Lazy Sundays (Lazy Days Book 1)

by K-lee Klein

  Devon’s mom had been about the same age as Barbara, but their homes couldn’t have been more opposite. Where Rosabella DuCaine had been all about warmth in her surroundings, soft colors, comfortable and practical furnishings, the Weston house was as stiff and uninviting as its owner. Devon considered himself a non-judging kind of guy, but damn, he was judging so hard.

  Someone didn’t have to be a therapist or shrink to understand how Scott’s insecurities and demons had manifested in childhood. Even having been in the family home for less than half an hour left Devon feeling stifled. There was a taste of malcontent in the air, and his heart pained for Scott.

  “You coming in?” Scott asked, pulling Devon from yet another daydream. The room he’d entered was as non-descript as the rest of the house, with no mementos or memorabilia. Devon wouldn’t have guessed he’d lived there at all, would’ve figured it was simply another guest room in a house of guest rooms. He supposed Barbara could have redecorated but something inside him said that wasn’t the case.

  “Nice,” Devon said, for the sake of saying something. “This is where you grew up, huh?”

  Scott set his bag carefully on the floor beside an old, yet immaculate, wooden desk. “Yes, it’s pretty exciting.”

  “My mom turned my room into a yoga room when I moved out.”

  “Mother probably hasn’t set foot in here.” Scott added, “You’ve seen my condo. I don’t lean toward clutter.” He hung his suit bag in the open closet before he started in on his duffle bag, pulling things out and organizing them in a dresser in the corner.

  “To each his own, right?” Devon hadn’t felt so awkward with Scott since their so-called break-up. He always found some gratification in his ability to pull Scott from his head when the need arose, but now he was clueless. Completely lost for what to do or say. “Um, is there something we need to talk about?” Devon perched on the edge of the hospital-cornered bed. The heavy, green duvet crinkled when he sat down and he wondered if it was fresh from the bag.

  Scott bowed his head but didn’t turn around when he replied. “The sleeping arrangements are a little strange. You have to sleep in the other room or you can sleep here, and I’ll sleep there.” Scott didn’t look at Devon when he spoke, but it was unemotional, matter-of-factly like it was the most normal thing in the world. As far as Devon was concerned, it wasn’t.

  “You’re not serious?” Devon asked, not waiting for a reply. “Why don’t we get a hotel room then? You don’t seem very happy to be here, sweetheart.”

  “And deal with the fallout? That’s not a consequence I’m willing to endure this weekend. Nothing good will come from causing a scene.”

  “I’m not sure I even know you right now.”

  Scott finally turned to face Devon, leaning one hip against the desk. “I warned you and I’ll understand if you want to leave.”

  “And I suppose you’d like me to do that without you?” Devon asked.

  “I can’t disregard my mother’s birthday. How would that look?”

  Scott didn’t sound convinced by his own words so Devon tried to help. “Well I’m not going anywhere without you.”

  “Suit yourself,” Scott replied. “The other bed is probably the more comfortable one.”

  “I don’t care about that,” Devon argued. He stood, edging closer to Scott, before sliding an arm around his waist. “All I care about is you and how stressed you are. Remember that, okay?”

  It was Scott who initiated the embrace and it was good and solid, and eased some of Devon’s fears. He hugged Scott like his life depended on it, like they were going through some traumatic experience together. And he supposed they were.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Scott was an idiot—a grade-A caliber moron to be more exact. He’d screwed up so badly that he seriously expected Devon to stroll out the door and catch the ferry back to normal civilization. He’d even practiced discussing the sleeping arrangements in front of the mirror before they left, but when it came to the actual situation had failed miserably, and now he and Devon were sitting in Scott’s childhood room staring at one another in an awkward silence. Things between them hadn’t been that way in a long time and Scott was wracked with guilt at how Devon was looking at him.

  “You can say it, you know?” Scott mumbled, chin tucked to his chest. He’d seated himself in the old wooden chair where he’d spent so much of his time growing up. If his room had been his sanctuary during those years, and it had, then his desk and chair had been his comfort spot.

