She leaned in closer and lowered her voice. “It takes two to tango, right? Or in this case, three? So how is it they can decide that we’re not going to make love yet? They get a woman all hot and bothered and hungry—throw in an orgasm or two—and then say we have to wait? What’s with that?”
Bailey looked like she was going to strangle on her laughter. Alice realized, having said that out loud, that it was a pretty ridiculous thing for her to be complaining about, all things considered.
Their insistence on waiting was not a rejection on their part. It was their desire to control the situation so that they were alone, and private, when they finally made love. And she alone had been the one to come in spectacular fashion. Twice. When she’d attempted to reciprocate, they’d taken her hands and kissed them. And announced the waiting policy.
“I love you, Alice. And now, I think I’m feeling very sympathetic toward my husbands’ poor timing—and those Kendalls’ sense of honor.”
Alice huffed out a breath. Then she gave up her pique, not surprised to feel the annoyance leave her completely. “I guess I am, too.”
“So, let’s discuss how you can—if you want to—seize control from Ian and Ken. To hell with waiting, I say. Unless, of course, y’all have some kind of D/s vibe going on?”
That’s just what I need. A good strategy session. “No, they haven’t mentioned any of that kinky stuff yet, though I wouldn’t mind trying it out some.” And that thought just got her horny, so she shelved it. “All right, Bailey, you’re on. Let’s talk strategy.”
* * * *
“Cameron Drake is a sub-contractor I’ve used on a regular basis for the last few years,” Jordan Kendall said. “He’s the best, and I mean that. He’s wanted to open his own full contracting service, and I think he’ll be very successful.”
“And you’ve arranged for us to meet him, so he can, if possible, take on our project as a full contractor. You’re not in the least worried about him being your competition, are you?” Ken asked.
Jordan grinned then looked at Ian. “He knows better, right?”
“He does. But you have to understand, for you, living here in the heart of Lusty, certain principles are universal. For us, not so much.”
“It’s just really good to be among others who understand that that is how Kendalls do things.” Ken said.
“It is indeed.” Ian looked around the coffee shop, about five blocks from the business they’d just purchased and taken over the day before.
They’d had a meeting there and let the staff know they were all invited to stay on. The store would be shutting down for some construction within the next few weeks, and the staff would then have paid time off. He and Ken both liked the five people Travis had hired. They’d been with the man for a few years, and their willingness to stay was a bonus.
“It would be harder,” Jordan said, “to live in any major city, with only one close relative nearby. I never really think about that for myself or my brothers. It’s when I encounter the more distant cousins—the ones in New York or y’all from Wyoming—that I understand that, maybe, being a Kendall is harder for you than it is for me.”
“Well, I don’t know if harder is the right way to put it,” Ken said. “My own personal feeling? It really is in the genes. Think about it. Among our great-greats, there was Adam Kendall, your great-great-grandfather, and Isiah Kendall, who was ours. Two brothers who were, history indicates, as different as night and day. Since it could be argued that they each, being full brothers, shared a fair bit of genetics, you have to wonder about the differences and the similarities. If you consider positive and negative traits, then they each had to have had some of both. It was how they chose to behave during their lifetimes that mostly distinguishes them.”
“I know from research that the family has done through the years that Isiah fought on the Confederate side in the war and Adam on the Union side. They didn’t ever, that we know of, participate in the same battles, as some brothers in that era did.” Jordan shrugged. “Likely that played a role in the choices made—by both men. There has to be at least a bit of a souring affect from being on the losing side of a conflict. That can change a man or exacerbate his less honorable qualities.”
“I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. We have a couple of cousins, Jerry and Ralph, themselves brothers. They will never understand ‘how Kendalls do things,’” Ken said. “Their mother, our Aunt Teri, has always been what I’d call a desperate woman, never happy with what life has held for her, always wanting more. I used to get angry about that. Now, mostly, I’m just sad. She raised her sons to vie against us and each other.”
“Some of our Montana Benedict cousins had a similar situation. Cord, Jackson, Jesse, Barry, Veronica, and Addison’s mother is a malignant narcissist,” Jordan said. “She would play one against the others, only wanting what she wanted for herself, until they wouldn’t let that happen anymore. I am always aware that I’ve much to be thankful for, having been raised in Lusty.”
The door to the coffee shop opened, and the man who entered—a burly, blond-haired bruiser who could have passed for a body builder—stepped in, nodded to Jordan, and headed their way.
Jordan performed the introductions, and Ken called the server over, ordering more coffee and a plate of pastries.
“We’re pleased you’re willing to have a look at the place for us, Mr. Drake. Thank you for that.”
“Just Cam, Mr. Kendall. I drove past Travis’s on
