Redesigning Landry Bishop

by Kim Fielding

  “That sounds healthy.”

  “Eh. I give ’em vitamins.” She grabbed a salad bowl and pushed it at him. “Besides, next week they’ll demand a totally different menu. It all balances in the end.”

  He wasn’t so sure about that, but parenting was not one of his areas of expertise. So instead of saying anything, he gathered the vegetables she pointed out to him, took them to the kitchen island, and began to prepare a salad.

  In the meantime, Missy placed a baking dish into the oven. “I mixed it ahead of time, so it’ll be ready in half an hour.”

  “Is that Mom’s tuna and green bean casserole?” Landry’s stomach growled.

  “Yep. I even have the goldfish crackers to sprinkle on top. I hope you weren’t expecting something Californian and fancy.”

  “No, the casserole is great. I haven’t had it since… since Mom died. But if you want, I can make dinner tomorrow. Something exotic.” He wasn’t sure what ingredients he’d be able to find at the Barn Owl Market, but he’d surely manage something.

  “That’d be nice. Aunt Trudy’s thing is at one o’clock tomorrow, by the way. You brought a suit, right?”

  “Yes. You told Jordan I’d need one. But what is Aunt Trudy’s thing?”

  “Nope. Sworn to secrecy.”

  “C’mon, Miss.” He barely kept a whine out of his tone.

  “Let’s just say that maybe you’re not the only one who grew up feeling different in Peril. And let’s also just say that maybe Aunt Trudy and some other people decided those distinctive kids might need a little extra… something.”

  Her hints did little to relieve his bewilderment. “What does that mean?”

  “You’ll find out tomorrow, Wormy.” She stood next to him, grabbed the carrots he’d peeled, and began to chop them. But even out of the corner of his eye, Landry could tell she was watching him.

  “What?” he demanded after a few moments.

  “It must be awfully nice having a personal assistant. I’d love to have someone run things to the post office and take the twins to the dentist.”

  “He does a lot more than that.”

  “Hmm.”

  Landry scowled because that was the precise noise their mother had made when she suspected one of her children was feeding her bullshit. “He does! He sets my appointments, taxis me wherever I need to go, deals with things like the yard service and the housecleaners. He takes care of all the details so I can concentrate on my work.”

  “You work really hard, don’t you?”

  He stopped peeling and looked at her in surprise. He’d assumed people in Peril had the impression that his life was a whirlwind of fabulous parties and hobnobbing with the stars. “I do.”

  “Maybe too hard.”

  That made him narrow his eyes. “Have you been talking to Jordan about this?”

  “Nope.” She popped a piece of carrot in her mouth. “I just know you.”

  “Oh.”

  “But this is interesting. Does Jordan think you work too hard?”

  Landry shrugged, moved the last of the carrots toward her, and reached for the lettuce. “Iceberg.”

  “Unless you’re the Titanic, it won’t kill you, Wormy.”

  He began to tear it into appropriately sized pieces. “Other kinds of lettuce taste better. And other greens have better nutritional value.”

  “I like the way iceberg crunches. Don’t look at me like that. We get the farm-to-table boxes during the summer, but this time of year we get what’s on sale at Barn Owl.”

  He nodded, hopeful that he’d successfully changed the subject. But he should have known better. One of Missy’s childhood nicknames had been Pit Bull.

  “So Jordan lectures you on your work habits.” She’d given up all pretense of salad prep and now stood with her arms crossed. “Is that something personal assistants are supposed to do?”

  “This one does.” He dumped a handful of lettuce into the bowl and looked at her. “Because he’s also my boyfriend.”

  She didn’t look surprised, and the news certainly didn’t upset her. In fact, she grinned and gave his bicep a light punch. “I knew it! He’s great, Lan. Really sweet and funny, and I can tell that he cares a lot about you.”

  He discovered that her approval mattered to him. “Thanks. We’re new, so I don’t know where we’re going, but….”

  “But you’re a stick-to-things kind of guy. We all are. I bet the Bishops have the lowest divorce rate of any family in Sheridan County. When we start things, we mean it. That could be our motto.”