  Devon’s brows lifted into his hairline and stretched himself out on Scott’s old bed. “I might need a hint. What am I supposed to be saying?”

  The bed was a double and not exactly big enough for two grown men to comfortably sleep. Maybe his mother’s insistence on separate rooms was the better idea.

  “No!” Scott cried out accidently, meant more for the inside of his head than the outside.

  It wasn’t a good idea. In fact, it was a completely juvenile suggestion; archaic and ridiculous for two grown men in a relationship to sleep separately because of a pre-conceived notion his mother had about gay men and premarital sex. He was positive it wouldn’t have been an issue if he’d brought a woman home, and though his mother wasn’t necessarily homophobic, she was set on him providing her with grandbabies.

  Obviously, Devon wasn’t equipped to do that.

  “Whoa. Hey Scott?” Devon slid off the bed, crawling on his knees until he settled at Scott’s feet. He leaned his elbows on Scott’s thighs, looking up at him with concern. “I gotta tell you this is out of my element, man. What can I do to help?”

  Scott swallowed around the lump in his throat. He inhaled deeply, expelling the air slowly and reciting his mantra inside his head. Devon waited him out like he always did, even rubbed his palms over Scott’s knees to ground him. “I’m sorry,” Scott whispered.

  Devon kissed Scott’s belly and Scott threaded his fingers through Devon’s hair. “Nothing to be sorry for. I don’t exactly understand what’s going on here but I wanna help.”

  “I think I need to rest,” Scott finally told him, snuzzling his chin against the top of Devon’s head. His efforts were reciprocated when Devon slipped his arms around Scott’s waist. “Will you…will you lay down with me?”

  “Thought you’d never asked,” Devon replied, all cocky assurance and teasing smirk.

  Scott was truly blessed to have him in his life and he feared any change the weekend might have on their relationship. He trusted Devon but had no confidence in himself when it came to dealing with his mother. “You don’t think your mom’s gonna check up on us, do you? Make sure we’re not breaking the rules?” It was spoken with amusement, not judgment or sarcasm.

  “I’m quite sure she wouldn’t want to chance what she might find.” Scott pressed his lips to Devon’s hair before giving him a gentle push. “In order for us to lay down, you’ll have to let me out of this chair.”

  Devon squeezed him once then lifted off his knees. His hair was a disheveled mess and Scott thought he was beautiful. “Is that what this is all about? She thinks we’re going to bump uglies under her roof?”

  Scott gripped Devon’s arm so they were face-to-face. “Bump uglies? Really?” He huffed a chuckle.

  “Sounds more scandalous than making love,” Devon teased.

  Scott grunted his distaste then Devon took his hand and together they settled on top of the covers. Because of the limited space they had to snuggle tightly together—Scott’s back to Devon’s chest—and Scott was fine with that.

  “Sooo,” Devon drawled when they were comfortable. “Is that the problem? Gay sex in her house? Because I can guarantee I will not be in the mood until we’re in a different locale.”

  “That’s not it. She likes to be in control of everything and that includes the conception of her grandchildren.”

  Devon wiggled until he was propped on one elbow. “I don’t think I get the punchline.”

  Scott closed his eyes with
a sigh. “There isn’t one. My mother isn’t necessarily homophobic but carrying on our lineage takes priority over anything I might want for myself.”

  “Grandkids, huh? Doesn’t she already have at least one?” Devon knocked his chin to Scott’s head then relaxed again. “But I can see her point since I don’t have the right parts to pop out any little Scotties.”

  “Don’t ever say that again,” Scott scolded sternly, wrinkling his nose. It was rather amusing though. “Deanna was adopted because my parents didn’t think they could have kids.”

  “And you?” Devon interrupted.

  “I was a surprise eight years later. A late in life baby.”

  “Oops.”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what they said when they found out,” Scott joked, but believed it to be true.

  When Devon tucked his icy-cold nose against Scott’s neck, Scott squeaked. “Continue with the story?” Devon asked. “They adopted her but didn’t treat her like a biological daughter?”

