“Who’s talking about my prize recruit?” Paul swept into the room. If anything, Paul was more eager to win over Wes than he had been to get Dustin to join the team. Wes’s rep as an operator was that good.
“I said I’d think.” Wes laughed. He and Paul had talked on the phone a few weeks ago. “I’m still researching a few bomb squads in the area—”
“They can’t pay you what we can,” Paul said emphatically. “And the two of you? Out in the field together? You’d be a great team.”
That was Dustin’s private dream, one he was working very hard not to give voice to, but he’d sure as heck be thinking about it when he blew out the candles later. He loved his new job, finding in it the opposite of all the things that had driven him crazy about the military the past few years. Gone were all the regulations and the umpteen levels of oversight. Hell, he even liked the travel because it kept him from missing Wes too much during these long months of cautious behavior. His clients were diverse, the work interesting, and the only thing better would be Wes along for the long flights and lonely nights in hotel rooms and Wes by his side, getting in and out of sticky situations.
But if Wes wanted to work with one of the several bomb squads or explosives companies headhunting him, Dustin would support that too—Wes had more than earned the right to go after whatever future he most wanted.
“We’ll see.” Wes’s eyes twinkled with some genuine amusement. “And the only input I’ve had on the DC real estate is that it better have room for a grill.”
“You grill?” Dustin’s father asked. “I’ve been grilling my famous burgers for U of O tailgates for years. Thinking about entering them in one of those contests.”
“Yeah? My dad does contests.” Wes’s smile got more real, and they were off to the races, talking about meat and spices and football while Dustin tried hard not to breathe an audible sigh of relief.
“Relax,” Paul said in a low tone as he herded Dustin into the kitchen. “Let’s get you a beer. Your man’s going to do just fine.”
My man. They weren’t using the word boyfriend publicly or anything, but man, did Dustin like the sound of that. And never had he been more grateful for the unwavering support of his family and friends than during the difficult transition to civilian life and the long months of waiting to be able to be more open with Wes.
“So,” Apollo said, handing him a beer as he entered the kitchen. “You came. He came. Your dad’s still here, upright and all, I take it?”
“They’re talking barbecue.” Dustin laughed at himself as he took a swig of the beer. He’d told his parents a few months ago that he was bisexual, and while his father had made some predictable noises about family names and other stuff that Dustin had expected, he’d seemed to mellow to a quiet disappointment—the sort of thing where Dustin could tell he wasn’t the happiest, but he said all the right things, said he was happy for Dustin and that he still loved him.
“Food,” Apollo called out to the living room, and everyone filtered into the kitchen and dining room to eat, buffet style.
Dustin filled a plate with lasagna, salad, and big hunks of garlic bread. He was trying to decide where to eat when his dad came up to him.
“I’ll say one thing. That Apollo sure can cook.” His father’s plate was even more loaded than Dustin’s own.
“Dylan sure knows how to pick ’em,” Dustin said mildly.
“I’ve been invited for pulled pork when you get settled out east. Maybe we’ll need a family cook-off.” His dad laughed at his own joke, a nervousness to the chuckle that wasn’t usually there.
“Wes told you to come visit?” Dustin was more hung up on that than anything else—he’d been the one pushing for more socialization and openness. Wes had seemed content to stay holed up forever.
“He did. Think he feels bad, taking you so far away.” His father shrugged. “But that’s what frequent flyer miles are for, right? Lord knows we’re already racking them up for Dylan. Don’t mind doing the same for you.”
“Thanks.” Dustin’s throat felt thicker than old wool socks. “You’re cool with...everything?”
“I still wouldn’t turn down a grandbaby or seven. And if that man turns you into a... Panthers fan, we’re gonna have words. Especially if this is the Seahawks’ year.”
“I’m sure it is.” Dustin nodded. “So you...like Wes? Apart from his football loyalties?”
