Seth’s heart continued to pound. He kept his gaze focused straight ahead, his jaw tense, teeth grinding together. He couldn’t look at the kid. He couldn’t do it, otherwise he’d break the fuck down.
“Mom says smoking is bad for you,” Jason said matter-of-factly. “You should play sports instead of smoking.”
He took another desperate drag of his cigarette. Fixed his gaze on the bird feeder hanging across the yard.
But Jason wasn’t having it. The kid was determined to be paid attention to, come hell or high water. He moved in front of Seth and started bouncing around, a bundle of energy and smiles. The baseball uniform was all Seth could register, and a rush of pure helpless agony seized his chest again.
“You wanna play now? Can we play now?”
“For the love of God, I don’t want to play baseball with you!”
Silence crashed over them.
Jason was stricken for a second. Then his entire face collapsed, his bottom lip beginning to tremble.
Seth sucked in an unsteady breath. Exhaustion settled, making him feel like he’d just run a marathon.
“Just…go inside, Jason,” he muttered. “Please…go inside.”
Eyes shining with tears, the little boy hurried away without a word.
The weight on his shoulders was so heavy he couldn’t stay upright anymore. He sagged to the ground, crushing his cigarette on the grass and bringing his knees up. He rested an elbow on his knee and dropped his forehead in his hand. He blinked rapidly but the tears came anyway. Burning his eyes, choking him up.
He had to go inside. He knew that. He couldn’t leave Miranda’s children alone for too long.
But goddammit, how the hell was he supposed to face that boy?
Pain streaked through him. He couldn’t do it. He needed to call Miranda and ask her to come home. He shouldn’t be responsible for the safety of her children. Any children. He shouldn’t—
Seth jumped when he felt a warm hand on his arm.
“Don’t cry, Sef.”
Sophie’s voice was so gentle and so sweet that his throat clogged right back up.
He swiped a hand over his wet eyes. For the life of him, he couldn’t shrug off Sophie’s hand, and when she placed it over his, he was floored by how small her fingers were. All five of them barely covered two of his knuckles. She was innocent and tiny and fragile and she shouldn’t be around him, damn it. The thought brought a fresh wave of moisture to his eyes.
Fuck, he couldn’t sit here crying like a fucking pansy. He had to call Miranda and tell her to come home.
Sophie flopped down on the grass beside him, then wiggled her way beneath his arm so that he had no choice but to sling it around her slender shoulders. She peered up at him, her brown eyes shining with encouragement.
“’S’okay, Sef. I cry when I’m sad too.”
His shoulders sagged in defeat, his arm tightening around her, bringing the little girl close to his side. “I lost him,” he croaked.
“No, you didn’t. I’m right here.”
A somber Jason appeared in front of them, his face red and tear-streaked. He still had the uniform on, but for the first time since the kid had come home, Seth’s vision was seeing everything clearly. He saw Jason’s brown eyes, not Adam’s gray ones. Jason’s short brown hair, not Adam’s unruly black curls.
As guilt swelled in his gut, he met the boy’s gaze. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”
Jason sniffled. Took a step closer.
“I was…upset. When you came home, you reminded me of someone else. I looked at you and I saw someone else.” He wiped his eyes, grateful that none of his teammates were bearing witness to this show of pure and utter weakness. “I’m so sorry, Jason.”
“Who did you see?” the boy asked, taking another curious step forward.
“My little brother. He was about your age. He’s…he’s in heaven now.”
Another explosion of guilt hit him square in the chest. Breathing through it, he held out his hand, beckoning Jason.
Without hesitation, Miranda’s son plopped down on Seth’s other side. Sophie was still holding his hand, and now Jason held his other one. The warmth radiating from their little fingers seeped into his body.
“Did you cry when your brother went to heaven?” Sophie asked.
Seth slowly shook his head. “No. I never did.”
“You shoulda. Mommy says it’s okay to cry when you get sad.”
“You can keep crying now if you want,” Jason offered. “We won’t laugh at you, right, Soph?”
