Chapter Twelve

Sloane emerged from the bedroom dressed in jeans that made her look amazing. But it was the frilly white blouse that had Shaw jerking to his feet. He crossed the living space to meet her.

She faced him, her pale brown brows pinched. "What's the matter?"

She had to know what she was wearing. What it did to him.

"Your shirt."

Her face blanked, and then she looked down at the feminine blouse.

"It's the one you were wearing the day we met."

Stare meeting his, she gave a tiny shake of her head. "I never thought about how it might affect you when I put it on. I can see it upsets you. I'll take it off."

"Keep it on. I can deal."

She stared at him. "No," she said slowly, "I'll take it off." When she swung around, he caught her by the arm and whirled her back to him.

Her body crushed against his, and he couldn't resist holding her even tighter. Nuzzling her lips, he ran one hand down to cup her ass and the other he threaded into the hair on the back of her head.

"This shirt drove me crazy that night."

She issued a whimper. "I remember."

"It makes me happy that you still wear it."

Face tilted up to his, she anchored a hand on his chest. "It's my favorite shirt."

"Mm. It's my favorite shirt to take off you." He reached for the hem, but she drew out of his arms before he could get to first base.

"I have a facial booked at the ranch spa. I don't have time for...that…right now."

At the word facial, he twisted to shoot a look at Dylan. His lover cocked a brow, a sly expression overtaking his rugged features.

He sidled over. "Facial, you say? That can be arranged."

She blinked. "It has been." Her lips opened in an O as if suddenly it hit her that they meant another kind of facial, one involving coming on her beautiful lips and a long shower afterward.

"Not that type of facial," she rushed to correct. "This one involves really nice skin."

"So does ours." Dylan swept her into his arms. Shaw watched how responsive she was to their lover. How he seemed to widen her smile every time he reached for her.

Darkness crept into the crevices of his mind. The more time the three of them spent together, the more he believed that they would be great together, just like Piers, Ash and Sylvee.

Shaw had a lot to think about, especially with the possibility of a coaching job within reach.

When they drew apart, Dylan caught his stare on him. The dimple vanished in the blink of an eye. Their gazes held for a knowing moment.

"We'll walk you to the spa and pick you up when you're finished. How's that sound, baby?" Dylan brushed his lips across her forehead.

She nodded, and they all left the bungalow. Shaw let Sloane set the pace, and she took her time, drinking in their surroundings. One thing they used to dream about was coming to Alaska and starting a life together when he left the NHL. He quit hockey much sooner than either of them expected…and then everything went up in smoke.

Could they grab hold of that dream again? What did that even look like to either of them, to Marigold…or to Dylan?

He didn't know where Dylan's head was at, let alone Sloane's. He didn't even know his own.

Suddenly, she let out a gasp and pointed at the barn. He followed her finger to see the mare and her brand-new foal on wobbly legs beside it.

Flashing a grin, he nodded. "I heard the foal dropped late last night. A couple was in the barn at the time."

"Oh! In the barn as in…"

He shrugged. "Most likely. Lots of women's fantasies involve a barn. Plenty of hay for rolling in."

She laughed, and he slipped his hand in hers. The need to be touching her at all times was stronger than it ever was before. It was as though during those two years they spent apart, his love had continued growing. Only she wasn't around to lavish it on. Instead he'd bottled it up for so long, he felt ready to explode with it.

Dylan flanked her other side, his arm around her. At first, sharing Sloane with him scared the hell out of Shaw. He'd lost the fight for her during the selection process, and it damn near made him give up.

When had he become the guy on the bench? After his injury, he thought he could battle his way back, but he'd seen the writing on the wall. Careers in hockey rarely lasted into any player's late thirties. Injuries ended the career of many an athlete.

So he'd given up and walked away.

All of a sudden, he realized he'd been doing that exact thing over and over again. He gave up Sloane, his daughter. He'd almost let this second chance to win them back slide and handed it all over to Dylan.

Though he hadn't realized it at the time, when he showed up looking to share her with Dylan, everything changed. He changed.

They'd reached the spa. The modern building always looked out of place in the landscape to Shaw, but he saw how the clean lines would appeal more than the rustic wood structures on the rest of the ranch.

They walked Sloane inside and when he and Dylan kissed her, the workers didn't bat an eye. Around here, this kind of thing was common.

Not so much in the rest of the world. Another worry to consider.

Once he and Dylan were outside again, he jerked his head toward the grub hall. "Wanna grab some food?"

"Sure."

Shaw could always guess what day of the week it was on the ranch based off how crowded the common area was. The lodge cleared out as couples sought more private—or adventurous—locales, so it provided the perfect spot for a conversation.

If Dylan suspected Shaw's motive for coming here, he didn't let on as they filled plates with food from the buffet. He piled his with ribs and potatoes; Dylan had fried chicken and potato salad.

With plates in hand, they moved to the huge bank of windows that provided atmosphere with the beautiful views of the ranch. At the moment, the sun spread a warm, buttery glow over the world. Shaw would think that world was almost perfect if he didn't know things were about to get more difficult.