Another shrug, another nervous chuckle. But his dad used his free hand to pat Dustin’s biceps. “He’s gonna keep you fed. He makes you blush like a schoolgirl every time you say his name. I’m not... This hasn’t been easy for me. But you’re happy. That’s what matters. Simple as that.”
Simple as that. All those years when happiness seemed like something that happened to other people, that maybe Dustin wouldn’t ever figure out how to get himself a taste of what others had, and it turned out that getting out of his own way was the most important thing. Nothing about loving Wes was simple, and yet, it totally was too. He loved him. They’d make it work. Simple as that.
* * *
“You here?” Wes called as he let himself into Dustin’s condo. They’d taken separate cars back, of course, Wes getting his cardio in from one of his usual distant parking places. And he couldn’t spend the night—not yet. Next week after he was settled in the new apartment with the easygoing roommates, then maybe. And then a few months after that would be DC. He couldn’t wait.
“Yup.” Dustin padded into the living room in nothing but boxer briefs.
“Someone get the real birthday party started without me?” Wes lifted an eyebrow.
“Just trying to maximize our time.” Dustin grinned as he tugged Wes toward the bedroom.
“How about you let that be my job?” Wes shoved him onto the bed. The bed wasn’t huge—it was probably a full, and Wes found it endearing, like Dustin and his aircraft carrier frame had never grown into or needed a bigger bed for non-sleeping activities until Wes came along. Something about that reassured him. “And lord, after that many people, you and your ass owe me.”
Dustin made a happy noise as Wes straddled him. “Was it really that bad?”
“It was loud.” Wes gave him the kiss he’d been dying for all night, taking his time to reacquaint himself with Dustin’s taste and texture. His lips were soft and generous, and he tasted like his brother’s beer—not Dustin’s usual brand, spicy—and like homecoming after a long, hard trek across the mountains. God, he loved this man. Coming up for air, he continued his list of complaints, just to get Dustin’s goat. “And your dad wants my secret Carolina vinegar sauce recipe. And we are never having kids. No offense, man.”
He’d expected Dustin to protest that, but he just grinned up at Wes, absolutely beaming at him. “What?”
“You said we.” Dustin laughed. “As in us and a future where we get to never have kids together and be old and cranky about sports and barbecue together. I love that.”
Wes swallowed hard. The past few months, it had been easier to live day-to-day, hour-to-hour. He’d been deployed a few times, which made his focus tunnel in to getting through the mission at hand. And waiting until he could be with Dustin, really be with him, was its own kind of mission, taken one obstacle at a time, one hour to the next, never looking too far ahead. He let Dustin be the one to live in the future, making plans for DC and condos, consulting the lawyer, dragging Wes along on these small steps into the larger world beyond their phones and stolen hours. And so maybe he hadn’t stopped and let Dustin know how much he did want that future together.
“Love you,” he said brushing his fingers over Dustin’s mouth. “So damn much.”
“Love you too. And I know I go on about how nuts the house full of kids makes me too, but if you ever wanted—”
“I don’t,” Wes said quickly. “I feel like I helped raise Sam, and the worry my paren
ts have had with her... I mean, I’ll never say never, but I’m totally down with us being the cool uncles with all the toys.”
“I love that vision.” Dustin’s eyes sparkled up at him.
“I got you a present,” he said softly, digging in his pocket. “It’s kinda hokey—”
“I love hokey. Gimme.” Dustin held out a hand.
Fingers shaking only a little, Wes dropped the chain into Dustin’s waiting palm. It was a man’s necklace—heavier links, the sort of sturdy chain ready to take daily wear. From it dangled a slim silver ring. “Okay, so hear me out—”
“I like it already.” Dustin held it up, letting the low light in the room dance off the metal.
“You like everything.” Wes poked him in the chest. “Now let me talk. See, back in high school, my parents dated, and they were too young to get married or even engaged, but my dad got her a promise ring—something to sort of tide them both over until they could do it for real. Eventually, when he was almost done with college, he replaced the promise ring with an engagement ring.”
