Chapter 6

Bridget opened her eyes the next morning, then closed them again quickly to shut out the bright stream of morning sunshine.

Still here, she thought.

She and Rodney had gotten into a hushed-voices version of World War III last night after Jacob dropped them off at the BB. It had been their first major disagreement since being thrust into each other's lives six months earlier.

When they'd tiptoed up to their room shortly before two a.m., Bridget had been ready to start packing their bags immediately, but Rodney told her she was overreacting. She'd just managed one of the most difficult tasks of her life—walking away from Matt and Mark in order to keep them safe—and he said she was overreacting?

Her head had exploded as they heatedly argued—in whispers lest they wake up the other patrons of the inn—for nearly an hour. She'd lost the fight.

Rodney informed her they had nowhere to go and no money to purchase transportation out of town. He also insisted that he was determined to crack Lyle's code and find that flash drive. According to him, he couldn't go back to New York without it and expect to keep his job. Even with it, he feared he was facing the unemployment line. Rodney intended to continue searching for Ellen, the godmother, even though Bridget was beginning to think that clue was as wrong as "God's grave" had been.

She'd told him as much and then accused him of only wanting to stick around for Jacob. Rodney got angry and said she only wanted to run because she was hot for two cowboys and too chicken to do anything about it. After that, they'd gone to bed, the silence in the room suffocating her until she finally managed to drop into a restless sleep.

"I know you're awake."

She didn't open her eyes or acknowledge Rodney's comment. She was still mad.

Her bed dipped and she felt Rodney's thigh press against hers as he sat next to her. "Bridget? I'm sorry about last night."

She opened her eyes and looked at him. She didn't like the tired look in his eyes or the sadness on his face.

"I'm sorry too." She was. She'd been overwrought. Her mother always accused her of being melodramatic. Last night had been a perfect example of that character flaw.

Rodney grinned. "Things always look better in the morning."

She considered the fact they were stuck in a strange town with no money and a hit man on their trail, and were no closer to finding the flash drive. Then she remembered Matt and Mark, the way they'd caressed and kissed her last night. She smiled too. Maybe things weren't so bad after all.

"So I take it you and Jacob had a good time last night?"

Rodney leaned closer, his face answering her question without words. He looked downright cheerful. "It was okay."

She laughed, picking up her pillow and lobbing it at his head. "You go to hell for lying."

He dodged her blow. "Hey, I'd say in comparison with your evening, my night was only okay. I just can't imagine how your pants—and panties—ended up on the floor."

Fucking observant cop. "I'm not answering that."

"Come on, kitten. We've been living celibate lives here. You gotta give me some details. Inquiring minds want to know. Which James twin were you with?"

She blushed. She thought he'd figured it out already, but apparently he hadn't. Saying it aloud was going to be tough. "I wasn't with either of them. We just sort of fooled around some."

Rodney nodded. "Okay. So you fooled around. Who with?"

She opened her mouth, determined to put him off, but then she thought better of it. She needed advice. Bad.

"Both of them."

Rodney was silent for only a moment, and when he opened his mouth, it wasn't to speak or judge or condemn her. It was worse. He laughed. Loudly.

Her temper was piqued. "This isn't funny."

Rodney continued to chuckle. "You're damn right, it's not. It's fucking hot. Holy shit, girlfriend. I knew you were pretty cool, but I had no idea?—"

She smacked him on the shoulder. "I've never done anything like that before. Hell, I've never even had a one-night stand. This is just…" She threw her arms out in frustration. "I need advice here. I'm flying blind. Big time."

"And you think I can tell you how to proceed in this little threesome you're indulging in? Don't mean to disillusion you, Bridge, but I suck at dating one person at a time."

"You don't think I'm, oh, I don't know, sort of slutty for messing around with both of them?"

He shook his head. "You don't have a slutty bone in your body. Do you think this is normal for them? I mean, maybe it's a twin thing."

"No," she replied quickly. "They said last night it was new for them too. I'm not sure why I'm even letting myself get carried away with this. We have to leave soon and then?—"

A knock at the door prevented her from finishing.

Rodney stood and opened the door. Matt and Mark stood in the threshold. She glanced at the clock. After their late-night argument, she and Rodney had slept in. It was nearly eleven o'clock.

"Still in bed, sleepyhead?" Matt asked.

