by A. M. Arthur
“Do you want to stay once you’re healed?”
“Part of me does. But that wasn’t our agreement. I can’t just decide I want to remain in his place.” Lucky jumped into his lap and started purring. Slater scratched the senior kitty between her shoulder blades as she settled.
“I think Lucky just voted for you staying.” Dez reached out to pet Lucky, who swatted at Dez’s fingers. “Fine, fine. Suck up to Slater, you little hussy.”
He absently stroked the cat’s soft fur. This was as close to owning a pet as he ever had in his life. “Since I’m confessing all over the place today, I have a daughter named Rachel who turns eighteen next month, and she adores Derrick. They actually text each other.” Rachel had texted him twice since graduation, simple messages, and each one meant the world to Slater. He couldn’t imagine returning to a life where months of silence went by between visits.
Dez stared at him blankly. “You have a daughter who’s almost eighteen? How old are you?”
“Thirty-six soon. We had her way too young, and I made a mistake that ruined my relationship with Rachel for a long damned time. But we’re finding our way back to each other, and Derrick’s part of that reason. Her seeing us together... I think it showed her people really can change and make true amends for our mistakes. That I’m not the bad man she used to be afraid of.”
Questions danced in Dez’s eyes but she didn’t press about those mistakes or Rachel’s fear. “So you’re grateful to Derrick for that?”
“Grateful beyond words. And I adore Derrick’s family. Conrad and Sophie and little Mia, and even his parents are amazing and accepting folks. I can see myself being around them far into the future and watching Mia get more siblings. But I can also see myself back at the ranch, damn it. And even if I wanted to stay here, what sort of job can an ex-con reasonably get that pays well?”
Shit. Oh, well, the ex-con thing is out there now.
“So do what I do,” Dez said. “I get comments on the blog every day asking about your profane pieces. You make your own patterns so you could reasonably scan and sell the patterns to other crafters, if you don’t want to sell the actual finished pieces. Start small and experiment. I can show you how to set up an online storefront. I’ve got a whole network of craft bloggers who can promote the hell out of you on their platforms.”
Dez made the whole thing sound incredibly easy, so why not take a peek? “Okay, we can play around, but this is our secret, okay? Don’t tell Derrick.”
“Promise. Hang tight.” Dez carefully folded the shirt she was working on and put it on the coffee table, then dashed to her apartment. She returned with a tablet that she attached to a small keyboard and started typing. “Let’s get you started.”
* * *
Derrick had texted Slater earlier that he was bringing home a surprise dinner to celebrate the cast removal, and the scent of the food filled his car on the short drive home from the restaurant. Curbside pickup was such a blessing after a long day at work, when all he wanted was to get home to his boyfriend.
My boyfriend of maybe six more weeks, if I’m lucky.
Fake. Boyfriend. It had always been fake.
Except it didn’t feel fake anymore. At Tuesday’s wedding, he and Slater had talked, laughed and joked with his family like Slater had become a permanent part of it. They’d flirted with each other, held hands a few times, and Slater even indulged in a single slow dance with him. They had amazing sex that night. Still no kissing or anal but what they did do was perfect and left Derrick exhausted in all the best ways.
But the wedding had also left him with a deep sense of...not melancholy, exactly. They only had two weddings left before Slater’s part of their arrangement was over, and once his ankle was healed...what? The plan had always been for Slater to leave, because feelings were never supposed to get involved. Especially not the strong feelings Derrick now possessed for the man.
He kind of hoped to seduce Slater tonight, prove to him why being Derrick’s real boyfriend was a very good idea.
Predictably, he found Dez and Slater in the foyer, Lucky on Slater’s lap, both of them poring over her tablet. “Hey, guys,” Derrick said.
“Hey.” Slater grinned brightly at him before his blue gaze dropped to the takeout bag. “Whatever’s in there, your timing is perfect, because I’m starving.”
