by Mia Ashlinn
Sam stole a breath. Then with his heart beating hard and fast like a Tonga drum at a Polynesian luau, he weaved his way through the throng of tables in the center of the dining space. His gait was strong and sure, his steps even as he walked across the Red Oak planked hardwood. But it was a front. Sam’s entire being was vibrating with nervous energy.
As Sam passed by people he’d never seen, every person greeted him. Literally, every man, woman, and child said hello or something similarly polite. And most of them welcomed him to town with a handshake, smile, or nod. Wanting to fit in, Sam stopped and returned their kindness with his own. But by the time Sam reached Brett, he felt as though his face would crack from the friendly smile he wore on his face.
Spotting him, Brett chuckled. “Well, aren’t we the popular one?”
As though sliding on a glove, Sam felt his old self return, the man he was before he’d left Serenity. And the next thing he knew he was smiling at his best friend mockingly. “Always, Brett. Always.”
“He wishes,” Ethan retorted while he moved in behind Sam and clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t you, you little devil?”
Sam pretended not to hear Ethan’s smart-assed question. He pulled out one of the wooden chairs at the table where Brett sat grinning. Then he plopped down onto the seat. Obviously worn from age and use, the chair wobbled, and Sam had to brace his hands on the round table in front of him to keep from losing his balance and falling flat on his ass. Luckily, the chair steadied just in the nick of time to save him from embarrassing the shit out of himself publicly.
Speaking of the public, Sam darted his eyes around the room, checking to see if anyone had seen. He let loose the breath he’d been holding when he realized no one had. Well, except for Ethan and Brett, which was made clear when Brett coughed to cover a laugh and Ethan taunted Sam.
“Good save,” Ethan said, his voice teasing, while lowering himself into the seat next to Sam’s. As luck would have it, karma stepped in, and Ethan’s chair teetered and tottered like his had before resuming its rightful place.
Brett didn’t even attempt to cover his laugh this time. “Good going, pretty boy.”
Ethan scowled. “It’s not my fault the stuff in this place is…”
When Ethan trailed off, Sam glanced around the room. For the first time, he noticed the quirky atmosphere and the understated decor. The plain furniture was old, so antiquated people could practically declare them antiques. If the owners had been going for vintage, they’d gone back a few years too far. Although, Sam loved it, even though he might very well break something unintentionally before escaping the restaurant.
“Old,” Brett supplied helpfully.
Sam talked over him. “Fucking awesome.”
Rolling his eyes, Ethan muttered, “You would like the décor.”
Sam snorted. “Unlike some people, I have good taste, angel boy.”
Shockingly, Ethan grinned and replied, “I kind of like when you call me that.”
To say Sam was flabbergasted would be an understatement. He was completely astounded, stunned into silence by Ethan’s revelation. His jaw dropped open, remaining unhinged so long he feared he would catch flies if he couldn’t remember how to close it.
When Sam eventually shut his gaping mouth, he asked, “You like me calling you ‘angel boy’?” Before he’d left, Ethan had grumbled and cursed at Sam every time he referred to him as angel boy. After all, the nickname was coined after a pick-up line gone wrong, and Ethan despised being reminded of his shortcomings—any of them. So what had changed?
Ethan wouldn’t meet Sam’s eyes as he mumbled, “Yeah.”
“Since when?” Sam pestered. “If I remember correctly, the last time I called you ‘angel boy’, you threatened to turn me over and spank me like the errant child I am—in front of the entire bar, I might add.”
Ethan’s complexion glowed red. “And if my memory serves, you dared me to try—after bending over and shaking that sexy ass of yours in my general direction.”
“Yeah, well. You shouldn’t tease a guy.”
“As usual, I had to intervene before you two did something stupid and childish.” Brett sounded put-out, but the grin he displayed was boyish, immensely playful.
Ethan waved his hand, the gesture dismissive. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. You’re a spoilsport.”
“Someone has to be an adult,” Brett quipped with a pointed glare.
Snorting, Ethan slanted Brett a disbelieving look. “Says the man who doused me and Sam with a pitcher of beer”—halting, he air quoted—“to break us up.”
Brett’s playful grin turned cocky. “It worked. Didn’t it?”
