The O'Brien Way

by Carol Lynne

  Since relocating to CattleValley, Sean had only missed three days of work, the day of the grandstand collapse, one for the community-wide memorial service and the day after Ryan Bronwyn picked up and left town when things between them started getting serious. Maybe he was due. Sean wondered what the rest of the O’Brien clan would think of him for giving in to his body’s demands for rest on a work day. Do I care?

  “See if you can get someone to fill in for me. Until then, I’ll stick it out,” Sean told Jay.

  Jay pulled out his phone and walked into the kitchen. He was back several moments later with a smile on his face. “Go on to bed. Smitty’s on his way.”

  “Smitty? I thought he was still working at The Gym?”

  “He is, but since he graduated from college, he’s been moonlighting at The Canoe as a bartender.” Jay grinned. “He’s a good-looking guy.”

  “Yeah,” Sean agreed. Why that bothered him, he couldn’t say.

  “I’ll keep him away from Moby,” Jay added with a chuckle.

  Sean absently rubbed his stomach. The statement struck too close to home and he didn’t like it. “Why would I care?”

  Although Jay grinned, he shook his head. “No reason.”

  “Don’t go getting ideas in your head about me and Moby. It’s not gonna happen. I’ve learned my lesson about falling for screwed up men.”

  “Ryan was a mess. There’s no denying that, but you did everything you could to help him deal with his issues.”

  “Issues? Ryan had more than issues. He had a mother who brow-beat him to the point the man couldn’t make a single decision on his own.” Sean glanced up as Moby walked into the pub. It didn’t matter how attracted to the man he was, Sean was finished with momma’s boys.

  Sean gestured towards the door of his apartment above the pub. “I’m going to go on upstairs. Let me know if you need me.”

  “Will do. I’ll make up a batch of my special chicken noodle soup for you,” Jay told Sean.

  “Don’t go to any trouble. You’ll probably have your hands full down here.”

  “It’s Wednesday. I’ll have time,” Jay countered.

  “What’s going on?” Moby asked, shedding his coat and hat.

  “Sean’s sick. I finally managed to convince him to go upstairs and sleep,” Jay said.

  Moby’s dark eyebrows drew together. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  Sean didn’t like the concern in Moby’s pale green eyes. It would be far too easy to take Moby’s concern for true caring. Nope, not travelling down that road again. “I’ll be fine. I just need a few hours of sleep.”

  Moby continued to watch Sean but eventually nodded. “Well, I’m here if you need anything.”

  Sean broke eye contact and addressed Jay. “Can you fill Smitty in on the way I do things?”

  Jay laughed. “Yeah. I’ll instruct him on The O’Brien Way of serving customers.”

  “Laugh all you want, but The O’Brien Way has proved successful for generations,” Sean grumbled as he pushed through the kitchen door. He was on his way upstairs when the bile started to rise in his throat. With no time to spare, Sean ran into his apartment and straight to the bathroom.

  After emptying his stomach, Sean laid on the bathroom floor, his heated cheek soothed by the cool tiles. Maybe if he didn’t move, the churning in his gut would settle. “Kill me now,” he groaned, sitting up to heave once more.

  * * * *

  Although an evening without Sean looking over his shoulder would’ve been the perfect time to flirt his way to bigger tips, Moby’s heart just wasn’t in it. He couldn’t get the grey pallor of Sean’s skin off his mind.

  “Have you checked on Sean?” he asked Jay.

  Jay shook his head. “There’re two kinds of men. Those, like Erico, who enjoy being babied when they’re sick and those, like Sean, who’d prefer to be left the hell alone.”

  “But he really looked terrible. What if he’s sicker than we thought?” Moby looked towards the ceiling. “Maybe he’s up there suffering because he doesn’t feel comfortable asking for help.”

  Jay grinned. “I’ll make a cup of tea and some dry toast and you can take it up.”

  “Me?” Although Moby had worried about Sean all evening, he doubted his boss would appreciate him delivering food to his sickbed. “Maybe you should do it. He likes you.”

  Jay reached out and squeezed Moby’s shoulder. “He likes you, too. He’s just too damn stubborn to admit it.”

