Double Team: A Menage Romance Read online

  “Are you about to show me your dick?”

  “That is not my dirty secret, contrary to what Aiden might have you believe. The prescription cream thing was not true, you know.”

  Grace laughs. “Yes, I assumed that much.”

  “Also, my dick wouldn’t be a dirty secret, either, because I’m pretty proud of it."

  She raises her eyebrows. "Oh, are you?"

  "Yeah. I'll take it out if you want to see why I'm proud."

  Grace laughs. “Come on. Out with it – the secret, not the dick.”

  “I’ll show you, if you swear not to laugh.”

  She makes a solemn face and holds up her right hand. “On my grave.”

  “I think you’re supposed to swear on the grave of someone who’s already died.”

  “You’re avoiding the original question.”

  “You have to promise not to tell anyone. Do I need to go get a non-disclosure agreement?”

  “You can. Or I can pinky swear not to tell a soul.”

  I gasp dramatically. “That’s the most sacred of swears, you know.”

  “I know.”

  When she links her pinkie with mine, a twinge of arousal rushes through me and I consider yanking her against me and finishing what I started earlier. Instead, I sigh loudly. “Fine. Come with me.”

  19

  Grace

  Noah opens the deck door to his bedroom, and my heart skips a beat. “Is this your way of getting me into your bedroom? This isn’t very subtle.”

  “I've never been good at subtle.”

  I look around his bedroom – “bedroom” doesn’t accurately describe it, though. It’s a huge master suite with light grey walls and log beams that run across the ceiling and match the rest of the house. It’s understated and masculine, with a sitting area on the other side of the room outfitted with several leather chairs and a television. When my eyes flicker toward his bed, I have to force them away.

  Do not think about Noah and his bed. Or what you might want him to do to you on that bed.

  Or on the floor.

  Or the chairs.

  Heat rushes through me at the prospect of Noah doing me anywhere in here, but I swallow hard and clear my throat as he walks to the far side of the suite near the sitting area where a set of closet doors lines the wall. I notice the keypad on the doors before he even touches it. “Wait,” I say, stopping him. “Are you about to show me something completely weird? Ohhh… were the blow up dolls really yours and not Aiden’s?”

  “Okay, I’m not showing you. Forget we talked about it,” Noah grumbles.

  “So they were yours.”

  “No, they were not mine.”

  “Okay, show me.”

  “Nope, you’re going to think it’s weird.”

  “I promise I won’t.” I cross my fingers behind my back. Okay, I might. Especially if he has a bizarre fetish. What if he collects locks of women’s hair or something?

  Noah grumbles under his breath again as he unlocks the closet and slides open the door, revealing a set of cabinets topped with shelves that reach the ceiling. The shelves are filled to the bursting point with yarn. Skeins and skeins of yard in a million different colors and textures. He looks at me silently.

  “Um… is this some kind of BSDM thing? You tie women up with yarn?”

  Noah sighs exaggeratedly. “It’s exactly what it looks like, all right? There you go. You’ve seen my dirty secret.”

  When he moves to close one of the doors, I stop him. “Wait. I don’t get it.”

  “I knit.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me the first time. I knit. In my spare time, I knit things. Socks, scarves, blankets. Christmas stockings.”

  “You knit.”

  “No one knows. Including Aiden. Shit, especially not Aiden. Or anyone on my team.”

  A giggle builds up in my chest, and I cover my mouth to prevent it from coming out. It doesn’t work, and now Noah is looking at me with a dark expression.

  “Okay, see, I wasn’t going to tell you,” he growls, closing one of the doors.

  “I’m not laughing at you,” I promise, suppressing a giggle. “It’s just that… you knit? That’s your dirty secret? The way you acted, I was afraid this was going to be filled with body parts.”

  “Body parts, really? Shit, if the guys on the team found out about the knitting, I’d never hear the end of it. It would be worse than a closet full of body parts.”

  I mock-button my lips. “Mum’s the word.”

  “You promised not to laugh.”

  “Nervous habit,” I say, rapidly changing the subject. “Show me something you’ve knitted.”

  “Are you done laughing?”

  “I swear.”

  He sighs. “Fine. But don’t make me regret showing you.” He slides open a drawer in the cabinet and pulls out a long grey scarf. “This is one I just made. It’s angora.”

  “Wow. This is…”

  He sighs. “Yeah, I know. Lame.”

  “That’s not what I was going to say at all. I was going to say, it’s… not what I expected from you.”

  “Look, I love football. It’s my whole life. But a couple of years ago, I was having a hard time getting my mind off the game at night, which gave me problems falling asleep. The team has this life coach that players sometime see – I’m not crazy, though.”

  “I didn’t think you were.”

  “Doc sent me to her to fix my sleep, and…” He laughs under his breath. “She was pregnant and she was knitting when she talked to me. I thought it was the dumbest fucking thing I’d ever seen. She said I should try it because it might help me clear my head.”

  “Does it?”

  He shrugs. “I started doing it at night and stopped having sleep problems.”

  “Whatever keeps you in the game, right?”

  Noah gives me a funny look as he takes the scarf out of my hands and slides the closet doors closed.

  “You must have knitted a million things by now. What do you do with them?”

  “I donate them to charities. Anonymously,” he adds, emphasizing the last word.

  “Okay, I have one more question.”

  He crosses his arms. “Go ahead.”

  “Can you do ugly Christmas sweaters?”

  Later, when I snuggle under the covers, thinking about big gruff Noah and his knitting makes me smile.

  The next morning, we’re up at dawn to work with the horses. When the kids find out what they have to do, they all groan.

  “We have to clean poop?” Niall asks, making a gagging sound. He’s echoed by the moans of several of the kids and a chorus of barfing noises.

  “That’s right.” Bryson, one of the seasoned counselors, crosses his arms. “Before you get on a horse, you need to learn how to take care of them. That means learning how to brush them after you ride, and put on a saddle, and check the horses’ hooves and… muck the stalls.”

  “You mean shovel poop,” one of the other kids says flatly.

  “Yep. Do you know why we have you muck the stalls first? Because you have to learn the not-fun stuff before you learn the fun stuff,” Bryson says brightly.

  Noah’s standing a few feet behind me and I hear him speak softly. “It’s really because kids are free labor. But also because sometimes in life, you'll have to deal with shit. So you should get used to shoveling it."

  I spin around and give Noah a wide-eyed glare at the use of his profanity, but the kid beside him nods knowingly. “And you can’t let shit get you down,” the kid says.

  Noah fist-bumps the kid. “Good philosophy, Louis.”

  I glare at Noah, who seems oblivious. “No profanity.”

  “What?” the kid protests. “That’s what my mom says.”

  “Your mom is a wise woman,” Noah adds.

  “Yeah. I know. Are you going to help muck the stalls?”

  “Are you crazy?” Noah blurts.

  “So you’re going to just watch us do