bisexual, like me. Charming and affectionate, laid-back but still adventurous. When they'd asked me to be their wedding planner, I'd imagined a free-spirited backyard BBQ. Wildflower bouquets and an all-night dance party. Something carefree and full of community.

Instead, we'd driven all across the state of Colorado in search of a perfect venue I feared didn't actually exist.

I tugged a beanie down over my chin-length black curls and grabbed my workbag. Within seconds of stepping outside, I knew there was no other option but to stay at the cabin. The snow was falling too fast, and I could barely see my hand in front of my face. Ice stung my cheeks as I attempted the treacherous walk up the front brick path. The soaring Rockies pressed in all around us, and I was dimly aware of a few other houses in the distance.

The ruby-red door swung open, and Beau's big, broad-shouldered frame appeared. "Paige? I'm comin' to get ya."

I snorted. "I'm a Colorado native. Pretty sure I can handle—"

My boot slipped so fast on a patch of ice that my leg flew straight up and I plummeted to the ground. One second I was standing—the next, I was blinking up into a pure white haze. Another blink, and Beau's face appeared. There was a split-second of extreme worry in his eyes before his training kicked in. "Did you take a tumble, gorgeous?"

"As I was saying , I'm a Colorado native and can handle myself."

His eyes roamed my face then traveled the length of my body, searching for hidden injuries. "If you're crackin' jokes, you'll live. Trust me, I'm a professional."

"Did they teach you this kind of witty bedside manner at paramedic school?"

He chuckled. "You're adorable when you try to talk shit." His fingers pressed gingerly beneath my hat. "Did you hit your head?"

"No, I caught myself before that happened," I said.

His big hands gripped my cheeks, surprisingly warm in the biting cold. "I'll still assess you inside. What else hurts?"

I wiggled my fingers and toes, wincing when my ankle protested. "Ah, fuck. My left ankle, the one that slipped."

"You probably twisted it, but I can patch you up." He relaxed into a crooked grin. "It's smart to have a devastatingly handsome paramedic on hand if you're trapped in the middle of nowhere."

"Can I request one that's less annoying though?"

He winked. "You love it, Paige Presley. And I'm sorry to say, but you're stuck with me this weekend. So let's see about getting you to stand, okay?"

Still crouching, Beau helped me to sit, then to a very careful standing position. I tried to put weight on my ankle and cursed instead.

"I can't… It hurts too much right now," I blurted out. Snow swirled around us, soaking my hair and sending icy water through my layers.

Beau stepped in front of me, gripping me by the shoulders. He glanced down then back up the walkway. "I'll carry you inside, as long as that's all right with you?"

Heat coursed through me, even in the freezing cold. "Are you sure?"

His answer was to scoop me up into his arms like he'd done it a million times before. The new position brought me tight against his burly chest and inches away from that sinful mouth. Though it was the very real concern in his eyes that awakened the bird-like fluttering in my belly. A concern that soon melted away and became something like curiosity.

Then a smug satisfaction.

"Can I take us inside, or do you need more time to stare at my face?" he asked, his voice low and raspy.

I jerked my chin up in challenge. "I wasn't staring at your face, as much as I know you'd love that. I was only wondering if they taught you how to swoop in and dramatically carry people to safety in paramedic school."

Beau hefted me an inch higher then began to trudge inside. "Wouldn't you like to know."

"Well…you're quite good at it. Is what I was trying to say."

He leveled me with another fiery stare. "I'm quite good at a lot of things."

Once inside, my first impression was of a statuesque Christmas tree in the corner, burgundy throw rugs, armchairs piled high with pillows, a fireplace with a stone hearth, and a retro-looking kitchen. The electric fireplace had already been flicked on, so Beau beelined to the forest-green couch directly next to the flames. He set me down gently before quickly tossing his snow-covered outerwear into the mud room. When he returned, he shoved his sleeves to his forearms and sank to his knees in front of me.

Blood rushed in my ears as Beau lifted a wet curl from my cheek. "I need to see if this place has a first aid kit so I can wrap your ankle. But first, can you follow my finger for me?"

I nodded and did as I was told, warming beneath his professional attention. He tugged off my drenched beanie and sat next to me to examine my head, his fingers sifting through my hair and sending shivers down my neck. "And nothing else hurts, right?"

"Just my ankle."

He grunted his approval and peered deeply into my eyes again. I knew he was only watching my pupils, concerned about a head injury. My heart still danced in my chest the longer that he stared at me.

"You know," he said softly, "I wouldn't have passed any of my exams or certifications to become a paramedic if you and Flora hadn't helped me."

I frowned. "You're the one who aced everything, Beau."

"And I couldn't have done it if you hadn't taken care of me. Fed me food and caffeine, kept me laughing when I wanted to quit. Kept me focused when I felt defeated." His fingers found my chin, holding my face still. "That's not nothin'."