  While Moby pondered the meaning of Jay’s statement, the last customer left. Smitty had gone home after last call which left Jay, Moby and Sean in the building. Moby followed Jay into the kitchen. “Are you gonna stick around until after I check on Sean?”

  Jay set a large cup of tea on a tray along with two pieces of dry toast. “Erico’s going nuts that I’ve stayed this long. I’m usually home by nine-thirty during the week. Would you mind if I just left you a key to lock up?”

  Moby bit the inside of his cheek. He’d feel a lot better if he knew Jay was downstairs. What if Sean got angry that Moby had been left alone in the pub? Although Moby had never been in love, he melted every time Jay spoke of his life with Erico. What kind of man would he be if he kept the two lovers apart just because he was afraid of being alone with Sean?

  “Okay,” he agreed. “If he fires me, it’ll be up to you to help me find another job.”

  Chapter Two

  Moby steadied the tray as he opened the door and walked upstairs. “Sean?” he called upon entering the apartment. The room was open and inviting with gleaming wood floors and beams overhead. “Sean?”

  Moby heard what sounded like a muffled reply from the opposite end of the apartment and walked towards it. “I brought you some tea.”

  “No,” Sean grumbled.

  Instead of being in a comfortable bed, Sean was curled in on himself on the bathroom floor, a large towel wrapped around his shaking body. Moby set the tray on the sink and rushed to Sean’s side. The heat emanating from his boss was unbelievable. “You’re burning up.”

  “Freezing,” Sean said through chattering teeth.

  Despite Sean’s statement, Moby knew he had to get Sean’s fever down. Without a bathtub to cool Sean’s heated skin, Moby had little choice but to get Sean into the small tiled shower. Although roughly the same height, Sean was a hell of a lot more muscular, making him outweigh Moby by at least twenty pounds.

  Moby pulled Sean’s makeshift blanket from his hands. “You need to get in the shower.”

  Sean shook his head. “I’m going to throw up again.” He managed to push up to a sitting position and heaved bile into the toilet.

  Grabbing up the towel, Moby turned on the shower and soaked the plush terrycloth with cool water. He wrung out the towel and carried it back to Sean who had begun a series of dry heaves.

  Despite the sweat soaking through his shirt, Sean growled and tried to push the cool towel away from his shivering body.

  “No,” Moby said, wrapping his arms around Sean’s torso to keep the towel in place. “We’ve got to get your fever down or call an ambulance.”

  “No ambulance,” Sean managed to say into the depths of the toilet bowl.

  “Then work with me to lower your body temperature,” Moby pleaded.

  Sean nodded and, with Moby’s help, turned to crawl towards the shower. Moby knew the cool shower wouldn’t be comfortable for Sean and decided to hold the shivering man. He reached up and turned on the spray, letting out a momentary yelp when the cold water hit him.

  “Sorry,” Moby tried to apologise. As Sean’s tremors grew stronger, Moby began to question his approach. “Maybe I should call someone.”

  Sean shook his head and pressed himself against Moby. Despite the cold water raining down on them, Moby could still feel the heat of Sean’s skin through his wet T-shirt.

  Moby wrapped his arms around Sean and held the bigger man as he continued to shake. After ten minutes, Moby reached up and turned off the water. It wou
ld be a few minutes before he could take an accurate temperature, but now the important thing was getting fluids and pain relievers into Sean.

  “I’ll get us some towels,” he said, releasing Sean. Before climbing out of the shower, Moby pulled off his shoes, shirt and jeans. The cold wet underwear clung to his cock uncomfortably, but he didn’t dare strip out of them, not yet anyway.

  After grabbing several towels from the shelf, he turned back to Sean. “We need to get you out of those clothes.” As Moby tried to pull the sodden jeans down and off, Sean began to retch once again. “Hang on,” Moby said, helping Sean towards the toilet.

  Giving Sean a few moments of privacy, Moby turned his back and quickly dried off, slipping out of his underwear and wrapping a towel around his waist. When he turned around, Sean was resting his cheek on the porcelain bowl, watching him.