“So this is a promise ring?” Dustin fingered the ring on the chain.
“Yeah. Probably shouldn’t wear anything on our hands that might raise questions quite yet, but I figured you could probably get away with a chain under those fancy new shirts of yours. And I know I’ve let you be the one making plans for us—”
“I don’t mind,” Dustin said quickly as he sat up enough to slip the necklace over his head, ring coming to rest in the center of his chest hair at the top of his pecs. “I do not want you distracted on duty. We’ll have all the time in the world later. Let me worry about the logistics for now. You can be back to your control freak self later—”
“See, that’s exactly what this is.” Wes touched the ring, the warmth of Dustin’s chest seeping into his fingertip. “A promise that there will be that later. There will be the condo, the grill, the king-size bed with restraints—”
“Dream big.” Dustin laughed, but his eyes were tender.
“And someday, there will be real rings that we can wear proudly. And I’m in this until that day. After. To the end. I’m here. That’s what the promise is.” And now he was fresh out of words so he shut up, pretty sure he might never speak again if Dustin laughed.
But he didn’t, instead grabbing Wes’s hand, linking their fingers right over the ring. “I’m here too. I promise. And this isn’t a competition—it’s not about who’s doing more for us right now. You’re here. In this thing. That’s what matters.”
“Yeah.” Trapping their hands between them, Wes leaned forward for another kiss, this one slow and sweet and full of all the promise in the world.
A promise that tomorrow, he’d be back on duty, Dustin would be flying off to wherever with Paul on their next gig, but under his expensive suit, he’d wear Wes’s ring, and Wes would get to hold that in his heart while he went back to living hour by hour. A promise that there would be a day—not as soon as either of them would like—but someday, there would be thick, heavy rings and touching words and even more promises made and kept. And he’d stop counting down the hours and minutes and start counting up instead—mortgage payments and vacation bills and miles traveled together as they racked up the months and years until there was no more counting, only living this life, together.
* * * * *
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Out now from Carina Press and Annabeth Albert
When a widowed navy SEAL is forced to accept childcare help from his best friend’s little brother, sparks fly, and he must decide whether his broken heart can give love a second chance.
Read on for a preview of
AT ATTENTION
And be sure to look for the next book in Annabeth Albert’s OUT OF UNIFORM series coming in 2018
Hamburger. Onions. Pickles. Ketchup. Buns. Buns.
Well, hello, there. Possibly the most perfect specimen Apollo had ever seen was bent over in the bakery aisle at Sprouts, looking at a rack of organic cookies. High. Tight. Round. Attached to muscular legs poking out of board shorts, the kind of legs that suggested a serious investment in a sport or fitness. He wasn’t going to do more than look, but even when he’d been with Neal, he hadn’t been blind, and it was nice to know perfection like this guy existed in the world.
It was like swimming by a perfect coral reef on a dive or the blue of a cloudless sky right before a jump—
Wink. Fuck. The guy straightened before Apollo could look away and caught Apollo staring, and instead of blushing or serving him with the angry glare he deserved, he gave Apollo a saucy wink. It was the sort of wink that a decade ago would have had Apollo crossing the shiny linoleum and getting the guy’s number, but those days were long gone.
Instead he grabbed the closest twelve pack of hamburger buns and one of hot dog buns and headed to the next aisle. Those were the only kind of buns he had any business letting himself be distracted by. He was a father for crying out loud, not some single guy out treating the natural grocery store like his own personal pickup joint. Reflexively, he rubbed his ring with the side of his pinky, making it spin on his ring finger. Yeah. No more looking.
“Apollo! How are you?” Bridget from down the street almost ran her cart into his as he navigated the aisles. Her red-haired toddler waved at him from the basket.
Hell. He knew he should have brought at least one of the girls shopping. Then Bridget could have focused on the kids, and not his least favorite question in the universe.
