“Because something’s going on! We might be kids, but we’re not stupid, you know.” Trey blasted the words at him, giving the door a kick this time.
Where in the hell was this coming from? Angel looked a little closer at Trey, running his gaze over the curly brown hair, the light-brown skin that was close in shade to Angel’s own. The kid didn’t look feverish, but… Angel stepped up beside Trey on the stoop, reaching a hand to the boy’s forehead just as the door opened.
“Hey, sugar,” Brandon said huskily. “I was upstairs. Sorry.” He had to step back in a hurry as Trey barged past. “Whoa, son, easy there.” He frowned after the boy.
“I’m not your son!” The words were yelled as Trey darted through the kitchen.
“What was that all about?” Brandon sounded as bewildered as Angel felt.
“I don’t have a clue.” Angel shivered again as the breeze picked up. “Marisa, let’s get inside, okay?” He urged the girl up the steps, but she stopped with one foot over the threshold, tilting her chin to meet Brandon’s gaze.
“There’s a father-and-son camping trip coming up next month. He didn’t want to tell you about it, because…you know…” Marisa’s eyes got sad for a moment.
Shoulders hunched, Angel felt a pang thinking about the death of Sarah and Grady Collins just three years before.
Brandon reached out to her. “Sweetheart—”
Marisa jerked her head out of reach. “And now he thinks you’re going to leave, Brandon, because you got that new job back in California.”
Chapter Four
Marisa’s words hung in the air. Oblivious to the effect they had, she dashed after her brother.
Brandon felt poleaxed, staring in horror at the expression on Angel’s face. Holy shit.
“Holy shit.” Angel’s voice was low.
I am so very fucked right now. “Uh, Angel.” Brandon lifted a hand toward his lover, but it was batted down as Angel shoved him backward into the kitchen.
“I cannot fucking believe this.” Angel’s voice was almost dangerously quiet now. His brown eyes were hard and flat as he stared at Brandon.
Where was hotheaded Angel when Brandon needed him? He’d rather Angel spew some Spanish and stomp around. Brandon knew how to handle that guy. But this one?
Quiet Angel was scary Angel.
“It’s not what you’re thinking, sugar. I swear.” Brandon shut the door and leaned against it for a second, then breathed deeply. Desperate to get his story out first, he began talking very quickly. “CeCe called me last month—”
“What?”
That was loud. There was the Angel Brandon was used to.
“You mean to tell me that my old boss called you and offered you a job—a month ago—and you haven’t said a goddamned word about it?” Angel stalked close, stopping a foot away. “Are you fucking kidding me, cabrón?”
“No! No, it wasn’t like that!” Not really. Not like Angel meant it. “And shh. The kids might hear you.” Brandon lurched forward toward the counter where Angel stood. “She is my agent, remember?”
When Angel simply gritted his teeth, Brandon continued to babble an explanation. “She was just passing along a message from SPX, the big sports channel. You know, the one that’s making a play to compete with the big guys. They,” his speech slowed as he watched Angel’s fists clench, “um, they wanted to talk to me about, um—” He paused to clear his throat, then blurted out the rest. “Um, anchoring my own show.”
“Oh, you should back up, pendejo.” Angel advanced steadily. “You really should.”
Brandon hadn’t even realized he’d moved back toward the table until he bumped into it. “I’m not backing up,” he assured Angel. At the squinty look he received, he gestured with both hands. “What? You think I’m afraid of you?”
When Angel stopped moving and stood there, staring, Brandon was a little nonplussed. “Sugar? Are you gonna talk to me? You need to let me explain.” His throat was a little tight when he swallowed.
Angel exhaled slowly. “You know what I think you’re afraid of?”
Confused by the abrupt segue, Brandon didn’t want to hazard a guess.