“He has a point,” Sam admitted, his tone begrudging.
Ethan wrinkled his nose. “Was that as hard for you to say as it was for me to hear?”
Inclining his head forward, Sam sent him a You have no idea look and muttered, “I think I threw up in my mouth a little.”
“Me too,” Ethan retorted.
“Bite my ass,” Brett snarled.
Sam leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Nah, we’re in public. Maybe later though.”
Ethan arched an eyebrow at him. “When has being in public ever stopped you?”
A dark chuckle erupted from Sam’s throat. “I wasn’t worried about me. Brett’s the shy one.”
Before Brett or Ethan could respond, a waitress approached and broke up their bantering. “Hi, fellas,” the zanily dressed woman with blue hair said while passing around three oversized menus. “I’m Harper Sunshine Kelley. Since I haven’t seen you three before, I’m going to wager that one of you is Sam.”
Sam took the laminated menu from Harper. He smiled. The middle name Sunshine fit the woman in front of him. Between Harper’s neon clothes with crazy swirled designs and the pigtails she’d secured with artificial sunflowers small enough for a child on top of her head, she radiated warmth and cheeriness.
Brett turned a devastating grin on Harper that caused Sam’s cock to come alive. His delectable lips were quirked, his devilish eyes gleaming with mirth, as he pointed to Sam. “That’s our Sam. He’s the good-looking one. And I’m Brett, the brains.” Again, he pointed, this time at Ethan. “Over there’s Ethan…well, he’s Ethan.”
Sam snickered. “Ethan’s the one with personality.”
Ethan wiggled his eyebrows Sam’s way. “Yes, Sir, I am. People love that about me.”
Brett snorted. “Ethan has to have a personality. Otherwise, people would hate him because of his beauty.”
Growling, Ethan flipped Brett off.
“Bring it on,” Brett retorted, inclining his head toward the door. “We can go to the Paisley House and be back before the food is cooked.”
Sam took a chunk out of his tongue to keep from jumping in with the innuendo flinging. He wanted to say Fuck lunch. We can all go to the Paisley House, and you two can fuck me. However, that might not be the best thing to do on the first day of their…reunion? Or whatever it is.
Blessedly, Harper came to his rescue when she scolded teasingly, “Now, boys, behave.”
“Thank you,” Sam managed to say in a huskier-than-normal voice.
Harper winked—not at him, at Brett and Ethan. “You’re making Sam blush.”
Maybe she’s not helping. Seems like she’s throwing my ass in the fryer. Sam felt his eyes widen, nearly popping out of their sockets. “I—” Shit, why deny it? My face is so red it burns.
Ethan elbowed Sam but changed the subject politely. “What are your specials today, Ms. Harper Sunshine?”
Harper’s face brightened with excitement. “Oh! I have several specials. Um…” Her brow crinkled as though she were having to think awfully hard to remember. She tapped the pad of paper in her hand with the tip of her pen. “Let’s see. For the vegans, I have a Tofu Salad on fresh wheat bread with a side of homemade chips. Now, I heated up the salad with some curry powder. But you’ll have to keep an open mind because I threw all kinds of stuff in the
mix.” She chuckled. “It has pretty much everything but the kitchen sink.” Her chuckle transformed into a full-blown laugh. “Well, it doesn’t have any dairy products. And all the ingredients are gluten and soy-free. But you get the idea.”
Sam choked on his own laugh as he glanced at Ethan. The man was a massive meat-eater. And right now, he didn’t look happy. His frowning face revealed his thought as loudly as if he were wearing a blinking sign around his neck. He was grumbling under his breath, but Sam couldn’t distinguish what he was saying.
Curious as to how Brett was responding, Sam slid his eyes to the beaming man across from him. Obviously, Sam wasn’t the only one enjoying Ethan’s discomfort.
Seemingly oblivious, Harper rattled off more specials, including a soy chicken wrap, French fries made of organically grown potatoes, and a black bean veggie burger. Then she moved on to her sister Haven’s soup and salad specials before sighing dramatically and saying, “For you, dear carnivore, my brother, Jagger, has a gourmet burger buffet.” There was no question who she was speaking to. She’d leaned forward perceptibly and was giving Ethan a pointed look.
