Her Double Treat Read online

  Her Double Treat

  By

  J. P. Books

  CONTENTS

  Baby Deal With The Lumberjacks

  The Girlfriend Experience

  Love On Fire

  Her Two Professor Daddies

  Her Two Cowboy Daddies

  Her Biker Protectors

  Playing With Fire

  First Time Menage

  © COPYRIGHT 2020 J. P. Books – ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Baby Deal With The Lumberjacks

  CHAPTER 1

  Miranda

  As I unpack my suitcase, the doctor’s words keep ringing in my ears: “If you want to get pregnant, you’re going to have to reduce your stress levels.”

  Reduce my stress levels.

  Reduce my stress levels?

  Reduce my stress levels working as a lawyer in New York City? Not likely.

  I’m still not convinced that quitting my job and moving back to my hometown will really do anything for my stress levels, but baby or no baby, my job was killing me.

  It’s good to be back home. I think.

  It’s humbling, that’s for sure.

  But it’s a better place to raise a child than the city. And if having a baby was important enough to me to break off an engagement, then I’m going to make sure that when and if I do have a baby, it’s going to have the best life possible.

  Tears prickle at the back of my eyes as I think about the enormity of what I’ve done.

  In the span of one month, I’ve ended my 9-year relationship and left my fiancé, my job, and my city and ran back to my hometown with my tail between my legs.

  How did I get here?

  This is not the future I had so carefully planned out for myself.

  I was supposed to find my future husband in Law school, graduate with honors, pass my bar exam with flying colors, and get hired by a top law firm.

  That had all seemed to be going along nicely. Tom and I met in Law school and got hired by the same firm after graduation, it was perfect.

  My dream plan was to make partner by the time I was 33, which I know is ambitious, but I was on track to make it happen. I’m 32 now, and there’s been talk.

  Once a partnership was secured, that’s when I was supposed to start trying to get pregnant.

  I want my first child by 35 and my second before I’m 37. Any later than that and I feel like I’ll be an old mom. An old lawyer mom has got to be the worst-case scenario.

  Having a baby has always been part of my life plan. As a woman, I’m expected to want children and growing up I always thought it was just what you do.

  But lately, in the past few years or so, I’ve felt the need to settle in deep inside me. Every time I see a pregnant woman, my heart starts to flutter. The sound of a baby giggling makes me weak in the knees.

  I catch myself holding my belly occasionally, in that age-old pose of the pregnant Madonna. I imagine what it will be like to feel it growing inside me and to track how big it’s getting each week. To feel it kick and move, even if it does give me gas and make me waddle like a penguin.

  I imagine what it will be like to have a baby, to hold him or her in my arms. A tiny human that I already love, and I haven’t even met yet. Someone to watch grow every single day. To teach and help shape into the wonderful and interesting person I already know my child will be.

  My baby has been getting more and more real to me with each passing day.

  But last month when I brought up the timeline with Tom again, he said he had changed his mind. He didn’t want kids. He thought we should just focus on our careers.

  He doesn’t want kids ever!

  When I look back over our relationship now, I realize that Tom and I were a couple of convenience. We fit together well and he’s a great guy, but there was no spark. I love him and respect him, but I’m not sure I was ever really in love with him.

  He checked a lot of boxes, but passion was not one of them.

  Still, leaving him was a bit impulsive, if I’m honest. He didn’t put up much of a fight to keep me though, which makes me wonder if he used the “no baby” card as a way out of our relationship. He knew it was a deal-breaker for me.

  Tom is a very strategic lawyer. He’s an expert at manipulating clients and opposing counsel to see the truth as he wants it to be seen. He’ll be an incredible success, I have no doubt.

  But in his personal life, he’s never been the most confrontational of men and he uses this style of manipulation to avoid meaningful conversations. I can totally see him finding a way to get me to break up with him, instead of just growing balls and telling me he was unhappy.

  Which gives me a frantic feeling. Even if I wasn’t happy, I hate the idea that he felt the same way. I want him to be devastated. Broken. Completely and utterly wrecked.

  At least for a little while.

  Because I am. Even if I don’t necessarily miss him, I feel completely lost without everything he represented. Security, a future family, home.

  Nothing is secure anymore.

  Not even my future family because apparently, I’m too stressed to get pregnant, husband or no.

  I had an appointment with an IVF doctor scheduled days after I walked out on Tom.

  I admit it – I panicked. I didn’t take any time to think about being a single parent, I just wanted to get the ball rolling.

  I’m still panicking, probably worse now than ever.

  My life has flip-turned upside down and nothing makes sense anymore.

  When the doctor said that I’d have to chill out or forget about becoming a mother the traditional way, my job certainly didn’t make sense anymore.

  I mean, what kind of life was I leading when there was no passion in my relationship, and my job was burning holes through my insides?

