Theirs to Keep

My brows knit together. I was wholly confused.

“Wait, what?”

“The accident,” she said hesitantly. “Roderick told me it all was his fault.”

I shook my head. “Well it wasn’t.”

“Well he thinks it was anyway,” said Karissa. “Anyone who survived something that horrific—”

“Of course he survived,” I interrupted. “He wasn’t even there.”

Now it was her turn to be surprised. She looked back at me in the silence and blinked.

“Madison was driving the car by herself,” I told her. “When the accident happened, she was all alone.”

Forty-Two

KARISSA

It was a crazy few weeks. Not just because of work, although that was definitely a part of it. There were plumbers, electricians, HVAC companies. I had three different crews working the marble and stone restoration in the garden, and another four painting and staining outfits doing finish work, inside and out. There was barely time to check the cameras each morning, although they didn’t register much. Grazing deer set off the motion sensors at least two hundred times, and I quickly learned a raccoon family had moved in under the foundation for the old carriage house.

But no, it wasn’t work that made things especially nuts. It was a crazy few weeks because I had three simultaneous boyfriends.

And simultaneous often meant simultaneous.

There were nights where I spent one-on-one time with the guys, and that was always relaxing. I took this past Tuesday night with Roderick, curled up in his bed. Wednesday evening with Bryce, working ourselves ragged in the gym so we could treat ourselves to guilt-free Italian food in Old Beach. Thursday I planned on staying in and crashing early, until Roderick and Camden showed up with a soft knock and a bottle of wine. I’d just slipped on my favorite silk nightgown when I let them in. It was off my body just as quickly, and spent the night in a crumpled heap on the floor, beside my bed.

It was fun though, being their employee by day and their girlfriend by night. Going from being respectful and professional as I went over our daily progress reports, to being their dirty little plaything later on… or even turning the tables and making them mine.

By the second weekend I was tired, exhausted and sore. So were the guys though, and that made me proud. It was a little strange celebrating the fact I could outlast them most nights, but that’s exactly what happened. Our sex sessions were marathons, not sprints. Although some nights they certainly felt like both.

More than anything though, I cherished the fun of being with them. Of eating and drinking and laughing alongside them, of working hard and playing harder. I felt like part of their team, all of a sudden. Not just because I lived and worked with them, but because I was a part of their inner circle. I wasn’t merely a girlfriend, I was a shared girlfriend.

And that part was so much cooler than I realized it could ever be.

Saturday was the first morning I woke up alone. I went for a run while the guys slept in — an occurrence about as rare as a full solar eclipse — and was enjoying the cooler morning air when a bright yellow Jeep passed me in the opposite direction. I would’ve thought nothing of it, except I heard the breaks engage and the tires squeal.

Then it flipped a U-turn and followed me.

Shit.

I moved further over on the shoulder, walking backwards, keeping my eye on the vehicle the whole time. It would be easy to dive away, into the thickets on the side of the highway. If I needed to, that is.

But the Jeep just rolled up on me, slowly and safely.

What the—

“Hey!”

It was even with me now, and with the windows down I could see the occupants. They were three young girls, two

blondes and a brunette. Early to mid 20’s. Pretty as hell, and dressed for the beach.

“You’re Karissa, right?”

The passenger pulled her hair back over one freckled ear and regarded me with piercing eyes.

I stopped and placed my hands on my hips. “Yes. Why?”