Burning Lust (An MMF Bisexual Threesome) (3 page)

When Ashley had said that the Mad Patriot, Montpelier’s finest drinking establishment if what you considered fine was no windows, bottom-shelf vodka, and carpet that dated from at least the 1970s, had been redone, Katie had been expecting something different. A nice wood floor, maybe, some mood lighting, new tables.

It had been redone, that was true. The bar and the tables and most of the interior were all new, and everything seemed to be backlit by neon: pink behind the bar, blue under the bar. Bright purple neon lined the ceiling.

Katie felt like she was in a 1980s-themed nightmare.

“I thought you said this was a nice place now,” she said to Ashley over the blare of the dance music. There was a vast space with huge speakers and a DJ booth, a young white guy standing behind it, messing with his laptop.

“I said they redid it,” said Ashley, taking Katie by the elbow and steering her toward the garish bar. “First drink’s on me, what do you want?”

“What wines do they have?”

Ashley looked at Katie for a moment like she had grown a second head. Then, she turned to the bartender.

“Two Long Island iced teas, please,” she said.

The bartender just nodded and got to work.

“What?” said Katie. “No, I just want a regular drink...” she trailed off, because from the corner of her eyes, she’d spotted someone: Sam, sitting in a booth over to one side, sipping on a small glass of brown liquid. Whiskey, probably.

Ashley, no idiot, followed her eyes until she also saw Sam, sitting there, alone, with his drink. She turned back to Katie and raised both her eyebrows.

“Sam Mendel, huh?” she said.

“He was one of the guys who... came to my house, the other day.”

“One of your two valiant heroes, you mean? Who rescued you from certain death at the hands of your fireplace?”

The drinks arrived, and Ashley handed over a credit card. Katie took a sip, and was surprised: she’d never had a Long Island iced tea before, always assuming that they were for party girls who just wanted to get drunk, but it wasn’t bad.

“He’s already seen my bedroom,” she said, waggling her eyebrows at Ashley, trying to get the other girl to laugh. “Got a fan out of there for the smoke.”

“So he won’t be shocked by your mess when he goes in there again,” Ashley said, grinning. “He’s single, you know.”

Of course Katie hadn’t known that. “Are you sure?”

Ashley laughed. “Just because I’m dating someone right now doesn’t mean I don’t know the status of every eligible man in Montpelier.”

“I believe you.”

“Come on,” Ashley said, pulling Katie along again. “Let’s go say hi.”

“I—“ Katie tried to protest, but Ashley was already pulling her along.

As they approached, Ashley in front, Katie behind, trying very much to look like she’d gotten there under her own power and not by being dragged along, Sam looked up, calmly taking a sip as he did.

“Hey, Sam,” Ashley said brightly. “Remember Katie? You saved her heroically.”

Katie wrenched her arm free, spilling a little of her drink in the process.

“I just set up some fans,” he said. He wasn’t smiling, but Katie thought she could read the amusement in the crinkles around his eyes. “Doug Classen, her neighbor, probably overreacted. The house would have been fine in thirty more minutes.”

Katie shook her head. “How long is it going to take me to live that down?” she asked, sheepishly.

Now
Sam smiled. “Until someone else forgets to open their flue. Winter’s coming, just give it a few weeks.”
 

“So at least I’m not the only one?” Katie asked.

“Definitely not.” He paused. “You guys want to sit?”

Ashley gave Katie a not-so-gentle nudge in the back, and Katie got into the big round booth first, her drink still sloshing a little. The bartender definitely hadn’t skimped on anything.

“So you just moved back home?” Sam asked.

Katie nodded, in the middle of taking another sip of her over-full drink, trying to get the level down a little so she wouldn’t spill it.

“Yeah, Patrick was saying that you two went to high school together, but then you left for college in New York and he stayed here.”

“I had no idea he remembered me,” Katie said. She felt the tiniest bit buzzed — her head was floaty, and she felt quite
brave
. “I don’t think we said more than two sentences to each other.”

Because I was madly in love with him
, she thought but didn’t say out loud.

“He said he almost didn’t recognize you,” Sam said. He took another sip of his whiskey, and a few strands of his curly dark hair fell in his face. “Said you ‘got hot.’”

Katie’s mouth fell open.