  “Sorry about this,” Sean mumbled, wiping his mouth.

  Moby knelt beside Sean and started drying his back, head and neck. “Don’t apologise. Everyone gets sick.”

  “Not me. Not usually.” Sean allowed Moby to help him to his feet.

  Before leaving the bathroom, Moby grabbed the trashcan. He rested his free hand on the small of Sean’s back to steady his boss as they made their way across the hall to the bedroom. The tall four-poster antique bed surprised him. “Wow, that’s quite a bed.”

  “It was my great granddad’s.” Sean took a seat on a straight backed chair in the corner and gestured to the dresser. “Would you mind handing me a pair of shorts outta the top drawer?”

  Moby set the trashcan down beside the bed and crossed to the dresser. He opened the drawer and pulled out a pair of black briefs. Plundering Sean’s underwear wasn’t his goal, but he couldn’t help running his hand over a silky pair of boxers with red lips on them. The smile was hard to hide as he shut the drawer and walked back to Sean.

  With a blanket across his lap, Sean held out his hand to accept the briefs. “Thanks.”

  Moby bent and retrieved the wet underwear Sean had removed. “Do you have a dryer?”

  Sean nodded. “Room behind the kitchen.”

  “Mind if I toss the clothes in?” Moby asked.

  “Sure, go ahead.” Sean continued to sit with his underwear in his hand, obviously waiting for Moby to give him some privacy. Although Sean’s teeth still chattered, his colour looked better.

  Moby stepped forward and felt Sean’s forehead, moving his hand down to cup the man’s cheek. “You’d better get in bed. You’re still too warm.”

  “Could’ve fooled me.” Visibly shivering, Sean held the blanket in front of his groin as he made his way towards the bed.

  Moby moved to pull the blankets down and helped steady Sean as he sat on the mattress. Sean dropped the dry underwear beside the bed and crawled under the covers. Although it was just a glimpse, Moby noticed the red hair surrounding Sean’s flaccid cock. It was a shade darker than the hair on his head but just as curly. Staring at the heavily muscled chest right in front of him made Moby’s mouth water. The urge to explore Sean’s body was incredible, but Moby turned and walked towards the door. “I’ll throw these in the dryer and get you something to drink. Your fever might be down but it won’t stay that way for long unless we get some fluid and medicine in you.”

  Sean pulled the covers up around his neck. “Whatever goes in is just gonna come right back up.”

  “At least then you’ll actually have something to throw up.” He left the room and retrieved the tray along with the wet piles of clothing from the bathroom. Calling his mom at two-thirty in the morning wasn’t something he looked forward to, but Moby knew she’d worry if he didn’t.

  * * * *

  Sean let out a groan as soon as he was left alone. Although it felt nice to have someone take care of him, why did it have to be Moby? The attraction was there, no doubt about it, but Sean had resisted Moby’s allure by telling himself his employee was a shallow, self-absorbed player. It was Moby’s kindness that Sean feared would be his undoing.

  He buried his face in his pillow as another round of nausea hit him. I will not throw up. The thought of Moby scrubbing the trashcan was heavy incentive to keep the bile in his stomach.

  A clattering came from the kitchen followed by a string of cuss words. Sean couldn’t help but grin as he pictured Moby trying to navigate the kitchen. It was doubtful a man who looked like Moby had spent much time in a domestic setting, but Sean found the prospect of Moby in that role sexy as hell.

  “What the hell?” Even sick he couldn’t push his attraction to Moby aside. He closed his eyes and tried to remember the ill-fated relationship with Ryan. The two men couldn’t be more different in so many ways. It seemed Moby thrived on being touched by everyone, while Ryan wasn’t affectionate at all, even with Sean.

  The majority of the arguments between them had been Sean’s desire to touch and cuddle the man he loved. He didn’t need a psychiatrist to tell him he was trying to make up for the lack of affection growing up. Sean had figured that much out years earlier. He knew sex with Moby would be everything he desired, but sharing the object of his lust wasn’t something he could do. Moby wasn’t the kind of man even Sean could tame.