  That can’t be healthy.

  That can’t be the way life is supposed to be lived.

  As I unpack my bags into a small, somewhat smelly closet in the town I grew up in, I’m not convinced this is how life is supposed to be lived either, but at least it’s a change.

  I have no idea what I’m going to do now.

  I have savings, but I also have a massive amount of student debt. And now, instead of being a lawyer on track to making a nice 6 figure salary, I’m starting my first day at the grocery store I worked at as a teenager, making minimum wage.

  So far, nothing I’ve done has reduced my stress levels in the slightest.

  My mom’s pretty happy, though I think she’s concerned about my sanity. My parents are 2 of the 4 reasons I was really looking forward to coming back.

  I’ve always been close to them, even though I hardly saw them or talked to them after moving away. They kept saying they understood but now that I’m back, I feel sick at the thought of how out of touch I’d been for so long.

  I know my mom missed me, and I missed her. Tom hated coming here, so we never did. My parents came to visit us a few times, but not often enough.

  Growing up, they had always been the coolest parents out of all of my friends’. My house was the place to be. My mom always had snacks ready
and my dad was good for some sort of sports talk. They let me make some of my own mistakes but made sure I kept my head above water.

  Sammy and Darren, my two best friends, practically lived here.

  They’re the other reason I was looking forward to coming home. I haven’t seen or talked to them since I left. I heard updates about them occasionally when I first left, but nothing in at least 10 years. I don’t even know for sure if they’re still here in town, but I hope they are.

  I know I can’t expect to just pick back up where we left off, but man, I loved those guys.

  We were inseparable, the three of us.

  Throughout high school I would have rotating crushes on them, writing in my diary about one or the other nearly every day. More often than not I couldn’t choose between the two of them, and the idea of picking one someday filled me with dread. It was better to just stay friends with them both.

  Friends was all they wanted from me anyway. Neither of them ever made a move on me. Not like that. But they would have died to protect me, or each other. And I would have jumped in front of a bus for them.

  Until I left and didn’t look back.

  Guilt wracks me, and I feel a spasm in my stomach. This trip down memory lane isn’t helping my stress levels.

  They’re probably married with children now. That’s what people do in a small town like this. Marry your high school sweetheart, have kids. Get a little thick around the mid-section and BBQ every Sunday.

  I can’t picture either of them getting fat, but I’ll bet they make great dads. I can picture them getting together still, two little families playing with each other. Their kids must be best friends, just like we were.

  I don’t know if I hope to see them soon, or if it would be better to figure my life out a bit before I run into them. If I do.

  Now that I’m here, I miss them terribly. Everything about New York and the last 15 years of my life feels like a mistake.

  Tears flood out of my eyes, even though I try to hold them at bay.

  Eventually, I give up, quit unpacking and throw myself on my bed, giving in to my self-pity. I’ll pick myself up tomorrow. Tonight, I’m going to wallow.

  I cry for my parents and the way I treated them. I cry for my best friends and the way I left them behind. I cry for all the work and time and dedication I put into a future that will never happen.

  I cry until I can cry no more and finally sleep takes me.

  CHAPTER 2

  Samuel

  As I’m waiting to pick up the cake I ordered for Darren’s birthday, I watch a little girl patiently standing in front of the desserts display. She’s about the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, with two tiny pigtails sticking straight up on her head.

  She’s probably less than 2 feet tall and the likelihood of anyone seeing her from the other side of the counter is slim to none, so I signal the woman in the back.

  She comes out and looks at me expectantly, and I’m hit with a weird sense of déjà vu like I’ve been here before or I’ve seen this woman before, even though I’m sure she’s new.

  I silently point down at the little girl. The woman leans over the counter to see what I’m pointing at.

  “Well, hi there, honey,” she says with a smile. “How can I help you?”

  The little girl looks up at the woman and says, in a whisper, “Can I have a free cookie please?”

  I could barely hear her and if I didn’t know that the store had a policy of giving out tiny cookies to children, I probably wouldn’t have understood what she said. The woman obviously has no clue but doesn’t want to embarrass the shy little girl.

  She looks helpless, which is kind of charming.

  I figure I’ll help out, so I take a step forward.

  “A cookie, now that’s a great idea!” The little girl looks at me astonished. “I know the rule is free cookies for anyone under 12, but maybe the nice lady will make an exception for me today, what do you think? Should I get a free cookie too?”

  The little girl nods vigorously, with her eyes wide enough to pop out of her head. What a cutie.

  The woman looks relieved to understand what was going on, and she reaches into the display to pull out two small peanut butter cookies. My favorite. She hands one to each of us.

  “You tell your dad today is his lucky day,” she says, mistakenly thinking the girl is my daughter.