PATRICK TAHOE SAID I GOT HOT!!!??!
Screamed a little voice inside her head, her sixteen-year-old self practically fainting with excitement.

The outside Katie stayed in control of herself and laughed. “Tell him I said thanks,” she told Sam. “But it’s mostly the contact lenses.”

“Is it?” asked Sam.

There was a brief pause. Ashley, halfway through her drink already, was ready.

“Tell her what you do,” she said.

Sam shrugged. “I’m a ski instructor and lift operator in the winter,” he said. “Summers I head a little west and do whitewater rafting tours on the northern part of the Hudson.”

“Wow, that sounds exciting,” Katie said.

Sam shrugged. “I love it, but it’s not the kind of life I can keep up forever,” he said. “Moving every six months, sleeping in a dorm all winter and a tent all summer.”

“Sounds rough.”

“You get used to it, but my back won’t hold out forever,” he said. “I’m thinking of staying in Montpelier after this winter, actually. Probably time to settle down.”

“It’s a nice place,” Katie said. “I really missed it.”

He nodded, then looked at her, leaning back against the fake leather of the booth. “I do wish there was somewhere else to drink,” he said. “It’s this place or the wine tasting room a couple of blocks away.”

“You could open a real bar,” Katie suggested. “Do you like drinking?”

Sam laughed. “As much as anyone,” he said.

Katie shook her head, trying to get the alcohol out of it, she felt like. “I just mean, it’s something you could do. Open a normal bar that’s not—“ she waved her hands around —“
this
, and you’ll be golden.”

“That could be nice,” he mused. His eyes flicked up to hers and held them there, still. “What else do you like to do in Montpelier?”

“There’s skiiing of course,” Katie said. “And, it’s dorky, but I love all the historical tours and stuff that you can do. If you’re looking for a day trip, you could drive over to Fort Ticonderoga, which Ethan Allen and Benedict Arnold captured during the American Revolution. It was a big turning point, and — oh, my god, I’m going on about this.”

“I like to hear you talk,” Sam said. “I don’t know much about American history, actually.”

Katie shrugged, embarrassed. She could feel his eyes on her, and they felt warm and... well, sexy. She swallowed and touched her neck with one hand, taking one more sip of her stupid drink. It was only about a third gone, but it was
strong
.

“It’s the main reason that Benedict Arnold became a traitor,” she said. “He didn’t get promoted afterward, so he defected.”

“Bad sport,” said Sam. He sipped the last of his whiskey and put the glass down on the table.

“Yeah,” said Katie, spinning her glass between her fingers. “But kind of understandable, you know?”

“I guess.”

Katie looked over at Ashley, who was simultaneously amused, bored, and angry, probably because Katie was supposed to be flirting with this guy, and here she was talking about American history.

“So, what do you like to do?” she asked Sam.

“Well, I ski and I snowboard and bike and all that stuff,” he said, slowly. “But, honestly, I’m really into board games.”

Katie couldn’t help but raise both her eyebrows. “I love board games,” she said. “What’s your favorite?”

“Risk,” he said. “It’s hard to find people to play it with, though. Most of the guys on the fire squad aren’t really into it. Patrick’s a great guy, but you know, strategy board games aren’t his forte.”

“I love Risk,” Katie said, quickly. It was true. “The game, I mean. I’m not big on the concept in real life. We can’t all be whitewater rafting guides.”

Ashley stood, giving Katie a look. Katie knew it meant,
I can’t believe that you’re talking about your nerdy games with this guy
.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” she said. “Be right back.”

Katie and Sam both watched her walk away, across the almost-empty dance floor, the whirling lights moving across her body.

Sam leaned over the table. “When you’re finished with your drink, I just got this new two player game called Dos de Mayo about an uprising against Napoleon in Madrid.”

For a split second, Katie felt guilty. She was definitely going to leave right now, with this guy, only hours after Patrick had asked her out. Was she betraying her younger self in some way, by turning down the guy who she’d dreamed about for so long? Patrick felt like a god, totally unreachable. Even if he weren’t her patient — which he
was
, she reminded herself again — she’d be a little afraid to date him.

“If I finish it, I’ll never win,” she said, smirking. “Let’s go.”

