by Lynn Hagen
“I do have a job,” Stevie reminded Quinn. “I don’t know how much longer I can tell Clara that I’m sick and need time off. She’s gonna fire me if I don’t get back to work.”
Stevie was surprised she’d let him take the time off. Clara wasn’t known for her compassion and understanding. At least not toward him. He wouldn’t doubt Marie was probably talking massive shit about him, trying to egg Clara on to fire him.
As much as he disliked the people he worked with, Stevie loved his job and didn’t want to lose it. Too bad Marie wasn’t a guy. If she were, Stevie would’ve kicked her ass already. But he didn’t hit women, so he just stewed in his resentment that she hated him for no good reason.
“Babe, have you forgotten?” Quinn asked. “In a month you’ll be stuck inside.”
“Why?” Stevie was still thinking about Marie, anger boiling inside him. Even when she wasn’t around, she made him so damn angry.
Quinn tapped his belly. How had Stevie forgotten that fast? If he was pregnant, he would start showing, and the humans in Kendall would flip out over seeing a pregnant man.
His mood soured, Stevie stomped to the front door and headed outside. Nomad was waiting by Quinn’s truck, looking around for a sharp shooter or some shit.
This was so unfair, and with the foul mood Stevie was in, he wanted to go to his dad’s house and knock the son of a bitch on his ass. Too bad that wasn’t a realistic goal. Even if he managed to talk Quinn into taking him there, Cliff was too damn big to take down.
And his mother. Crap. Even though she’d been the shittiest one around, Stevie still worried for her. That was Cliff’s fault, too. There wasn’t anything that Cliff touched that didn’t turn to crap.
Except Stevie. He thought he’d turned out decent, even though he’d been raised by trash. Stevie wasn’t some bigwig lawyer or doctor, but being a hairstylist wasn’t something to be ashamed of. He made an okay living and loved what he did.
It just sucked that he would have to quit his job. That thought depressed the hell out of him as he climbed into the truck and waited to go home. He also wondered why Neal had taken a shot at them. If he killed Stevie, how would he collect the debt? That didn’t make any sense, and Stevie wished he’d wondered about this sooner. Why hadn’t it dawned on him that Neal trying to kill him would’ve been counterproductive?
He asked Quinn as much.
“I don’t know,” Quinn said. “Do you think it was someone other than Neal?”
“But who?” Stevie asked. “I don’t have any enemies. Do you?”
He didn’t like the fact that Quinn didn’t answer him. His mate pulled from the driveway and headed toward Stevie’s house in complete silence.
* * * *
Quinn was not going to go there. No way. When Stevie asked if Quinn had any enemies, the first person to pop into his head was Mason. But his ex-boyfriend wasn’t an enemy. He’d been the one who’d dumped Quinn.
Although Mason had still called and dropped by after the breakup, Quinn thrust that thought out of his head. It was ridiculous, and he wouldn’t entertain it any longer.
That shooter had to be Neal. But Stevie made a valid point. Why would Neal try to kill either of them if he wanted Stevie to pay and use Quinn for the money? That made them both valuable.
When they arrived at Stevie’s, Quinn watched his mate walk down the hallway then turned to Hayward. “What do you make of that?”
“The shooter?” Hayward shook his head. “It’s got me stumped. You’re right. Neal shouldn’t have shot at either of you if he wants to collect.” He stared with half-lidded eyes at Quinn. “Sure you don’t have a past that’s catching up with you?”
Neither said a word when Horace walked into the living room. He had a cleaning cloth in one hand and a duster in the other. “What’re you guys doing here?”
“They’re with me,” Stevie called from down the hallway. “Feel free to give them a good dusting while they wait.”
Hayward gave Horace a look that warned him to keep his duster to himself.
“All righty then,” Horace said. “I’m gonna go back into the kitchen and clean it again. You fellas have a nice day.”
“I’m gonna go help my mate,” Quinn said to Hayward. “Steer clear of the duster.” He chuckled to himself as he found Stevie’s room. His mate had a large suitcase on top of his bed, cramming things into it.
“How many suitcases do you own?” Quinn started to check Stevie’s closet to see if it led to a luggage factory.
