Something in Common (Dreamspinner Press Bundles)

by Talia Carmichael

  “Dinner is bad enough. No way I could sit next to him watching TV too.” Bernie ran his hand through his unruly hair. “The man has you so addled you’re talking to yourself. You need to stop it.”

  “You say something, kid?” Tomas called from the next room.

  “No!” Bernie called.

  The sound of the TV came on. He recognized the sounds of Big Bang Theory.

  Let it go, Bernie. Focus on what will never disappoint you—work. Bernie focused back on his papers.

  “Night, kid. Come lock up after me.”

  Bernie glanced up, startled. Tomas leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen. Noting the time on the wall clock read eleven, Bernie stood, stretching. He followed Tomas to the door. Tomas picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. He opened the door.

  “Don’t work too hard, kid.” He ruffled Bernie’s hair and went out the door.

  “I’m not a kid!” he called behind Tomas.

  Tomas raised a hand, then went down the steps and the drive to his blue Chevy Avalanche. He got in, honked his horn, and drove away.

  Bernie closed the door, locking it. Going back into the kitchen, he turned off the lights and went back to the living room, shutting those lights off too. After he made sure the condo was locked up for the night, he went down the hall into his bedroom and got ready for bed. Lying down, he looked out the bay windows at the dark night sky.

  “You’re just an obligation to Tomas, nothing more. So let it go.” Bernie sighed, then grinned. “And get ahold of this talking-to-yourself thing.”

  He rolled over and went to sleep.

  TOMAS GLANCED over at Bernie, who was sitting by Alex Hayes. Bernie blushed, and Tomas stifled a smile. Although he was too far away to hear what Alex had said, Tomas figured it was something inappropriate. Alex liked nothing more than making Bernie blush. Tomas knew Alex and Bernie were only friends. Alex was as protective of Bernie as he was. Tomas looked around at some of his brothers and poker buddies. In actuality, all of them were protective of Bernie. Something about him brought out those kinds of feelings. Bernie’s shy demeanor, clumsiness, and innocence combined to make him one of a kind. Yet for the past few weeks, Bernie had seemed to have something bothering him.

  Tomas shifted. The thought of Bernie being out of sorts didn’t sit well with him. Bernie looked at him. His pale skin got redder as his blush got deeper. He lowered his lids over pale green eyes and ducked his head. Brown hair shielded his features. Not that Tomas needed to see his face. He’d memorized Bernie’s features, which were a mix of innocence and sexiness—broad forehead, sculpted cheeks, thin nose, angular jaw, and Cupid’s bow lips. Bernie pushed back his hair over an ear with slender fingers.

  A hand slapped Tomas on the shoulder. “Stop ogling Bernie.”

  “Quit it.” Tomas glared at Hector.

  His brother pursed his lips. “Why? It’s true.”

  “Nah. He’ll say it’s to make sure Bernie is okay,” Malik, another of his brothers, said.

  “He’s eating,” Alejandro, his oldest brother, interjected.

  “Make sure he’s relaxing,” Miguel added.

  “Robert should stop spreading gossip,” Tomas retorted.

  Miguel grinned. “You should come up with better excuses.”

  “Or at least stop using the Mami card. Too much use, and it won’t work as well,” Robert, Miguel’s partner, pointed out.

  “Mind your own business,” Tomas said.

  “This is all of our business. That’s what family is for,” Miguel said cheerfully.

  They all laughed. Tomas sighed, ignoring them. He leaned back and listened to the music. It was really good. Mackenzie, the owner of Bacchus Sloan, should be pleased at the huge turnout. Tomas glanced at the couples dancing. Smiling, he stood and walked to the other side of the booth. Putting out his hand, he waited. Bernie blinked, a startled look on his face. He flushed, biting his lip. Tomas leaned closer to him.

  “I’ll tell Mami,” he teased.

  “You will, huh? Go ahead.” Bernie snorted.

  “Come on. Stop being stubborn. I’ll teach you to dance.” Tomas took Bernie’s hand and pulled him up.

  Alex chuckled, blatantly watching and listening. There was a look on Alex’s face that made Tomas uneasy. Tomas ignored him.

  “What makes you think I can’t dance?” Bernie’s tone was more curious than anything else.

  Tomas wasn’t about to admit that, with Bernie being so clumsy, he didn’t expect much from him on the dance floor.

  “Just a guess.” He shrugged.

