by Kate Meader
Dante had tried to keep Cade away, but the man hadn’t stood a chance. A weakened Moretti, out of his skull on flu meds, forced to accept Cade’s help? Oh, that was happening. Cade had never spent time with a guy like this beyond one hookup, actually doing things that were nonsexual.
So maybe Dante’s cooking was pretty close to a sexual experience, but the rest? Hanging out, drinking wine, watching hoops and hockey together—it had all the hallmarks of the R-word. Relationship. Except for the “not being seen together in public” thing and his crew assuming every time he got a text, Violet wouldn’t be able to walk straight for a week.
But it couldn’t last. The weather was getting warmer as they moved to the end of March. The Rebels’ games were getting more intense as their shot at the play-offs began to come into focus. Once the season was over, Dante would start turning his mind to his needs—and a closeted gay guy who barely knew what he wanted to be when he grew up would no longer be on Dante’s to-do list.
Back to what Cade could control: pizza. More red onion, oyster mushrooms, pepperoni, extra mozz, grated Parm, and they were ready to go. Dante’s was practically a diet version with just mushrooms and onion.
“Okay, open the oven and let’s see if you can get your overloaded pizza in there without the rack collapsing under the weight of toppings that should not be placed together.” Dante bent down to open a cupboard, dug out a pizza spatula thing, and swayed like a reed when he stood.
“Sit the hell down, Dante.” Not caring for the idiot’s feelings on this topic, Cade maneuvered him to a chair at the kitchen table. “Like I said, I’m taking care of dinner.”
Cade got the personal-size pizzas in atop the pizza stone and shut the door, then placed his hands on either side of Dante’s head and kissed his forehead.
“You’ll get sick,” Dante said, but he didn’t push him away.
“Haven’t you heard? I’m inde-fucking-structible.” His mom used to say he had the immune system of an alien or the anti-Christ. In other words, not human.
Dante pressed his forehead to Cade’s stomach, all but inviting Cade to run his hands through that night-dark hair. “I hate being sick. I hate having to be looked after. And I probably won’t be able to taste a single thing.”
Cade got a big kick out of whiny Dante. “Suck it up, Moretti. You have to eat.”
“Your dough-kneading technique could do with some work,” Dante muttered, the sound muffled against Cade’s torso. He peered up. “But strangely it turned me on. How can I be turned on when I feel like shit?”
“This is one of life’s great conundrums. Boners don’t follow the stinkin’ rules. Boners exist outside of the time-space-illness continuum.”
Dante nodded wisely. “That makes complete sense. But then I am out of my mind on meds.”
They exchanged goofy smiles, and while Dante’s might have been pharmacologically assisted, Cade took it inside his heart and stowed it there.
I love what’s happening here. I know you’re miserable, but this whole setup makes me happy.
Like a warning to be careful what you wish for, Cade watched a carousel of expressions chase across Dante’s face. Something checked his joy for the slightest moment, and Cade’s heart sank. He really didn’t enjoy when Dante thought too hard about this.
“Think I’ve given this gem enough time to breathe,” Cade said, reaching for the bottle on the counter. Finding spectacularly ugly wine labels had become their inside joke. The guy on the front of this fruity little Pinot had a seriously bad set of buck teeth, and how anyone thought this was a good marketing strategy for wine, Cade would never know.
Irony could sell anything, he supposed, because he had bought it after checking its number in the Wine Spectator app. A very respectable ninety-three. Yep, Cade had turned into the kind of person who referenced Wine Spectator. Violet would laugh her head off if she knew.
“Not sure you should be drinking,” he said, testing his man’s resolve.
“Wine is about the only thing that will make me feel better,” Dante said, then added with a loopy grin, “Okay, one of the only things.”
Dante’s affliction had restricted the sexy shenanigans to innuendo and flirting, which, as far as Cade was concerned, was just another check on the “we might be in a relationship here” list.
Dante’s phone buzzed. From a few feet off, Cade could see it was a photo text, and his heart rate went off into the stratosphere.
“Another offering on the dating altar from Harper?” Jealous? Him? Nah!
“No, that’s my ten-year-old nephew.” Dante held the phone up to show a dark-haired kid, the spitting image of Dante, dressed in hockey gear. “He’s in a pee wee league. Has the makings of a great right-winger.” Unmistakable pride, love, and a hint of that sexy New York accent warmed his voice.
“What’s his name?”
“Mario.”
“For real?”
“Yep.” Dante rolled his eyes. “I warned my sister when he was born, but she wouldn’t listen.”
Cade chuckled in sympathy with this poor kid burdened with the same name as a mustachioed plumber battling King Bowser and his murderous turtles. “Super Mario’s not a bad nickname for a player, I suppose.”
Dante stood and leaned against the counter beside Cade. “Check out this video. Kid’s so fast. Has a great transition game.”
For a few minutes they watched shoulder to shoulder before Dante flicked back through his camera roll to photos of more nephews and nieces, filling him in on Gina’s undying love for Harry Styles and little Luca’s inability to walk from door to car without scraping a knee.
“So, you visit with them but not your parents?”
