Three for Keeps by Lila Munro

Butterflies the size of fruit bats circled in their own holding pattern in Zoey Matthews’ stomach as her flight stair-stepped less gently than she’d have liked into Springfield-Branson National Airport. Flying wasn’t her forte and a less than skilled pilot at the helm wasn’t helping matters. Zoey knew, however, that her bats had less to do with the ineptitude of the pilot and more to do with the three people that would be standing at the end of the ramp waiting for her. The men she’d left ten years ago who haunted her dreams and refused to turn loose of her heart. The men she loved.

“The local time is three-thirty-seven and it’s a muggy hundred and two. Thank you for flying United. Enjoy your stay in the Ozarks,” the pilot droned out. His people skills apparently weren’t much better than his flying ability.

Dear God, she’d really agreed to this. Her first return to her roots since the day after graduation when she’d stuffed her meager belongings in her car and left for greener pastures. And they were greener in Colorado, and less rocky, and filled with more cowboys. None of whom Zoey had managed to allow to capture her soul. As hard as she’d tried to move on, the best she could muster was a few short term relationships and a string of one-night stands, both of which were easy to come by on the rodeo circuit.

After completing her degree in veterinary medicine at UMC and messing her entire life up in a matter of hours after accepting her diploma, she called and took a job just outside of Denver filling in for the local vet that had been injured when a bull decided he wasn’t as lame as his owner thought and gashed the poor man from stem to sternum. Zoey quickly found out that woman doctors weren’t really all the rage in rural Colorado. The good doctor’s regulars didn’t exactly welcome her with open arms and as soon as the man recovered and came back, he managed to help her get a gig following the rodeo circuit. Talk about going from the frying pan to the fire. Working with big animals was right where Zoey wanted to be, but she wasn’t really welcome in the rodeo world either, being a woman doctor and all. It had taken her a good long while to build a bridge and become a member of that community.

The plane landed with a bump, hopped once and skidded to a halt. She’d never been so glad to be on solid ground in her life. While everyone around her rose and nearly bolted for the door, she sat perfectly still in her plush business class accommodations waiting for the crowd to clear. She never could understand the point in hurrying off a plane just to get stuck in a mass of people pushing and shoving only to have to wait on luggage anyway. Truth be told though, her hanging back today had less to do with any of that and more to do with the fact she was trying to harness her fears about seeing the men awaiting her arrival.

“Honey, are you okay?” the attendant asked, leaning over and shooting her another one of his smiles that should have melted Zoey’s panties, but didn’t seem to spark even the tiniest flame.

“Fine,” Zoey assured him. “Just waiting for the rush to die down.”

“It’s dead. You’re the only one left.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Zoey’s chest tightened and a thin sheen of sweat broke out over her as she jumped up and in the process of scrambling to get her carry-on out of the overhead compartment forgot she’d unzipped it earlier to retrieve her Kindle. One good yank and the bag flew apartt, contents spewing everywhere. “Shit,” she said, trying to catch her breath.

“You’re a wreck,” the attendant told her. “Sit, let me help.”

Zoey sat once again and put her head between her knees as a wave of nausea overtookher.

“Just what’s waiting for you in the Ozarks anyway?”

“Not what, who,” Zoey offered, seeing the man on all fours stuffing her toothbrush back in her bag then reaching under the seat across the aisle to grab…oh hell, it was John-Do.

“Well, is who a woman or a man that hasn’t figured it out yet?” he asked, holding the pink rabbit up before carefully tucking him in her bag and zipping it securely.

“Men,” Zoey confessed. “They thought they had it figured out, but they didn’t and probably still don’t.”

“Oh, I see. Well, honey, if I were one of them, I’d off the others for a chance at you.”

“That’s the problem. I can’t settle for one and I can’t have them all.”

“Interesting.” He stood and held out one hand. “May I escort you to the terminal? I gotta see the source of your frustration.”

Zoey stood, slung her Vera backpack over her shoulders and tentatively stuck her hand out to let the attendant take it. For some reason she had the preconceived notion he’d have a weak grip, but she found quite the opposite to be true. His hand held hers with a firm assurance that settled at least two of those damn bats. She allowed him to help her up then clung to him as he led her down the ramp with her bag in his other hand. The closer they got to the end of the tunnel, the quicker her breath came.

When they emerged, Zoey blinked under the fluorescent lighting and looked around never letting go of her savior’s grasp. Then there they were and she was transported back ten years. Dane Cardwell, Jack Devereux, and Ryan Wilkins. Her heart sped up and blood rushed to her center, warming her and sending a tingle through her very soul. With her eyes as big as saucers and her mouth hanging in a perfect O, she chanced a glance at the man at her side to discover he was smiling over clenched teeth. It was then she realized she was clutching his hand until the circulation was probably cut off.

