by K-lee Klein
Devon looked poised to say something but shut his mouth again. His Adam’s apple bobbed as the twinkle returned to his dark eyes. “Have I ever told you about my suit fantasy?”
“Do you sweet talk all those bikes in your shop too?” Scott teased—tried to tease really. The direction of their conversation was quickly becoming clumsy and uncomfortable. Scott was feeling both of those things.
“I'm trying to be serious, Scott. I didn't mean that I only wanted to fuck you in a suit. How can I prove I'm not only here for a booty call?”
“So, do you?”
Devon blinked at him. “Do I what? Want to prove—”
“Want to do me in my suit?” Scott asked smugly. He waggled his eyebrows in a way that always looked natural and correct on Devon but felt completely wrong with himself.
“Jesus Christ,” Devon muttered after a few awkward moments. He snickered. “You're kind of a little shit, aren’t you?” His smile was genuine, relieved even. “Here I am trying to tell you I like your company, sex or not, and you—you're tempting me like some dirty little succubus.”
Scott snapped his mouth closed, his next so-called witty retort forgotten in his confusion. “A what?”
Devon's amusement was obvious. “Succubus. It's like a sex demon.”
“Learn something new every day with you—not that I see you every day or expect to.” Shit. Being serious was seemingly impossible for him and he slid into a loop of doubt again.
“I'd be okay with that, too.” Devon spoke so casually, so easily, that Scott almost believed him. He really wanted to believe him. Seeing Devon every day—that wasn't something Scott had even considered, not in any sort of realistic way. Sounded nice though. Devon pushed off the wall, planting his feet in front of Scott again. “Can we start over?”
Scott gnawed on the inside of his cheek, arms wrapped tightly around his middle. “From that first night?”
“No. Today. From when I walked in.” Devon didn't wait for an answer. He spun and was out the door again before Scott had time to even breathe. The door slammed behind him.
Three loud knocks vibrated through the house. Scott smirked, flattening a palm over the door as he peered out the peephole. “Who's there? I've already found the Lord. But thanks anyway.”
On the other side of the door, Devon groaned or had that been a snarl? “I have a delivery for Scott Weston.”
“Is it a big package?”
Devon snorted. “Never had any complaints.”
Scott rested his forehead against the door. Had he ever openly flirted with anyone in his adult life? He was pretty sure the answer was no, but Devon made it feel so easy. He made Scott feel accepted, even in that tiny moment of fun, and that was good, and Devon was good and Scott—
He flung the door open, grabbed a wide-eyed Devon around the neck and kissed him hard; kissed him right there in the doorway where anyone could see, and all his neighbors could go take a flying leap if they didn't like it. Devon seemed to be trying to say something against Scott's very determined lips.
“Hello, Mr. Weston. How’s your Thursday going?”
“Better now.”
“Hey Mister?”
Scott shoved Devon away before he realized he was doing it. His neighbor's kid—Sam, Cam, Ham—looked up at him from the bottom step. He wasn't frowning or crying or running in fear to tell his mom about the abomination next door though.
“Is that your motorcycle?” the little boy asked, pointing to Devon's bike. Was there some kind of condo rule about parking non-cars at the curb? Scott couldn't recall one, but he'd never specifically looked it up. He was still searching for a reply when Cam-Ham-Sam spoke again. “Will you take me for a ride?”
“What's your name, kid?” Devon's controlled tone pissed Scott off. Damn him for being Mr. Calm Cool and Collected all the time.
“David.”
David? Really?
Scott still couldn't think of anything to say. Devon shuffled so they were shoulder to shoulder. He looked from Scott to David. “You live around here, David?”
The four-three-five-year-old nodded rapidly. “Uh huh. Right there.” He pointed to the condo next door and Scott had a sudden revelation.
“You sold me cookies once, didn't you?” he asked gently. He so didn't know how to talk to kids. “I really liked those mint ones.”
David's smile was sweet with a little gap between his front teeth. “My sister's in Girl Scouts and they won't let me join because I'm only this many.” He held up four fingers before continuing. “And cuz I'm a boy but I help sell cookies 'cause they're good. So can I go for a ride?” He raised his arms in the air with a big shrug and sigh.