“Yeah. My parents objected at first, but my sisters know how to use the grandkids as leverage. Up to a point, anyway. I miss holidays the most, but we make do.” He raised his chin, heartbreaking resignation in the gesture. “Sure, life’s one long set of compromises, isn’t it?”
True, but Dante’s life since he’d come out still sounded lonely. Losing the support of his parents, moving around a lot, hooking up with that guy who wouldn’t go public. Was it possible Cade being here for Dante made his life a touch brighter? Because there was no doubt Dante filled yawning gaps for Cade.
That ache Dante had mentioned before, the one Cade endured so his dad wouldn’t have to get hurt, was barely palpable whenever Cade let himself get lost in Dante. And with the next thing Dante said, it all but disappeared.
“By the way, I’m not seeing anyone else.”
“What?”
“You assumed that earlier text about my nephew was from Harper. Not that she’s stopped trying to find me The One.” He stared at Cade with intent, looking disheveled, puffy eyed, miserable from the flu, yet never more beautiful. “I’m getting everything I need right here.”
Cade pushed past the lump the size of a puck in his throat. “TLC, pizza, and blow jobs?”
“The trifecta.” Dante’s mouth kicked up at one corner and stretched to a smile that bathed Cade with life and joy and fucking hope. The trifecta.
Christ, he was so screwed.
“It’s a bit on the skinny side for me,” Cade said, holding the phone, first in portrait, then landscape. Switching didn’t add more girth.
“Yeah, but look at the head. That’s got to count for something.” Violet snatched the phone back and started typing. “I’ll tag it with ‘all-important reach’ and ‘head games,’ two of my most popular categories.” She offered a vehement batting of her eyelashes. “Whenever you’re ready to join in the fun, my shot-taking finger is willing and able.”
Violet catalogued dick pics and GIFs in something she called “the dicktabase,” an incredibly inappropriate and sexy Tumblr. Would tonight be the night he finally got in on the action?
Cade knocked back a slug of beer, half wishing it was wine because he was such a freakin’ expert now. He made it a long pull to hold her in suspense, then picked at a fleck of blue paint on the farmhouse t
able in her kitchen.
Finally: “Nope. My dick is staying off the Internet, thanks very much.”
“Spoilsport.” She stuck out her tongue. “So, whatcha been up to?”
He shrugged. “The usual. Work, work, work.”
“Is that what you’re calling it?”
He gave his best look of puzzlement. She returned her best look of smart-ass.
“I know you’re banging Moretti.”
Stay cool. “And you know this how?”
“The way you guys are so careful not to risk a glance at each other on the planes. The way you jump to attention whenever you get a text and wait less than five minutes before you’re out with your ‘I’m so tired’ excuse. The way you’ve got this dumb look on your face right now that tells me you’re pretending I’m full of it, but really all you can think of is your ass being full of—”
“All right, all right, you’ve cracked the case, Sherlock.”
She blew on her nails and buffed them. “So, what’s he like? Bossy? I bet he’s bossy. How’s his O-face? Does he speak Italian during the deed? Can you sneak me a shot for the dicktabase?” She grasped his shoulders and shook him violently. “Why are you holding out on me, Burnett?”
“Because, Vasquez, he specifically asked me how close we were and I told him you mean nothing to me—”
“Jerk.”
He grinned. “And that I wasn’t blabbing all our secrets to you, which was my solemn promise before we initially hooked up. And what do you think I did first thing? I came dishing to you!”
“Uh, totally his fault for kicking you out after the orgasms. You needed the solace of the gal pal who means nothing to you.”
“Maybe. Anyway, I felt guilty that I spilled, and now I’d rather be discreet.” At her hurt look, he hurried on. “I know you’re not going to tell anyone, but he doesn’t know that, and when it comes down to it, his job is on the line here, not mine.”
Cade had known this was true, but saying it aloud gave him pause. Dante was taking a huge risk. Surely that meant there was more to this than just sex.
I’m getting everything I need right here.
“Your secret’s safe.” She wiggled her dark eyebrows. “I assume it’s all you wanted and more.”
“It’s . . . it’s pretty perfect. But I don’t know if it’s because it’s great to have someone who understands what I’m going through, or if it’s just that sex with the same person is not what I expected.”
“How so?”
“Before, I never hooked up with the same person a bunch of times, or if I did, it was just something quick and dirty. With him . . .” Just talking about Dante filled Cade’s heart up, which did not bode well. Emotions. Engaged. “With him, I like how he takes his time, how we figure out what we each like. And not just with sex. With everything.” He especially loved how Dante listened, never with an ounce of judgment.
“But I expect I’ll get bored,” Cade added.
“Hmm.”
He glared at her. “Okay, so he’s gonna dump my ass soon, I can feel it. Harper keeps trying to set him up on dates with real live gay guys who are ready for prime time. I’m trying to bamboozle him with my magic cock, but there’s only so long I can keep it up.”
They automatically high-fived each other at the semidecent dick joke.
“So, the idea of him with someone else makes you jealous?”
Cade stood, needing to walk off his frustration. “Yes! It drives me nuts. But I have no claim on him.” He filled her in on Dante’s ex and how Dante was understandably not going to enter a relationship where he had to hide again, assuming they could get around the boss-employee obstacle.