  “Assumption based on my less-than-gracefulness.” Bernie sounded amused.

  Tomas didn’t answer. He led Bernie to a corner of the dance floor. It had enough space that he could teach Bernie to dance without making Bernie feel self-conscious. Tomas turned to him. Over Bernie’s shoulder, he noticed the men at the table had all moved closer to where they were. He frowned.

  Robert and Alex were beside each other. Alex made a twirling motion of his fingers. Miguel, Alejandro, Malik, and Hector leaned next to each other, smirks on their faces. The rest of the poker crew were spread out around them, all staring. Bernie went to turn, but Tomas caught his hands, holding Bernie facing him. He didn’t want Bernie to get nervous. With the yahoos watching them, he would.

  “So show me what you can do,” Tomas challenged him.

  Bernie stiffened, his pale green eyes narrowing. His lips curled into a sly smile. Uneasiness gripped Tomas. Bernie started to move. Tomas’s mouth dropped open. The gracefulness of Bernie’s movements made it seem as if he didn’t have any bones in his body. Bernie rolled his hips. He exuded sex. Bernie partially lowered his lids over those captivating eyes. In a slow glide, he moved into Tomas’s body. The height of his lanky frame was a match of Tomas’s own six-foot-three, brawny body. A slender finger lifted Tomas’s chin, closing his mouth. Bernie leaned into the side of his face. His slightly curly, dark-brown hair brushed the side of Tomas’s face. Tomas stifled a shiver.

  “Aren’t you going to dance?” Bernie’s soft voice sounded much more seductive than Tomas remembered.

  Tomas gulped. Bernie’s hands slid around his waist and down his hips. He gripped Tomas and moved against his body. Shaking out of his stupor, Tomas shifted and moved with him. Bernie’s soft sigh tickled the side of Tomas’s face. Tomas’s cock went rock hard. Pulling back slightly, Tomas moaned as Bernie’s hands tightened on his hips, pulling him back against him. Giving in to his silent demand, Tomas moved against him. He felt the movement of Bernie’s cock. It was a delicious friction between them as they danced. The herbal scent of Bernie’s shampoo and soap surrounded them.

  With a gulp, Tomas put his hands on Bernie’s shoulders. Through the cotton of his T-shirt against his fingertips, Tomas could feel the muscles in Bernie’s shoulders. It was startling to realize Bernie had muscles. He was so gangly, and wore such baggy clothes, that Tomas hadn’t even realized it. Bernie rolled his hips in a motion that made Tomas’s cock jerk and his balls go tight.

  Jerking away, Tomas said in a hoarse tone, “Enough of the lesson, kid.”

  “Not a kid. And thanks for the lesson.” Bernie smirked.

  He walked away, a sway in his hips. His ass looked fuller in his baggy pants. Tomas licked his lips. Raising his head, Tomas scowled as Robert and Alex slapped Bernie on the back. He turned away, pushed through the crowd, and went to the bar. Leaning on it, he waited his turn. He ordered from one of the bartenders and brooded as he waited for his beer.

  “You and Bernie looked good out there,” a melodious voice said.

  “Don’t you have something else you should be doing?” Tomas scowled at Mackenzie Hannigan, the owner of Bacchus Sloan.

  “Nope.” Mackenzie put a beer on the bar in front of him.

  He opened the gate to the bar and came out, leaning next to Tomas. Mackenzie opened his bottle of water and took a drink.

  “So what? The kid can dance,” Tomas said.

  “
He’s not a kid,” Mackenzie pointed out.

  “He keeps saying that.”

  “And I don’t think others see him that way.” Mackenzie sounded amused.

  Tomas glanced up sharply. He growled when he spotted Bernie dancing with two men. They were all over him. Tomas took a step. A hand settled on his shoulder. He glanced from it to Mackenzie’s face.

  “I don’t want my place to be busted up.” Mackenzie’s tone was mild, but Tomas heard the clear warning.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” Tomas said, defending himself.

  Mackenzie gave him a look.

  “Well, unless you’re with me.” Tomas smiled.

  “Those were the days, buddy.” Mackenzie laughed, his dark green eyes twinkling.

  “Are you two plotting trouble again?” Alejandro asked.

  “Count us in. But not too much. Have to keep up the rep of being a law-abiding citizen,” Hector said.

  “Speak for yourself,” Malik replied.