  He smiled at her but wasn’t convinced he should be lumped in with the rest of the Bishops. Maybe he took after their mother’s family, the Keiths. There were a lot fewer of them, and with the exception of their mother, they tended toward the squirrelly. Their maternal grandfather, for example, had been positive that friendly aliens were due to arrive anytime, and he used to mow a landing pad into his wheat field in hopes they’d be attracted to his ranch first. He also ended up marrying and divorcing four times, although Landry suspected the obsession with extraterrestrials was at least partially to blame.

  “Does it work out okay?” Missy asked. “Him being your assistant and your main squeeze?”

  “So far. Like I said, we’re new.”

  “Hmm.”

  They finished the salad, and then he helped set the table. Missy insisted they use the good china. It wasn’t expensive, but it had been the set their parents reserved for special occasions. They used the kitchen table because the dining room table was occupied by an enormous half-completed jigsaw puzzle. “Rod’s been working on that damn thing for centuries. The twins will be grandparents before we get to use the table again.” She said it with an exasperated fondness that made him grin.

  “I don’t mind eating in the kitchen. I usually do at home.”

  “Really? I pictured you doing all your meals with tuxedos and candelabras and a grand piano.”

  “Oh, I much prefer a string quartet.”

  She bopped him in the shoulder. She used to poke and hit him a lot when they were kids, and she got away with it because she was younger, which annoyed him back then. Now, though, he recognized the mild thumps as signs of affection and kind of liked them.

  “Do you want to take your stuff upstairs?” Missy asked. “Or is that Jordan’s job?”

  Jordan was still deep in animated discussion with Rod, each of them with a kid on his lap. Landry shook his head fondly. “I think I can manage it.”

  With one bag in each hand, he followed Missy upstairs, where she gave an impromptu tour. “Rod and I have Mom and Dad’s old bedroom, of course.”

  He peeked inside. “Wow, you did a lot of work in there too.”

  “Well, it was pretty much an eighties time warp, so yeah.”

  Next she showed him her old room. It still contained the furniture from their childhood, but now the walls were a nice seafoam color and someone had added a built-in seat under the window. A zooful of stuffed animals clustered in one corner. “It’s supposed to be Bryanna’s,” Missy explained, “but she’d rather sleep on Blake’s bottom bunk. We were gonna put Jordan in here.”

  “Now you’re not?”

  “Don’t you guys want to share?”

  He blinked at her. “Well… yes. You’re okay with that?”

  “What part do you think I’m not okay with?” She sounded a little angry. “I’m not a bigot or a prude, Landry, and neither is Rod.”

  “I know. It’s just weird. I never expected to share a bed under this roof with my boyfriend.”

  “Well, I’m glad you are, if it makes you happy.”

  “Thanks, Miss.”

  They peeked in at Blake’s room, where toys, books, and clothes lay scattered on every imaginable surface. Quite a difference from when Grandma Bishop slept there. She had been inclined toward threadbare quilts and kitschy figurines. They continued to the end of the hall and Landry’s old bedroom. He gasped when Missy opened the door. “It’s the same!”

/>   “Not exactly. We refinished the old hardwood floor, and the bed linens are new.”

  He turned around slowly, still clutching suitcases. “But the paint, the furniture….” He’d chosen the colors himself and bought the bed and dresser with money from the various part-time jobs he had during high school.

  “All Landry Bishop originals. It’s a beautiful room. Besides, we wanted you to feel at home if you ever came back.” She gazed solemnly at him. “This will always be your home, no matter what. You know that, right?”

  And he found himself beginning to believe just that.

  Chapter Fifteen

  THE twins complained about bedtime until Jordan offered to read them a story, and then they bounced up the stairs like rabbits. Rod went with them too, in hopes of preserving part of their routine, but he returned to the living room before Jordan did. “They’ve talked him into Fox in Socks. Poor guy.”

  “He’s having fun with your kids, actually.”

  “He’s great with them.”

  “He likes to take care of people and make them happy.”

