by Amy Lane
Brandon took a quick gasp of air and licked his lips and tried to keep the world from swimming.
That hard, assessing stare shook him to his core.
“So why’s he here again?” he asked helplessly.
“I don’t know—something about helping Nica with childcare. Like I said, details not forthcoming.”
“Oh God,” Brandon muttered. “I’ve got to get over there.”
“Why—what’s so urgent?”
“This guy’s gonna be the manny, and I’m telling you right now, that doesn’t work for me at all!”
Reluctant Homecoming
OH God. Could this get any more awkward?
Taylor smiled greenly at Nica, his best friend through preschool, grade school, junior high, and high school, and tried hard not to hide his head in shame. She’d crushed on him through the end of high school, and he’d smiled and shined her on—
And had shameless empty sex with pretty much any gay guy in the area in a vain effort to prove he was a man.
He wasn’t proud of it—not anymore. Back then he’d been thinking maybe his old man would forgive him for the gay if only he had enough swagger, enough chutzpah, enough machismo in his step. If he was a man’s man, he could be with other men.
Dumbest reasoning in the world—but then, he’d been pretty dumb as a kid. And God… oh God… the way he’d treated Tino—right here at this house, coming on to him blatantly while Nica had been outside at the pool, dreaming about dating her best friend.
Coming back here had been a mistake.
But he’d been desperate.
“So,” Tino said, voice kind because dammit, that was just this family, “you’re planning to go to school again?”
Taylor grimaced. “Well, yeah. I’d like to, but getting my GI Bill app processed is taking….”
“Forever,” Tino said sympathetically. “Yeah, I’ve heard that. My mom was so surprised you called—and very impressed.”
Taylor grimaced. Mrs. Robbins had always been kind to him. Even after graduation, when he and Nica were barely on speaking terms, Nica’s mom had still made him care packages of warm bread when they’d carpooled to junior college. They’d had to carpool—the plans they’d made for their future included their friendship, and they’d both been too focused to let Taylor’s perfidy wreck their hopes for their future.
And that pragmatism had saved them, in the end.
Nica had been pregnant with her first, trying to help Jacob save money for his business and preparing for her wedding. Taylor might not have wanted to marry her, but he’d only ever wanted the best for her. He’d helped. He’d run errands for her wedding, gathered her homework when she’d been too sick to make it to school, and helped her formulate a business plan for Jacob.
Jacob might not have forgiven him for breaking Nica’s heart, but by the time Taylor had stood up on the bride’s side with her little sister and her big brother, Monica Teresa Carol Gaudioso Robbins loved Taylor like the friend he always should have been.
Loved him enough to be the only person to object when he signed up for the military to help him through the rest of school.
Loved him enough to be the only person he remembered seeing during recovery and rehab after an RPG had taken his eye and some of his mobility and a lot of his pride.
And apparently loved him enough to offer him a job when Taylor had gone crawling to her mother, hoping for a housekeeping position just to make ends meet on top of his assistance while he was waiting for his GI Bill benefits to come through
“I don’t know what she had to be impressed about,” Taylor said, trying to swallow his embarrassment along with his pride. “I feel like a heel begging for a job.”
“No.” Nica shook her head. “Mommy said you were humble and kind—said you’d grown up a lot from the boy I knew in high school.” Nica managed a snort. “I’m telling you, she doesn’t give me that kind of praise.”
“Maybe because you’re still getting knocked up.” Tino crossed his eyes at his baby sister.
“Then what’s your excuse?” Channing said dryly. “She still thinks you’re the guy who had to call his mom to see if new baby poop was green!”
Taylor threw back his head and laughed, because Tino was that anal-retentive and that panicky about doing the right thing. Nica and Jacob joined him, and for the first time that night, he felt at ease.
And then he felt it: the stare.
He turned his head slowly, like he was moving through gelatin, and saw the kid—the young man—who had come in carrying Nica and Jacob’s little boy.
The boy—man—was staring at Taylor in burning anger, and it had been long enough from his last relationship that Taylor could admit it—that look kind of turned him on.
