“Sure you can, but you might as well get full service. According to your buddy—the one who texted Jen—you aggressively shot down going to his place or contacting any of your five available brothers. He didn’t want to leave you alone and we’re the only ones you didn’t argue about spending the night with. I’m not sure how we got so lucky,” Trick muttered, practically dragging Rory’s rubbery legs over the threshold of the mall-sized Kelley mansion and toward the kitchen.
“Your sparkling personality?” He batted his eyelashes, ignoring the ache in his gut when he thought about his brothers. He couldn’t go to them. Not like this.
Younger Solomon would judge and James was usually MIA. Brady was wrapped up in love and rope and Noah was knee deep in diapers. Wyatt… Well, Wyatt wouldn’t understand anything that wasn’t about beer, porn or fighting fires. None of them really knew who Rory was. To them he was simply their pain in the ass, oversexed baby brother. The apathetic Peter Pan who’d never grow up and always did the exact opposite of what he was supposed to do.
It was easier for everyone if they kept it that way.
Trick narrowed his eyes then shook his head. “Come on, numbskull. We made rocket fuel coffee and a hangover scramble with enough hot sauce to help burn some of the poison out.”
“That sounds horrible.” He didn’t have to fake his shudder and he was glad Trick was still holding onto him. His legs seemed to be doing their own thing tonight.
“They didn’t teach you about hot sauce during your EMT training? It’ll cure what ails you, at any rate. And if you don’t like our hospitality, the next time you get shitfaced you’ll want to go somewhere else. Either way, I call that a win.”
Chapter Two
“Is he okay?” Professor Declan Kelley had bedhead, his glasses were crooked and he was holding two wriggling dogs in his arms as if to intentionally frame his washboard abs with cuteness and—good God—he was wearing silk pajama bottoms like a boss.
Between the sleeved badass holding him up and this gorgeous specimen in front of him, Rory could think of a dozen, deliciously debauched activities that might help him forget his current dilemma. Rory snorted out a laugh. Another alliteration. Possibly a side effect of his cleanse mixed with alcohol. Fun with grammar aside, he was horny enough to give them both a rough workout.
Unfortunately, they only had eyes for each other and his redheaded relative, Jen. Yet another uniquely happy ending for someone whose name wasn’t Rory.
Those aren’t the two you want anyway. You remember them, don’t you? The ones who decided not to invite you to their sexy party?
“Hell.” He hated feeling this way. Bitter was Sol the Elder’s thing, not Rory’s. He’d spent a lifetime making sure he was nothing like his old man and now he was practically channeling the fucker.
“He’s in a sorry state, but I think he’ll live.” Trick looked around, his expression softening. “Did she go back to bed like I told her to?”
“No, she didn’t, because she’s an adult who makes her own decisions,” Jen sing-songed from behind Declan. “Bring him into the kitchen.”
“Guess that answers that question,” Rory said to Trick with a sudden goofy grin. “Did you know I’m the one who told her that threesomes were a good idea? Isn’t it ironic?” He paused expectantly, looking them both in the eye. “Don’t you think?”
“Don’t even go there, Alanis Morissette,” Trick warned dryly.
“What? It’s a classic at the club.”
Declan sniffed. “You’re not old enough to know what classic means.”
Rory didn’t point out that Jen was younger than he was as Declan stepped over a small baby gate and set the energetic puppies on the floor. Trick hoisted Rory over it to join them and Declan raised his eyebrows. “Am I missing something? How is it ironic?”
Jen appeared beside him, her strawberry hair tangled and her body hidden by the large white shirt that belonged to one of her men. “I think it’s because we’ve worked out our issues, thanks partly to his and Noah’s advice, but Rory is still in a pickle with two guys of his own.”
Rory frowned at her suspiciously while Trick steadied him on a stool at the kitchen island and groaned. “That’s why we’re out of bed? No emergency? No one’s sick? Rory Finn has a three-pickle problem and we’re his drunk dial?”
Declan chuckled. “The three-pickle problem. I need to add that to my syllabus next semester.”
