The Virgin Manny

by Amy Lane

  “Your list is more specific,” Tino told him glumly.

  “I’m older; I’ve had more time to think about it” came the mild reply. “Self-sufficiency but….” He bit his lip in thought, and Tino wanted to just… just rub his lower lip, because it was so soft and sweet and swollen. “The ability to work with me as, you know. A team.”

  The words were so close to what Tino thought of his own parents that he gasped, his mouth opening softly. Channing caught his gaze then, and for a moment, it was just the two of them in the darkened kitchen, standing close enough to hear the other’s breath.

  “Big brown eyes,” Channing whispered. “I’m a total sucker for big brown eyes and thick lashes.”

  Tino felt the blush all the way up to the roots of his hair, because his eyes were big and brown with thick dark lashes, and there was no misinterpreting the way Channing Lowell was looking at him right now.

  “I…,” Tino muttered. “I… uh….”

  Channing took Tino’s unresisting hand and pulled it to his lips, where he kissed the owie spot with exaggerated care. “All better,” he said softly.

  “Thank you,” Tino told him, at a loss for anything better to say.

  “De nada,” Channing said, winking. “I like to take care of my people.”

  And then, before Tino could ask him if Sammy had told him about de nada or if he kissed all his employees’ hands that way, they heard Sammy’s pattering feet down the hallway.

  “Tino, you’re taking forever with the water, and I’m thirsty!”

  “Sorry, mon bébé,” Tino told him, pulling away from Channing and his seductive eyes. “Dropped a glass and cut myself. Uncle Channing was helping me with the Band-Aid.”

  “Oh, okay! Do you need help?”

  Tino smiled at Sammy, who was brown from the sun and relaxed and happy. Such an awesome kid when he wasn’t sad. “No—here. I’ll give this to Uncle Channing and finish cleaning up the glass, okay? He probably needs to sit in the cool dark and zone out a little too.”

  Channing took the tray with a look of frustration. “I can take care of the glass,” he muttered. “You’re clumsy.”

  Tino forced a grin and a wink. “Now see, I didn’t hear that on your list, so maybe I’m safe.”

  Channing stopped midstep and turned halfway around so he could meet Tino’s eyes. “Don’t count on clumsiness not being on the list, Tino. I can add it at any time.”

  Tino turned away, blushing furiously, and concentrated on cleaning the rest of the glass from the sink.

  The pool party broke up about an hour after that, and Tino had to admit his people were great about cleaning up. Jacob took care of the grill, and Arthur took the trash to the cans on the side of the house. The girls wiped down the tables, and Taylor moved the soda chest into the garage and put the extras into the outside refrigerator. When they went into the house to get Gwennie and Lance, they found Sammy sprawled out on the couch with his head on Channing’s lap.

  Channing was leaning back, his mouth parted in a not-so-gentle snore. Tino helped herd everyone out quietly and stood outside, waving good-bye. Arthur thanked him profusely for the good day, and Jacob waved cheerfully from his battered truck. The only people who didn’t look happy were Nica and Taylor, and Tino had a feeling that someone was in the middle of a very painful coming-out scene.

  That night, even after Channing and Sammy woke up and they spent a quiet evening reading, talking, and—for Channing—working desultorily on his laptop, Tino thought he could still feel it. Sure, he’d washed his hands a couple of times since then, and he’d settled into a really exciting action crime thriller—but the whole time, it still tingled on the back of his hand.

  It was his imagination, right?

  There was no way Channing Lowell’s careful kiss could have lingered until Tino closed his eyes to sleep.

  Routinely Coming Home

  TINO took the next day off and drove to his parents’. Or, he sort of took the next day off, because while Channing was home, he’d been planning to work outside while Sammy swam and played, and Tino felt bad about that. Sammy had fun the day before, and he’d loved playing with Nica and Elaina. It didn’t feel like an imposition to take the little boy with him—he wanted to.

  His father had gone out for donuts, and his mother had made chorizo and eggs, and the entire family sat down to brunch in a mob.

