The Sextet Presents... Playing in the Raine [A Toy Story] (Siren Publishing Menage Amour) by Mellanie Szereto

wasn’t interested.
    “I’m fine, thanks.” She clasped her hands in front of her, squeezing until her fingers turned white. “Um, I’d like to talk to you about something before dinner. I don’t really know how to say this.”
    Here it comes. Once was enough, and now she’s moving on.
    She cleared her throat and shifted her hands behind her back. “You know how you each put an age range in your ad? With thirty-five being the oldest?”
    Vince, Matt, and Rafe nodded in unison.
    She’s older? She’s worried because she thinks she’s too old for us? By God, unless she was old enough to be his grandmother, Vince didn’t give a damn.
    Rafe spoke up first, his tone revealing nothing. “You’re older than thirty-five.”
    “How old are you?” Leave it to Matt to ask the tactless question. “You don’t look over thirty to me.”
    A miraculous save.
    She licked her sexy lips. “Yes, I’m older than thirty-five. And thanks, Matt, I appreciate the compliment.” She looked toward the floor for several moments as she exhaled. Her eyes came up to some point beyond Vince. “I’m thirty-eight years old. I didn’t mean to deceive you. Well, kind of, but—”
    “Thirty-eight?” Matt’s shock was evident by his cracking voice. “I tried to talk them into saying forty, and they wouldn’t listen to me.”
    Rafe grinned. “We should’ve listened to him.”
    Pushing to his feet, Vince let out a relieved sigh. “Your age doesn’t matter, Raine. Like we said last night—you’re the right woman for us. We don’t care about anything else.”
    Tear stung her eyes, and Raine blinked them away. They honestly didn’t give a damn that she was thirty-eight? “But…I’m…thirteen years older than you, Matt, and I’m ten years older than you, Vince.”
    Rafe grinned. “So? I’m eleven years younger than you. Does that mean you can’t care about me?”
    All three men raised their eyebrows at her as if challenging her to come up with a response to that. Had she finally found males who weren’t shallow?
    Wait a minute. “What happens when you turn forty and midlife is staring you in the face?”
    His mouth straightening into a stubborn line, Vince moved to stand directly in front of her. “We’ll have a gorgeous fifty-year-old hottie keeping us happy at home while we’re doing our best to make her happy. You don’t plan on dumping us for younger guys, do you?”
    Touché. “Of course not.”
    “Okay.” He rubbed his thumb along her jaw, the caress so soothing she wanted to cry. “Rafe has everything ready to go for dinner. While he loads the car, why don’t you come upstairs to see what you’ve inspired.”
    She followed when he grasped her hand and gave a gentle tug. “Inspired? Matt said he wanted to show me a painting. What else—”
    “Wait and see.” Matt clomped up the steps behind them. “Mine first, Vin, if you don’t mind.”
    Vin. “Why do you call him Vin?” She let her guide lead her along the hallway at the top of the stairs.
    “Imagine Vin Diesel with hair and a cuter face.” Matt’s laugh was infectious.
    Even Vince joined in as they stopped at the last door. “Maybe Raine thinks Vin is better looking.”
    “You know, Vince, I agree with Matt. I’d rather have you.” She squeezed his hand.
    Matt opened the door, revealing an art studio with paints and easels, canvasses and brushes, and drop cloths spread on the floor. “This one. Come look. I painted it after our date.”
    She carefully walked to the other side of the room, stepping over folds in the cloth and rounding an easel to stand beside him. Her breath caught in her lungs. He’d painted a portrait of her. Well, not exactly a portrait. Her likeness lay on a beach, waves sweeping over the sand, and her tail curved upward toward the sky. Iridescent pale green scales covered her breasts, torso, and…not legs. A mermaid. How many times had she gone to the beach as a child and wished to be a mermaid? “It’s