Ethan sat up straighter. “Thank God,” he breathed.
Everyone laughed, even Harper and a couple of people at the next table. Once their orders were taken, Harper collected their menus and scampered away with a bounce in her step. “Be back in a bit with your Welcome to Luscious cherry smoothies.”
“Wow.” That’s all Brett said.
“Yeah.” Like Brett, that was the only thing Sam could come up with.
Ethan, however, wasn’t so demure. He was downright verbose. “Crap, I’m going to live on burgers for the next month. Did you hear her say Unrefined Safflower Oil and baked in the same sentence as French fries?”
“Poor you. You’re going to die from eating healthy food.” Brett’s voice was anything but sympathetic.
Spurred on by Brett’s sarcasm, Sam pretended to scrutinize what he could see of Ethan’s body. “I think it would be good for him. He is getting older.” Tauntingly, he narrowed his eyes. “And he seems to be letting his body go.”
Ethan’s horrified expression and Brett’s entertained one had Sam smothering a laugh, and he had to fight for control of his amusement. He was lying through his teeth. Ethan was as fit as ever. And God knew he’d had a disarmingly toned body since he’d learned the word workout. But giving his best friend hell was so damn much fun.
“I’ll have you know that I exercise plenty,” Ethan barked.
“Sexercising, maybe, but that doesn’t count.”
Ethan harrumphed at Sam’s accusation but didn’t comment before returning to his bitching about the café’s food. “Fucking hell, she said bean sprouts.” He snarled a disgusted sound. “That’s for the rabbits. I’m a man, damn it.”
With one casual comment from Ethan, Sam forgot about his teasing. He forgot about the health nut food he’d just ordered and the oddly adorable waitress who was now working away behind the counter at the back of the eatery. The bustling café and all its noise faded away. The people disappeared. It was just Sam, Ethan, and Brett. And my cock. Don’t forget my cock.
Sam was a man, too. A red-blooded one with a raging hard-on. And he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off Ethan. He just hoped the lust he felt wasn’t visible for all to see, especially Ethan and Brett. That would be bad, a damn disaster. But oh God, he couldn’t help himself. That big, powerful body. Those enthralling forest-colored eyes. His perfectly kissable lips. And hair made to be pulled. Fuck.
Sam’s dick felt explosive, so hard he ached, the throb so extreme he had to shift in his seat. The air around him, Brett, and Ethan arced, the heat ascending faster and more forcefully than a bolt of lightning striking the Earth. Sam’s breathing sped, his heart galloping so quickly he was amazed the suddenly overworked muscle didn’t give out.
When neither Ethan nor Brett said a word, Sam cleared a nonexistent dust particle from his throat then muttered, “This place is nice.”
Nice? Sam wanted to smack his forehead. Couldn’t he have used a more descriptive word than nice? Hip and indie came to mind. Cozy and quaint in a non-conventional way did, too. But no, he’d said nice. Now he felt like saying, Duh!
It was funny to Sam. So funny I forgot to laugh. He’d been close to these two men for the majority of his life. Yet he couldn’t get his act together for a simple lunch between friends. How was he going to last for the next month? Seriously, his brain was on hiatus, and he couldn’t seem to think straight. And fuck, saying anything right was nearly impossible—when he could actually get his tongue to work.
I can get my tongue to work. Just not when it includes talking.
Brett eyed Sam. “This place is nice? Are we really going to play polite games now?”
“Aw, Brett wants to talk.” Ethan rolled his eyes. “How sweet.”
Reaching out, Brett popped Ethan in the back of the head. “Shut up,” he growled. “We haven’t been together in months. I want to catch up.”
Sam did, too. He’d missed talking to them, sharing with them. “What have you been up to?”
“No you don’t.” Ethan’s amused smile vanished. “We want to hear what you’ve been up to.”
Next question. Sam didn’t answer. He strummed his fingers on the table anxiously.
“Come on, Sam,” Brett cajoled. “We can’t help you if you don’t talk. It’s not like we’re asking your opinion on foreign policy.”