  Sammy didn’t say much, but he listened with wide eyes as Nica and Elaina ribbed Tino about the day before. Tino responded to their jibes about him freaking out about the house with good humor, saying that he couldn’t expect them to respect a house like Channing’s because he’d seen their rooms, but he didn’t miss Nica’s pale face and the way she didn’t meet his eyes. She excused herself before anybody else left the table, and asked Sammy if he wanted to come into the living room and play with Elaina’s guinea pig.

  Sammy was thrilled, and Frito got the grooming of his life.

  As soon as they disappeared from the kitchen, Tino caught Elaina’s eyes and darted a quick glance toward where Nica had just been. “So?”

  Elaina cast the same quick look. “She and Taylor talked all last night after we got home. Then she ran into her room crying, and then”—her voice dropped—“she stayed up all night talking to Jacob.”

  Tino’s eyes got big. “Jacob?”

  “Yeah, I know! I couldn’t believe it either. I mean, Miss Captain Business goes to Mr. Dudebro Slacker for a broken heart? It’s not likely, right?”

  Tino shook his head, horrified. Oh God, oh God, oh God. Don’t let this happen, because then I will have to hear all about it, and if things go south I will have to hate Jacob because she’s my sister, man!

  “Don’t look so frightened,” Tino’s mother laughed. “If he knocks her up, at least she’ll move close by!”

  “Mom!” Tino and Elaina said in chorus.

  “What, Tino?” his father said. “You didn’t see this coming from a mile away?”

  “No,” Tino muttered. “I didn’t see it coming from yesterday.” Except that was a lie, wasn’t it? Both he and Channing had seen the little triangle evolving. Well, square if you counted Tino. And, well, pentagon if you counted Channing, but Tino didn’t, because none of anybody’s business, that was why.

  “Well, you should have,” his mother said. “And you know what? I know you worry because all Jacob cares about is cars, but do you really think your sister is going to be happy in an office building wearing high heels?”

  Tino stared at his mother, surprised. “Uh—”

  “I mean, I have to go to the office full time now, but I was happiest when I got to visit the houses and make sure my girls were doing things right. You think her dinner box business was so successful because she was great at business—or maybe great at lasagna?”

  Tino blinked. Well, they all knew Nica did good work.

  “She’s pretty good at business,” he said doubtfully.

  “Maybe so, but our family likes hands-on things. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “But….” Tino flailed. “College!”

  His mom looked at him blankly—and so did his father. “We got married in college,” his father said. “It just means someone’s there to make your coffee when you’re pulling an all-nighter. It’s not a bad thing, Tino.”

  Tino stared at them both and shook his head. He’d had his whole life planned—school, job, family maybe—it hadn’t occurred to him that he could do school and a lover, or a family while he found a job. Given his parents, maybe it should have—but it hadn’t.

  “Whatever,” he said after a moment. “My head just exploded. We’ll have to talk about something else for a while.”

  “Okay, then,” his mother said, smiling toothily. “Let’s talk about your boss, because Nica said he’s good-looking and he has eyes for you!”

  Tino glanced over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of Nica, legs tucked under her bottom while she stared moodily at Sammy and the guinea pig.

 
“Jacob’s too good for her,” he muttered. “I need to find a friend I really loathe, and him she can marry.”

  His mother laughed and then tucked her dark hair behind her ears and leaned forward on her elbows. “C’mon, Tino. A mother wants to know.”

  Tino grimaced. “He works too hard,” he said, without meaning to say anything. “I know it’s for right now—he wants to set things up so by the end of summer he can be here for Sammy, and Sammy won’t have to move and can have his own friends. But I worry. He leaves early in the morning and gets home late at night. He’s working now—I mean, he wasn’t planning to, but I said I’d take Sammy and he looked so relieved. I just… you know, wish I could make it easier.”

  “Do you see him off in the morning?” his mother asked. His father stood up while she was talking and paused briefly to kiss her cheek before taking her plate to the sink.

  “I’ve tried,” Tino said, shrugging. “Just so I can double-check when he’ll be home, but I’m not getting up soon enough!”

  “Keep trying,” his mother advised.