Dylan dragged a chair out, the metal legs grating on the tile floor. He sank down opposite him and settled the plate on the table.

They dug into the food. Even though they'd shared breakfast with Sloane, each of them was always up for more. Being in peak shape was important to keeping the ladies happy.

Shaw picked up a rib and tore off a bite of seasoned meat. "How are you feeling after the fall yesterday?"

Dylan bit into a drumstick and chewed. "I've been stiffer."

At the veiled innuendo, he grinned around his bite. "I've seen you stiffer."

"You've made me stiffer."

They stared at each other for a heartbeat. Until now, neither had admitted to their relationship being any more than friendship. Even their first encounter with the other client could be chalked up to something that happened in the moment and only for pleasure.

Shaw couldn't pretend anymore.

"I've got something to tell you."

Dylan paused mid-bite and lowered the drumstick. "Okay."

"I'm not ready for Sloane to know."

Sobering, he nodded. "Go on."

"You may know that I always dreamed of coaching a team in Alaska."

Cocking his head, Dylan contemplated him. "I heard a couple rumors."

"Well, they're true. And I received a call last night from the college I was going after."

He trained his gaze on Shaw. "You'd leave the ranch?"

"I'd have to. It's not like bull riding. Even in the off-season, the team's still training."

Carefully schooling his features, Dylan picked up his chicken again. "What are you telling me?"

"I think it could be the second chance I need."

"At hockey?"

"At life."

"I'm not sure I follow."

Shaw pushed out a sigh. If he admitted his feelings to Dylan, he could be rejected. No one had rejected him in his life. From the time he started playing hockey in his early years, everyone wanted to be his friend. Every coach wanted him on their team. Once he hit high school, plenty of pretty girls were thrown into the mix.

When he went pro, all the doors blasted wide open for him to walk through.

But Dylan? He was a wild card. He was just as tough and reserved as Shaw. That meant he didn't know where Dylan's mind was. He'd invited him into his bed—and shower—but his head might be in a completely different place.

Abandoning his food, Shaw eyed his lover. "Spending time with you and Sloane this week has made me think."

Dylan picked up a napkin and wiped his fingers and lips. "I'm listening."

"Spending time with Piers, Ash and Sylvee yesterday also made me think." Without saying anything else, Dylan understood.

He rocked in his seat, his spine hitting the wooden chair back. "You're serious."

Neither spoke for long heartbeats.

Not exactly the reaction he'd been hoping for. Suddenly, Shaw wasn't sure about anything. He could be reading the entire situation wrong.

* * * * *

Over the past decade of his life, Dylan had mastered the art of being the odd man out. Most of the time, his carefree attitude covered any discomfort he may feel. All that flew out the window, leaving him without a crutch to prop him up.

He stared at Shaw. There was no concealing his shock at what Shaw was saying.

"If I'm reading you right, you're asking for more."

Shaw gave a single nod.

Dylan's chest blazed. "With Sloane."

"With both of you."

Dylan dropped his head, gut churning, fighting for the right thing to say. All of the words jumbled in his head, making it impossible to string into a sentence.

After a long moment of silence, he locked gazes with Shaw again. "You want a trio—a throuple?"

Shaw's gaze burrowed into him, digging under his skin and finding all the small spots that had been hurting for as long as Dylan could remember.

He'd never given much thought to a long-term relationship with a man. Hell, he never thought he'd be in a monogamous relationship with a woman either.

"It's a lot to take in, I get it. But I had to let you into my head. You know me well enough to see if I was hiding something."

"Sloane knows you too." He searched Shaw's eyes. Yeah, he knew him well enough that the shadows in the depths of his green and gold eyes stuck out. "You haven't mentioned the coaching job to her."

He shook his head. "When I was forced into retirement by my injury, I was so lost, so overwhelmed…I gave up on everything, including Sloane and our daughter. I'm not proud of it. I wish to fuck I could go back and do it right. But I can't help but feel like she was thrown into my path again for a second chance. This time, I'm willing to fight. However, hockey was a big part of our problems. What if she's not willing to accept it into her life again?"

Dylan grunted. "I don't know how you managed to walk away from her."

His pained expression grew grimmer. "You have no idea how damn hard it was."

He ducked his head. "I can take a stab that I do."

"You're in love with her." Understanding washed through Shaw.

Dropping his elbows to the table, he cradled his head in his hands. "I think I might be." He wallowed in misery for all of a second before he shook himself, straightening. "What good is that? I'll be gone in a month, on the road again, riding bulls and chasing my own dreams."

Except those weren't really his dreams. Were they ever? He just picked a road of life and hopped on it, driving for so long that he didn't know when to pull off.

Maybe it was time to hang up his chaps and find a new route.

"I've never had a relationship that lasted more than six months with a woman. And being with a guy? I know nothing about that at all. Taking a cock up the ass and giving blow jobs doesn't exactly teach you how to be with another guy."

"We've been taking care of Sloane's needs—together. Maybe knowing that is enough."

They stared at each other.

"You don't need to make any decisions right now, Dylan. I just…had to talk to you."

"When do you plan to bring this up to Sloane?"