  “Good catch, dude.” Rod plopped down on the couch next to Missy.

  Jordan eventually rejoined them, and the four of them stayed up late, just talking. Missy and Landry told tales about their childhood—most of them things Landry hadn’t thought about in years. Rod responded with war stories from teaching high school biology. And Jordan talked about funny things that had happened at the many jobs he’d held. They all laughed a great deal.

  Missy broke up the party with a huge yawn. “You all may be on Hollywood time, but I’m not. Bed for me. Besides, tomorrow’s a big day.” Her face gave nothing away.

  Landry discovered he was exhausted too. Part of it was the travel and the onslaught of relatives, but partly he was emotionally drained. He hadn’t expected his homecoming to elicit such a variety of feelings. Before he went upstairs, he put on his jacket and went out onto the back porch, where Jordan joined him a moment later.

  “Want alone time?” Jordan asked.

  “No. Come on out.”

  They stood side by side, gazing out at the large backyard even though the darkness obscured the details. “Your stars,” Jordan said after a while, his gaze tilted toward the sky. “You said there were a ton of them, and you were right.”

  “It’s better if you get a few miles out of town.” But he had to admit, the skyscape was beautiful even here.

  When he and Jordan got up to his old room and started to unpack, Landry found a surprise. “Pajamas?” he asked, holding up a pair of blue plaid flannel pants.

  “Or loungewear.”

  “I don’t own these.”

  Jordan walked over to land a kiss on his cheek. “You do now.”

  “Why?”

  “’Cause it’s colder here than we’re used to, and I thought they’d be cozy.” He reached into his bag and pulled out a pair in green plaid. “Look! We can be disgustingly matchy-matchy.”

  It was just too much for Landry. For no reason he could articulate, this one small gesture overwhelmed him, making his heart beat fast and his entire body heat. He sat gracelessly on the bed. “I don’t deserve you.”

  Jordan pushed Landry’s legs apart and knelt between them, his knees cushioned by an antique throw rug Landry had won at an auction when he was fourteen. Then Jordan cradled Landry’s face in his palms. “You do deserve me. You lost your husband way too soon, but it didn’t make you bitter. Elaine says you were an amazing boss, and when she left, you gave her enough money to really live her dream. You gave me a chance at a job even though I had no real experience at it. You never once judged me for mistakes in my past. You bought a car for me to drive, and you let me live at your house. You never acted snooty toward me. You are a kind man who wants the same thing I do—to improve people’s lives. You work so hard all the time, but I’ve never seen you try to gain anything at another person’s expense. You deserve happiness, Landry Bishop. You deserve love.”

  For a long time, Landry stared at him. “May I kiss you?”

  There was that Stryker smile, lighting up the room like fireworks. “I wish you would.”

  So Landry did. First a gentle press of lips to lips, and he didn’t hurry, preferring to drink in the sensation of soft skin. After a minute or two, Landry parted his lips, and Jordan followed suit, eagerly accepting Landry’s tongue into his mouth. Yes, a slight taste of tuna lingered, but Landry didn’t mind. He also tasted the chocolate ice cream and sugared coffee they’d had for dessert, and when he finally lifted his hands to Jordan’s head, Landry luxuriated in silky hair against his fingertips.

  Then Landry broke the kiss, moving his mouth to the juncture of Jordan’s neck and shoulder. Jordan leaned his head back and moaned.

  “Are your knees sore yet?” Landry asked.

  “I don’t care.”

  Landry puffed laughter against Jordan’s neck. “Let’s get ready for bed, okay?”

  “Spoilsport.”

  Jordan rose with a slight groan, and then he offered Landry a hand up too. They squeezed into the bathroom across the hall to brush their teeth, jostling each other playfully in front of the sink. Landry skipped his nightly skin-care regime. Back in Landry’s room, they undressed and pulled on the flannel pants, tickling each other as they went. At one point Landry lost his balance and swore as he nearly fell on his ass.

  “Shh!” Jordan made a show of putting a finger to his lips. “You’ll wake the kids.”