"We would do it again in a heartbeat," I whispered.

His throat worked. "I know you would. It's why I'm so grateful."

Those months were a heady blur of memories, fueled by coffee and catnaps. I had a heavy slate of events to plan, and Flora was just opening up her bakery. All three of us were scrambling to achieve our dreams, flushed with whimsical ambition. Exhaustion hit us after, but in the moment, we were all high on a euphoric adrenaline.

On one of the many nights that we'd been quizzing Beau for his certification at my apartment, I'd woken around four in the morning to find him sprawled asleep on the floor, head in the crook of his elbow. Meanwhile, Flora must have crawled in next to me on the couch. I woke with her head on my chest, our legs intertwined, my lips in her hair. I dragged my fingers through the strands and took long, greedy inhales of her lavender scent. Stared down at her body—her bare thighs draped over mine, the purple nail polish on her toes, the soft press of her breasts against my rib cage.

I had wanted her awake. Wanted her to kiss up the side of my neck while her fingers dipped inside my shorts. Wanted Beau to watch Flora make me come on the couch at four in the morning, so frenzied and sleep-drunk we could convince ourselves it was nothing more than a fever dream in the morning.

Flora appeared in the room as if summoned by my inappropriate thoughts. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"She slipped on the ice and likely twisted an ankle," Beau replied, eyes still on mine. "Do you mind gettin' her out of these wet clothes while I search for a first aid kit?"

Flora vanished then reappeared with clothing that I recognized. "Not at all. Paige, you can borrow whatever you need from me and Beau this weekend. The bathroom was pretty well-stocked. I'd check there first while I take care of our girl."

Flora took Beau's place—kneeling in front of me with a worried expression—while my breath caught in my throat at the mere suggestion of being their girl . Even if it was only a joke. Even if it was only their usual affectionate teasing.

There was nothing I yearned for more in this world than for that to be true.

To belong to them both.

"How badly are you hurt?" she asked. "Does Beau think we need to drive you to the hospital?"

I waved away the suggestion. "I'm already feeling better. It's sore but not too bad. With a bit of rest and some whiskey, I'll be good as new tomorrow." I pitched forward to grab at a shoelace. "And I can absolutely undress myself."

Her lips curved up, dark eyes turning playful. "Not on my watch." She propped my non-injured foot on her thigh and began yanking at the wet laces. "You've spent the past six months taking care of me and Beau nonstop. Let us take care of you , Paige."

"Planning your wedding isn't exactly the same as taking care of you," I argued. "It's my job, what I love to do. It…it makes me happy. And it's not every day that a girl gets to plan her best friends' big queer wedding. It's an honor, not a hardship."

The lie sat heavy in my gut. Flora's suddenly cagey expression made it heavier. "I know you want to help. It's why we asked you. Not only because of our friendship but because of how talented you are."

One shoe slid off, and she started on the next foot—gingerly, to avoid hurting me. Her fingers were deft and sure, unlike the growing apprehension in her eyes.

"Flora," I said softly. "There's going to be a wedding…right?"

Her eyes slid to the floor, and she sniffed. Then her fingers pulled at the bottom of my sweater and she clicked her tongue. "This is soaked through, babe. Off it comes."

I settled my fingers over hers, stilling her. "You didn't answer my question."

She cocked her head, her cranberry-colored lips kicking up into a smile. "That's breaking the rules. We said no wedding talk this weekend, remember?"

" You said that. I didn't agree."

Another tug of my shirt. A widening of that sweet smile I could never, ever , resist. "Sweater. Off. Now. And don't worry, I'll look away."

"Oh, that's not something I care about," I said as she raised the material up and over. "Remember the whole group of us skinny dipping on that camping trip at Echo Lake? Modesty isn't really my thing."

Flora pressed a worn sweatshirt into my hands. It was oversized, with frayed cuffs and faded lettering that read Rocky Mountain National Park. A favorite of hers, one she'd worn plenty of late nights when I'd stayed to help her at her bakery.

Now, her pretty gaze lifted to the top of my head instead of traveling down my body. Her front teeth snagged on her bottom lip as she smoothed my mussed hair, tucking strands behind my ear. Pushing errant curls from my forehead, setting off sparks of pleasure that danced across my skin.

"You know what I remember about Echo Lake?" she said, eyes landing back on mine. "That hike you and I went on by ourselves. The one where we—"

"Got completely caught in the pouring rain?" I finished. "We had to hunker under my poncho for an hour until we could make it back down."

Raindrops had glittered in her hair, sliding down her bare thighs. Every time she'd laughed, I'd wanted to drag her into my lap.

Flora sat back on her heels and nodded. "You were so gallant that day. Holding my hand on the tricky parts. Keeping me entertained while we waited out the storm. Helping me leap over the puddles so I wouldn't get wet. I thought you were trying to seduce me."