Rodney came to her defense. "We had a bit of a rough night. Thought we'd treat ourselves to a lazy morning."

Mark walked in to the room, concern written on his face. "More bad dreams?"

She shook her head. "No. It was nothing really. Everything's better today."

"Good," Matt said, entering the room and lifting up a basket. "Because we're taking you on a picnic."

"A picnic?" She laughed. "It's February. And freezing outside."

Mark shrugged, unconcerned. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

"Inside, where it's warm," she joked.

Matt shook the basket lightly under her nose, the scent of fried chicken causing her hungry stomach to growl. "Seems a shame to waste this big lunch."

"Where are you taking her?" Rodney asked.

Mark never missed a beat. "It's a secluded place on the James Ranch, Rodney. No one will see her there. Promise."

Rodney seemed appeased by his answer. "Sounds like fun, Bridge. You should go."

"What about the ranch? The horse training. Surely you haven't finished all your chores."

Matt picked up her jeans from the floor and tossed them to her. "There's a local guy who helps out sometimes whenever one of us is sick or we need a day off. All work and no play…"

Mark headed back toward the door. "Get dressed. We'll wait for you downstairs."

"Okay." Her head chastised her heart, which was racing at the thought of spending an entire afternoon alone with the handsome twins again. She'd been so determined last night to avoid them, to keep them safe.

The door closed and she looked up, surprised to find Rodney still there.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I'm weak-willed and stupid."

He walked over and sat down beside her once more. "No, you're not. You're a beautiful woman who's falling in love."

"I don't deserve to fall in love. Not after what happened with Lyle. If I hadn't insisted that he bring me that information instead of going to the cops?—"

"Stop," Rodney said firmly, his voice laced with anger. "Don't you ever say that again. You were not responsible for Lyle's death. He called you. He offered you the information."

"I should have told him no. Told him to go straight to the police. Instead, all I could think about was myself. I wanted that damn promotion so badly. God, I screwed it all up. I should have insisted we meet in public instead of that abandoned warehouse. I should have put my recorder somewhere where it would have actually picked up voices. I should have insisted we take backup."

"You can't live your life based on should have, Bridget. Lyle was a grown man. He knew what he had. His death was not your fault. Lucian Thompson killed him. Not you. You're a good friend. You've put your life on hold for months so that you can see that murderer brought to justice. You're risking your life to find the information that can bring down God knows how many more criminals as well."

Rodney's words were comforting, though she couldn't quite let them penetrate the part of her that would always feel responsible for Lyle's death. Still, she appreciated his effort. "Thanks."

"Go on your picnic. Have fun. Hell, one of us may as well try to get laid."

She laughed. "What will you do today?"

"Same old, same old. The Ellie Parker lead was a bust. Struck up a conversation with her while she was making my shake. Her given name is actually Ellison. She gets offended when someone calls her Ellen. Really? I'm pretty sure there's an Ellen somewhere in this damn town. I'm going to find her. Tell you what. I'll meet up with you at the James Ranch later this afternoon. For right now, it looks like we're still on the day-by-day plan. Lucky for us, there are three cowboys willing to help us wile away the hours."

Matt leanedback on the large, plush quilt and grinned at Bridget as she dug into the chocolate mousse they'd packed with enthusiasm. For a slim woman, she sure did enjoy her food. The picnic had been Mark's idea. Matt had to admit it was inspired.

The gazebo rested in the middle of a meadow on the east end of the James Ranch. Their father had built it for their mother as a wedding gift during the first year of their marriage. It was positioned with the perfect view of the mountains on one side and the ranch—far off in the distance—on the other. The winter she'd been diagnosed with cancer, their dad had added the glass windows and the small gas heater, so Mom could rest in comfort while enjoying the view of "her" mountains, as she called them.

Neither he nor Mark came here often. They'd always considered it their mom's place, but bringing Bridget had felt right.

"I have a confession," Bridget said.

"Another one?" Mark teased.

She swatted him with her cloth napkin. "Very funny. I've never had homemade fried chicken before."

Matt sat up. "Get out of here. Really?"

She nodded. "Really. My mom didn't like to cook. My experience with fried chicken doesn't stretch much beyond a red and white tub with a picture of the Colonel on front."

Mark reached over and lightly tugged on a strand of her hair. "Damn. It's downright scary how much of life you've missed out on. You may need to make plans to stick around her a few more weeks, so we have time to catch you up."