Scott had never had so much trouble speaking in his life, and that was saying something. But it wasn't a wave of anxiety that stole his words. It was the simple act of watching Devon take the little boy by the hand, leading him to the big black Harley—another contradiction in Scott's view of Devon DuCaine. David looked so tiny beside the wild-haired, tight-T-shirted man of Scott's dreams; literally.
“I call her Bertha,” Devon was saying as Scott made his way carefully down the steps in his sock feet. “And she's one of my best friends.”
David giggled, shrill and excited. “You can't be friends with a bike. It's not a people.” He clapped a hand to his forehead. Little kids were so dramatic and oddly hilarious. “You're weird.”
“Something wrong with weird?” Devon asked, feigning a scowl.
“Nope. But I can do something weird.” David flung his arms in the air again, swinging his hips, and bouncing on the balls of his feet. His head swiveled like it was on a spring and then he abruptly stopped. “See?” He was out of breath, huffing close to Devon's side, his eyes gleeful and pride glowing on his face.
“That was awesome!” Devon shrieked, startling Scott. He patted David's head. “What do you call that?”
“Nothin',” David answered. “Are you Mr. Weston's boyfriend?”
Scott involuntarily took a step back until his heels hit the stairs. Devon flashed an amused expression before dropping into a crouch at David's side.
“He's a very good friend and a very nice man.”
David eyed Scott then poked tiny fingers against Devon's taut thigh. “I know. He bought cookies. Did he share with you? Grandma says it's better to share than recede.”
“It's better to give than receive,” Scott corrected before he could stop himself. “I mean, it's good that other way too if that's what your grandma says.” Jesus. Did he just chastise a child for his choice of phrasing?
“I like them all.” Devon covered David's hand. “I like sharing and receiving, and I really like giving.” Scott felt mortified when Devon snuck a peek at him, that irresistible crooked smirk staring him in the face.
“So when can I go for a ride?” Thank God the kid had the attention span of a gnat. “Now?”
“I think you'd have to ask your mom or grandma first.” Devon nudged David so he looked at the sky. Honestly, it looked like the heavens were going to open up in a Noah and the ark kind of way. “It's getting kind of dark too. But how about the next time I come over? We can both ask and if it's okay, I'll take you for a ride. I even have a little helmet I could bring over.”
“Promise?” David cocked his head, thumb tucked into the inside of his cheek so the word was more like “pwomish.” It was adorable. He released it with a pop. “What if you don't come back?”
Devon's look was directly aimed at Scott—a silent question or plea or even a promise to David and him. “I'm hoping to be here a lot.”
“Because Mr. Weston is your boyfriend?”
“I bet he'd like if you called him Scott.”
“Shhh—sure,” Scott finally managed.
“And you can call me Devon. You know what? When you share something special with someone that makes them a pal for sure. How about I tell you a little secret?”
David had his ear pressed to Devon's face before he finished talking. “Okay!”
Devon flatt
ened his palm against the kid's shoulder to hold him in place. His whisper was more of a use your inside voice tone. “I like Scott a lot and I really want him to be my boyfriend.”
A little gasp then an intoxicating giggle preceded David's reply. His whisper was even louder than Devon's. “He likes cookies so I bet he'd be your boyfriend if you brought him some.”
Devon guffawed, one hand reaching for the ground to stop him falling ass over teakettle. “That's the best advice I'd ever heard.”
“Grandma says I'm very smart for a four-year-old.” David’s gap-toothed smile was magical. Scott tucked away that info for a later date.
“She's right,” Devon told him. He rose to his full height again. “Is that your grandma sitting on your step?”
David huffed. “Yeah. She says it's bath time but I wanna play outside with you.”
“Why thank you, Mr. David. I'd like to spend more time with you too, but you should listen to your grandma,” Devon insisted. He waved at the woman Scott knew to be Mrs. Vitally. She nodded back. “Hi Grandma. I'm David's new friend, Devon. He's giving me some great advice.”
Mrs. Vitally raised a hand to motion to David. “Come. Leave the nice men alone now, David. Let's get you washed up before bed.”