  “Anastasia!” his father clipped in admonishment.

  “Yes, Peter,” his mother replied sweetly. Then: “I’m not meddling. I used to meet you in college when you got home from your job, remember?”

  “You were on your way to class!” his father said, laughing.

  His mother rolled her eyes. “Once—once I was on my way to class, because I needed to talk to the professor. Then I knew a certain young man was going to be there at a certain time, and I made sure I was there too.”

  “With coffee,” Peter said, his voice lowering nostalgically. “I remember.”

  Tino met his mother’s gaze in complete understanding. “It took me three tries to be at that corner at the right time,” she said, smiling smugly. “It was worth it.”

  Tino grinned, thinking his parents were awesome.

  And deliberately not thinking about the implications of getting up super early to meet Channing with coffee before he drove off to be captain of the universe.

  HE managed the next morning—but he had to set his alarm for 4:30 a.m.

  Still, when Channing came running down the stairs, knotting his tie, it was worth it to be able to look up from the table in the kitchen and say, “Coffee’s ready. Do you have time for oatmeal?”

  “Uh….”

  “Sit!” Tino ordered. It was sort of adorable—Channing’s eyes were at half-mast and he had two bits of tissue stuck to nicks on his perfect chin. (There was a divot in the center that was apparently hard to shave.) “Drink your coffee. I made you a thermos for the road, and you can eat before you leave. Ten minutes tops. It’ll beat stopping at Starbucks in Vallejo.”

  Channing opened a bleary eye. “Who told?”

  “I have my ways,” Tino said wisely. Mostly he’d seen the disordered state of Channing’s car on Saturday as they’d been going in and out of the garage. A few receipts had fallen out, and Tino took notice. He’d also noticed that Channing had cleaned out the car—or at least had it detailed—when Tino had Sammy at his parents’. It had been such a small thing, but Channing had done it for himself, because apparently he liked neat and tidy as much as Tino.

  He set the oatmeal down first—the good kind, with brown sugar and butter and chopped-up bananas and blueberries—and followed it with coffee. Channing started out shoveling the oatmeal in, but he slowed down with the first bite of fruit.

  And swallowed, looked up at Tino, and smiled. “You… you’re not expected to do this,” he said softly. “I mean, I’m… I’m really glad you did, but I don’t want to take advantage.”

  Tino winked—an expression he hadn’t ever used until Channing. “It’s my pleasure,” he said, keeping his voice low in respect for the hour. “I’m glad to do it.” He flushed, feeling too serious, and shrugged. “Besides, you don’t expect Mirella to make you coffee, do you?”

  Channing mock shuddered. “I’d be afraid to drink it if she did,” he said.

  Tino took his seat at the table then. He didn’t grab any coffee because he was planning on going back to bed when Channing was gone, but he did have a glass of orange juice. “That’s actually something I wanted to discuss with you,” he said, hating that he was bringing this up.

  Channing shoved a bite of cereal in his mouth and nodded, gesturing for Tino to keep talking.

  Ugh. Well… here goes. “I talked to my mom—you remember, she runs a business, right? And it’s a good one—it survived the crash, and she had to downsize and wasn’t able to pay all my college, but it’s still going, you know?”

  Channing nodded and swallowed hastily. “I know about your mom’s business,” he said, surprising Tino. “I had to check you out and get your bank codes to deposit your pay, remember?”

  Tino flushed. “Yeah—well, I didn’t quite put it together like that, anyway. I talked to her about Mirella and….” Oh, that had been an awkward conversation. Tino had not wanted to sound like a spoiled adolescent when he’d done this—had not wanted to whine or to bitch or complain—but he’d been pretty disgusted with Mirella’s behavior. The backbiting Channing was bad enough, but making Sammy feel bad? And she did it frequently—Sammy was afraid to ask for a snack without Tino there, or he’d have to listen to Mirella’s venom. Her cooking was wonderful, but Tino had spent two days doing laundry when that was not in his job description, and he knew it was in hers. Tino knew that there had always been an unspoken rule about “the help” not betraying “the help,” but he actually cared what happened to this little family or he wouldn’t be there, and Mirella was not good for this particular enterprise.