"A few weeks," she teased. "You think that's enough time to expose me to all the wonders of good country living?"

"Better make that months," Mark added. "Or even a year, just to be sure."

Though Matt knew they were kidding around, he also knew there was a strand of seriousness behind his brother's request. Matt wanted more time with her too. More time to figure out what this feeling was and what to do with it. He'd known Bridget less than a week, but he felt certain he was falling in love with her.

"A year would be nice, but I think I'd lose my job if I stayed away that long."

Matt tilted his head. "You know, after all this time, I've never thought to ask. What do you do for a living?"

She paused, and again, Matt was struck with the uneasy suspicion that Bridget was still holding back with them. Something about her confession the previous night had felt off. Several times today, he'd felt the same sinking awareness that something was very wrong. It was more than a nasty boyfriend looking for her. A quick glance at his brother confirmed Mark was thinking the same thing.

"I—"

Before she could finish, Matt placed his fingers against her lips. Pure instinct drove him. "Don't." He wasn't sure how he knew it, but his gut told him she was about to lie. "You don't have to tell us if you don't want to. It's not important to us what you do. We like you just fine."

She seemed taken aback and fell silent for several moments. Matt let his gaze travel to the snow-capped mountains outside. He could see the appeal of this place, could understand why his mother loved it so. When closed in the warm, cozy gazebo, the worries of the world disappeared, ceased to matter.

"I'm a reporter for a small newspaper."

Matt looked at Bridget and grinned. At last, she was beginning to trust them with a bit of the truth. "Jacob will go crazy when he finds that out. He'll pelt you with a million questions."

She laughed. "Yeah, I bet he will."

Mark moved closer to Bridget. Matt waited for some spark of jealousy, expecting the move to ignite his competitive spirit. Nothing happened. Well, not nothing. His cock moved from its semihard state to fully erect. Freud would have had a field day with this predicament, but Matt didn't care.

"We all seem to be ignoring the elephant in the room." Mark ran his hand through Bridget's hair. She'd worn it down, rather than in her usual ponytail. Matt preferred it this way.

"Elephant?" Bridget asked.

"Last night."

Mark let those two words answer her question.

"I keep thinking I should feel bad about that," she said. "But the truth is I don't. I'd sort of like to do it again."

Matt couldn't resist teasing her. "You mean orgasm and then pass out?"

She laughed. "Don't start with me, cowboy. That was your fault. I worked my ass off on your ranch and drank the wine you poured."

Mark tugged on her hair. "Spoken like a true woman. Blame the man."

"There are two of you and one of me. You better be sure I'll score my points where I can."

Matt lifted the picnic basket out of the way and scooted closer. "Fair enough. So let's explore this do it again comment."

She raised her hand and cupped Matt's cheek. Her soft hand felt good against his skin. "This time I'll stay awake. And this time, I don't want to be the only person removing clothes."

Her hand drifted down to his long-sleeved shirt, her fingers caressing his chest. Suddenly, he resented the cloth that restricted her touch. He took her hint and pulled his shirt off completely. Behind her, Mark did the same.

For several moments, she looked at them, her fingers touching them, learning them. "I can't believe I'm here. I can't believe you want me."

More truth. Matt sensed the walls crumbling a bit. He reached for the hem of her shirt and lifted it. She helped him remove it, remaining still, letting them look their fill.

Mark broke the silence first. "How could we not want you, Bridget? You're beautiful."

She turned and pressed her forehead against his brother's brow, then she moved closer, initiating the kiss. Matt watched the two of them, blown away by the intense beauty of their actions. They broke the kiss and Bridget turned to look at him.

Matt claimed her lips. He'd only gotten a brief taste the night before. Today he intended to make up for that. For several moments, he lost track of everything except Bridget's lips—her taste, her smell, her soft moans. When he opened his eyes, he discovered Mark had removed her bra. Looking down, he saw his brother's hands wrapped around Bridget's middle, cupping her breasts, playing with them.

Matt moved downward as Mark lifted her breast to his mouth. Matt accepted the offering. Sucking lightly at first, Matt gradually built up the pressure until Bridget cried out in pleasure. He looked at her. "You like that?"

She nodded, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "So much."

He glanced at Mark, who nodded. They were brothers. Twins. They'd spent a lifetime communicating without words. That bond suddenly seemed stronger than ever.