  I wish, I think to myself. Children have been a popular conversation at my house lately, but nothing has been decided yet.

  The little girl runs off, yelling “Daddy, daddy, daddy,” suddenly finding her voice as she heads to the man not far away who had been keeping a close eye on his daughter.

  The woman looks at me surprised and her cheeks go a little pink. “I’m sorry,” she says, “I thought you were together.”

  I shake my head, the feeling that I know this woman getting stronger, now that I’ve heard her talk. “No, just in line together. Actually, I’m here to pick up a birthday cake that should say ‘Happy Birthday, Darren’ on it. It’s on hold for Sam.”

  “Oh! Yes, I did that one myself. I’ll go get it for you.” She heads to the back room and I can’t help but appreciate how nicely her uniform accentuates her fine ass.

  When she gets back, she looks at me critically. “Samuel?” she asks.

  I nod, “That’s me.”

  “Sam the Slammer?”

  It’s my turn to take a critical look. I haven’t heard that nickname in a good 10 years.

  “My slamming days are well behind me,” I say, trying to place her face. She looks so familiar and yet, I can’t quite put a name to her.

  “I should hope so,” she says, smiling at me. She can obviously tell I’m confused. “My father still asks me if you’re ever going to replace our picnic table like you promised.”

  “Miranda?” Suddenly everything clicks into place. The memory of my 17-year-old self, body slamming her picnic table trying to impress her, floods over me. My face gets hot with nostalgic embarrassment.

  I had had such a crush on her, I can’t believe I didn’t recognize her immediately!

  She had invited me over for a family picnic and was telling her parents that everyone had started calling me “Slammer,” because I could take out anyone on any team, even if they were twice my size. Her father was giving me a hard time about it, and I was embarrassed. I wanted to look tough.

  So, I tried to demonstrate. Damn near broke all my ribs, if I remember correctly.

  I did break their picnic table. I tried so hard to be macho after that, but I don’t think I’ve ever been in so much pain.

  Miranda looks so different and yet, now that I know who she is, she also looks exactly the same. No wonder I felt like I had met her before.

  “I haven’t seen you in years! You look incredible,” I blurt out. Trying to cover up my enthusiasm, I ask, “How’ve you been?” nonchalantly.

  “Oh gosh,” she says, shaking her head. “That’s a long story.”

  “We have to catch up,” I say. “It’s Darren’s party tonight. You should come. Surprise him. He’ll be so excited to see you!”

  “Samuel and Darren. I can’t believe you’re both still here in town. And still friends!”

  I nod, deciding to clarify the ‘friends’ situation later if she ends up coming to the party. The three of us practically grew up together and were best friends for most of our lives.

  I remember being so confused as a teenager. Every morning, I’d wake up sticky and horrified at my wet dreams, having no idea what it meant that sometimes I dreamed of Miranda, and other times I dreamed of Darren.

  I’d waver between thinking that’s just what happens when you’re as close as we were to feeling like I was broken, damaged or perverted. I had no concept of love or lust at that age, I just knew that my two best friends made me feel things no one else did.

  Of course, now I understand my sexuality a lot more clearly. So does Darren.

&nbs
p; It’s not like I’m trying to hide our relationship from Miranda. It’s just that telling her now isn’t really the time or the place.

  “Say you’ll come tonight,” I plead with her. “It’ll knock Darren’s socks off.”

  “If he’s wearing any,” she laughs, remembering his weird habit of never wearing socks, not even with his running shoes.

  She hesitates to answer. Finally, she speaks, “I’m working until 6, but if I’m not too exhausted, I’ll see if I can make it. It sure would be amazing to catch up with you guys.”

  I rummage through my pockets to find my card and hand it to her.

  She looks it over, front and back. “Jacks & Jills? You’ll have to explain this to me later. It’s been so good seeing you and I don’t mean to be rude, but I just started here and I should get back to work. I don’t think my boss would appreciate me fraternizing with the customers,” she says and winks at me.

  Who winks at people? I like it. I might have to steal that move.

  “Of course,” I say, wishing I didn’t have to go, but knowing I have a lot to finish up for the party as well. “The party’s at Moe’s, starting around 7. Come any time, we’ll be there.”

  We wave as I leave, and I enjoy the fluttering in my stomach that feels like high school.

  She’s working here, so she must be back for good. Or at least for a while.

  I wonder what happened to New York.

  I had been completely devastated when she left. And when she left, she left good. We didn’t stay in touch at all. Which was probably a good thing, in hindsight. I would have done something stupid eventually, like trying to find my way to New York with a boom box or some ridiculous romantic comedy inspired thing like that.

  But she changed her phone number and never looked back.

  Darren and I had always known that she was going to leave. She’d been talking about Law school since we were freshmen. But there’s a big difference between what someone says in a small town and what someone does.