  “What?” Channing asked, paying attention.

  “She’s… my mom said she wouldn’t let Mirella work for her company,” Tino said, feeling young and stupid. “She said I shouldn’t let her get away with being mean to Sammy, or not doing laundry, or wrecking the blinds when she dusts.” Tino’s new window treatment had been bent the week before—and not subtly either. Tino used to help the maids in his mother’s service. He knew about having pride in your job, and destroying the boss’s property was not part of that. He let out a breath. “She says that it’s a profession like any other thing. If you’re treating her professionally, then she should be doing her job.” Crap. Well, he might as well finish. “I don’t know what you’re paying her, Channing, but she’s not doing her job.”

  Channing grimaced. “Oh hells, Tino, I—”

  “You’re busy,” Tino said. “I get it. And I get that I can’t do all of what she’s doing—this house, it’s too big, and it needs too much, and me and Sammy—”

  “You’re gone most of the day,” Channing agreed. “But I can’t just—I mean, it takes time to fire someone, and I’d have to supervise that. Someone would have to, because employees asked to leave can….”

  “They can get ugly,” Tino agreed. “I get it. You have to be around for a while.”

  “Yes, but….” Channing sighed. “If it gets out of hand? You have permission to fire her immediately. But call me first, and I’ll call my security company to come escort her off the grounds.”

  “Well, they’ve got their hands busy,” Tino said sourly. The neighborhood association had started leaving fliers on the door warning of break-ins in the rather exclusive neighborhood. “There’s been burglaries in the area.”

  “Wonderful. Well, I’ll make sure they’re doing their jobs too when I have a minute. But then, I’d hate to ask, but—”

  “My mother, she can help find someone for you after that, sure,” Tino said, because he’d asked about that too. “But about firing her myself—”

  Channing scrubbed his face with his hands and ripped open one of the healing nicks on his chin. “Last resort, okay, Tino? You’re barely a kid yourself—”

  Tino cleared his throat and stood, grabbing a paper towel from the dispenser on the table. “College graduate,” he said, trying not to go into how much younger he was. “Totally legal. Not a kid at all.”

&
nbsp; Channing laughed a little, and Tino invaded his space for once.

  “Now hold still,” he ordered and took a corner of the paper towel to gently dab at the little blood spot. “I’ll pick up some razors for you today when I do my shopping,” he said quietly. “What brand do you get?”

  To his surprise, two red crescents appeared on Channing’s tan cheeks. “Whatever’s on sale,” he mumbled. “Unless it’s clothes and shoes, I’m not really a brand whore.”

  Tino frowned and ducked his head to smell Channing’s neck. Sure enough, that bergamot and spice thing that had so turned Tino’s key from almost the very beginning was there in full force, being released from the heat of Channing’s blush.

  “Then what’s that smell you wear all the time?” he asked, frowning.

  Channing shrugged. “I dunno—Old Spice whatever’s new?”

  Tino shook his head, aware that Channing was looking up into his eyes and their bodies were not… quite… touching. “You smell really good,” he mumbled, wanting to lose himself in that smell again.

  Channing sighed and reached up to smooth Tino’s rumpled hair from his face. “Tino?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t move yet. Stay right here.”

  Tino melted bonelessly into him, and then they were touching, Channing’s cheek resting against Tino’s chest. So delicious. Tino’s groin ached, heavy, and he shivered from his cleft up to the base of his neck, submersed in the sensuality of having a man literally in his arms.

  “Okay,” he said, breath stopping in his chest. “Not moving.”

  “Tino, we’re going to have to talk about this at some point. You know that, right?”

  Tino closed his eyes. “No,” he mumbled. “Talk about what?”

  “The fact that I want you badly. The fact that you want to leave me at the end of the summer, and I can’t be the one to make you stay.”

  Tino’s eyes popped open, and he tried to step away, startled and hurt. Channing wrapped his arms tighter around Tino’s hips and held him closer, just for a minute, for a heartbeat longer.