“There,” she said, placing the final paying piece on the correct neighborhood of Madrid, looking at her spread of cards laid in front of her, the little blue and red squares dotting the board. Sitting across from her, Sam shook his head, his hair flopping around.

“You’re a machine,” he said. Unbelievable.

He stood and took their beer bottles into the kitchen of the place he was staying this month, then came back out. Katie also stood, stretching out her shoulders, tilting her neck from side to side.

Katie looked at the clock. It was almost one in the morning, hours after her usual bedtime, but she wasn’t tired.

“What are you looking at that clock for?” Sam teased. “The party’s just getting started.” He took one of her hands in his and gave it a gentle tug, pulling her up against him.

Katie smiled, looking up at him. He was a
lot
taller than her, she realized again, and he had the build of someone who spent most of their life in physical activity: broad but wiry. Obviously incredibly strong.

“I beat you twice,” she teased.
 
“I think I get to make the demands here.”

“And what do you demand?”

Katie stood on her tiptoes, trying to get closer to him, but he still towered over her. “I demand that you bend down some,” she said, pulling at his shoulders.

Sam lowered himself by an inch, his teasing grin widening. “Close enough?”

“Come on!” Katie said, playfully hitting his shoulder.

He bent another inch. “How about now?”

“You’d almost think you didn’t want me to kiss you,” Katie said.

Then, realizing what she’d just said, Katie blushed.

She didn’t have time to think about it, though, because in one swift movement, Sam bent down and scooped her up. Katie yelped as she was born aloft in his strong arms, her arms around his neck.

“I won’t drop you,” he said.

“I know,” she said. “Sorry, I was surprised.”

He walked them a few feet to the couch, where he sat, Katie still on his lap. Now, she was slightly taller than him, her arms still on his shoulders.

“How’s that?” he said.

Finally, Katie bent down and kissed him, not bothering with any other response. She’d been waiting to do it all night, and Sam was more than eager, his lips warm and dry and yielding. He pressed back hard against her, gently cradling her head in his. His lips parted against hers, and she felt his tongue test gently at her mouth, and Katie opened her lips, eagerly letting him in, pushing her tongue against his, letting them tangle together.

Her hand crept around his face, and before Katie knew it, he had leaned her back into the couch and she was lying down against the cushions.

Amidst the heady rush of desire, he broke away from her and looked at her searchingly. Katie was panting for breath, the top of her dress all askew, and in a moment of clarity, she tugged at Sam’s shirt, trying to get it off.

He was happy to oblige her, tugging off his t-shirt and revealing a tight-sculpted body. Still breathing hard, she ran her fingers gently over the muscles in his shoulders, then tried to pull his heavy frame toward her, seeking his lips with her own, wrapping her skirt-clad legs around him. She could feel him hardening quickly against her, and it awoke her own arousal, a deep, burning ache inside her.

Katie almost jumped out of her skin when she heard the burst of static.

Nibbling along her collarbones, Sam went still.

“That’s my radio,” he said. “Shit.”

There was another crackle. “Four alarm in East Montpelier,” a man’s voice said. “All hands needed immediately.”

“Shit,” said Sam. He hoisted himself onto his arms, looking down at Katie, still on his couch. “That’s bad, I have to go.”

She couldn’t hide her disappointment, but what was she going to do — tell him not to go? “It’s fine,” she said, one hand still on his shoulder. “We can pick this up again later. Go fight a fire.”

He lowered himself for one more long, lasting kiss, leaving Katie breathless, then got off of the couch. He found his shirt where he’d tossed it and put on his shoes before Katie could even get off the couch.

“It’s fine if you stay here,” he said, standing in the doorway. “Just lock the knob if you go.”

Then he was gone. She heard his car start and then drive off, toward the fire station across town. Katie got off of the couch, adjusted her dress, and sighed, willing the pleasant, warm ache in her loins to go away.

She went ahead and put away the board game, leaving it on the table. Even though it was late, she wanted to head home — Sam wasn’t lying that she was welcome to stay, she was sure, but it felt strange to do so.

Her car was at the bar, she realized. Maybe a mile away. It was twelve-thirty at night, but she was in
Montpelier.
She debated with herself for a moment, then grabbed her bag, locked the door from the inside, and shut it.