Derrick laughed. “Happy Cast Removal Day.” He dropped a kiss on Slater’s temple—a small gesture he’d been making more frequently because it made Slater blush. “Is it me or is the boot bigger than the cast was?”
“Definitely feels bigger, and it’s a pain in the ass to walk in.”
“Pain in the thighs, too,” Dez added. “He walks like John Wayne.”
“Oh, I need to see this,” Derrick said. “Up and at ’em, cowboy.”
Slater stood with absolutely no grace, but he was up and on his own steam. He did walk pretty funny but the boot had a thicker heel than Slater’s sneaker.
“How’s it feel putting weight on it again?” Derrick asked once they were in the apartment. He took the bag to the counter so he could plate their meals properly, while Slater fetched them both beers and got out flatware. Now that Slater was only popping the occasional ibuprofen, he indulged in beers with Derrick more frequently.
“Weird but also good. The doc says everything looks good and I start PT next week.”
“Excellent.” Slater tried peeking over his shoulder and Derrick shooed him off. “Go sit. Let me wait on you like I did the first night.” The first night when nothing between them was as comfortable as their lives were now. So right and settled. And fleeting.
Derrick had indulged in medium-rare ribeye steaks, baked potatoes with garlic butter, sides of creamed spinach and steamed carrots, and a bag of the brown bread rolls the steakhouse was famous for. Dessert too but he’d save that for later. Slater’s eyebrows shot up when Derrick delivered their plates. Derrick also grabbed two steak knives out of the drawer.
“This looks amazing, thank you,” Slater said, gratitude shining brightly in his eyes. “Can’t remember the last time I had a proper steak. One thing I do miss about the ranch is Arthur’s barbecue every Sunday night. The man makes a mean rib and his sauce is to die for.”
“I remember.” Derrick had enjoyed the ranch barbecue several times, and he’d even been cheeky enough to use a protein joke on Colt once, back when Derrick was trying to flirt the blond cowboy into a quickie. But Colt had been pining for his ex, who was now the man’s husband, and Derrick was happy for them.
And the food at the ranch was yet another good reason for Slater to go back when he was healed up. Patrice’s meals didn’t compare to the basic dinners Slater cobbled together, or the frozen meals Derrick nuked when they were both too lazy to cook.
Slater cut into his perfectly cooked steak. “Yes, medium-rare all the way.”
Derrick grinned and smeared a healthy dollop of garlic butter over his potato. The food was delicious, but he had more fun watching Slater enjoy the meal. Cutting careful bites of the steak and chewing each one so he really tasted it. He bypassed the garlic butter and covered his potato with salt and sour cream from the fridge. The garlic butter went onto a roll, though, and Slater looked like he was on the verge of orgasm when he bit into it.
“They have the best bread,” Slater said around a mouthful of the stuff. “Yum.”
“Guess I chose right, then.”
“Spot on.”
“Good.” Derrick speared a piece of carrot. “So I still have those gift cards from my birthday, and once you’re steadier in that boot, I’d like us to go out. Have dinner at a nice place, go see a movie. A real date. If you want to, obviously.”
Slater watched him silently for a few seconds, his expression mild. Then his lips curved into a half smile. “You want to go on a date with me?”
“I do.”
“Don’t peop
le usually do that before they live together?”
Derrick chuckled. “Since when has anything about our relationship been traditional?”
“True.”
“So? You wanna?”
“Yes. Sure, let’s go out on a real date. On one condition.”
“Okay.”
“I get to pick the movie.”
“Deal.”
They shook on it, which made both men laugh. And then, as Derrick continued eating, it left a strange feeling in his gut. Had they just made another arrangement? Or was this the potential first step toward making their previous arrangement more permanent?
Time would tell.