Sam took a breath. Baby steps. “I traveled some.” Okay, a lot. “Then I went to Kinky to spend some time with Sarah, Deke, and Adam.”
Unexpectedly, Brett’s face darkened. “Is that where you were hurt?”
Holy fuck. How did he know that? Brooklyn. Damn it. “I, uh, y−y−yeah,” Sam stammered. “Sarah was in danger. So I stepped in to help.”
“And got stabbed?” Ethan asked, his tone too calm, his expression too smooth. “Then didn’t call us while you were in the hospital?”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Sam stared at the man next to him in frustration. He didn’t like the sudden shift in this conversation. They’d gone from laughing to uneasy. Now they were heading into the War Zone. And Sam wasn’t willing to go to battle just yet. “It was no big deal. If I had been in real danger, I would have called.”
Ethan gave him a disbelieving look while Brett’s eyes fell away.
“Why don’t I believe that?” Ethan inquired, his voice droll and his demeanor still disturbingly even. “Oh right. Because you were in the ICU. Last time I checked, the ICU is for people in critical condition.”
Sam had been in critical condition. By the time they’d gotten him to the hospital in Trinity, he’d been unconscious due to a large amount of blood loss. But they didn’t need to know that. Right? Right.
“Don’t lie,” Brett ordered. “I know you. You’re going to pretend you were fine, that you weren’t knocking on death’s door. But you would be lying. We know the truth. We just want you to open up and share it with us, not Brooklyn or Tate or whoever. You.”
Sam grimaced. Awesome. Just fucking awesome.
Brett leaned forward and covered Sam’s hand. “Please.”
The raw desperation in Brett’s voice touched Sam’s soul. And he realized that if Brett could put his pride on the line, he could, too. “The Looney Toon stabbed me in the side. It hurt like a motherfucker, but the wound wasn’t a fatal one. It was the massive blood loss that endangered me. And the infection that followed didn’t help either.”
Ethan chewed on his bottom lip until a tiny droplet of blood formed. “Why didn’t you call us? We would have wanted to be there.”
Sam had wanted them there. He’d considered asking Tate to contact them when he’d talked to Brooklyn. And once he’d gotten out of the ICU, he’d stared at the phone by his bed for hours. But he couldn’t pick up the phone and dial their number because he knew if he did, that would be the end for him. Game over.
Sam’s stomach dropped as he forced himself to push out,
“Truth?”
“No, I want you to lie.” Ethan glowered. “Of course, we want the truth.”
Brett didn’t say a word. But his face said it all—hurt and anger warring with concern.
Sam gulped. “I knew if you came, I wouldn’t let you leave.” There he’d said it. And God, it had been worse than he’d imagined. His stomach clenched until he thought he would hurl his cookies. And his hands shook so violently he moved them underneath the table so they wouldn’t see his embarrassing display of emotion.
Shock was stamped on Ethan’s face. He’d obviously not been expecting that response. “Oh.”
Brett, however, seemed satisfied, weirdly happy. When he spoke, Sam understood why. “And we wouldn’t have left, just like we’re not going to leave you now—unless you force us away.”
That wasn’t going to happen. Sam knew it like he knew the back of his hand. A month with Brett and Ethan, thirty days of getting to know them all over again, would seal the deal for him. Whether they were friends or lovers remained to be seen. But Sam would find himself. And he would find a way back to them.
Chapter 10
Perched on the side of his bed a week after his lunch with Brett and Ethan, Sam eyed the cell phone in his hand with trepidation. He knew he had a call to make, a very important one, but he didn’t particularly want to. Hell, he’d been putting this call off for seven days now. And he was running out of time. Brooklyn wasn’t a patient woman. If he didn’t dial her number soon, she’d likely come after his ass. And a mad Brooklyn was a scary Brooklyn.
Sam took a deep breath. He could take the coward’s way out and avoid the conversation altogether. He could just lay down his phone and go into the living room with Tate and Benjamin Black. From the sound of it, his roommate and the famous musician were doing a fine job writing songs. Or he could make a quick run to Schroeder’s Theater where they were playing a comedy flick he’d been waiting to see. He could even swing by The Book Nook for Open Mic Night. Even better, he could go visit Brett and Ethan at the Paisley House.