“Two, but now one since the other one is broken.” Stevie cleared his dresser drawers.
“Need any help?” Quinn leaned against the doorframe and looked Stevie over. His mate wore skinny jeans that framed his ass nicely, a T-shirt that hugged his slim body, and Quinn wouldn’t mind getting rid of those clothes.
He moved into the room and closed the door.
Stevie looked over his shoulder and smiled. That grin did Quinn in. He moved in behind his mate and slid his arms around him, wondering if Stevie was already pregnant. He might’ve been because he should’ve gone into heat by now, and Stevie hadn’t shown any signs that he was.
He made a mental note to stop by the drugstore and pick up an at-home pregnancy test. Would it be too soon to tell? Quinn needed to call Keller when he got a minute to himself.
Stevie batted at his hands. “We’re not alone in the house, and besides, your brother is waiting on us.”
“We can be quick and quiet.” Chest to back, Quinn reached around and unfastened Stevie’s pants. He tried to shove his hand down them, but they were too damn tight. Instead, Quinn grabbed the waistband and pulled Stevie’s pants and underwear to his thighs. “Grab some luggage.”
“No foreplay?”
“You’re the one who said we didn’t have any time,” Quinn reminded him. “A quick fuck to relax us both.”
“So damn bossy.” Stevie bent over, pressing his hands on his suitcase.
“And something tells me you love it.” Quinn smiled. “Now stop being mouthy and let me have you.”
“I’m bent over,” Stevie complained. “What more do you want me to do to prove I want your dick in my ass?”
The guy had a point. Quinn grabbed Stevie’s hips and lifted him up until they were aligned. That was the problem with being mated to someone so short. Quinn was gonna throw his damn back out.
“Hold on,” Stevie said. “This isn’t comfortable. Just give me a hot second.”
When Quinn lowered his mate, Stevie shoved the suitcase aside and struggled to get onto the bed. Quinn helped, and now Stevie was on his hands and knees. His mate was at the perfect height now.
Spreading Stevie’s exquisite cheeks, Quinn lined the head of his cock up and let his natural lube do the rest. When he felt his mate’s ring of muscles relax, he inched his way in, groaning at just how tight Stevie’s ass was, how it felt like a fist around his dick.
Quinn rested his hands on Stevie’s shoulders and started to thrust, shooting straight to heaven while wrapped in this tight heat. His canines punched through, and his cat was close to the surface as he pounded into Stevie’s ass that Quinn started purring.
Stevie cried out, tossing beneath him. Quinn didn’t stop his mate’s loud noises. He didn’t care who heard them. Stevie was his, and Quinn wanted his mate to make any damn noise he wanted to.
He reached down with his right hand and splayed it across Stevie’s stomach, hope blossoming inside him that their child was already growing.
“Faster,” Stevie begged. “Need faster.”
Grabbing Stevie’s hips, Quinn unleashed himself, pulling his mate back as he thrust forward, giving the man exactly what he wanted. Unable to stop himself, Quinn ripped the collar of his mate’s T-shirt, pulling the material aside, and sank his sharp teeth into tender flesh.
Stevie wailed Quinn’s name as he bucked and slammed backward, his hole pulsing as Quinn came deep inside Stevie’s ass.
Holy shit. For a quickie, that had been phenomenal
. He pulled his canines free and licked the wound and then hissed as he eased out of Stevie’s body.
“Now how am I supposed to have any energy to finish packing?” Stevie panted his words.
With a chuckle, Quinn stuffed his cock back into his pants and helped his mate get up. “I’ll help you finish.”
“With your kind of help, we’ll never make it out of this room.” Stevie fixed his pants then shoved Quinn toward the bedroom door. “I’ll get this done faster if you’re not in here.”
With a hearty laugh, Quinn went back to the living room and waited on his mate.
Chapter Seven
When someone knocked on the door, Stevie pushed from the couch where he sat watching the television and eating chips. Could it be Neal? Would he be bold enough to knock?
Quinn, who had been seated next to him, was already at the door. He looked out the peephole and frowned. That wasn’t a reassuring reaction.
