Breathless-kindle

by Alexander, R. G.

  Now he couldn’t turn his dick or his damn brain off.

  Thoreau was studying him as if he could read his thoughts.

  God, I fucking hope not.

  “Are you ever going to tell me about this phase thing?”

  Thoreau looked down at his boxers and nodded, seeming to make a decision before reaching for his shirt. “You’re right, I need to stop putting this off. And I think visual aids might work better.” He paused and cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t freak out.”

  Anytime someone told him not to freak out Wyatt instantly wanted to freak out. Because why would they say that? He felt something like panic mixed with hysterical laughter building up in his chest as Thoreau dropped his shirt and reached for his belt buckle, right there in the living room.

  Wyatt took a step back and held up his hand. “Cut that shit out or I will hurt you.”

  “No, you won’t.” Thoreau was stepping out of his khakis, his fingers on the waistband of his boxers with a completely relaxed and unaffected smile on his face. “But I have your attention now, don’t I?”

  “Yes, okay? I followed you out here didn’t I? Don’t do it, man.”

  “I’m proving a point. We’ve lived in this two-bedroom apartment for a month and you’re still uncomfortable around me. I’m not that hard a guy to relax around, and I know for a fact you’ve spent the majority of your life in locker rooms surrounded by naked men. Unless you did it blindfolded, you checked them out. It’s human nature. Five brothers, football team, firefighter…all male dick, all the time. Think about it.”

  “I don’t want to think about dick.” He gripped the towel around his neck tightly as Thoreau dropped his boxers to his knees.

  He couldn’t help it. He looked.

  Damn.

  Now he had another reason to hate the bastard.

  “Is this phase two? Are we supposed to kiss now or after I call my brother to arrest you for indecent exposure?”

  Obviously amused, Thoreau shook his head and tugged his boxers back up as if he hadn’t just revealed his giant secret weapon. “First of all, this is my house so I can be as naked as I like whenever I want to. And we could kiss, but you’ve spoiled the moment so I’m going to pass. You’re safe for now, buddy.”

  For now.

  Wyatt started to turn away but Thoreau held up his hands, “Wait. Before you storm out or kick me in the balls, this is not a dominance thing or a contest.”

  Really? Because it felt like both. “What the hell is it?”

  “It’s a wakeup call, because you’re getting better and time is flying by, and we need to have this conversation, Wyatt. For Fiona.”

  That stopped Wyatt’s momentum. “Well, consider me thoroughly awake. Care to explain how you dropping trou is for Fiona?”

  “I will if you let me.” He crossed his arms over his smooth, very bare chest, obviously in no hurry to get the rest of his clothes back on. “In case you missed it, you’ve got some serious hang-ups. And I get it. I do. I grew up with Hugo and I know about Rory.”

  Everybody knew about Rory, thanks to Younger’s press conference. His brothers weren’t shy.

  “I was always into girls,” Thoreau continued. “But in college I experimented like everyone else. Discovered other things I liked and a few I wasn’t into.”

  Exactly what had he discovered? “I went to community college. I don’t experiment.”

  Thoreau raised an eyebrow in disbelief. Wyatt supposed that the fact that half his family were, or had been, regulars at a local kink club made his claim hard to believe.

  The truth was Wyatt’s worldview had been pretty damn small before Fiona. His lane was narrow, but he’d always been comfortable staying in it. She was the only person he trusted enough to try new things with. Really new things. Like that time she was giving him a blowjob and she’d stuck her finger up his— Okay, so maybe he had experimented. Just not with another guy.

  Thoreau shrugged. “All I’m saying is that I enjoyed myself, got over a few of my own judgments and issues, but that didn’t mean I stopped loving women. People don’t have to fit into neat little boxes anymore, Wyatt. It’s not just gay or straight, black and white, right and wrong. And it’s not always just one man for just one woman.”

  He couldn’t look away from Thoreau’s chest. He had more definition than Wyatt expected for a guy who made beer all day.