He stood taller than Taylor, maybe six three, and from across the pool, Taylor could make out green eyes; a fair complexion, the kind that didn’t tan well; and a chest… Jesus. A chest as wide as a station wagon, and biceps as hard as steel shot. Who was this kid?
Irritation roiled in his gut under the weight of that judgmental glare. Yeah, kid, how often do you get to see a one-eyed freak? You gonna take a picture?
And then the guy licked his lips slowly, sinking slightly crooked white teeth into his lower lip in an unconscious gesture of provocation.
Oh. Taylor shifted a little, trying to rejoin the conversation. He paid attention just in time to see Tino blush and roll his eyes.
“Ha-ha—but we’re all forgetting Nica at Melly’s baptism and the diaper bag, aren’t we?”
General collective groans actually made him smile.
“What happened?” Taylor asked, trying to ignore the young man with the green-eyed glare who was walking toward them.
“It was the worst,” Nica complained. “We had no clean diapers, so we wrapped her in one of those flannel baby blankets like a diaper? And there we were at the font and….”
“Oh my God!” the stranger said, drawing even. “Is this Melly’s baptism?”
“Yeah,” Jacob muttered. “Good times.”
“Oh, says you,” the young man retorted. “I got to hold her, you know? And suddenly this kid—who looks like an angel? ’Cause she’s got Jake’s blue eyes and Nica’s cute cheeks—”
“Oh God, Brandon, shut up!” Nica laughed.
“No, seriously. She practically had a halo—”
“She didn’t have much of a halo while she was taking a world-class mustard poop all over the font,” Jacob said, a reluctant smile breaking at his lips.
The family broke into raucous laughter, and Taylor had to join them.
Little kids and poop—classic joke, right?
“Sounds like a laugh riot,” he said, smiling slightly. “Wish I’d been there.”
“Yeah, us too,” Tino said, and he nodded at Taylor like he meant it.
Taylor’s face heated and he stared past Tino’s ear. “Three years ago?” he asked, confirming the timing. Nica had been pregnant when she’d started visiting him, but she’d brought a toddler by the hand as well, who must have been Melly—after pooping all over the font, of course. She’d brought the baby boy as he’d been ready to get out of the hospital. He remembered holding Conroy one day for about an hour as Nica sat and told him about her insanely busy life. That baby had just stared at him with green eyes so big and wide, Taylor had been afraid of falling in.
That was the little boy currently playing by Sammy in the pool. He remembered Sammy as a fractious seven-year-old and oh Lord, how time flew.
“Yeah,” Nica was saying, nodding. “You were a little out of it back then, Tay. But that’s okay—you’re here now, and you can get to know them all this summer.”
Silence fell, and Taylor tried not to grimace.
“Nica, are you, uh, sure? I mean, I was asking your mom for a job as a housekeeper. I’m pretty sure I can’t fu—I mean, uh, mess that up. But these are your kids. Why would you want to put me in charge of your kids?”
“For one thing, it pays bet
ter!” Everybody turned to see Peter and Stacy Robbins walk through the dining room and set bowls and pots of food on the dining room table before they walked toward the patio.
“Mommy!” Nica chimed, going in for the hug.
“Baby machine!” Mrs. Robbins laughed, but she hugged her daughter tight when she said it. “When I told you to go out and live your life while you were making business happen, I didn’t mean you should get this busy.”
“Jakey’s fault,” Nica said, her voice muffled against her mother’s neck. “His swimmers won’t die.”
Nica’s mother laughed heartily and then walked to the center of their little group, hugging everybody, including the giant kid who’d been giving Taylor the eye. “Brandon! So good to see you all! So I take it we’ve all been briefed?”
Elena, her youngest daughter, slender as a willow wand and graceful as a ribbon in the breeze, snorted as she walked out on the patio behind her mother. “Yeah, Mommy—you called me this afternoon, remember?”
“Have we taken out an ad in the paper?” Jacob asked sourly. “They could have a debate on whether my swimmers are dead or undead. What do you think?”