Shaw pushed out a heavy sigh. "I'm not sure how she'll react to the possibility of me coaching."

"At least you'll know where you stand with her. I'm concerned that she doesn't have feelings for me. I haven't known her very long."

"She already cares about you—a lot."

Shaw's words caused Dylan's heart to give a violent beat out of rhythm with the rest.

Almost choking on the sensation and the emotions Shaw's statement raised inside him, Dylan gulped. "What makes you think so?"

"I see it on her face when you're making love to her."

Making love.

Fuck. Just fuck.

This was a job. It was only physical.

His eyes slid shut. Goddammit, he cared about both of them far too much for his own sanity. He should leave The Boot Knockers Ranch now. Save his heart before they ripped it out of his chest and put it on display for everyone to see.

"I think we should tell her now."

At the same time, Dylan's words overlapped Shaw's. "We need to hold back."

Shaw tugged off his cowboy hat and sliced his fingers through his hair.

Dylan's heart gave a painful lurch. "You're right. I'm just wimping out. She deserves to hear what it is we've been discussing. It's not fair to her to make choices that will affect her so much—and Marigold too."

Shaw's lips tightened. "I've been a terrible father."

"Well, you've got one up on me, man. I've never been one at all."

When Shaw's grunt turned into a laugh, Dylan couldn't stop his own laughter from bursting out. It eased a bit of the tension humming between them, but for Dylan, this was the beginning of what he expected to be a hell of a lot of pain.

He couldn't butt into their little family. Even if by some crazy chance Sloane was on board with the idea of becoming a trio…Dylan would never truly belong.

* * * * *

Sloane selected the pineapple-scented bodywash from the selection in the shower nook. Everything about The Boot Knockers Ranch had lived up to its reputation. Hot cowboys and amazing sex, guaranteed to help a woman through her troubles.

She'd had quite a few spa treatments, and the facial was one of the best she ever experienced. Her skin glowed. Now she planned to use the exfoliating scrub and make the rest of her body glow too, so when her lovers took her to bed, they got the very best of her.

The best of her. What a strange thought that a simple vacation and time away from her everyday life challenges could make such a difference.

A chiming sound stopped her mid-scrub. That ringtone was her mother's. Since she had insisted on only updating Sloane about Marigold if she missed some new development, Sloane had to reach for her phone.

She quicky rinsed her hands and opened the shower door to dive for her phone she'd left on the vanity.

When she stared at the screen, she sucked in a gasp. The photo of Marigold sucking strawberry milk from a straw was the cutest thing she'd ever seen. Underneath the photo her mother had texted: She finally got it!

For months Marigold had tried to sip any drink with a straw, but she hadn't caught on to the skill. Now, her cheeks were puffed with strawberry milk, her eyes wide with glee.

Sloane studied her daughter's face with a new set of eyes. Being with Shaw again reminded her of so many small things about him—looks he gave her, and mannerisms that she'd forgotten about. Marigold shared so many things with her daddy.

She has your eyes.

Searching the photo, she could see herself reflected in the precious little face as much as she resembled Shaw. They might have been broken, but they created the most perfect child in the world.

She shot off a text with a lot of exclamation points and emojis at Marigold's accomplishment. She was just setting down the phone again when she heard a familiar deep baritone outside the bathroom door.

She started to turn back to finish her shower, but the words Shaw spoke stopped her dead.

"The team has a great reputation for major playing power. They just need a good leader, someone to take them to the next level. I'm confident that coach is me."

Her heart flip-flopped. He was talking with someone on the phone about a coaching position.

Hockey.

Just when she reconnected with Shaw, an offer to coach came in? He'd never hinted that he wanted to rekindle their relationship, but when she saw that look in his eyes and…

Well, she'd jumped to conclusions, obviously. She knew her ex—hockey was his first love. When he lost it, he ran far and fast, which meant dropping her and Marigold.

How could she be so stupid?

Realizing she was still dripping wet, she grabbed a towel off the rack. Hastily, she wrapped herself in the terrycloth while her emotions roiled with each word Shaw spoke.

"That sounds like an incredible opportunity. A challenge I'm up for."

The old excitement for the sport he loved rang in his voice. He'd always wanted this.

Sloane only remembered the worst parts of hockey. Every game they lost ruined the mood. The tension Shaw carried with him in the days leading up to games had given her whiplash. She could honestly say that while they fought before, his mood swings after the injury led to their breakup.

She couldn't do it. Not again.

Long seconds passed before Shaw spoke again, thanking the caller for the chance and promising to meet with him by the end of the week.

She'd be gone by then…but maybe it was better to leave now.

Why stick around pretending she hadn't stupidly hung her hopes on the one man who knew how to wreck her?

Leaving Dylan would be another kind of wrench. So stupid of her, getting emotionally attached to a man after a short time. No matter how real it all felt, it wasn't.

Hands shaking, she used her phone to call the ranch office. A woman answered, and Sloane pitched her voice low to keep from being overheard despite the shower still running.

"This is Sloane Simpson in Bungalow 12. I need a car arranged for me immediately. I'm leaving the ranch."