“Right,” she confirmed.
Damned if that didn’t get him all fucking teary-eyed again.
“Thanks, guys. But I think I’m all cried out. I’m kinda hungry, though. What do you say we order that pizza now?”
He stood up, heaving the twins up with him. Before he could question himself, he lifted them both into his arms, eliciting a pair of delighted gasps. Two sets of arms wrapped around his neck, clinging tight, but he didn’t feel smothered. As he breathed in the scent of sweet kiddie shampoo, something shifted in his chest. Heart might’ve cracked a little bit too.
He glanced down at Jason, then Sophie. “I’m sorry. I really am sorry I was such a big jerk to you guys all those times.”
“’S’okay,” Jason said with a shrug.
“’S’okay,” Sophie chimed in.
Was it, though? He tried to keep his spirits up as he carried the kids into the house, but in the back of his mind, he knew that it wasn’t okay. And soon Miranda would know it too.
18
As Dylan waited outside Aidan’s door he was suddenly reminded of why he’d been so eager to get the hell out of Marin County ten years ago.
He loved the house he’d grown up in, loved his mom and his brother and his dad, God bless his soul, but living in that bubble of normalcy had been so fucking oppressive at times. Everyone at his high school had been preppy and conservative to the core. He could only imagine what his old friends would say if they knew that at this very moment, he was standing on the doorstep of a man he desperately wanted to have sex with.
Aidan opened the door looking as appealing as always. Dark hair messy, tall frame clad in basketball shorts and a black sleeveless tee. “Hey. Come in. Keep your boots on, though. I was sitting outside.”
Dylan entered the apartment and followed Aidan out to the stone terrace. Aidan reached into the cooler on the ground and fished out two beers.
“Thanks,” Dylan said, sitting down. He took a quick sip before shooting the other man a sheepish grin. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a dick.”
Aidan shrugged. “Sorry if I freaked you out at Carson’s last week.”
“I wasn’t freaked out. I was…surprised.” He slugged back some beer for liquid courage, then said, “I didn’t expect it. What you said. You know, about wanting…”
“You?” Aidan supplied. Those dimples appeared. “I don’t normally advertise it, but yeah, I swing both ways.”
“Me too.”
“I figured, what with the way you were undressing me with your eyes the night of the club fight.”
“Hey, you were undressing me right back.”
“Damn right.”
“So what do we do now?”
Aidan tipped his bottle and took a long swig. “What do you think we do?” Then he paused. “Wait, don’t tell me you’re a virgin.”
Dylan rolled his eyes. “I’m not a virgin.”
“You been with another man before?”
“Yes. But…but I’ve never been with just a man. Always had a woman there.” He studied Aidan’s face. “What about you?”
“I’ve been with just girls. I’ve been with just guys. I’ve been with both.”
“I see.”
There was a beat of silence, and then Aidan chuckled. “Is that why you’ve been acting all jumpy around me? It freaks you out because there’s no chick around to serve as a buffer?”
“Kind
of,” he admitted. He promptly chugged more beer.
“Let me ask you something.” Aidan put down his bottle and casually rested his hands on his knees. “You ever sucked a dick and gotten sucked off?”
The dirty images triggered by that question sent a bolt of lust to his groin.
He managed a quick nod.
Aidan looked intrigued by that. “Okay. You ever fucked a guy’s ass and gotten fucked?”
Another nod.
Now Aidan laughed, a deep rumble that came from deep in his chest.
Dylan’s skin prickled with offense. “Something funny?”
“Yeah, a little. I mean, you’ve had a cock in your ass, but hey, it’s fine because there was a woman around. You’ve had your dick in another man’s mouth, but gee, no biggie, there was a chick there to keep it all aboveboard and hetero.”
It did sound pretty absurd when you put it like that.
Aidan chuckled again. “If you and I do this—”
“If?” Dylan couldn’t curb the note of challenge that entered into his voice.