“Ooh….” Nica’s eyes went wide and ingenuous. “I’m gonna have a baby vampire? That’s awesome! At least he’ll sleep during the day!”
The whole family groaned, and Mr. Robbins rolled his eyes. “Sure. A baby vampire. You finally have enough kids to make a basketball team, and you’re condemning one of them to an evil half life of blood-drinking and unforgiven sin?”
“Geez, Dad, take the fun out of it!”
More laughter, and the family circle expanded for the newcomers. “So,” said Mrs. Robbins, “Taylor, did you tell them you’d take the job?”
“Actually—” The green-eyed kid—Brandon—spoke up with a furtive glance at Taylor. “—Nica’s friend was just telling us why he wouldn’t be such a great pick for it.”
Taylor grimaced. “Yeah, well, those may or may not have been my exact words. Mrs. R—”
“Stacy,” she corrected, a gentle hand on Taylor’s elbow.
Taylor’s mouth made that twitching motion that passed for his smile these days. “Okay, Stacy. But I’m not a great bet—”
“That’s not true!” Stacy and her daughter Elena said at the same time.
“You were a great babysitter when we were younger,” Elena said with an encouraging nod. “You didn’t let me watch too much television, you played with me—you even played with the animals. You were awesome!”
Wonderful. He was the fun babysitter. He resisted the urge to ruffle her straight, fine dark hair from its perfect french braid, mostly because her mantle of composure would barely register the ruffle. She’d been supernaturally poised, even as a kid.
“There’s more to being a babysitter than fun.” Brandon was still glaring at Taylor, and Taylor resisted the impulse to ask what anti-Taylor snake crawled in through his sphincter and died.
“You have to admit, fun helps,” Channing told him soberly and then winked.
Brandon melted, because everybody melted around Channing, and Taylor was left at the family’s mercy once more.
He tried again. “Look,” he said squarely, “I’m just saying that all of you have this terrifying suburban agenda to raise super spawn locked down. I’m… I’m a sitcom nanny. I’m the guy who loses the baby and can’t get the cat out of the dishwasher. There’s a lot more to do with your kids than play with them in the pool for an hour!”
Jacob grunted, and Taylor didn’t even want to look at him. Taylor had been such a little asshole about Jacob, bitching about Tino’s best friend, the guy who couldn’t even get through college.
But Taylor had come out, breaking Nica’s heart, and Jacob had stepped right up. Apparently he’d been waiting for her to grow up a little before falling in love with her. Jacob and Nica had gotten together, produced this beautiful family, and pushed Nica through college, all while Taylor had been sorting out his copious emotional luggage.
Taylor wasn’t good enough to watch their children. Jacob was going to open his mouth and tell him to get bent.
“Just the fact that you recognize that gives you a leg up on idiots like us who jump off the deep end every time we have another one,” Jacob said seriously.
Taylor’s mouth fell open, and he couldn’t stop himself from staring. “Uh—”
“No, seriously.” Jacob looked at Tino and nodded. “Tino, when you proposed this idea, I thought you were nuts. Seriously—completely batshit crazy. But he seems to know exactly what the job entails. As long as we get him some help when he needs it and don’t get a cat, I think we’ll be okay.”
“Are you kidding?” Oh God, no. Taylor had come begging for a job—begging. He couldn’t turn this job away now because he was afraid of watching his friends’ kids.
“Jakey!” Apparently Brandon was scandalized as well. “You can’t do this! I mean, Nica won’t even let them eat nonorganic chicken nuggets!”
“Well, it’s not like he’s going to be doing the shopping!” Nica laughed. She looked rather sheepishly at her mother. “Uh, right?”
Stacy Robbins smiled sweetly. “No, my darling. I’ll have an employee out at your house tomorrow, taking your directions on shopping and housecleaning. I haven’t forgotten.”
And now Jacob was the one caught flat-footed. “Uh….” He looked at his wife and made little helpless hand gestures. “Nica? I thought you weren’t ever going to….”