Rory glared at the man he’d thought was handsome five seconds ago but Jen took his hand and pushed his shaggy hair out of his eyes, distracting him. “Have some coffee, Rory. Rig’s worried you drank too much because he upset you.”
He wanted to laugh at that. Rig had sent him into shock. He’d treated enough accident victims to recognize the symptoms. That had to be why he was sitting in his cousin’s kitchen looking from her baby blues to a plate of bleeding eggs at two-something in the morning.
“Upset me?” The smell of the hot sauce was burning his eyes, making him wish he’d had enough sense to pass out in the bushes by the bar like a normal lush. That sounded better than these eggs smelled. “You could say that, yeah. You could also say betrayed. Maybe sabotaged. Sabotage. Like the Beastie Boys.” Rory raised his voice for Declan’s sake. “Another classic, Professor.”
“Betrayed? Rory, tell me,” Jen urged, shocking him when she added, “Rig hinted this was about David. How would talking about him be… Oh. Oh, I see.”
If she did, college had made her scary smart. Perpetual geek that he was, David would say Skynet smart. Or maybe Cylons? Either way…it didn’t bode well for him.
“Rig says he’s…” His throat closed and he shook his head. “That they’ve already—and they’re probably going to...” Jealousy ate at his vocal chords. “There were rules for a reason,” he rasped, noting miserably that he was no longer able to complete a sentence.
“Wow.” Trick leaned his inked forearms on the island bar. “I’m usually fluent in drunk ass, but I feel like I’m missing some critical information.”
Jen seemed more than happy to fill him in. “David Mills is the cute, straight friend from high school Rory kissed under the mistletoe at Owen’s wedding to piss off his father. David’s sister, Essie, actually gave us Duck and Goose.” She pointed over to the odd-looking troublemakers that were shredding their stuffed chew toys with adorably blissful snarls. “Rig is the not-so-straight friend who was with them at the reception.”
“Oh yes,” Declan said, snapping his fingers as it came to him. “The one who described himself as pansexual, which is a fascinating distinction because it’s basically just enhanced bisexuality, acknowledging a willingness for sexual relations with people who define themselves as androgynous or transgender for example. I wanted to talk to hi—”
“Declan, focus,” Jen demanded softly, making him blush.
“Anthony Rigatelli?” Trick broke in, his eyebrows up to his hairline. “He was the hot as fuck Jersey Shore extra with the Italian horn necklace, right? The guy who looked like he spent ten hours a day in the gym? Why do you call him Rig instead of Tony?”
“Hot as fuck?” Declan growled.
“Short for Rigatoni, a nickname he couldn’t shake until we met in college. And he only works out four hours a day,” Rory corrected Trick glumly. “MMA fighting and gratuitous nudity are a few of his hobbies, so he has to stay fit. The rest of the time he creates recipes with his grandmother for his family’s catering business, dabbles in online trading and works at getting himself into trouble.”
With his mouth.
And his dick.
Sometimes both at the same time.
Jen laughed. “Okay then. So Rory had a kinky fling with Rig the multitasker in college. They’re just friends now, but once in a blue moon they tag team some curious bar patron when my cousin’s feeling nostalgic or competitive.”
Rory choked, wanting to tell her it wasn’t as shallow as she was making it sound, but it totally was, and he was too surprised at the fact that sh
e knew about it to lie. “Seriously, Jen, how the fuck?”
She smirked. “I’ve known you all of my life, dear. I’m friends with people who knew you in college, and you were never as quiet a talker as you thought you were when I worked at Finn’s slinging beers. Also, my brother’s been worried about you and David since his wedding. He’s talked to Jeremy about it more than once and—”
“Jeremy talks to you and Tasha about everything. I should have known.”
Forget Sol the Elder, this entire situation was Owen Finn’s fault.
Owen had married Jeremy Porter the Christmas Eve before last. The two men lived together in a beautiful house on the lake. They had a dog, a cabin they’d fixed up for romantic getaways, and they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. It was a miracle they’d made it through their vows, and their one-year anniversary hadn’t been any better. Owen—the heterosexual kinky sex addict—had been keeping one hell of a secret when it came to his feelings for the artistic Porter.