  They climbed into bed together—a double, so it was a tighter squeeze than the king they shared in LA—and Landry doused the light on the nightstand, leaving them in almost complete darkness.

  “Have you had another guy in this bed before?” Jordan whispered. They were face-to-face on a single pillow, arms wrapped around each other.

  “No.”

  “So where did you and your youthful flings do the deed? Haystacks and barns?”

  “I was a virgin until I got to college.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Um… I made out a couple of times with Tim Spohr behind the library, but we never got past first base. He ended up moving to Omaha after we graduated. Don’t know what happened to him.”

  Jordan kissed the tip of his nose. “Tim Spohr’s loss.”

  “How about you?”

  “I have also never slept with anyone in this bed.”

  That made Landry tickle him until they were in danger of growing too noisy. Then Jordan let out a big breath and leaned his forehead on Landry’s shoulder. “I was fifteen, which was too young, and he was twenty, which was too old, but he was cute and I thought I knew everything. I mean, it was my idea as much as his, but I was pretty drunk. There was nothing special about it, you know?”

  “First times don’t have to be special. Mine was in my dorm with some boy from my math class. We had to sexile my roommate first, and I think we lasted about thirty seconds.”

  More giggles ensued, but they died out as Landry and Jordan allowed their hands to wander over bare chests and backs and then under the loose waistbands of the pants. Soon all the flannel was down past their knees and they were grinding against each other, needy and voracious. Their moans and pleas grew noisy, until Landry decided the best way to silence Jordan was with a kiss.

  It worked wonderfully well.

  Landry had packed condoms and lube this time. Probably so had Jordan. But that meant getting out of bed, and Landry wasn’t willing to break contact for even that long. No matter. It was enough to thrust together, to feel Jordan’s strong ass flexing beneath his palms and Jordan’s fingers digging into his glutes. The old bedsprings squeaked beneath them. Jordan was so solid against him, so real, so hot and vital and necessary.

  With some difficulty, Landry squeezed his hand between them and grasped their hard, slick shafts in his fist. That was exactly the extra bit of friction they needed. Their thrusts grew faster and less rhythmic, until Landry muffled a cry against the tender skin of Jordan’s neck. But that left Jordan
’s mouth free, and he called out when he came.

  Moments later, breathing hard and still embracing, they heard a toilet flush.

  “Do you think we woke someone up?” Jordan whispered.

  That set Landry laughing, trying to keep hushed about it but not succeeding, and Jordan joined him. Jordan was still chuckling as Landry drifted to sleep.

  IN the morning, neither Missy nor Rod mentioned anything about nocturnal disturbances. But Jordan and Landry kept catching each other’s gaze and snickering like naughty schoolboys.

  Then Landry saw Jordan deep in discussion with the kids, the subject apparently centering on their overflowing toy box, and a realization slammed him: Jordan was happy. The weariness he’d carried when he first arrived at Landry’s door had long since evaporated, replaced with energy and joy. Jordan had turned out to be good at his job—exceptionally good—and his sense of proficiency had obviously been good for his soul. Landry could understand that and was proud to know he’d played a part in helping Jordan find his place in the world. Landry smiled, and when Jordan saw him, his entire face lit up with delight.

  Because it was a Saturday, Missy and her family lounged around a bit after breakfast. Landry, though, grew increasingly jumpy, dreading whatever was going to happen at one that afternoon.

  “I’m going to the Barn Owl,” he finally announced. “Anyone need anything?”

  “What’s the Barn Owl?” asked Jordan. He was helping the twins build something with oversized Legos.

  “Grocery store.”

  “Can I go?”

  “I doubt it’ll be exciting, but sure.”

  They put on shoes and jackets—after Missy peeled the twins off Jordan—said goodbye, and went outside. Down the street, a woman knelt in front of her house, pulling the last of the year’s weeds from a flowerbed. She waved at them, and although Landry didn’t recognize her, he waved back. Then he got into the truck’s driver’s seat.

  “Hey, Lan? Are we in a hurry?”

  “Not especially.”