Those dark eyes flashed with sinful promise. “I guess there’s no if about it, huh?” Aidan’s tone went from dry to regretful. “But it won’t be happening tonight.”
Damned if that didn’t elicit a rush of disappointment.
“I’m catching a flight to D.C. in a couple of hours.”
Dylan furrowed his brows. “Why didn’t you tell me that when I called? Shouldn’t you be packing or something?”
“I’m all packed.” Aidan checked the watch on his left wrist. “And I don’t have to leave for the airport for another hour, so I had time to meet up.”
“Why are you going to D.C.?”
“I’m being sent as a liaison for my CO and the ONI. We’ve got this new joint task force we’re setting up to discuss some potential new approaches to maritime intelligence.”
“Sounds pretty cool. How long will you be gone?”
“A month.” Dylan saw his own frustration reflected back at him in Aidan’s eyes. “That’s why I don’t want to start anything I can’t finish right now.”
“Makes sense.” Too bad his cock didn’t operate on logic and schedules—the little soldier was a hedonistic motherfucker, and at the moment, it was demanding gratification.
Ignoring the relentless throbbing in his body’s southern hemisphere, Dylan finished his beer and stood up. “I think I’ll bounce then. You need to leave for the airport soon, and I—”
“Will be too tempted to do me if you stick around,” Aidan finished.
“Something like that.”
“Fair enough. I’ll walk you out.”
They fell into step with each other. Neither said a word, at least not until they reached the front hall.
“Fuck it,” Aidan burst out, at the same time Dylan mumbled, “Fuck.”
And then he found himself being slammed into the wall and a hot, male mouth was capturing his in a harsh kiss.
It was the kind of kiss that set your entire body on fire, and nothing short of dying could have compelled Dylan to break free. They both groaned when their tongues met, and again when Aidan ground his pelvis into Dylan’s, leaving no question as to whether or not he was turned on.
Feeling the hard ridge of Aidan’s erection rubbing against his thigh was the hottest fucking thing on the planet.
With a growl, he dug his fingers into the nape of Aidan’s neck and deepened the kiss. He tasted the alcohol on Aidan’s tongue, breathed in the man’s lemony aftershave, and the lust whipping through his body intensified from the sensory overload. A five o’clock shadow scraped his jaw, a thrilling reminder that it was just the two of them. Just him and another guy.
“Son of a bitch,” Aidan hissed when they finally pulled apart.
They were both breathing hard, resting their foreheads together as they caught their breath.
When Dylan noticed the hunger flaring in Aidan’s heavy-lidded eyes, he chuckled, knowing he was probably broadcasting the same damn impatience.
“A month, huh?”
“A month,” Aidan said grimly.
He let his hand drop from its perch on Aidan’s shoulder and took a step away. “I think it’s even more crucial that I go now.”
“Probably.”
“Let me know when you’re back in town.”
“You’ll be the first person I call.”
Their gazes locked. The temperature in the hall spiked at least ten degrees. Oh yeah. This was going to be interesting, Dylan decided.
Really, really interesting.
* * *
Okay, this was totally a date.
Miranda had no choice but to accept the unwelcome truth as Eric Porter once again steered the conversation away from his daughter, the school and his daughter’s future at the school.
Stupid Seth had been right. She’d laughed off his suspicions, even joked about them with Andre at the studio today, but clearly Seth’s bullshit radar was more technologically advanced than hers. Or maybe he was simply naturally suspicious, while she tried to see the good in people.
But it was getting harder and harder to find anything good about the man across the table from her. Vain, self-absorbed, no sense of humor whatsoever. And the kicker? The douchebag seemed like a terrible father.
“All right. Eric. I’m going to stop you right there,” she said after he’d just invited her to go “yachting” with him next weekend. “I’m actually seeing someone at the moment. And even if I wasn’t, there could still be nothing between us. I don’t date students’ fathers.”