  “Whatever it is, I don’t want to know,” Miguel stated.

  “Please. You’ll be the one leading the mischief,” Tomas said.

  His brothers flanked around them. They watched the dancers.

  “What’s up with you and Bernie?” Miguel asked.

  Tomas took a drink. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  The other men snorted in disbelief. Ignoring them, Tomas watched Bernie dancing with man after man. He slammed his mug on the bar and went over to Bernie. Pushing between Bernie and his dance partner, Tomas glowered at the man. The man backed away. Tomas looked back at Bernie.

  “Let’s go,” he growled.

  He strode off the dance floor. Tomas waved at Mackenzie and his brothers, heading for the door. He pushed out the door and went to his car. Bernie’s soft tread came behind him. Pushing the button to disarm his truck alarm, he went to the driver’s side. Getting in, he slammed the door. Bernie got in beside him, closing the door softly. Tomas got them on their way. The ride was silent. In a short bit, he pulled up in front of Bernie’s condo. Impatiently, he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.

  “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. It won’t happen again.” Bernie’s voice was soft.

  Tomas glanced at him. His head was turned away, a blush staining his cheeks. He got out of the car and went up the drive to the steps. There was a slump to his shoulders. He tripped, then righted himself, rushing up the steps and into the house. Tomas sat a while, looking at the door.

  “What am I going to do with you, kid?” Tomas asked.

  Shaking his head, he drove automatically to his house.

  TOMAS DROVE the trowel into the dirt. Leaning back on his heels, he wiped his forehead with his bandanna. Although it was only almost the end of April, it was already shaping up to be a very warm spring in Mapson. Rolling his shoulders and neck, he looked down the line of roses he was planting. They were looking very nice. Thankfully, the job wasn’t too complicated, and he was working alone. Malik had tried to change the schedule so they could work together today, pulling the old gambit that he was co-owner of Rodbro—their landscaping business—and thus could change things if he wanted. Tomas knew why he had wanted to switch.

  Since Tomas was also a co-owner, he had made sure once Malik left to switch with Allen for this job. He knew Malik and Link, who also worked with them, would be surprised to see Allen when he went to the job. After last night, Tomas didn’t want to hear the ribbing he would get from Malik or Link. His thoughts turned, as they had all day, to Bernie—specifically, to how he had moved on the dance floor. He had been sexy. There seemed to be more behind that geeky exterior than Tomas knew.

  Do you even want to go there? Tomas unclipped his canteen from his waist, uncapped it, and drank deeply. He lowered it, recapping it slowly.

  “Nah. He’s just a kid,” Tomas said.

  He remembered the blush and Bernie’s soft apology. When he saw Bernie on Saturday, he would have to make sure Bernie understood there was nothing to be sorry for.

  “Maybe I should go by today.” As soon as he said it, he dismissed the thought.

  Friday was Bernie’s movie night with Alex, Robert, and Simon, if he was in town. Tomas didn’t impose on it. Usually, he spent the night at home catching up with things at his house, or sometimes going out with his brothers. The sound of a car coming up the drive caught Tomas’s attention. Frowning, he stood as the squad car pulled up. Striding over to it, Tomas leaned down as the window lowered. Surprised, he studied the man in the car. Immediately Tomas thought something had happened to Miguel, but dismissed the thought as soon as it formed. He would have gotten a call, not an in-person notification.

  “Ramirez. What are you doing here?” Tomas was curious why Ramirez had tracked him down.

  Gerald Ramirez worked on the police force with Miguel. He was a close friend, although lately he hadn’t been coming to their poker games or any of the other get-togethers they’d had. “We need to talk about Bernie.” A fierce frown was on Ramirez’s craggy face, and his black eyes were furious.

  Chapter Two

  BERNIE PACED in front of the bay window. Stopping, he glanced at the clock over the mantle. Only three o’clock. Almost two hours until Alex came by for movie night. Robert couldn’t make it. Alex was bringing food so Bernie didn’t have to cook. Technically, Friday through Sunday were his days off from both work with Robert and his own graduate classes, but he didn’t use them all. He tended to go in at least half a day on Fridays. Today, he hadn’t even gone in for a half day, just stayed at home.