Rory let the family think he wasn’t as stunned as they were because it conveniently proved his ongoing assertion that no man was one hundred percent straight given the right set of circumstances.
Who Owen had finally switched teams for was what fucked with Rory’s head. His high school buddy. His best friend. Someone who knew how thick his black book actually was and how spoiled and arrogant and stubborn Owen could be and wanted him anyway. Loved him anyway.
That was a fucking relationship unicorn.
It had gotten under Rory’s skin in a big way, reminding him of things he hadn’t let himself think about for years. Things he’d wanted. And then Owen had basically advised him to go for it, which must have been rattling around in his subconscious during the wedding reception, because man, had he ever.
That bad decision had fucked everything up, initiating what would forever be known as the Mistletoe Meltdown.
That’s what his family had been calling the episode of his personal reality show where he’d stuck his tongue down his best friend’s throat in front of everyone to prove a stupid point, and nearly lost him in the process.
“So we know the who.” Trick was like a dog with a bone, narrowing his eyes as Rory grimaced before swallowing another bite of lava eggs. “The Italian horn dog and the cutie next door who had all the women pinching his cheeks before Rory sent him into a full-on gay freak out. But that was a while ago. What happened tonight that would have pretty boy getting so drunk he shows up on our doorstep?”
Declan scratched his chin thoughtfully. “It has to be big. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Rory fazed by anything.”
“Then you don’t remember his reaction to that kiss,” Jen informed him knowingly. “Trust me, Rory was fazed. He’s still fazed.”
Another truth bomb from Scary Spice. What was it now? Fourteen months later? All this time and just thinking about David’s lips, his tongue…the hot, hungry sounds he was making before Rory pulled away… It still made him crazy.
“Whatever.” He rolled his eyes, refusing to admit the truth. “The good professor was too busy sucking up to your folks to notice me. That’s why he hosted the wedding and volunteered to keep the kids at your place when Seamus was in Ireland. It’s all a part of the continuing campaign to distract my aunt from worrying about her daughter living in sin with two dirty old men.”
Trick guffawed but Jen shushed him. “He’s teasing, Declan, you know Mom’s warmed up to you. And before you let him distract you, don’t forget Rory helped us babysit when we had to go to that faculty mixer.”
Declan was still scowling. “You mean the night he scared Seamus’ kids with stories of evil fairies and banshees and convinced them to superglue Lucky Charms marshmallows to the doors to protect them while they slept?”
Rory smiled fondly at the memory. “It worked. They all slept great,” he reminded them. “Even Wes. Anyway, I was just trying to distract them while their father was getting his freak on with your lusty new neighbor. Speaking of, do you know those two have clothes and lube hidden in every wing of their full house? I hear they keep getting caught with their pants down.”
Jealousy is for losers, dumbass.
“Let’s stay on track.” Trick poured a cup of coffee and passed it to Declan with an unconsciously seductive smile. “What kind of activity could David and Rig be up to that would send Rory into a bottle instead of someone’s bed?”
“Sex.” Jen sounded alarmingly confident. “I think Rig and David are having sex and he’s freaking out about it.”
Rory flinched. Did she have him bugged or something? He would ask her how much David enjoyed getting his cock sucked, but Rory had been on the receiving end of Rig’s talented mouth more than once.
“It just happened, Rory. I didn’t plan it.”
How did a blowjob just happen? Had Rig tripped with his mouth open?
“Bullshit.” Trick waved Jen off. “Pretty boy’s dick docket is too full as it is to let something like that worry him.”
“My dick docket?”
A knowing wink was Trick’s only response to that dig. “Come on, man. We heard what you did to those stripping firemen at Owen’s bachelor party. Their manager called the next day to find out what the hell happened to her talent because they’d both quit and told her they needed to reevaluate their lives. You broke the strippers. A guy with that kind of track record doesn’t care where Rigatelli puts his pickle.”