Almost too calm now, Angel lifted a hand and pointed his finger at Brandon. “I think you’re afraid that this hokey family life you’ve got now isn’t exactly what you thought it would be. Maybe this whole”—he circled one hand in emphasis—“school thing, being an architect, doing something different than throwing a ball…maybe it just ain’t what you thought it would be. And maybe you think it’s time you looked around for something a little different.” Nodding at his conclusion, Angel pressed his lips together tightly. “Yep. That’s exactly what I think. And you’ve been sneaking around, not paying attention to the kids, the dogs, your fucking project, and, oh wait, I almost forgot.” He jerked a thumb at his own chest. “Me!”
Aghast at Angel’s interpretation of their recent history, Brandon blinked several times. “What? Where in the hell did you come up with that? I know you can come up with some crazy stuff sometimes, but that’s just nuts.” He stalked forward a couple of steps, deliberately making noise. “I put up with a lot from you, you know. A whole hell of a lot! Christ, do I ever! I wish you’d just listen for a change instead of running your mouth and saying a bunch of stupid crap you’re pulling out of your ass!” Brandon’s voice had risen through his diatribe, and he was yelling by the time he finished.
Angel looked a little taken aback at Brandon’s verbal aggression. His mouth opened, but no sound emerged.
Suddenly ashamed of himself for resorting to a screaming match instead of talking, Brandon heaved out a sigh. “Angel, I’m sorry. That didn’t come out quite the way I meant it to. I wanted to talk to you about—”
“No. Don’t bother, Brandon.” Angel turned away. “Sounds like you said exactly what you meant. I guess I know where I stand after all.”
Watching his proud and fiery lover slowly walk out of the kitchen with shoulders slumped, Brandon felt about two inches tall.
He wanted to punch something really, really badly. He turned to ram his fist into the plaster wall, then nearly jumped out of his skin when Dolly leaped against the door, her large feet thudding against the glass and her long pink tongue hanging out.
“Christ!” Heart pounding, Brandon grabbed the cast-iron knob. “Goddamn it, dog, you scared the shit out of me.” He glared at her as she and her sister, Gabby, pranced inside. “I told before you not to jump on the door, you twit.” Glaring at the two shepherds, he watched silently as they walked shoulder to shoulder through the kitchen, not separating until they reached two chrome bowls set about six feet apart.
He exhaled heavily. At least someone was feeling good tonight.
The quiet of the kitchen was broken only by the hum of the fridge and the dogs crunching their ridiculously expensive dog food. Brandon shook his head, recalling how he’d bitched about the cost to Angel. And typical Angel, his lover hadn’t backed down a bit, insisting that their beloved babies had to have whatever the vet recommended.
Angel never backed down to him. Even when they’d disagreed before, they’d always come around to working it out somehow. And looking back, Brandon could recall when each of them had gotten their way on the big stuff. They’d slugged it out a bit on some issues, sure, but they’d learned a little about compromise and giving up on some things that turned out to be not as onerous as each had first thought.
Now, though? Brandon had some major ass-kissing to do. And pronto.
* * * *
Angel stared at the ceiling of their bedroom, his hands behind his head. The kids were still moving around upstairs, and with the bedroom door open, from time to time he caught some low-voiced conversation, though he couldn’t make out just what was being said. He had to wonder about the content of their chat, seeing as how there was no way they hadn’t heard the adults yelling.
Joy. What a great example he and Brandon were setting tonight. And with it being the end of January, seemed that the
Christmas spirit had not hung around the house very long at all.
“Fuck.”
He still wore his clothes. He’d taken the time to kick off his shoes, but there was no way he was planning to sleep. Could sleep. His emotions were bouncing around inside, and Angel couldn’t decide which was foremost: anger or hurt.
The level of pain he was feeling surprised him. He’d been skating along, enjoying this new life, even with its ups and downs, and now reality was smacking into him in a way he’d not foreseen.
“Have we just been playing house up here?” He rubbed a knuckle against his eyelid as he whispered to himself.
Was Brandon getting bored?
Maybe Angel should have let the man talk so he could find out?
Damn my temper anyway. Mamá likes to tell me I need to rein it in. Angel had always been quick to react; then he tended to blow off steam fairly fast and could get back to normal after a bit. Brandon, though, that man could obsess and ruminate over something for ages, holding it inside, not losing control. Brandon almost never let emotions rule over common sense.