When Quinn opened the door, the last person Stevie expected to see was his mother. “Mom?”
She barged right past Quinn and invited herself inside. “I’ve finally done it,” she said, her purse swinging from her arm. “I finally left that good-for-nothing father of yours.”
Stevie ran over and hugged her, glad to see her unharmed. “But Dad said you’d been taken.”
She hugged him back as Quinn closed the door. “He says a lot of things while he’s sauced. Who in earth would have taken me?”
Stevie pulled out of the embrace, unsure what he should think. Her brown hair was limp and dull, but that was how it always was. The same went for her pale and wrinkled skin. Stevie had heard somewhere that alcohol addiction aged a person well beyond their years, and that held true for his mom. She was only forty-five but looked sixty-five.
“I’m glad to see that you’re okay, but what’re you doing here?” Stevie was baffled. He and his mother had never been close. He was waiting for the other shoe to drop. With his mom, there was always another shoe.
“Didn’t you hear me?” she asked. “I left your dad. I need a place to live.”
Stevie’s stomach shrank. “This isn’t my house,” he said with a low hiss. “I can’t just invite you to stay.”
And he didn’t want her to stay. Stevie felt horrible for his thoughts, but with his mother, there were always problems. She wasn’t innocent in all this. Lara Tucker was an enabler, a heavy drinker, and did whatever benefitted her, regardless of who got hurt.
Even so, guilt ate at him as he shook his head.
“We have a guest bedroom,” Quinn said. He looked at Stevie. “We need to keep her out of sight so she’s not used as leverage.” He looked back at Stevie’s mom. “No drinking in my house.”
“I have no idea what my son has been telling you, but—”
“Save it.” Quinn took Stevie’s hand and led him to the kitchen.
Quinn gave Nash a single nod, and Nash left the kitchen, no doubt to keep an eye on Lara. That was what Stevie would have done, and he didn’t trust his mother one bit.
“We can’t let her stay here,” Stevie whispered. “She’s not gonna keep her word.”
He wasn’t sure what to do with his mixed emotions. Stevie didn’t want to see her out on the street, but he already felt his stress levels elevating. This was a disaster waiting to happen.
And an embarrassment, too. He didn’t want anyone seeing her at her worst. He also didn’t want the O’Briens to find out how calculating she was. More times than Stevie could count he’d witnessed how she manipulated people, especially his father. She’d even tried it on Stevie until he’d gotten older and could see what she was doing.
He’d seen right through the games and deception and had let her know he wasn’t going to be one of her pawns. This had to be some kind of ploy, and Stevie felt sick to his stomach wondering what she was up to. It couldn’t be good. It was never good when it came to Lara.
“Quinn, please. Can’t we put her up somewhere? I promise to pay you back.” Stevie thought of letting her take his room at his house, but he wouldn’t do that to Horace and Stanton. He loved them too much. She wasn’t a neat person and would send Horace’s OCD into overdrive.
And poor Stanton never stuck up for himself. He’d let Lara run right over him.
“We can’t watch over her if she’s somewhere else.” Quinn tucked Stevie into his arms. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t have any booze.”
That was only part of the problem, but Stevie was too ashamed to tell Quinn how she “sweet-talked” people into giving her what she wanted. How she used people up and tossed them aside.
“What about Connor?” Stevie was trying his best to talk Quinn out of letting her stay. “We have to think about what’s best for him. If my mom gets hammered, do you want her around a baby?”
“We won’t let that happen.” Quinn leaned against the counter, spread his legs, and then pulled Stevie between them, resting his hands on Stevie’s hips. “What really has you worried, kitten?”
Stevie bit his lower lip. “It’s surprising, isn’t it?”
“What?” Quinn rubbed his hands over Stevie’s back, but not even a touch from his mate calmed Stevie’s true worries.
“That I turned out okay. I mean look at my parents. They both have deep-seated issues.”
Stevie had read somewhere that kids of con artists usually turned out to be narcissistic people who ended up like their folks. Stevie drank occasionally but not too much. Stevie didn’t gamble. His only bad habit was snacking. Hell, he’d rather deal with Neal than use Quinn, so that only showed he was the total opposite of his parents.