David stomped a foot then ground his shoe into the dirt. “But Grandma…”
“You know what, David?” Devon asked. “If it was May instead of January, I'd stay out here with you too, but man, it's too cold for me and I forgot my umbrella at home.”
“I gots an umbrella too. It's got puppies on it!” David blurted proudly.
“Cool. So you, um, remember what I said. Next time I see you, we'll go for a ride. But right now, Scott and I have to go…we have plans. I think.” Scott had never heard Devon sound so unsure.
“We're going out to eat and listen to some music,” he bravely offered. Devon nodded his consent with a half-smirk. “But Devon will definitely be back, and we'll see if Grandma will let you hang out with him again, okay?”
Scott was quite impressed with himself. It was the first conversation he'd engaged in with a child other than his nephew. Well, kind of engaged anyhow. It totally counted.
“Okay,” David sighed. “Tomorrow?”
Devon ruffled David's dark curls. “Not tomorrow but how about Sunday if you're home?”
“Grandma! Am I home on Sunday?” David called out.
“Yes, dear,” Mrs. Vitally said, her voice thick with her Sicilian heritage. “Momma isn't picking you up until Sunday night. You'll see your new friends then, yes?”
It took a few more minutes to get David to head home. Devon actually walked him to the house and shook Mrs. Vitally's hand while Scott moved to the top step. He rested his hip against the old wooden bench as fat drops of rain started to land in Devon's hair. Of course, Devon didn't seem to care. He was truly an unbelievable icon of cool and Scott contemplated his own mental state in making his boyfriend hang out in the entranceway instead of inviting him in. And even worse, he’d picked a ridiculous fight with him about something he hadn't even wanted to talk about.
Without his normal hesitation, he reached for Devon's hand when they were side-by-side at the door. “You ever think about having kids?” Scott asked, absently, his mouth working faster than his brain again.
“Why? You saying you wanna be my baby mama?” Devon held the door open while Scott's mouth dropped open.
“That's not what…oh my god! You're such a jerk.”
“I've heard that before.”
“I'm positive you have. You should be the baby mama, huh? You could tuck a baby in one of those weird front backpack things while you change oil and bolts and whatever else you do.”
“Interesting idea.” Devon shut the door and leaned back against it. “I do like kids. Who knows, maybe someday. You like kids?”
Scott attempted to not look uncomfortable with the question. They were only chatting casually after all. “I've never been around them much so the verdict's still out on that. I do have a nephew but that's different I think. You were really good with that one though.” Scott fingered one of Devon's belt-loops, tugging him forward and right into a kiss. Somehow Devon's little doorstep game had made Scott hungry for him.
Devon nibbled and licked at Scott's lips, sending shockwaves of lust up and down Scott’s spine. “Is our fight over?” Devon asked against Scott's mouth.
Scott was ready to internally combust, but he managed a stuttered shake of his head—barely. “First fight out of the way. Sounds like a milestone. We should celebrate.”
The loud growl of Devon’s stomach broke the mood and brought a little more clarity to Scott's brain. They laughed out loud like a well-practiced team.
“Sorry,” Devon murmured, snickering under his breath while he rested his forehead against Scott’s. “We could rustle something up from the fridge or get something at the club. Your choice, babe.”
Somehow Scott managed to stay upright. It was another endearment that threatened to send him reeling into Devon’s arms like some old-fashioned damsel in distress. Babe was a new one, and beautiful. Scott had never imagined he'd be so excited by the overused, sappy nickname. But he was.
At work he was Scott or Mr. Weston and his family had never gone the nickname route, not even Scottie, a name the kids in grade school had latched onto with disdain. He deplored that one. But babe… babe was special and loving and—oh dear God—a name you called someone you were not only attracted to, but hopefully considered more than a casual lay, at least in Scott’s mind. Boyfriend screamed inside his head. Boyfriend! Boyfriend!
He really needed to get a grip. Seriously, what did he know about relationships, or endearments, or PDA, but bless his soul—Devon had called him babe. And he kept on proving he was one of the most charming men on the planet. How could Scott be expected to sort out the overwhelming feelings coursing through him? It was always best—less painful—to err on the side of caution. It was more likely that Devon called everyone babe after all. Boyfriend or not.