Tonight he had. In a huge way.
But this was the first time anything this serious had come up. Angel was kind of scared that Brandon was thinking about making a big change. Really big. As in, no-kids-and-no-Angel big.
He wouldn’t, would he?
Angel chewed the inside of his lip. Maybe, just maybe, his mamá was right. Maybe he should listen for a change. Because right now? It was looking a little scary, and Angel needed to find out just what was going on.
Sighing, he pushed upright and swung his legs over the side. He’d better man up and head back to the kitchen. He had a family to think about.
“Hey.” Brandon’s husky whisper came from just outside the bedroom.
Turning just his head, Angel looked toward the door. Brandon stood in the dining room.
The old house was laid out a bit strangely, with the main bedroom on one half of the first floor midway back and the front entry opening onto the living room.
The dining room behind Brandon was dark, and he was a little shadowy as Angel watched him.
“Will you…will you, um, listen for a minute?” Brandon crept forward a step.
Nodding without speaking, Angel shifted until he was sitting against the coffee-colored suede headboard. Brandon might not have renovated the vintage home, but Angel had very definitely brought twenty-first-century style to it with his furniture and belongings. The contemporary, masculine pieces in the bedroom somehow accented the historic woodwork and old-fashioned lighting. For once, though, decor and design were the furthest things from Angel’s mind.
Now, he stuffed a couple of large pillows behind himself, then eased back and crossed his arms.
Brandon closed the door and came forward. “I…I’ve gotta confess, I don’t—I don’t know how to handle you like this.” He eased down on the corner of the king bed. “I… You’re not usually this quiet.”
Belly tight with all the worries bouncing around inside, Angel grimaced. “I’m not usually this…this uncertain.” Scared.
Fuck if he was admitting that.
Brandon dropped his head into his hands, elbows resting on his thighs. “Christ, Angel, I didn’t mean for you to feel like that. I’m such a dick.”
“Amado, you’re not going to get an argument from me on that one.”
Grunting, Brandon turned his head so he could see Angel. “I just wish… Well, I was going to… Fuck.” He clasped his fingers together and sighed. “CeCe says that this new channel is going to be big. They’re going all out to make a splash when they hit the air in March. And the preseason will be starting then, so it makes sense to premier this show then.”
Angel noticed Brandon was a bit white-knuckled.
“So she wanted me to talk to the show’s executive producer, Jay Mackie.” Brandon darted a glance at Angel. “I, um, haven’t called him yet.” He smacked a fist against his thigh. “And you sure as heck haven’t said much since I came in here.”
Angel cleared his throat, his hands dropping to his lap. “Not much to say, is there?”
“Well, yeah. You could congratulate me. A guy doesn’t get a lot of calls like this, you know.” Brandon shoved to his feet. “Especially a guy who’s been out of the picture for a couple of years. I walked away. I’m yesterday’s news. I was pretty shocked they called me.”
“Yeah? Well, gay is in. Maybe they want you for that.” Even Angel could hear the snideness in the comment, and he immediately felt guilty.
Brandon swung around to face him, eyes wide. “What? Are you serious? I… That never even occurred to me.”
Christ. Now I’m really a heel. “Forget it. No way that’s why they want you.”
“No. You might be right.” Brandon plopped back down on the bed, head once again in his hands. “Why else would they want me? I was not exactly at my peak right before I left. Guh. This whole thing is a mess.”
Suddenly wanting to be close to his lover, Angel patted the mattress. “Come closer, amado. Maybe we should forget about it for now.” Angel wasn’t too sure he wanted to know what was going on inside Brandon’s head.
Because if Brandon was really thinking about leaving Oregon, it might mean he was thinking about leaving everything behind.
He couldn’t be considering foregoing his new career as an architect, could he?
What about the kids? Mamá?
What about Angel?
Was Brandon including them in his planning?
Angel wasn’t sure he was ready to hear the answers to those questions. Until now he’d been confident he knew Brandon, knew what made the man tick. This revelation had rocked his belief in his ability to read his lover.