Chapter Fifteen
With Slater more mobile in the boot, his Saturday night visitors kidnapped him and Derrick to a sports bar for dinner, drinks and a few rounds of darts. Slater had always sucked at darts—and the boot didn’t make his posture any better—so he mostly watched the guys play. Mack, Wes, Robin, Hugo, Colt and Reyes were there, and when Slater asked about their better halves, Reyes said that Miles, Shawn and Avery had made plans. It surprised him a bit that Miles had made plans without Wes, but Wes seemed perfectly happy here with Mack.
Slater couldn’t remember the last time he’d hung out at a sports bar with guys he genuinely liked, eating greasy food, drinking pitchers of beer and bullshitting for a few hours. Being sociable and enjoying himself with people he trusted to have his back.
He was in such a good mood when Reyes dropped them off later that he wanted to share, so he blew Derrick where he stood in the living room. Took his time licking and sucking, pulling Derrick to the edge before backing off and playing with his balls. His taint. His hole. Slater had avoided anal sex because of the cast and his own tangled thoughts over the act. Quick fucks were one thing, but he wanted to make love to Derrick.
And if he did that, Slater wasn’t sure he could ever let the man go.
So Slater sucked him until Derrick begged to come, and Slater swallowed the load. Derrick eagerly returned the favor after Slater stripped and spread out on the futon. He spent what felt like hours feasting on Slater’s neck and collarbone. He knew how to kiss and lick without leaving hickeys, and it turned Slater’s crank hard at how oral Derrick was. How much Derrick seemed to get off on playing Slater’s body like a rock star.
How much Slater loved this and how much he’d miss it when their situation was over.
Ask me to stay. Ask me.
Derrick didn’t ask him that night or any other night the following week. They planned their first real date for Friday, and Slater threw himself into his art projects. With the boot, getting to and from both craft and thrift stores—Dez was now turning him onto the magic of thrifting for cheap supplies—was a lot easier. With Dez’s help, he set up an online storefront on her recommended site, and he uploaded the pattern he’d created for his “I Gave My Last Fuck Yesterday” cross-stitch and waited.
And he sold some. So he uploaded another pattern and sold some of those. It wasn’t enough money to live on, but the sales did boost Slater’s confidence by about a thousand percent. For all the odd jobs he’d had in his life, for all the choices he’d made and hobbies he’d tried, he was actually fucking good at this whole designing thing. And it was fun! He spent more time that week designing new vulgar patterns than he did creating anything—patterns for both cross-stitch and for latch hooking.
Dez encouraged him all week, and she vaguely intimated he should let Derrick in on this, but Slater refused. He didn’t want to risk jinxing the whole thing before it could take off.
He didn’t want to fail in front of Derrick.
Slater was a bundle of nerves waiting for Derrick to come home Friday night. The boot meant Slater could take it off briefly to change his pants, but instead he’d put on his rip-away wedding slacks with his nicest shirt. Again, his wedding shirt, but before this he’d lived in his ranch polos, so his wardrobe was fairly limited.
Didn’t stop Derrick from eye-fucking Slater on his way to the bedroom to change. Derrick’s job was pretty casual, so he usually wore jeans and a simple shirt to work. He emerged from the bedroom five minutes later in black slacks and a white shirt that offset his gorgeous complexion. The man was beautiful from top to bottom, and it often made Slater wonder what Derrick saw in a dusty cowboy from the middle of nowhere.
“Ready to go?” Derrick asked.
As if there was any question?
Derrick drove them to a restaurant near Santa Rosa that offered small plates at big prices, and they had a blast spending his gift card. Tasting amazing food and trying things they’d never eaten before. Slater genuinely did not get the appeal of black truffle, but okay. And he could now scratch “trying escargot” off his bucket list. A little chewy but not completely bad. The place was also near several wineries, so they shared a lovely bottle of cabernet sauvignon with the meal.
The gift card didn’t cover the entire meal plus tip, but Derrick handed his debit card over to cover the rest and called it, “Money well spent.” He also adamantly refused to let Slater help pay the balance, so Slater didn’t worry too much about the extravagant food. They were on a date, as well as a belated celebration of Derrick’s birthday, so Derrick could spend his money however he wanted.