Porter’s lips curled in displeasure. He wasn’t an unattractive man, but he wasn’t her type either. Midthirties, nondescript features. Great hair, though—brown, thick and wavy. And he was obviously in good shape, judging by the way he filled out his expensive black suit. Nevertheless, he was too polished, too bland and too fucking slimy.
“I thought we were connecting.” He gestured to their half-eaten pasta dishes and glasses of red wine.
“And I thought we were here to discuss Catherine,” she said coolly.
Clearly we were both wrong, asshole.
“We did.” Porter cast a grin she suspected was supposed to look boyish, but came off as sleazy and made her skin crawl. “And now we’re discussing other subjects. I’ll be honest, Miranda, I was taken with you from the moment we met.”
Seth’s voice cackled a continuous loop of I told you so in her head.
“I mean, you’re an attractive woman, and you—well, I’ll just come out and say it, you’ve got an amazing body.”
Ew, gross. Had he really just said that?
“Amazing,” he emphasized, then eyed her expectantly, as if he was waiting for her to thank him.
What she did was drop her napkin on the table and rise to her feet.
“I’m sorry, I should get going,” she said, though she wasn’t sorry at all and they both knew it. “I need to get home to my kids.” Oh, screw it, why even lie? “And if I’m being honest, I’m not entirely comfortable with where the conversation has headed. If I led you on in any way, Mr. Porter, then I apologize, but like I said before, I won’t be getting involved with you, now or in the future.”
There was a brief silence. Porter’s features darkened with contempt. He swiftly yanked a leather wallet from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. “Well, I can’t say I’m not disappointed,” he muttered.
And then he officially graduated from the class of douchebag and proved he belonged in the league of nasty son of a bitch.
“Not just in you, but your school,” Porter said snidely. “I wonder if it might be more beneficial for Cat if she worked with an instructor who had more than just ‘Las Vegas showgirl’ on her resume.”
Miranda decided not to mention that Catherine wasn’t even her student. She also decided slapping this man in public wasn’t the brightest of ideas.
“I’ll have to discuss it with Cat’s mother,” Porter added. “See how she feels about the situation.”
“You do that,” Miranda said coldly.
A gust of anger, annoyance and disbelief followed her outside like a black cloud over her head. Un-fucking-believable. She couldn’t believe she’d wasted an entire hour with that jerk.
Curling her hands into fists, she marched down the sidewalk toward the end of the block and headed for the parking lot behind the dance school. She didn’t bother going inside to tell Elsa about the unpleasant encounter with Porter, but she did send a quick text saying she’d fill her in tomorrow.
All she wanted to do at the moment was go home and see how Seth was faring with the kids. She hadn’t received any SOS texts this past hour, so she assumed he was holding his own, but she was still incredibly curious about what she’d find when she walked through the door.
Just as she started the car, her phone rang. A Nevada area code flashed on the screen, bringing a wry smile to her lips. It wasn’t quite a call from Seth, but close enough.
“Hey, Missy,” she said after she switched the call to speakerphone.
“Hey, sugar pie! How’s my favorite birthday girl doing?” With the way Missy Masterson chain-smoked, you’d think she’d sound perpetually hoarse, but Seth’s mother had one of those breathy, Marilyn Monroe voices that only added to her sexpot status.
“I’m doing good. I got the voice mail you left yesterday. I wanted to call you back during my break—” but I spent it with your son’s tongue between my legs, “—but I didn’t get a chance. Thanks for the birthday message. It was sweet of you.”
“I can’t believe you worked on your birthday. Shame on you.”
“Hey, as I recall, you were at the theater until three in the morning last year on your birthday.”
“I’m the choreographer. Where else would I be? Now, tell me everything you’ve been up to. We haven’t spoken in ages. How’s business?”
“Pretty good. Enrollment has doubled, and we’re expecting a full house for the recital at the end of July. All the parents are super excited.” She rolled her eyes to herself. “Except for maybe one. Actually, I wouldn’t be surprised if his daughter doesn’t end up dancing in the recital at all.”
Out of Uniform Box Set: Books 4-6 plus 2 Bonus Novellas Page 22
