The Sextet - Dirty Dancing [The Sextet Anthology, Volume 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) by The Sextet Page A

a hand through his mop of red hair. “’S the truth, though. Got no use for uteruses—or is that uteri?”
    Biting back a laugh, she glanced at her watch. “Isn’t it time for you guys to get started?”
    “’S what I came to say, actually,” Brayden said with a nod. “Didn’t know I’d be getting into a gynecological discussion.”
    “That’s not exactly what it was,” Sean pointed out. “You’re right, though. We’d better get on stage or Linda will make one of us dance with her.”
    Brayden frowned. “Who the fuck’s Linda?”
    Geneva couldn’t help but smile. Brayden was one hell of a drummer, but more often than not, he was completely clueless. A befuddled expression became him, however, and his guileless green eyes had stolen sterner hearts than Geneva’s. Unfortunately, he tended to be clueless in that respect, as well.
    As she watched the guys head toward the stage, she wondered what her grandfather would think of such an arrangement. Probably roll over in his grave—though he couldn’t complain about the way she’d run the business she’d inherited from him. She’d kept on the same help he’d had—Elton still dished up the best pub grub in Caerphilly, and Helen had been the waitress for at least the past forty years. Geneva had hired a part-time bartender and another waitress to give herself and Helen a night off once in a while. The pub was doing quite well, though she still thought it odd that he’d leave it to her—the last child in the American branch of the family—when there were others in the UK who would’ve leaped at the chance to own the Dancing Cow. Geneva suspected that it was his way of getting his progeny back into the fold, as it were, though she had no proof of that. She’d been properly shocked when the will was read, but it didn’t take her long to fall in love with the place—both the pub and the town.
    She’d also fallen in love with Hugh, whom she’d met when he’d been the liaison between the New York and London advertising offices. After she relocated to Wales, their not-so-long-distance romance had bloomed. He was tall, nice-looking, though not gorgeous, a bit older than she, and having children didn’t figure into his plans. Not then, they hadn’t.
    The boys in the band had been referring to Hugh as “The Loser” ever since she’d taken over the pub. It had been prophetic in a way, either that or simply true—Geneva wasn’t sure which—but right now, she didn’t care. He was gone. Out of her life. Period. Exclamation mark.
    The pub was already rocking to the sounds from the stage. The guys were good— very good—but had seldom played much outside of Caerphilly. She’d heard them mention gigs in Cardiff once or twice, but they seemed to prefer the smaller venues and played at the Dancing Cow at least twice a month, sometimes more. Lately, they’d become a Saturday night fixture. They lived together in a rambling stone house that had once belonged to Nigel’s aunt and was situated at the foot of a hill near the town. It was the epitome of the English country home—unless your dreams ran to something more along the grand lines of Caerphilly Castle, and Geneva’s did not.
    Leaving New York behind had not been a hardship. She had grown to love the life she led in Britain, but something had been lacking even before the breakup with Hugh. She took another order, glancing at the stage as she mixed a whiskey sour. Were they what was missing? She closed her eyes, grimacing as she shook her head. No. That couldn’t be it. After all, what woman needed four men? On the other hand, if the music they could make together in the bedroom was anything like their harmony on stage, why would anyone refuse them?
    Self-preservation, perhaps? A relationship like that would be impossible to maintain. It was difficult enough to please one man. Keeping four of them happy while maintaining her own sanity? Flat-out impossible.

    * * * *

    Rhys glanced over at the bar