“It’s the old nature versus nurture argument.” Quinn shrugged. “I, for one, am glad you chose your own path.”
So was Stevie. “So what are we gonna do? Put a baby monitor in her room?”
Quinn gave a tight smile and shook his head. “We have a house full of people. I’m sure between all of us we can key an eye on her.”
Stevie didn’t like this, but he honestly didn’t have the heart to put her out. As messed up as she was, Lara was still his mom. He would just keep an eagle eye on her to make sure she didn’t have her own agenda for being there.
“Hey.” Quinn tucked a finger under Stevie’s chin. “I know everything seemed to happen at once, and there’s nothing we can do about that. I just want you happy. Tell me what will make you happy, and I’ll move heaven and earth to make that happen.”
“You,” Stevie said without hesitation. “From the moment I saw you, I was happy.”
Stevie had never spoken truer words.
“Then we’ll work through the rest.” Quinn hugged him, and Stevie drew from his mate’s strength, closing his eyes as he let out a sigh.
Until nausea hit him. He flew from Quinn’s arms and raced to the downstairs bathroom, throwing up his breakfast.
* * * *
The nausea and vomiting concerned Stevie, but when Quinn gave him a pregnancy stick to pee on, Stevie almost threw it at him. He was in denial, even though he’d seen his friend pregnant and giving birth. But that was Layne, not him. Stevie still didn’t want to believe it was possible.
“Just a few drops and we’ll have our answer,” Quinn said. “Keller tells me it’ll work.”
Stevie was skeptical. Karen, his only friend at work, had had a pregnancy scare and had bought one of those sticks. It had given her a plus sign, and she freaked out for weeks. When she’d finally gone to the doctor, dragging Stevie with her, Karen had found out that she wasn’t.
“Don’t those things check for women hormones?” He recalled the doctor had said something about hormones, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember his exact words.
Quinn splayed his hands. “I’ve never dealt with one of these before. I was just told to try it.”
Stevie looked at the stick that would tell him his fate. “What if it’s wrong?”
Quinn took Stevie’s hands and kissed his knuckles. “Whatever the outcome, we’re in this together, kitten. I
’m not going anywhere, and we’ve got my brothers to help out.”
That wasn’t reassuring, the last part about his brothers. Nash was busy with his own baby, and Nomad? Stevie shoved that thought aside.
“I’ll do this only to indulge you,” Stevie said. “This is ridiculous. You know that, right?” He waved at the door. “And I’m not peeing on a stick while you watch.”
Quinn gave him an exasperated look. “I’ve been intimate with every part of your body, Stevie. My damn face has been shoved in your ass. Why can’t you piss in front of me?”
Because Stevie’s nerves were wound tight and he wanted to be alone for a moment to catch his breath. He might’ve been in denial, but deep down, he knew the truth, knew that the possibility was high that he’d already conceived.
“One minute,” Quinn said. “That’s all I’m giving you. We’re partners, and I want to find out the same time you do.”
When Quinn left the bathroom, Stevie turned on the faucet. He splashed his face and took a deep breath then picked the stick back up.
A few drops and then he would know.
A few drops and his life would take a different path.
A few drops and Quinn just might be the happiest man alive.
“Just get it over with,” he grumbled to himself.
A few drops and Stevie set the stick on the counter. He stared at the patch of white and held his breath. He didn’t even register that Quinn had come back into the bathroom. Stevie’s sole focus was on a plus or negative sign.
His heart beat faster, harder. His palms were sweaty. He chewed on his bottom lip and wished he had an entire bag of pretzels to eat.
A knock sounded on the door. Stevie didn’t dare look away from the test. His muscles were tense as Quinn opened the door and then closed it.
“I asked Nash to grab these while I waited outside.” Quinn handed Stevie a bag of cheese puffs.
Cheese puffs.
Stevie blinked at the bag as his throat tightened. In that moment all the tension in his body vanished because of a bag of snacks. He looked at them and then raised his gaze to Quinn’s handsome face—a face filled with trust and wonderment, a happy glow.