  The day had been filled with thoughts of how good Tomas had felt pressed against him. His scent had been how he smelled when he went home to clean up before coming to dinner at Bernie’s house. Bernie assumed it was whatever he used to bathe with. When Tomas cleaned up at Bernie’s house, he smelled like Bernie’s own herbal soap or shampoo. Bernie couldn’t decide if he’d rather have Tomas smelling of Bernie’s things or of his own. He shook his head.

  “You practically attacked the man on the dance floor.” Guilt filled him.

  No wonder Tomas had run from the dance floor and avoided him all night. Bernie had flung himself at him. Shamelessly. Bernie ran his hand through his hair. He sat in the window seat looking at the sunny day.

  I can’t stay here and wait for Alex for two hours. I’m going stir-crazy.

  Coming to a decision, he stood and walked over to the entry table, opened a drawer, and took out his wallet and keys. Putting them in his pocket, he went to the door, then opened it, and paused on the porch, raising his face to the sun. The April day was warm and the sky clear. The great weather was one of the things he enjoyed most about living in California. He walked rapidly down the steps, cursing as he tripped. He glanced back at the open garage that held his old beat-up RAV4. Deciding not to take it, he turned and walked down the drive. Making a left, he walked toward Paget Street, the strip of quaint stores not far from the condo. He’d seen them every day as he went to and from school and always wanted to check them out, but since moving to the area a bit over ten months ago, he’d never found the time.

  You just want to stop thinking of Tomas.

  Bernie knew it was true, and he was not going to deal with it. At least not until he saw Tomas tomorrow for poker. He paused. Maybe he should drive himself to the game. Knowing Tomas, he would demand an explanation—one Bernie didn’t want to have to give. He would just have to see what happened. Bernie started walking again. Ten minutes later, he stopped in front of the store he’d come to check out.

  A stylized design of books on a table with “2H Book Nook” over it stretched across the front window. Through the glass, Bernie could see the store was fairly busy. Going to the door, he opened it and went in. Music filled the store. People were humming along with it as he skirted them, browsing the shelves filled with books. Absently, he took in the seating areas set up throughout the store. There was even a coffee shop with tables and booths to the left inside the store. Some people had laptops and se
emed to be working. Passing by one patron, Bernie noted the man was on the Internet.

  Cool. They have Wi-Fi. I’ll have to come with my laptop one day.

  The store was a good size, yet had a comfy and relaxed feel to it, unlike the bigger bookstores. He already liked it. As he walked, he looked at the selection of books. The store had a good variety of all kinds of books from fiction to nonfiction. Reaching the science section, Bernie looked through the titles offered. Impressed, he noted the books on quantum sciences, physics, and other topics. Biting his lip, he calculated in his head how much he had in his bank account. Picking just one book, he glanced at the sitting area set up close to where he stood. Glancing at his watch, then the book, he knew if he started to read, he would get caught up and miss movie night with Alex. At least at home he would hear Alex coming in. He walked back to the counter. There wasn’t a line at the register, but the man behind the counter was on the phone. The man’s head was bent as he whispered furiously.

  “I don’t need you to come get me like I’m a child. I can get home.” He paused, then sighed, rubbing his hand across his forehead. “Fine. You’ll do whatever you want anyway.” His tone was bitter and resigned.

  The man hung up and gripped the counter with his hands. He shook his head. Bernie shifted and cleared his throat. The man looked up sharply, his hazel eyes weary.

  The man straightened. “Sorry. Did you need help, or to check out?”

  “To check out,” Bernie replied, putting the book on the counter.

  Something niggled at him. The man was very familiar. Suddenly, it dawned on him.

  “Harper Hillman?”

  “Yes. Do I know you?” Harper glanced at him, frowning.

  “Umm… I’m a friend of Robert’s. We’ve played poker together a few times before….” Bernie trailed off as he realized what he was about to say.

  A sad look flitted across Harper’s face. Bernie shifted, remembering the last time he had seen Harper. It was at Karl Provenza’s—Harper’s partner’s—funeral. They had been together for more than ten years before Provenza was murdered. Harper had been grief-stricken. The tribute that Provenza had asked Miguel and Ramirez—his two best buddies—to do for Harper had been touching. When Harper had broken down, they had all been relieved he had finally started grieving. In the almost seven months since then, Harper and Ramirez hadn’t come to the poker night, or any of the other get-togethers the poker crew had. Bernie studied Harper. He looked better, but there was still a brittleness to him. Harper was an intense man, but had a devilish side, at least when Provenza, who’d been more affable, had prodded him to it.