Scorched (Sizzle #2)

by Sarah O'Rourke

  “And a killer hangover from what I’ve heard through the grapevine,” Grant whispered conspiratorially, winking at Devil. “But, if it makes you feel any better, your trusty boss , here,” he continued, jerking his head toward Devil, “is nursing a fairly serious case of blue balls so, really, it could be worse, right? Evidently, prior to your fiancé’s appearance last night, it was also going to be the night the Devil got to go back into Georgia for a little horizontal dancing, if you know what I mean. Have some sympathy for the Devil, man; eight weeks feels like a year where sex is involved.”

  Gaping at his best friend, Devil shook his head. “What are you? A woman?” he asked Grant, silently debating how a brilliant obstetrician could so quickly devolve into a prepubescent girl when there was gossip involved. “You do realize that my wife is your SISTER, don’t you?”

  “Honestly, sometimes I forget,” Grant replied with a slight shrug as he propped his chin in his hand and smiled benignly across the table at Nick. “Honestly, being Devil’s best friend can be a tough job at times, and he’s been cranky of late. Your Armando’s descent into madness last night prevented your boss from descending into my sister’s charms.”

  “I seriously did not need to know that status of my boss’s balls or how often he visits Georgia or how he dances when he arrives there,” Nick yelped, glaring at Grant’s amused face. “I don’t care how gay I am, that is not information I ever want to possess,” he proclaimed with a shudder as he ripped off his baseball cap and shoved a hand through his thick, wavy hair. “Damn it! Aren’t you two paying attention? I’m in crisis here.”

  “You’re in crisis?” Devil asked indignantly. “No. Let me tell you about crisis. Crisis occurs when you’ve managed to convince your reluctant wife to allow her parents to babysit your daughter for the night...when you finally get her all to yourself. You’re not sharing her with your child or with your mother-in-law or with her two gal pals from hell or her gay bestie. Nope, you’ve finally got all her attention on you. Imagine it, Nick,” Devil demanded dangerously, “You’ve almost reached the Passionate Promised Land and the long, draining sexual draught is almost over. Hot sex can be seen on the horizon, man! She’s naked….and SO. ARE. YOU. You’re that close! And then your moment gets busted all to hell because that guy – we’ll call him shithead #1 - that you hired neglected to tell that OTHER guy you employee – we’ll call him shithead #2 – that he never shared his sexual orientation with his stick-up-their-collective-asses parents. Now, you might imagine what I imagined at the time….you know, that none of this was my problem. But you’d be WRONG! So very fuckin’ wrong. Wanna know why it became my problem? Because my Molly said it was!” Devil finished on a roar that drew stares from the surrounding tables. “That’s a fuckin’ crisis, Nick!”

  Grant smiled benevolently at the surrounding patrons that had fixed their attention on their table. “Don’t mind us. We’ve just had a threesome that went horribly wrong. One of us,” he whisper yelled, pointing at Devil, “got a severe case of performance anxiety. What are ya gonna do, though? The three of us have been together too long to just start over again with someone else. Our little Boy Toy, here,” he said, ruffling Nick’s hair, “he could get any man he wanted, but me and Dev…we’re just too old to begin again, you know?”

  “GRANT!” Devil and Nick hissed in unison, both their gazes blazing furiously.

  “What?” Grant questioned innocently. “Haven’t you guys heard? Polygamous relationships are all the rage these days. Haven’t you been watching those episodes of My Five Wives I’ve been linking to you lately? It’s one giant step forward for the polygamous kind.”

  “I’m gonna kill him,” Devil growled under his breath right before lunging across Nick’s body to nail his best friend of twenty years with a nasty right hook. With any luck, he’d knock the son of a gun out so that none of them would have to listen to him attempt to be funny.

  Dodging Devil’s fist, Grant laughed as someone at the table across the restaurant began snapping photos. “Okay, gentleman, I believe we’re beginning to attract a crowd,” he groaned as Nick’s booted foot found his instep. “Son of a bitch, that HURT!” he shouted, lifting his own fist to nail Nick in his stomach. “Ow, shit!” he yelped, shaking out his hand as his curled fingers bounced off Nick’s abs. “Holy hell, how often do you work out, Santino? Devil, feel this kid’s abs, man! Dear Lord, I’ve never felt anything like this, Devil,” he breathed in awe.

  “Are we sure that you’re not gay?” Devil asked Grant sharply, rolling his eyes as he straightened his sport coat with jerky movements.

  “Now, fellas,” a sultry southern voice drawled, “Gay or not, I’m gonna need you boys to settle down,” their waitress instructed with a wink as she delivered another round of drinks. “Else, I’m gonna have to cut y’all off, and I enjoy the company way too much to have to do that.”

  Barely looking at the scantily dressed woman to his left, Devil nodded. “We’re fine here, Delilah. Just a little familial misunderstanding.”