“First of all, stop with the pickle references. Secondly, those guys already had plans to stop stripping and start their own company.” Rory had just shown them the benefits of enjoying a full partnership. In bed. Hell, they’d even offered him stock options and thanked him for it. Multiple times.
Also in bed.
“Thirdly, Detective Smartass, it was David who got his pickle… You know what I’m trying to say.” The eggs were sitting like fiery rocks in his stomach, fueling his irritation. “It’s a bad idea, that’s all.”
Apocalyptically bad. Not that anyone had asked his opinion on the subject.
“Doesn’t that make you a bit of a hypocrite? With all the men you go through on a regular basis?”
Rory made a rude gesture with his hand, feeling defensive. “A lot you know. I haven’t gotten off to anyone but myself in eight months.”
“He’s funny when he’s drunk,” Declan observed, his lips twitching.
“I’m not joking.”
He hadn’t gone this long without since he knew sex was a thing. Brutal honesty? He hadn’t enjoyed sex since a year ago January. Which was around the same time David said he needed to back off a little and think things through.
Space. The silent friendship killer.
“No wonder I’m so grumpy, I’m turning into Younger the Celibate,” he groaned dramatically. “Jen, quick have Tasha get me the number for the rest of those strippers before I give myself a buzz cut and start ordering everyone around me to act their age.”
She gaped at him as if he announced he had a brain tumor and two weeks to live, making Rory drop his act and snort again. “I was kidding about the strippers.”
He wasn’t, but it seemed like something she wanted to hear.
“But you weren’t kidding about the eight months of going without?”
Rory lifted one shoulder apathetically. “The truth is I’ve been on a… I guess I’m calling it a cleanse. But I’m only abstaining from sex, not drinking maple syrup and cayenne pepper or anything. That’s disgusting and genuinely unhealthy.”
“A cleanse,” Jen echoed in disbelief. “You went on a sex cleanse?”
“Yes?” He’d assumed they’d be impressed, not concerned.
His cousin crossed her arms and studied him intently. “Tell me what’s going on, Rory. If you actually are Rory Finn and not an alien imposter. Do it now before I call an ambulance. Or my father.”
She was threatening him with Uncle Shawn, the only adult who was ever nice to him? Dirty pool, he mouthed silently.
Declan pinched his nose and p
ushed up his glasses. “Before we act on that, let’s clarify what’s actually going on here. We don’t need all the details, Rory. A simple Dick and Jane encapsulation will do.”
Dick and Jane? “Fine.” He pretended to open a book for Story Time. “Gay Rory kisses Straight David. Straight David runs away. Confused David comes back a few months later with a new job that has nothing to do with his degree and no more girlfriends. Experimental David kisses Manwhore Rig and expresses an interest in exploring his newly emerging bisexuality. Horny Rig blows him in gratitude, and breaks the news to Gay Rory due to their mutually agreed upon off-limits rule for previously Straight David. Gay Rory proceeds to get drunk and is sent to Little Finn in the Uber from Hell.” He slammed the book closed with a clap.
See Rory cry.
Trick nodded in approval. “Nicely done. And that about clears everything up for me. You’re jealous.”
Yes!
“No!” Rory swore under his breath. “I mean, sure, it would have made sense for me to have been informed that one of my best friends went down on the other—the one who just decided after twenty-eight years that he might be bisexual. Particularly after the way he reacted when I kissed—” He slashed his hand through the air, unwilling to go there again. “That’s not the point. This is more important than my ego. At least, it is to me. They’re both willing to throw all our years of friendship away for a night or two of naked exploration.”
Declan tilted his head thoughtfully. “I find it interesting that David being bisexual doesn’t seem to bother you as much as the two of them together does. And why do you think it has anything to do with your friendship…other than that rule you mentioned? Would you rather Rig kept his hands to himself and helped David find a random hookup instead?”
“No.” Something dark and possessive engulfed him at the thought of David slipping into a stranger’s car for a bout of meaningless, empty sex. “No. I’d rather see him with Rig than one of those vicious sluts at Tango’s.”
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