  “Oh no. That wasn’t it at all. She was raised as dysfunctionally as me. It wasn’t until she got pregnant that things changed.” Extended silence greeted Scott’s last statement so he assumed Devon had fallen asleep. He was good at that. The guy could literally sleep anywhere, and probably had.

  When Devon spoke, Scott startled. “Sorry,” his boyfriend murmured. “I’m trying to sort it out in my head. Let me get this straight. So, Deanna is eight years older than you and Eddie just turned fourteen so it’s not like she was a teenage mom, right?”

  “Definitely not.”

  “So then what’s the big deal? If they treated Deanna like their daughter, why is there an issue with having a grandson.”

  Family secrets—Scott had always been positive he’d never spill them to anyone. Of course, anything not in the spectrum of his mother’s approval fell into the category. “Eddie’s father isn’t in the picture and Deanna has always been fine with that. But, as you probably guessed from the color of Eddie’s skin, his father was of Native American descent. I guess the proper term is First Nations now.”

  “Now you’ve got me more confused. Is it a racist thing or a missing baby daddy, baby out of wedlock thing?

  “To be perfectly honest, I’m not sure, but things have been strained between Mother and Dee for years. I believe she puts an effort in with Eddie but she’s anything but grandmotherly.”

  Devon snorted a laugh against Scott’s head. “And that’s a surprise? No offense.”

  “I’m afraid, Dev.” Scott said it quietly, perhaps because of some unconscious hope Devon wouldn’t hear him.

  But he’d been heard. “You mentioned that before,” Devon replied. He moved impossibly nearer, winding strong arms around Scott and lingering his mouth on Scott’s skin. “I’m here. Not going anywhere. Wanna tell me what you’re scared of?”

  Scott shut his eyes again, concentrating on the strength of Devon’s embrace, the warmth of his breath on Scott’s neck, the palm flattened over his heart. “Me. I’m scared of me. I’m afraid of what this place turns me into. I’m terrified of becoming my mother.”

  “Well, I’m definitely not into her so that would be damn scary.” Devon paused, his chest heaving against Scott’s back. “Sorry. My go-to is humor. You know that. But listen and listen carefully. Nothing that happens here this weekend is going to change things between you and me. Even if you become a raging bitch monster, I’ll still love you.”

  Scott couldn’t help snickering. “Raging bitch monster, huh?”

  “I’d prefer that didn’t happen, but I promise to have my bitch monster net ready to reel you in. Or just give you some space. Deal?”

  He wasn’t sure when he drifted off but he woke with a start, almost tumbling off the bed since Devon seemed to be hogging the majority of it. Devon was still out cold, his lashes fanning his cheeks, lips parted with tiny puffs of air blowing loose strands away from his mouth. Scott didn’t know what had woke him but when he checked his watch, he was shocked almost three hours had sped past.

  The shrill sound of a bell sounded somewhere in the house and Scott realized it was the doorbell that had woken him. He suspected it was one of his mother’s planners or some order being delivered. It was also possible that Deanna and Eddie had arrived early and Scott would’ve loved the distraction with his mother, but since he loved his sister, he hoped her appearance would be delayed for her sake.

  “Hey,” Devon drawled sleepily.

  Scott laid back down, rolling as best he could to face Devon. He was a welcome sight; a sleep-creased, disheveled beautiful mess. “Good sleep?” he asked, smiling down at his rock ‘n’ roll angel.

  “Like a damn log,” Devon replied, reaching to tug Scott closer. Their kiss was short and sweet, but it sent a tidal wave of vibrations to Scott’s heart. “You okay?”

  “I napped well, despite your bed-hogging tendencies.”

  Devon guffawed, the strength of his laugh shaking the bed. “Well I was pretty comfortable. You usually elbow me if I’m being greedy.”

  “I didn’t mind. This time. But don’t get used to it,” Scott teased, involuntary smugness playing on his lips. “We should probably get ready for dinner.”

  With a loud yawn, Devon stretched but kept a hand on Scott’s arm so he didn’t topple off the bed. “Dressed? I didn’t plan on going naked so that’s not a problem.”

  Scott hummed under his breath. “Naked sounds nice but definitely not in the same sentence as dinner with my mother. You don’t have to but I think I’ll freshen up.”

