Quadruple Duty

I went back to the book and flipped lovingly through it until I reached the last ten or so pages, which were blank. One day I hoped to add my own recipes on those hallowed yellowed spaces, but for now I was content just perfecting the ones already written.

“C’mon mom,” I said, pointing skyward. “A little inspiration?”

It was a stupid little thing I’d done as a kid, pointing upward whenever I talked to one of my parents. Apparently it had carried on to adulthood, too.

“Angel food cake it is,” I nodded firmly.

First I cracked the eggs, separating the egg whites and letting them warm to room temperature. Then, after procrastinating a little longer, I really got to work. After mixing and beating and sifting things together, I was soon pouring the entire mixture into the proper cake pan and sliding it into the oven.

An hour later I had a perfectly spongy cake resting on a cooling rack, and the entire house was filled with a warm, sugary aroma.

I smiled and thought about my time so far with the boys.

Kyle and I were late night movie freaks, always up for a good older feature. He loved the monster movies but I liked the old mysteries and thrillers. We could trade off though. As long as we cuddled up together under the big fuzzy afghan, I didn’t care what we watched.

Then there was the night I’d gotten drunk with Dakota. This happened while he was teaching me chess, using a beautiful old set we’d pulled from the closet under the stairs. As he closed his hand over mine, moving the marble pieces around the marble board, I realized how incredibly sharp his mind was. How his brain worked with a decisive, military precision that went way beyond his Ranger training.

After he’d soundly thrashed me, we’d kissed for what seemed like hours on the loveseat beneath the huge bay window. Then I’d taken him into the kitchen and taught him how to make a perfect omelet.

I sighed in contentment as I realized the place really was becoming home. Every memory I had here was amazing, and the guys had worked hard to make it three times as wonderful. After only half a month, I could barely remember living alone. My cookie-cutter apartment — which it occurred to me I’d have to eventually get rid of — was fast becoming a distant memory.

The heat from the oven made the kitchen almost unbearably hot. The chairs were still covered from the ceiling being painted, so I sank against one of the counters and ran my hand through my hair.

I’d wanted to make it special for the guys tonight. Dressing in one of the hotter outfits Ryan picked out made me feel sexy and wanted… only now it seemed my boyfriends might never get home.

I was no less horny though. Especially thinking about all the things Kyle and Dakota had done to my body. And how incredibly, inseparably close Ryan and I had been in the motel, the night before…

BEEP BEEP BEEP!

The quick triple-tone of the alarm panel signaled the front door being opened. I heard their voices before they even got to the kitchen, all laughter and banter and deep, delicious masculinity.

“What’s that incredible smell?”

Dakota entered the kitchen first, sniffing the air excitedly. He looked at the cake first… then down at me.

“I was just saying it’s been a while since I—” he stopped mid-sentence. “Holy shit!”

Kyle and Ryan froze behind him. The three of them stood staring at me, slack-jawed and salivating. Like a pack of wolves that had stumbled upon easy prey.

Dakota’s grin came first. “And what do we have here?”

“A very hot girlfriend,” I said, smoothing my hair through my fingers.

“You can say that again,” Kyle murmured.

I was wearing a white lace camisole with matching underwear… and nothing else. My stomach was bare, a single bead of perspiration dripping down my pale white skin. The panties rode high up on my hips as I pulled my legs up beneath me.

“I made you something to eat,” I teased.

The guys were speechless. They glanced at each other before moving closer.

“We just have to let it cool a bit more,” I continued, “before we can add the icing.”

That was it. They’d had pretty much all they could take. Dakota took the initiative, helping me to my feet. No sooner were we face to face than he threw me over his shoulder and carried me out of the kitchen like a barbarian.

He headed for the staircase, but I tapped him on the ass. “No no,” I said. “The sitting room.”

Dakota stopped. “Sitting room?” He sounded baffled. “Which one is that?”