  Stop looking at his chest. He’s waiting for a response.

  “You think I don’t know that by now? With my brothers? I’m not that narrow-minded.”

  Thoreau nodded, obviously expecting that argument. “I know you accept alternative situations for other people. Even people you’re in a relationship with. The fact that you’re still here, still involved with Fiona, when you know that she and I have—”

  “Careful.” Wyatt tensed and took a step toward him, his hands clenching at his sides. “Just because I know it doesn’t mean I want to talk about it.”

  To his credit, the man didn’t flinch. “Which is why I haven’t brought it up until now. But at this point, you need to get over it, unless you want Fiona rabbiting again.”

  Wyatt pushed a hand through his wet hair in frustration. “So what? You’re saying she’ll leave unless I can be comfortable standing around naked with another guy?”

  “We’re both wearing boxers. See, that’s what I’m talking about.” Thoreau looked around the room as if searching for an answer. “The truth is, I don’t know, Wyatt. Do you think she’ll stay? Especially if you don’t try to understand what I know for a fact she’s told you she needs.”

  She had. She’d told Wyatt she needed freedom to make her own decisions. To not be tied down to a promise she wasn’t sure either one of them could keep. But like an idiot, he’d been sure she’d come around. She was too much of a romantic not to.

  And he loved her.

  That solves everything, does it?

  Every time she teared up at a Finn wedding or reunion, every time she held one of the new babies, he’d been more certain she was just sowing her wild oats and that she’d eventually settle down with him.

  He used to think it was impossible to be with, or be in love with, more than one person at a time. All he’d ever wanted, if he let himself imagine wanting, was what Uncle Shawn and Aunt Ellen had. Making a home and raising a family together. Still holding hands at your youngest kid’s wedding. That was love.

  He could have gone the rest of his life without knowing that the perfect twosome had temporarily been three—with his father, no less. Kids should never know shit like that about their parents.

  Noah said having the details made it easier to understand Elder’s personality, but Wyatt didn’t care about the whys. As far as he was concerned, their father had made the choice to be a dick. He’d chosen to be alone instead of sharing Ellen with his twin brother Shawn, and he’d regretted it.

  He’d chosen to marry three times, but never found what he was looking for with any of them, because he was looking for a replacement instead of someone to love. He’d had sons with each of those wives and, through death or the court system, he’d chosen to retain sole custody of them all. But his reasons were based on pride and vanity. He’d never been happy about it. Wyatt’s mother had been Elder’s third strike. After that he’d chosen to stay single and put all his energy into raising his sons in his image.

  He’d chosen wrong, and in the end, he’d failed. None of them was anything like that narrow-minded bigot, and that was a choice, too. Rory had found love with his two guys. His brother Brady had Ken, and Solomon had Hugo. Noah was still single, but a short, passionate fling had resulted in his son, Zachary, and he was already ten times the father Elder had ever been.

  James was, well, still James as far as he knew. Wyatt had gotten a postcard from Florida a few months ago that just said, “I’m fine.” But James had resigned from the force and actually left the state, so at least he was trying something new.

  Wyatt was the only one who hadn’t changed at all. He was
still the bachelor who lived with his brother. He still hung out with his family and the friends he’d made at the firehouse. He still mostly enjoyed what Rory called his three favorite things; beer, porn and fighting fires. He’d chosen to avoid change at all costs.

  Until he’d accepted Thoreau’s invitation and come here.

  When he was alone in that hospital room after Noah had turned him away, hadn’t he determined to try something new? To live a bigger life? Because the one he’d seen flashing before his eyes in that fire wasn’t one he could keep living without regrets. Regrets that might turn him into the one man he never wanted to be compared to.

  “I also happen to think there’s strength in numbers,” Thoreau added into the silence, as if he could feel Wyatt considering what he’d said. “Whether you acknowledge it or not, you and I are on the same team. The one that wants Fiona to be happy, surrounded by friends and family. The one that wants her to stick around for good.”