Mark lifted her other breast and Matt repeated his playful game, alternating between hard sucks and light nips on her nipple. Soon, Bridget was begging for more.

Matt released her breast with a soft pop. Mark pressed her down onto the blanket. Lying on her back, she lifted her hips as Mark stripped away her jeans and panties.

Matt's heart nearly stopped beating as he got his first good glimpse of their girl in all her naked beauty. "God, sweetheart. You're gorgeous."

She smiled. And blushed. Everywhere.

Mark chuckled. "I think it's my turn to play down here."

Matt watched as Mark skipped the preliminaries and went straight for the kill. She squealed when his brother's lips grazed her clit. Mark used his tongue with skill, driving Bridget out of her mind within moments.

"No," she finally cried out. "Not again. Not just me."

She reached over and grasped the waistband of Matt's jeans. "Take them off. I want to taste you too."

A wave of lightheadedness passed over him. Matt glanced at Mark, who'd paused.

"Do it, bro." Mark's grin grew. "Do it or it's my cock she's going to taste."

Mark and Bridget laughed softly as Matt moved with haste. "No way. She asked for me."

"I want you both."

Matt wasn't sure he'd ever heard sweeter words. He stood up briefly to strip off the remainder of his clothes, then he knelt on the quilt.

Bridget reached for him the second his knees hit the floor. She wrapped her palm around his cock and lightly tugged, indicating she wanted him closer.

Moving forward, he didn't stop until he'd straddled her upper chest, the head of his cock poised a mere inch from her mouth.

Bridget hissed and Matt looked over his shoulder. Mark had resumed his actions, his tongue dipping in and out of her sheath.

Bending forward, Matt gripped his cock, dragging the head of it over her lips. "You sure?"

She smiled, then opened her mouth, welcoming him in. At first, he kept his thrusts shallow, never pressing more than the head of his cock inside, but soon she grew greedy. Gripping his ass, she pulled him closer, trying to force more and more of his girth inside.

"Easy, sweetheart," he murmured when he felt the back of her throat. She shook her head lightly and the motion felt incredible. Matt closed his eyes, fearing he'd come too fast. Watching her take him so deeply inside her mouth drove him insane.

She groaned against his flesh on the next pass and he knew she was getting close to finding her own release. She tightened her grip on the base of his cock and sucked harder.

Stars flew behind Matt's eyes. They'd have to perfect the art of longevity later. She was too perfect, too fucking good at this. He began to move faster in and out of her mouth. Her nails pierced the skin of his bare ass, driving him on, demanding more.

She writhed beneath him, finding her own pleasure. Matt felt her body stiffen with her orgasm as the first spurt of come escaped his cock. Together the two of them shuddered. Matt wasn't sure when he'd ever come harder. Or longer.

At last, as the strength drained from him, he pulled out of her mouth, falling to her side on the quilt. He'd expected her to fall asleep as she had the night before. He was surprised when she lifted her arms to Mark instead.

Somewhere along the line, his brother had unhooked his jeans. He stroked his cock roughly.

"Come here," Bridget invited, but Mark shook his head.

"I'm too close, Bridge. I wouldn't last three seconds between those sweet lips of yours. I want to come on your stomach, your breasts."

"Yes," Bridget whispered as Mark moved closer. He leaned over her body, as he held himself a few feet above her. With his other hand, he stroked himself, quicker, harder.

Bridget lifted her hands to her breasts. Cupping them. Holding them up as she played with her nipples.

It was quite a show. Matt couldn't take his eyes off her. She was a seductress, sexy as hell.

"Goddammit, that's hot, Bridget." Mark's voice sounded rough, almost pained. "I'm going to come now. Jesus. I'm coming."

Bridget smiled as the first drops of Mark's come hit her stomach, then the tips of her breasts. His brother was decorating her delicate skin with pearls and Bridget accepted each one with genuine pleasure.

When the last of Mark's offering fell, so did he. His brother collapsed on the other side of their city angel, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close. Mark placed several soft kisses on her cheek.

"Spend the night with us," Matt said, silently praying she would say yes. There was no way he could let her go back to New York yet. Maybe not ever. "Stay with us tonight."

She looked at him, then nodded. "I'd like that."

Matt moved closer, resting his arm along her stomach, parallel to his brother's. Together the two of them held her, sheltered her. It felt perfect. They were an ideal union of three, and it was right.