  “Shower?” Devon wiggled his eyebrows so Scott smacked his arm. “You’re so violent after a nap.”

  “And you’re not as hilarious as you think you are.” But Scott appreciated his humor and timing. It had undoubtedly saved many an awkward circumstance in the past. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t suffice the current situation. “I’m going to change my clothes and wash up. You might want to at least…” He trailed off, tugging a thatch of Devon’s hair. “Tame this.”

  Devon grinned crookedly. “I thought you liked me untamed.”

  “Not in this house.”

  Scott changed into dress pants and a button-down shirt, but Devon tried hard to be a distraction.

  “You look good,” Devon complimented with a teasing arch of one brow. “Maybe we could go for a drive.”

  “A drive?” Scott asked, working on his buttons. “We’re—I’m dressing for dinner so why would I want to go for a drive?”

  Devon shuffled across the room, slapping Scott’s shaking fingers away from his buttons. “Have I ever shown you how much room there is in the backseat of a Prius?”

  Scott’s jaw dropped open. “You’re insatiable, DuCaine.” He leaned and kissed Devon, missing his target and getting a mouthful of teeth that weren’t his own. “And as much as I usually appreciate that particular quality, you promised no hanky-panky while we were here.”

  “Hanky-panky?” Devon snickered, finishing up with Scott’s shirt and stepping back to admire him. “Number one. Nobody uses that expression except that television show about those old broads who all live together.”

  “Golden Girls?”

  Devon waved off Scott’s suggestion. “Yeah, whatever. Number two. I love this shirt because it matches your eyes. And number three. I did not make that deal with you. It was just me being nice and my car is not included in my promise to not bump uglies in your mother’s house.”

  “Wow. That’s quite a list. I think I’m rubbing off on you.” Scott knew immediately that his wording provided Devon with the perfect segue into more lust-filled innuendos. “Not a word out of you. I can’t go to dinner with a tent in my pants.”

  “Come on. You have to admit it would liven up the conversation.” Devon squinted, his whole face wrinkling in amusement.

  Scott poked him in the nose. “That’s not an attractive look on you, DuCaine. Especially with that animal you’ve got growing on your chin.”

  “Hey!” Devon protested. He took
a step back, hands on his hips as he glowered. “I thought you liked my scruff.”

  Mission accomplished. “I do. Now I’m going to use the washroom then step back into the lioness’ den.”

  “Want me to wait here?”

  “Just when I’m using the facilities.” Scott crossed to the bed, straightening out the duvet and fluffing the pillows. “I have a better idea. There’s a bathroom attached to the guest room. I’ll use that one and you can use the one in the hall.”

  “Is that a hint that I’m too messy for the Weston dining room?”

  Scott opened the door but turned back to Devon. “Take it any way you want. I know how small a bladder you have after a nap.”

  “Touché,” Devon replied. He grabbed his bag then slid past Scott with a quick kiss and a wink. “I guess I’ll put this in my room and use my own facilities. Meet you back in the hall, Slugger.”

  Slugger? What an odd thing for Devon to call him. Not that the day was any kind of normal anyhow. Scott waited in the hall for him and was pleasantly surprised when he reappeared.

  “I thought you were against dressing for dinner?” he asked, admiring the tight black jeans and plaid shirt Devon had changed into. “You even brushed your hair.”

  “Funny guy.” Devon took Scott’s hand but then seemed to think better of it. “Give me the rules on PDA.” Scott hesitated a fraction too long and Devon nodded. “Got it. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

  With a chuckle, Scott squeezed Devon’s arm then stepped past him to the staircase. “Well that, I have to see.”

  His mother was nowhere in sight when they descended the stairs so Scott pointed Devon in the direction of the dining room. What was waiting for them was even more of a surprise than he expected.

  “Kristy?” he inquired, stopping in the doorway. “Um, what are you doing here?”

  “She’s here for dinner of course.” Scott’s mother was seated at the head of the big mahogany table with Scott’s childhood friend on her right. “Is that anyway to welcome an old friend?”