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Not a problem,” he returned in a low voice. “I take it those are the men?”

Zoey nodded, still staring into his eyes.

“Well, let’s give them a reason to reconsider your stance and perhaps pull their heads from their asses.”

With that the man sat her bag down then bracketed her face in his smooth palms. Not what she was used to in a man. The men she usually allowed to touch her had callous roughened hands from the brute work of running ranches and the grueling life of riding rodeo. Before she could protest, he lowered his head and licked a tantalizing line across her lips then closed his mouth over hers. Dear Lord, the man could kiss and it seemed to go on forever. His wet heat mingled with hers until she was light-headed and the sound of three distinct throats being cleared interrupted their interlude.

“It was a pleasure, honey. I hope we see each other on your return flight,” he whispered across her cheek while running his thumb over her now swollen lips before letting her go and walking away.

“What the hell was that all about, Zoey?” Dane nearly shouted. Odd, they hadn’t seen each other in years and they’d only spoken a few times over the phone, yet he still exhibited that signature possessiveness over her.

“What’s it to ya, Dane Cardwell?” she shot back with one eyebrow cocked. “I’m all grown up now. I know that’s probably hard to fathom, but I am.” Zoey crossed her arms under her breasts and pursed her lips.

“It didn’t escape my notice,” Ryan said, eyeballing her from crown to toe. He was always the analytical one yet somehow managed to make decisions on a dime that made sense and worked. “Is that a tattoo?”

Zoey glanced down and smiled. Her tank top had ridden up over the edge of her low-slung jeans and the hummingbird she’d had inked along her pelvic bone just under her belly button was peeking out, it’s beak buried in a morning glory.

“Yes, it is.”

Jack grunted and fisted his hands at his sides. He’d never been long on words and was better at showing than telling. As short on words as he was at times, however, he was the one that had called and talked to her the most in her absence.

“Aw hell, Zoey, you’ve not changed a bit,” Dane finally said, pulling her pink John Deere cap up off her forehead a bit before wrapping her up in his arms. “Look at you, still so beautiful. Welcome home.”

“She’s obviously changed some,” Ryan said, still staring at her. “What the fuck, Zoey? A tattoo? Levi’s? What happened to Wranglers? Are those Lucchese ropers?”

“Yes, yes and yes,” Zoey said, pulling away from Dane and looking at Jack who had yet to utter a single word. “Did you expect me to stay frozen in time, Ryan? I do run the rodeo circuit. You know, with cowboys, cowgirls and livestock? Great time of day, what would you have said if I’d shown up in full rodeo queen regalia complete with a Resitol? I bet you’ve all changed some, too. Jack?” She took a couple of steps toward him with her breath stuck in her throat.

“Goddamn it, Zoey,” he said with a hitch in his voice. “I didn’t think we’d ever talk you into coming.”

“I almost didn’t,” she confessed. “Rodeo season’s in full swing and my regulars weren’t too happy to find out I’d be gone for a few days, but y’all seemed so adamant that you wanted to see me again…”

Jack took her by the hand and Ryan picked up her bag. “Come on, sugar. Let’s go claim your luggage and get going,” he told her before heading off with her in tow. “What does your bag look like?” Jack asked, scanning the carousel, still holding onto her hand like he might never let go again.

“They look like this.” Zoey turned a bit so he could see the brightly colored paisley backpack hanging off her shoulders.

“It all matches?” Ryan asked, holding up her carry-on. “No offense, Zoey, but this doesn’t look at all like something the rodeo queen would be carrying. In fact, it looks a lot like the Zoey I remember. Free-spirited.”

“Ryan, ease up on her, damn it. You want her to turn around and get back on the plane?” Dane spouted, grabbing the first of her bags. “You said they, Zoey. How many bags are they exactly?”

“That duffle and one more on wheels,” she explained, giving Ryan the evil eye.

Zoey thought Ryan was being borderline mean, which didn’t really surprise her. Of all of them, he seemed to be the one that had taken her leaving the hardest. He hadn’t called her for almost two years. Then one day out of the clear blue sky he did. He’d chewed her ass out then hung up and hadn’t called again for six more months. That time he apologized and hung up. The third time he begged her to come back then when she said no he’d chewed her ass out again. It had gone on like that up until four months ago when he called with sugar dripping from his mouth and invited her to come home for a visit.

“How much stuff did you bring, sweetheart?” Dane asked, straining to lift the other bag.

“Well none of you would ever tell me exactly what was happening at this wingding so I packed for everything I could think of.” Ryan started to open his mouth, but Zoey headed him off at the pass. “And before you say anything else, no, Ryan Wilkins, those bags aren’t full of Levi’s and Lucchese’s. There’s a bikini in there somewhere and a sundress or two.”

“A bikini…” Ryan began.

“Ryan, I said stow it,” Dane growled.