  Was he really thinking what he thought he was thinking? Wyatt stepped away from Thoreau and sat down heavily on the couch. He rubbed a hand over his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose before looking up again. “A team, huh?”

  Thoreau came over and sat on the coffee table across from him. “You need to give me a minute. You never say what I’m expecting you to. I was sure my genius plan to shock some sense into you had backfired and I was going to have to explain to Fiona why you’d booked a flight to Canada. I don’t think I’m as good at this as I thought. Maybe I should stick to brewing beer and leave the psychology to Fiona.”

  “I wouldn’t say it backfired, though Canada is tempting.” Wyatt shook his head. “You definitely shocked me. Seeing your dick was not even on my list of potential weird shit that could happen today. Or ever,” he added, chuckling despite himself.

  Thoreau grinned and ducked his head.

  “Trou drop might have been over the line. I’ll give you that and I’m sorry,” he laughed self-consciously. “It was for a good cause.”

  “Yeah, okay, as long as we sign a blood pact to never mention it again. After you tell me how this was supposed to go down. You know, without the unnecessary dick brag,” he waved his hand absently at Thoreau’s impressive package. “Talk to me like I’m a dumb jock.”

  “I would, if you were,” Thoreau countered. “I was just thinking if we could hash this out between us first, get comfortable with each other, then we could give her what it is she seems to want. Call her bluff.”

  “Both of us,” Wyatt responded grimly. “Yeah, I don’t think she’s bluffing about that.”

  “Neither do I. But she doesn’t believe it could happen either. Both of us working together. No jealousy, no competition and no ego. Just Fiona in the middle.”

  “Teamwork makes the dream work?” Wyatt asked with a disbelieving snort, remembering the flaming poster from the fire.

  “That’s the plan. Well, phase two of it, anyway.”

  It was funny, but when he put it like that, Wyatt actually got it. He was wired for it. He’d literally been raised to be part of a team. Granted, the man who’d trained him had been a soulless homophobe who hadn’t had this kind of team in mind, but the lessons still ran deep.

  James and some of the others chafed against relying on anyone but themselves, preferring to go their own way. But Wyatt didn’t like to be alone. He never had. In fact, the only thing he’d ever wanted just for himself was Fiona.

  Fiona, who needed more than one other person on her team.

  Had he been looking at it all wrong? Torturing himself because he never seemed to be enough for her instead of seeing himself as a necessary part of a whole?

  Had he been reading too many of Fi’s self-help books?

  Yes, to all of those questions.

  “You really think we could be a team? I mean, theory is one thing, but practice might be a fucking train wreck.” He saw the surprise in Thoreau’s expression and bit back a smile. “We don’t exactly have that much in common.”

  Thoreau’s eyes sparked with relief and determination. “I think we have a few hurdles to get over, but it could work. And you might be surprised about what we have in common. We never really tried to find out.”

  Wyatt felt that squeeze on his chest again. “And you care about her enough to go through with this?”

  “Would I have acted like a creepy perv if I didn’t?”

  No. This wasn’t Thoreau’s style at all. “What if we’re wrong and this isn’t what she wants?”

  What if it still wasn’t enough to get her to stay?

  “We’ll cross that bridge when and if we come to it. Now let’s get dressed so we can put the rest of my WTF plan in motion.”

  “What? Tonight?” He barked out a laugh. “And WTF?”

  Thoreau grinned. “Wyatt, Thoreau and Fiona. What the fuck? Catchy, isn’t it?”

  A year ago, he never would have considered this. But now? The last month had been torture, and the weeks after Fiona had left last time had really messed with his head. He’d tried everything else, why not give phase two a shot?

  At least once.

  He stood up, resolved but still more than a little anxious. “What the fuck? I guess I’m in. But I’m going to need a beer for this. The good stuff.”

  “I only make the good stuff, Wyatt.”

  “And she thinks I’m cocky.”