  “Mmmhmmm,” Delilah the waitress hummed, her lips tilting up in a smile. “Just keep it down, boys. This is a nice, family-oriented bar.”

  “Those words don’t even go together,” Nick noted with a confused look at Grant.

  Grant shrugged while Devil simply inclined his head before the waitress turned to sidle away from their table. “Okay, if you’re done feeling Nick up, I think we need to refocus our attention,” Devil said, keeping his voice low as the other tables seemed to resume their own conversations.

  “To what?” Grant asked blankly.

  “To what?” Devil echoed in disbelief, “Are you kidding me right now? How about we concentrate on how the hell we relocate Armando from my guestroom back to his own bed in his own place. With Nick.” Turning his attention back to Nick, he asked, “How do you propose we go about straightening this mess out, kid?”

  “I really wish you wouldn’t call me a kid. I’m only a decade younger than you two,” Nick complained, draining one glass of his Shiraz before reaching for the other that had just been delivered to their table. “It’s demeaning.”

  “Okay, I thought ‘kid’ was nice, but I could go with asshole, too,” Devil returned reasonably. “Does asshole work for you, Nick?”

  “Point made,” Nick muttered.

  “Okay, here’s the bottom line, asshole. I would like to fuck my wife – long and hard - sometime in the next century…”

  “Whoa!” Grant barked, quickly clapping his hands over his ears, “Uncool, bro! I cannot hear things like that about you and my baby sister. I’ve still got two kids to push through college and can’t afford the therapy those kind of blunt, in-your-face statements cost me, Dev. Not unless you’re footing the bill for Princeton and Yale.”

  “Suck it up, jackass. You’re a freaking doctor. I think you can afford it. If you can’t, I suggest you play catcher for a few more infants,” Devil dismissed Grant easily before refocusing on Nick. “Now, like I said, I’d really like to be with my wife again and that’s not possible while the New Queen of Mean resides in the guest suite. Hell, Molly slept with him last night because she didn’t want him to wake up lonely. What kind of crazy ass shit is that?” He supposed this shouldn’t have angered him as much as it had since it wasn’t as though Molly would have willingly allowed him back into their bed, but it was the whole principal of the matter. If any man was gonna sleep with his wife, it ought to be him, right?

  “I’m not surprised. Armando despises sleeping alone. I had a body pillow with my face superimposed on it specially made for when I have out-of-town trips,” Nick explained with a sad sigh. “He never sleeps soundly while I’m gone, but that pillow helps.”

  “Wonderful. Suffice it to say that Mannie wasn’t interested in his Nick-shaped pillow last night,” Devil snapped. “He wanted – and got – my wife, the lucky bastard. As I’m sure you can imagine, this is a problem for me. Especially since I had plans for my wife. Hot, nasty, sweaty plans. And unless you f
ancy the thought of starring in a little movie with me called ‘Fifty Shades of Black and Blue’ in which I beat you senseless, then you’ll tell me what we’re gonna do to get your man out of my bed and back into yours,” Devil threatened.

  “Maybe I am gay,” Grant mused thoughtfully as he munched on a French fry, “because I’d totally go see that movie.”

  Disturbed, Devil paused mid-rant and cocked his head in Grant’s direction. “Seriously, bud, when was the last time you and Karen had a little ‘alone’ time?” he asked, using air quotes. Honestly, when he and Grant had been in college and shared a dorm room, he’d been forced to listen to his best friend and his girl screw like bunnies. They were always all over each other. He’d just assumed that they were still as…active as they once were.

  “I’ll take your eight weeks and raise you a fiscal quarter,” Grant replied miserably. “That’s right, boys…three monkin’ months.”

  “Monkin’?” Devil repeated curiously, arching one dark, inky eyebrow as he waited for Grant to elaborate – which he would. He always did.

  “Yeah,” Grant retorted stubbornly, draining his whiskey sour in one long gulp, “Monkin’. It’s the opposite of fuckin’,” he explained, belching loudly. “See, monks are chaste. Like me. Get it?” he chuckled, elbowing Devil in the side. “At this rate, we’re both gonna be born-again virgins, man.”

  Blinking, Nick stared at Grant in fascination. “You can tell me it’s none of my business, but….why?”

  “Why, what?” Grant grunted, frowning into his now empty glass.

  “Why haven’t you and your wife been….you know….”

  “Bumpin’ uglies? Doin’ the deed? Makin’ sweet, sweet loooooovvvveee to my lady?” Grant drawled as Devil groaned and buried his face in his hands and begged whatever God was listening for a quick death.

  “Yeah,” Nick nodded, interested now.

  “Dear God, I beg you not to answer that, man. Karen is like a sister to me,” Devil begged, grimacing at the thought of what could be coming next.