I huffed out a shocked laugh. " Seduce you? What was it, the peanut butter and jelly sandwich I made for our lunch? Or how sweaty and mud-covered I was by the end of it?"

She pushed up on her knees and carefully removed the soft sweatshirt from my clenched fingers. I closed my eyes as she tugged it over my head, and when I opened them again, her face was close to mine. A thrill shot through me as I inhaled the scent of her detergent, amplified when she lowered her voice to a husky whisper.

"Don't pretend you don't know, Paige," she said.

"Know…know what?" I stammered.

"The effect that you have on people," she said, almost a plea. "The effect that you have on me."

I blinked, taken aback. And that's when Beau returned with a first aid kit.

"Let me guess," he said. "Paige is refusing to let us take care of her."

"That she is."

Then Beau dropped to his knees next to Flora and I inhaled a shaky breath.

"I'm not letting you start off New Year's Eve weekend with a busted ankle and hypothermia," he said with a sly grin. "So stop your fussin' and let us take off these pants. They'll turn you into an icicle."

I had no response to that demand. Not when they both placed their hands on my bare ankles with matching looks of reverence on their faces. Not when two sets of eyes found mine, full of a longing that took my breath away. That longing wasn't directed toward each other though—there was a six-inch gap between their bodies, and they hadn't made eye contact once.

"I don't…I don't need you to take care of me," I managed to say.

Beau's gaze darkened. "That wasn't a request, Paige." His strong hands came to my waist. "Now stand up and lean against me. It'll make it easier for Flora."

My lips twisted to the side. "Someone's feeling bossy."

His response was a subtle quirk of his eyebrow. I obeyed, letting myself be pulled into place. His fingers tightened, pressing into my skin while I shifted onto my good ankle. Beau's eyes were locked on mine while Flora's stayed to the side. Though it only made me more aware that I was half-naked in front of two people whose hands roamed my body so very carefully. I felt her tug on the waistband of my pants then slowly drag them down my legs. Her breath feathered along my thighs, across my knees. Then back up again as she redressed me in a pair of her old sweatpants.

"Better?" she asked.

"Much."

Beau helped me back down and tenderly set my injured foot on his thigh. The muscle twitched and flexed, reminding me of how strong and thick he was there. The large tattoos that decorated his skin, the dark dusting of hair. He began wrapping my ankle with expert precision, sending shivers up my spine every time his fingertips brushed my skin. Next to me, Flora used a towel to squeeze the snow out of my curls. When she finished, she tousled them affectionately.

My entire body ached with the need to be closer —to wrap my arms around Flora's waist. To bring Beau's handsome face to ours. To feel his tattooed hands on my hips. Flora's lips on my neck.

Instead, I murmured, "Are you guys…okay? As a couple, I mean. I'm not imagining that there's something weird going on, right?"

Beau tensed. Flora's fingers stilled in my hair, then slipped away. She moved to stand, putting distance between us. "We're fine, just a little tired," she said, with a distinct edge to her voice. "But I think it's high time I started dinner. My plan was whiskey cocktails, buttery biscuits, and roasted chicken. Whaddya say?"

My stomach grumbled despite the awkward moment. She cracked a smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Sounds like a yes to me," she said, spinning on her heel and heading toward the kitchen. "Maybe we could all go in the hot tub after?"

A blush burned its way up my throat. "A…a hot tub? All three of us?"

Beau's thumb caressed the back of my calf. "As long as you're feeling up to it."

"You're the expert medical professional. Is it recommended for a twisted ankle?"

His green eyes twinkled. "It absolutely is. We learned that on day one." Then he helped me rise to my feet before bending and lifting me against his chest again. "How does the ankle feel, by the way?"

I flexed it experimentally. "Perfect. It barely hurts."

He lowered his voice. "Told ya I was good."

Beau was staring at my mouth with a look I could only describe as ravenous . He smelled crisp and earthy, like the pine trees outside. And the open vee of his Henley revealed a hint of chest hair and the ink of his tattoos. The fraught tension hanging between all three of us made Flora's hot tub suggestion seem especially dangerous. I wouldn't survive seeing them sweat-slicked and half-naked, simultaneously hyper-focusing on me while ignoring each other.

It was as tempting as it was concerning—this spiky wedge lodged between them. The sudden conflict they refused to acknowledge or talk about. We once told each other everything, every wild dream and feverish secret.

Well, except for one.

From the moment they started dating, I'd tucked my feelings for them deep inside my heart, never to see the light of day. So deep that my need became an incessant and everlasting craving, turning me into the worst kind of masochist.

Yes, I'll plan your wedding.

Yes, I'll be there every step of the way.

Yes, I'll spend a weekend trapped in a cabin with you.

So really, what was a little bit of extra pain in the grand scheme of things?