  Why the hell am I even thinking about this? It wouldn’t work, period. Besides Moby’s desire to do anything to bring in bigger tips, there was the whole mother issue to consider. Sean’s body shivered, but not from his illness. Ryan’s mom had been a real piece of work. She’d stuck her pointy nose into his relationship with Ryan too many times. Always calling to tell Ryan she’d had dinner with his ex and how good the two of them had been together. Florence Bronwyn had made it clear the first time she’d met Sean that he came up lacking in her eyes, and she wasn’t afraid to continually point that out to her son.

  No. I will never put myself through that kind of scrutiny again.

  The door opened and Moby stepped into the room carrying a tray from the pub. “Oh good, you’re still awake. Hope you don’t mind, but I borrowed your robe from the bathroom. I had to throw out the tea and toast Jay made, but I made you something else.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  Moby smiled. “I wasn’t sure if I should make you something hot or cold so I brought both.”

  Sean looked at the bowl on the tray. “I have chicken broth in the house?”

  Moby set the tray down and turned on the small dresser lamp. “No. I hope you don’t mind, but I drained one of the cans of chicken noodle soup that was in the cupboard and added water to it.”

  Sean was surprised at Moby’s apparent uncertainty. “I thought you were used to taking care of sick people.”

  Moby’s eyes rounded. “What gave you that idea? This is all new to me.”

  “What about the cold shower thing?” Sean asked.

  “I saw that on TV.” Moby stood beside the bed looking embarrassed at his admission.

  “What about your mom? I thought she was sick?”

  “My mom? No. I don’t know if she’s ever been sick a day in her life.”

  Sean leaned up on an elbow and reached for the water. He looked at Moby over the rim of the glass. Setting it down, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Why did I think she was sick?”

  “I don’t know.” Moby sat on the edge of the bed. “I mean, I live with her. I came back here after Dad died to help take care of her, but it has nothing to do with her being ill.”

  “Then why would you give up your fancy life in Vegas to move back to Sheridan?” Sean’s head began to spin, so he lay back down, nestling into the down pillow. He watched as Moby began to rub the robe’s belt between his thumb and middle finger.

  “It’s the everyday stuff Mom can’t handle. My dad was a drunk and a control freak. He never allowed Mom to work or have access to money. He handled everything. I think it was his way of making sure she couldn’t leave.” Moby shook his head. “I hated that sonofabitch. They were married for forty-two years and in that time he convinced my mom she couldn’t survive without him. Then
the bastard up and died, leaving her with a pile of unpaid bills and no way of taking care of herself. She gets his social security money, but with him only working on and off, it isn’t much.”

  “Is she physically able to work?” Sean asked. He resisted the desire to reach out and comfort Moby.

  “Physically? Yeah, but she’ll be sixty-one in a couple of months. Who’s going to hire a woman that old who’s never worked a day in her life?” Moby sighed. “I tried to convince her to return with me to Vegas, but she wouldn’t hear of it. So I made the decision to move back to Sheridan. I hate it, but I love my mom despite the years my dad kept us apart.”

  Sean didn’t know what to say. He didn’t understand a bond so strong that a person would give up everything. It must be a mom thing. He’d never had one, so maybe he just didn’t get it. Sean thought of Ryan’s unusual relationship with his mother.

  “You think I’m a sucker for taking care of her, don’t you?” Moby asked, breaking into the silence that had fallen between them.

  “No. I guess I just don’t understand it. My mom died when I was born, and I never had that kind of connection with my dad or brothers.”

  “Sorry to hear about your mom,” Moby said.

  With his stomach settled, Sean reached for the aspirin on the tray. “I didn’t tell you so you’d feel sorry for me. You can’t miss what you never had.” He popped the pills into his mouth and washed them down with another drink. “Is your mom affectionate with you?”

  “You mean does she hug me and stuff?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No. But I know she loves me. Dad just screwed up her way of thinking after he kicked me out of the house. She’s slowly coming around though. I know she likes me to be home with her, so that’s something.”

  “I guess so,” Sean replied.

  Moby stretched out and felt Sean’s forehead. When his hand slid down to Sean’s cheek, Sean closed his eyes and leaned into the touch.