Nica bit her lip. “Jakey, you’re staying up ’til twelve at night to wash the dishes. You spend all your day off trying to clean the bathroom and do laundry. I miss my husband, and my mother owns a maid service. It’s, you know—”
“Nepotism,” Jacob said darkly, looking hurt.
“Family help,” Nica’s mother said, her voice flinty. “Don’t be stubborn, Jacob. Nobody blames you for this situation—”
Tino snorted, and Mrs. Robbins narrowed her expressive brown eyes at her son.
“Most of us don’t blame you for this situation, but you need help. Taylor was a grown-up about asking for a job, and guess what? He got a job. Now be a grown-up about letting us help you with the housework. I should have just started sending a girl over after Melly was born, but I didn’t want to step on your toes.”
“Wait!” Brandon burst out, turning big green eyes on Taylor. “You’re not really going to hire him!”
“That was three decisions back,” Jacob muttered, clearly uncomfortable. “Keep up, Brandon. Apparently Nica’s uterus is in charge and the rest of us need to clear out.” He checked himself, panicked. “Not you, Brandon! I mean, no—you’re welcome to stay as long as you need to. Just… you know. Taylor’s the nanny, we’re getting a maid, and we’re contracting your boss’s company to build an addition to the house. Have I left anything out?”
“Beer,” Taylor muttered, not sure if it was even legal to drink with this many kids around. “I need a beer.”
“C’mon,” Channing said, gesturing with his chin toward the kitchen. “I’ve got some imports in the kitchen. I could use one too.”
“Me too?” Jacob asked, looking unhappily at his wife.
There were wistful noises from around the crowd, and Tino said, “I’ll go get the ice chest. Carrie’s going to be setting up dinner in a minute, and we can eat on the patio.”
Taylor was so grateful to get away from the whole “happy family” vibe that he didn’t even ask who Carrie was.
THE kitchen was cool and shaded, just like Taylor remembered from ten years ago, although the tile and cabinets had been updated. Channing apparently went for warm browns in the kitchen and blues and mauves in the living room. Taylor wasn’t much on decorating, but he approved. He’d forgotten how big the place was, and he was so busy looking around, he misjudged the placement of the doorframe and hit himself painfully as he walked through.
“Oof!”
Channing turned and grimaced. “You okay? You almost took off the moldings—that must have hu
rt.”
Taylor could feel the bruise forming, but it wasn’t his first, wouldn’t be his last. “Depth perception,” he muttered. “Sucks with one eye. Had to work my ass off to get my driver’s license—still not comfortable.”
“That’s good to know,” Channing said, unruffled. “Make sure to mention it to Jacob and Nica. You’ll be on for running the kids to different activities, but we can try to minimize some of that, and we can definitely schedule you home before dark.”
“Yeah, that’s when driving gets really tricky,” he muttered, hating to be a problem.
“Well, we still hope you can attend family gatherings. We’ll even drive you to them. They’re sort of a regular occurrence around here.”
“Witness.” Taylor made a circle with his chin, indicating the family gathering, and Channing winked.
“Witness,” he agreed, reaching into the refrigerator and coming out with a twelve-pack of assorted imported microbrews. He set it on the counter and selected two bottles, grabbed a magnet that doubled as a bottle opener, and popped the top before handing it over to Taylor.
Taylor was very careful to make sure his fingers closed around the bottle before allowing Channing to let go.
Oh, beer went down smooth on a hot summer’s day, even when you only got one.
“That’s good,” he said, enjoying the slight buzz of alcohol to warm his panic. He took a deep breath, and another. “I can do this,” he muttered, mostly to himself. Channing had popped his own beer and was watching him without judgment. “They’re only children.”
Channing’s deep, throaty laughter dropped Taylor’s heart to his groin. “Uh, no. They’re terrifying. They’re Nica’s children, for one. They’re smart, organized, and they will gang up on you. All except Conroy—he’s Tino all the way, the good boy.”
Taylor remembered that about Tino—it had been one of the things that had so turned Taylor’s key when they’d been growing up. Taylor the bad boy; Tino so very, very untouched.