“You want to make a go of this, which means letting the world know who you are,” Violet said. “But when it comes down to it, you shouldn’t be doing that for Dante. You should be doing it for you.”
Cade knew that. He also knew that even if he came out, there was no guarantee that Dante would want to take this further. It suited the boss to hide because a relationship with a player would be frowned upon. Coming clean—on all fronts—was not necessarily going to wrap this up in a tidy bow.
Coming clean would likely unravel everything.
THIRTEEN
Dante carefully ran the razor in a straight line across his jaw, conscious that a pair of hazel eyes were eating him up and making him dizzy. Shaving under the influence was never a good idea, but this was the first day he’d felt human since getting the flu. The beard had to go.
“You don’t want to go home before practice?” he asked Cade’s reflection in the mirror. He sat cross-legged in a towel on the toilet seat, looking like nothing pleased him more than watching Dante shave.
“Nah, I’m good.”
“Or shave?”
The Texan rubbed his two-, maybe three-day-old stubble. “Starting my play-off beard now.”
Eyeing that sexy jaw, Dante made an executive decision. “We’re six games out, Burnett, and I won’t have you jinxing it. Get to work.” He opened a drawer and took out a new razor.
“You serious?”
“I am. I’ve been in this business too long to let shit like starting a play-off beard early screw with my method. Don’t try me.”
Cade shook his head, laughing, but he stood all the same and grabbed the can of shaving cream. Now wasn’t this cozy? The two of them side by side, his and his vanities getting ready for work together. Not just cozy, but comfortable, and shockingly right.
“You reached the finals once,” Cade said, his eyes on the mirror. “The third year you were in the NHL.”
“Losing in that sweep against Quebec fucking killed me. And I’m pret-ty sure I started my play-off beard too early that year as well.”
Cade checked his hip playfully. “But you don’t regret getting close with no cigar?”
“No player does. You only regret not trying. If you’ve left everything out on the ice, if you can leave the arena knowing that you played your heart out and there was nothing you could have done better, then you hold your head high. Vivere senza rimpianti.”
“What does that mean?”
“Live life with no regrets. Words of wisdom from Nonno Gianni.”
Dante finished shaving first and leaned against the vanity, watching as Cade swept over his face with confident strokes. He gave an eyebrow wiggle, then an ass wag that made Dante smile. Prompted a little wag of interest in his dick, too.
“So, how are things with Petrov and Shay?”
“Forget it, Moretti. I’m not your eyes and ears in the locker room.”
Didn’t hurt to ask. With the big Russian finally starting to play on par with the salary he was paid, Shay’s role on the team had waned. Needless to say, it had caused friction.
“Just curious.”
Cade pointed with his razor. “We can talk food, hoops, and sex positions, but snitching on my boys is off-limits.”
“Your loyalty does you proud.”
“Jagoff,” Cade muttered, and Dante laughed. Finished hacking away at his jaw, the Texan pivoted. “There. Happy?”
“Let me see.” He stood and cupped Cade’s chin, running a finger along his jaw, enjoying all that smooth perfection. With heat—and maybe something else—growing between them, they soaked each other in. “Back to fresh-faced and innocent.”
“Innocence left the building a long time ago, borchia.”
Dante dropped his hand, not liking the reminder that he might have corrupted this man.
Cade stepped in close, his hands on Dante’s hips. “Hey, I came looking for you, remember?”
Perhaps, but Dante should have resisted. Been the bigger person here instead of the walking dick. Even now, he couldn’t help himself. His mouth sought all that corrupted innocence, invading, making it his. May as well enjoy the ride to hell until this happy little sex bubble they were living in popped. For now, Dante would fill the well with kisses and rubs, anything to tide him over until they would see each other again.
C
ade drew back an inch, his eyes lust dazed. Within seconds, they turned troubled, his mind elsewhere.
“What’s up, polpetto?”
The Texan waited a beat, made a decision. “What you said a while back, about living with the ache because it’s easier than inflicting a short, sharp blow? You meant hurting your parents, right?”
Dante nodded, surprised at Cade bringing this up. “They knew, but the shame of it being out in the open would have killed them. Or so I thought. Which meant I continued to play the dutiful Italian son and put that part of me in a separate box.”
Cade didn’t respond, just remained riveted to Dante’s face, which Dante took as his cue to continue.
“But it came to a point where I realized that my life was being shortchanged by the secrecy. Being gay is just one of my facets. It’s not everything. I’m also Italian, and certain things mean a lot to me: food, family, togetherness, pride. I saw a future where I was making pasta for one and I didn’t like it. I want an Italian life filled with people I love and who love me back, and I don’t want to apologize for it.”
Sounding a bit preachy there, Moretti.
But one look at Cade told him the younger man wasn’t taking it that way. Cade needed to hear this. He needed the push.
Cade swallowed audibly. “I figure if I can endure that, then no one else has to get hurt. My dad—well, he’s had a lot of pain in his life. Losing my mom. Me playing hockey instead of football.” He cleared his throat. “That last part was a joke.”
“Yeah, I got that.”