  Chapter Seven

  Wyatt

  “I thought omelets were for breakfast,” Wyatt said, puzzled as he studied the menu Thoreau had handed him.

  “It’s not the kind of omelet you’re thinking of. The real name is tortilla Española. Eggs, potatoes and onions, fried up and served in bite-sized wedges.”

  “Then why do they call it an omelet?”

  “They just do.” Thoreau said, shrugging. “I thought you said you’d had tapas before.”

  “I thought you said tacos.”

  “Why would I ask if you’ve ever had tacos? You and your brother practically lived at that taqueria truck by the station for a year when you weren’t eating Finn Again dinner leftovers.”

  He remembered that? “I know! That’s why I thought it was a stupid question.”

  Wyatt closed his eyes and rubbed his temple. This was giving him a headache. “If ordering dinner is this complicated…”

  “It’ll be fine, Wyatt.” Thoreau’s warm hand landed on the back of his neck and squeezed. It was comforting. “Tapas is really just a trendy word for fancy-looking appetizers at this restaurant. But I know that’s not what has you rattled, is it?”

  “Probably not,” Wyatt admitted. “Sorry.”

  “I was going to wait, but I think it might be time to break this out early.” Thoreau opened the refrigerator and handed him one of his special beer bottles.

  “Another taste test? Now we’re talking,” Wyatt said as he popped it open and took a healthy swig. Any other beer, he’d be chugging, but this was too delicious for that—he savored the mouthful, letting the flavor infuse every taste bud before it slid down his throat like liquid velvet. “Is this the same one you brought to the hospital?”

  “The cream ale, yes. I thought we’d start out with what I know you like. I’ll get your input on the other one later.” Thoreau leaned back against the counter. “Don’t stress about tonight. We’ll go slow. Take things one step at a time until we see what you’re comfortable with. You set the pace, and I’ll have your back, as long as we remember this isn’t about our personal hang ups. This is about working together to give Fiona what she wants.”

  Thoreau was the man with the plan. He also seemed to be the one without any discernible sexual hang-ups. No doubt due to all his “experimenting in college.”

  If he weren’t so on edge, he’d be tempted to ask for details.

  Wyatt was still working through his issues about going through with the threesome plan, but he wasn’t freaking out as much as he would have been a few months ago. His reaction to watching Thoreau and Fiona the other night might have something to do w
ith it. He wouldn’t mind seeing that again. Letting her know he was watching. Making sure Thoreau was giving her what she needed.

  His cock got a little harder and he took another swig of his beer. Not yet.

  The reason he was tense had nothing to do with living out his own porn and everything to do with the man beside him. He’d seen Thoreau’s junk now, but would he be okay watching him use it on Fiona? Would he be able to handle it if swords accidentally crossed in the heat of the moment?

  Okay, so maybe he wasn’t as fucking evolved as the rest of his family. Every man who wasn’t named Finn wondered about shit like that. The basic mechanics of it all. He couldn’t stop thinking about the possibilities and how he might react.

  If sexual contact with another man crossed his mind more than the average guy, his family was to blame. At this moment in time, somewhere in this city, two of his cousins and three of his brothers were gay. So far. You didn’t have to be into statistics to get your mind blown by those odds.

  “No man is one hundred percent straight. That’s a fact.”

  Rory used to say that all the time, and Wyatt had joked that it was wishful thinking, but his brother’s facts were getting harder to ignore. He and Noah had even discussed it once or twice, wondering why whatever was going on with the rest of the family had skipped the both of them entirely.

  Now he was starting to wonder if it really had.

  “So how is the omelet-that’s-not-an-omelet supposed to help again?”

  Thoreau’s smile bordered on smug. “First of all, she loves it. Not as much as the other three I circled, but I think you’ll like it too. We had it all the time when she was helping me study for finals. Secondly, it’s the kind of food that invites conversation. No one wants to hear you talk about your feelings with a mouth full of greasy cheeseburger. And you know her, she will want you to talk about your feelings.”