“Scott? Hey. Did I say something stupid?” Devon took a step back, sweeping a hand through his long hair, gathering it into a bunch at the nape of his neck. “Came on too strong again, right?”
Scott inhaled deeply. He swallowed around the lump lodged in his throat threatening to choke the very life out of him. He immediately missed the feel of Devon's skin under his fingers—grounding him in the moment. “No, I mean yes, I’m um…I'm just hungry too. You didn't do anything wrong.”
Devon's drawn expression told Scott he wasn't convinced. “Okay. You know if I ever act like a sexed-up asshole, you need to call me on it, right?”
“You've never—” Scott couldn't remember one single incident when he hadn't been right on board with Devon's sexed-up assholeness.
“Because I like you Scott. That's why I show up, even without notice.” Devon flashed a lopsided grin and Scott instantly felt like a heel for calling him out for simply showing up. “I mean,” Devon continued. “We get along pretty good, right?”
“Um…yeah, of course. I um…I like you too, Dev,” Scott stammered, a flush rushing up his neck.
Devon's megawatt smile returned and it was aimed straight at Scott's heart. “Okay great. You still wanna hit the club? Dinner, music—nothing stressful, I promise.”
Oh, if only Devon could guarantee that. Unfortunately, Scott knew better. Way better. “Club?” he enquired softly. He wasn't much of a club guy, but Devon made him want to be that guy. “Um, sure,” he answered, proving once again he'd do anything for Devon DuCaine. “Give me a few minutes. I need to change.”
He tapped a tentative kiss to Devon’s mouth, lingered a few seconds savoring Devon's taste. Devon wrapped both arms around him and Scott felt the rigors of the day and his dark thoughts begin to loosen. With a sigh he twisted away from Devon to turn toward his bedroom but was snagged again.
“Can I ask a favor? Leave the suit on?” Devon‘s brown eyes sparking with the kind of mischief that made Scott’s
pants too tight. Scott would happily drown in those eyes any day of the week. “Please?”
Scott averted his gaze. “Nobody wears a suit anymore. I’d feel like everyone was looking at me.”
“I can guarantee that I'll be looking. Don't care about anyone else. Already know I'll like what I see.”
It was so matter-of-fact that Scott was struck dumb…again. His heart thudded double time, his ears buzzing with noise. “But this suit? A plain white shirt with some hideously ugly dress pants? Won't you…won’t you be embarrassed to be seen with, you know, me?”
Devon swallowed Scott’s last words with a kiss, firm but tender. If Scott were to sort Devon's kisses into different categories—and he was guilty of doing that a lot—this was a kiss to soothe or reassure, not turn on or incite more lust. When Devon pulled away his eyes were gentle, bottomless, full of concern. He stroked the back of Scott's head as he spoke. “I’d like to get my hands on the guy who made you so insecure. Whoever the fucker was who hurt you.”
“No,” Scott squeaked. He pulled back, looking away. “There was no guy. I’ve…never been with anyone long enough to get hurt.” The sentiment was appreciated, but Devon was so far off base and Scott was positive no one understood the insecurity that haunted him daily. Not even his therapist. How could he ever expect Devon to understand? It was ludicrous to think Scott’s low self-esteem and self-confidence revolved around some guy, especially considering he'd lived his life trying to avoid that very thing. Scott was more loner than social animal and he stayed within his comfort zone for good reason, after all.
“Then why?”
Scott untangled himself from Devon again, stepping away and keeping his head down. “Someone like you would never understand.” He knew it was the wrong thing to say immediately. So judgy Scott.
“Someone like me?” Devon accused. His posture changed instantly, body put on the defensive; arms crossed over his chest, legs shoulder width apart in an alpha posturing. “What, or who exactly, is someone like me?”
“I didn’t…didn't mean it that way.” Not five minutes ago Devon had called him babe and now what had Scott gone and done? Offended him. “We’re just different, like two totally opposite ends of the spectrum when it comes to lifestyle and attitude, and you know, looks.”