He exhaled a shaky sigh as Brandon toed off leather trainers and settled next to him.
Angel ran his fingers over the brush-cut blond hair. He’d long adored the macho cut and what it did for the incredible turquoise eyes that usually sparkled at him. Even while they’d been adversaries at the talent agency where Angel had worked and Brandon had been one of the top clients, Angel had always had a yearning for the ballplayer.
Brandon looked up from his pillow. “Yeah. That sounds good.” He’d stretched out his long body, and his warm-up pants had ridden down a tad as he’d wriggled.
Angel could see the dip from Brandon’s hip into the groin area. He licked his lips. It didn’t seem to matter that he’d been left in the dark on this whole job thing. Right then all he could focus on was the golden skin peeking out at him.
When Brandon shifted once more, rolling to face Angel, his waistband pulled just enough to show the dimple at his navel.
Checking quickly to see if Brandon was playing him, Angel was relieved to find his lover focused on the tawny-colored duvet. Brandon’s fingers were twisting the woven fabric, and the bright eyes were hidden. That gave Angel more opportunity to observe his lover unnoticed. Brandon was a contradiction tonight. Angel had thought he’d known all there was to know about the man, but Brandon had definitely surprised him with the hidden job offer. And Angel was smart enough to know that the opportunity had to be exciting and tempting. The former major leaguer had walked away with the job unfinished. Something like this could conceivably lure the erstwhile ballplayer back into the game.
Fuck. Things had been going pretty damned well for a while. Angel’s job had turned into something he really liked, and it was a place where he was starting to believe he made a difference. His—and Brandon’s—relationship with the kids had evolved into a warm, loving family, though they’d certainly had some scary, yucky times with the nightmares, acting out, and other traumas associated with the kids losing both parents. Angel and Brandon had not exactly been prepared to be instant parents, any more than they’d been prepared to be a couple. Still, they were making it work.
Except for that whole father-and-son trip thingy that was apparently front and center for Trey at the moment.
But now, it was easier to focus on t
he long lines of Brandon’s body, the steely strength hidden under the navy warm-ups. All this heavy thinking was scary, and not something he was used to doing. Or liked doing. At all.
Maybe it was better to just forget about it all and concentrate on the here and now.
Yep. I’m going with that.
Angel slid down so that he was lying facing Brandon. He slid the backs of his fingers along Brandon’s cheek, drawing in a quick breath when those turquoise peepers met his. “Hey.” His voice was husky. “How about if we just”—he inched closer—“do this?” He slid his hand under Brandon’s T-shirt, following the shape and curve of the muscles there. When his fingers brushed one nipple, Brandon inhaled sharply. “Does that sound good?”
Nodding, Brandon eased onto his back. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Um, yeah, that sounds good right about now.”
Chapter Five
Brandon had never been more grateful for being a guy than right at that moment. He didn’t want to talk about anything. He didn’t want to have to figure out what to say to Angel that would make sense and not set his hot-tempered lover off again, and he sure as hell didn’t want to continue to try to explain what the SPX offer meant.
He really just wanted to fuck.
And it looked like Angel did too. And if Angel was feeling toppy tonight, that was going to work just fine. Brandon could lie back and relax, get the doing done to him. He half grunted and half moaned when Angel tugged one of his nipples, followed by a sharp twist. The burn was so good. No surprise, his cock started to harden.
Angel sat up and pulled his shirt over his head. “Come on, amado. I want to see all of you.”
Brandon felt a rush of heat at those words, and he jackknifed up, barely missing an elbow to the eye. “I can do that.” He slid off the mattress. Anxious to get naked, he yanked at his warm-ups and boxers, then quickly kicked them away. His T-shirt followed, and he looked down, realizing he was standing there in just his socks. He hopped from one foot to the other as he shed them, all the while watching as Angel stood and peeled off the jeans that had cost the man at least half of his twice-yearly car insurance premium.
If Wishes Were Horses Page 3