Instead of a summer blockbuster, Slater chose a quiet drama he thought sounded good, and despite being full, they splurged on sodas, popcorn and candy. More than the movie itself, Slater enjoyed the novelty of watching one in a theater, with a date. Every time their fingers brushed in the popcorn bucket, Slater’s skin heated. He anticipated and wanted and needed, and he didn’t understand those reactions. Wasn’t used to them.
I can’t fall in love with him. I can’t.
After the movie, they walked for a while to burn off some of the food they’d eaten, and to see more of Santa Rosa. Slater had never been, but Derrick seemed to know his way around. They didn’t hold hands but their elbows brushed, and it was enough for now. Their evening truly had been perfect, and Slater didn’t want it to ever end.
They drove home with the windows down, enjoying the late summer air. June was almost over with July teasing in only a few more days. Three weeks until the boot could come off at the earliest. Two weddings left to attend. Only a few more fragile weeks until this beautiful bubble he’d created with Derrick would burst, and Slater would have to make a decision.
Once Derrick parked by the house, he told Slater to wait and came around to open his car door. The sweet gesture melted even more of Slater’s resistance, and he easily took Derrick’s arm for the walk to the house. Then through the foyer to their door. Instead of unlocking it, Derrick turned Slater to face him, his expression so lusty Slater nearly came on the spot.
“I had an amazing time tonight,” Derrick whispered. “Best date of my whole life, and I mean that.”
“I know you do. You’ve never lied to me, Tiger.” Slater brushed his knuckles across Derrick’s cheek, undone by all that naked emotion. “It was the best date of my life, too. Only time anyone’s ever truly treated me like that.”
“Like what.”
“Like I matter.”
“You’ve always mattered, Slater. You just never let other people see how much you have to offer. More than a paycheck. More than a pair of hands to move a heavy object. More than a guy with a record.” Derrick’s hand rested over Slater’s heart. “Tonight’s been so amazing that I kind of hoped we could end it with a goodnight ki—”
A heavy thud directly overhead cut off the request before it could send Slater’s belly flipping all over. They both looked up. The Thompson apartment was above theirs but the pair never made noise. A second heavy thud was followed by breaking glass.
Derrick turned and bolted for the stairs, and Slater did his best to follow with his damned boot.
* * *
The Thompson twins had only lived in the building for
six months or so, but they were quiet. Incredibly quiet, barely creaking the ceiling overhead when they walked. All that noise on a Friday night worried Derrick enough to check it out, every instinct in his body on high alert. Adrenaline made his heart pound as he ascended the twisted staircase that ended at a small landing and door.
Derrick pounded his fist on the door. “Orry? George? You guys okay?”
“Stay out of this!” a strange, male voice shouted back, muffled by the door.
He tried the knob. It turned but the door was on a chain and only opened a few inches. Not enough to see much of the apartment but he did hear the stranger snarl, “Ungrateful piece of trash,” to someone.
“Open this fucking door or I’ll call the police,” Derrick said.
Slater had joined him on the landing, his expression tense and alert. The door shoved shut, nearly taking one of Derrick’s fingers. The chain slid back and the door flew open again. A tall, slender man with a thick beard and mean sneer filled the doorway. “This is none of your concern,” he snapped. Without the door in the way, he had a vaguely Eastern European accent.
“Where are George and Orry?” Slater asked.
“Orry’s probably out selling his useless ass like he used to. Their whole family is trash and ungrateful.”
“Who the fuck are you to them?” Derrick asked, trying to get a look into the apartment. He heard what could have been muffled sobbing. “Where’s George?”
“On the ground where he belongs.”
“You guys okay up there?” Morgan’s deep voice called from below. “You need backup?”
The stranger’s menacing expression cracked as he seemed to realize he was strongly outnumbered and there were people here who had the Thompsons’ backs.
“I think we should let the police sort this out,” Derrick said.