“Hanging in there.” Apollo gave her a practiced smile. “Good” would be a lie and no one wanted to hear “same as yesterday,” which was closer to the truth. But what the Bridgets of the world all wanted to hear was that Apollo was moving on—like time was the magic cure for the hole in his heart. “Having some people over for a barbecue later. Apologies if anyone parks in front of your place.”
“Oh, no worries.” Bridget patted his arm. “Having friends is so important.”
“Yeah, it is,” Apollo agreed because Bridget was a nice person, but inwardly his teeth gnashed together. He was so tired of well-meaning people telling him what was good for him when not a damn one of their suggestions would bring Neal back. “I better get on with my list.”
“You do that. And be sure and let us know if you need anything.”
Apollo nodded. Two years. It had been two years of neighbors and friends stopping him like this, making kind offers, but none of them able to do the one thing he wanted more than anything.
Fuck. Snap out of it, Lieutenant. No one wants your mopey ass around on this sunny May weekend. And it was an absolutely gorgeous day, perfect for playing with the girls outside and kicking back a few beers with his friends. He wasn’t on duty and had three consecutive days off for the first time in a long time. No sense dwelling on sad shit. Time to get stuff done.
Find something else to focus on.
Like that perfect ass?
No. Absolutely not that. Like...pickles. Lots and lots of pickles.
He saw Mr. Perfect Butt again in the juice aisle, and it was damn hard to keep his resolution to stick to shopping. The guy was model cute—curly hair falling just so over his forehead, sparkling eyes, chiseled jaw, and a tight T-shirt advertising a British soccer team showing off a defined chest and tight stomach. The guy smiled at him again and looked like he might want to speak, so Apollo grabbed the juice boxes for the girls and got out of there like he’d just launched a flash bang in the guy’s direction.
At the checkout, Mr. Perfect Butt was ahead of him in the only line that seemed to be moving. Apollo very carefully did not look at his butt again and busied himself grabbing some gum and trying to give off “don’t talk to me” vibes.
But t
hose vibes seemed to be an utter failure as the guy turned, offering another movie-star-worthy grin. “You want to go first?” His voice was husky, like every word was a secret.
“I’m good,” Apollo said.
The man nodded, shy smile teasing the edges of his mouth, making his blue eyes dance. “You know—”
“ID please.” The cashier interrupted whatever flirtation the guy had planned as his six pack of beer went across the scanner.
“Oh yeah.” A faint red flush spread up the guy’s neck. Oh hell. He wasn’t just younger than Apollo. He was a kid. A kid who still got carded, and rightfully so with that baby face. What the hell had Apollo been thinking, admiring his body?
Apollo focused on unloading his own groceries, making neat rows for the cashier, and making sure the buns wouldn’t get squished.
Buns. Nope. Not going there. The kid hung around after paying for his groceries, mouth moving as if he were debating speaking, but Apollo kept his attention squarely on the cashier.
No more looking. Remember who—what—you are now. When he finally looked up, perfect butt guy was gone, and if Apollo felt a twinge of regret for being a bit on the rude side, he squashed it quickly. Wasn’t like he’d ever see the guy again anyway.
Don’t miss AT ATTENTION by Annabeth Albert.
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Copyright © 2017 by Annabeth Albert
About the Author
Annabeth Albert grew up sneaking romance novels under the bed covers. Now, she devours all subgenres of romance out in the open—no flashlights required! When she’s not adding to her keeper shelf, she’s a multipublished Pacific Northwest romance writer. The #OutOfUniform series joins her critically acclaimed and fan-favorite LGBTQ romance #Gaymers, #PortlandHeat and #PerfectHarmony series. To find out what she’s working on next and other fun extras, check out her website, www.annabethalbert.com, or connect with Annabeth on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram and Spotify! Also, be sure to sign up for her newsletter for free ficlets, bonus reads and contests. The fan group Annabeth’s Angels on Facebook is also a great place for bonus content and exclusive contests.
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