  “Now you know how I feel with Molly,” Grant replied unapologetically before directing his gaze toward Nick. “Well, it’s like this, Nicky, my boy. I don’t get laid much anymore because of a little thing I like to call the Three Ms. Marriage, Middle age, and Menopause. Now, any one of those can put a damper on the sexual shenanigans, but all three together? Let’s just say that those creamy white thighs of our lovers’ legs will close tighter than the vaults at Fort Knox. It’s a cocktail for catastrophe. It happens to all of us couples, my friend. Even the gay ones,” he assured the younger man with a sympathetic smile. “Yep, my wife has entered into those confusing years where I’m never sure if she wants to kiss me or kill me. Although, lately, I really think she’s leaning toward the ‘kill me’ option. I got a notice in the mail that she upped my life insurance. I’m not exactly feeling safe in my own home these days,” he lamented.

  Catching the deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression blanketing you Nicholas’ face, Devil sighed heavily. “You’re scaring the boy, Grant. Knock it off. The kid’s got enough problems right now without hearing how his sex life will eventually become as mythical as the existence of unicorns.”

  “Better he hears the truth from a friend,” Grant counseled wisely.

  “Ignore him,” Devil ordered, rolling his eyes at Grant’s Tony worthy theatrical performance. “He’s just bitter because his wife currently enjoys the company of E.L. James’ and Sylvia Day’s books more than his own. As long as you and Mannie keep things fresh between the sheets, you won’t have a problem,” he counseled easily.

  “Well, fuck,” Grant cursed. “How the fuck is a normal guy supposed to keep up with these fictional fuckin’ heroes that the girls are reading about lately? It’s like these romance authors are trying to raise the bar for husbands everywhere!” Zoning his keen gaze back on Nick, he pointed an accusing finger. “And don’t think you’re off the hook just because you sail your boat in another ocean. Nuh uh. Apparently gay erotica is on the rise as well with the ladies and gents. Karen left her kindle on the table the other day and before I realized what I was reading, I was learning how two men can get it on in the shower! And damn it, I was jealous of them,” he whined morosely.

  Even as his lips twitched at Nick’s horrified expression, Devil slammed his hand down against the table, the gold of his wedding ring flashing in the dim light. “Dammit, guys, we’re here because my sex life is in the shitter. First, I’m dealing with Molly’s insane insecurities about her body. Which, did I mention is completely fucking bonkers! I mean, honestly, how could she ever doubt how much I love her? She gave me a freaking child! What kind of ungrateful shmuck would I be if I got bent out of shape over a little cellulite and a few stretch marks?”

  “Please, God, tell me you didn’t say that to her,” Nick begged, his wide dark eyes widening as he turned toward his boss. “I’m homosexual as hell, but even I’m astute enough to realize you should never say that shit to a woman that’s just given birth. The hormones running through her body could take down an elephant, man!”

  “This is actually true,” Grant agreed with a bob of his head. “Medically speaking, she’s probably about as dangerous as Charles Manson circa 1972 at this post-pregnancy stage. Sleep lightly, my friend,” he advised blandly.

  “Hey, I’d finally gotten her past the point of wanting to do me harm and interested in doing something a whole lot more enjoyable than fighting last night. Like I said, clothes were off. Then, Mannie the Mood Killer arrived,” Devil grumbled with a heated look toward Nick. “Now, if I ever wanna see my wife naked again, I’ve gotta somehow fix your relationship, Santino. Now, how do you propose we do that?”

  “Hold up. I’m still a little unclear on why the hell you haven’t told your parents about your intended,” Grant interrupted with a frown. “You’re a successful, influential guy in your field. I mean, Devil, here… he only hires the best of the best. And you’re what? Twenty-eight? Thirty? Don’t you think it’s past time to step out of the closet? Aren’t you getting claustrophobic in there yet? And how in the hell can you be closeted when you’re engaged to somebody as openly flamboyant as Mannie?”

  Running a hand down his handsome face, Nick sighed. “It’s complicated.”

  “Then you should really work on simplifying it before you talk to Armando,” Devil warned evenly. “The one thing I know about that Latin lover of yours is that he hates being played for a fool, my man. And right now, he feels like the biggest sucker on the street. So, practice on us…pretend we’re Armando and talk this out.”

  “Oooohhh, role play. This’ll be fun,” Grant grunted, waving his empty glass in the air.

  “My parents are known to be a bit….difficult,” Nick began slowly as his fingers nervously toyed with the frayed edge of the paper napkin underneath his glass.

  Devil couldn’t help his dry laugh. Hearing Nick’s description of the uptight, judgmental people he’d met ten years ago at a charity benefit was enough to have him shaking his head in disgust. Those people weren’t difficult. Nick’s parental units (because calling them parents was too kind in his mind) were assholes, plain and simple. He still remembered how they’d looked down their noses at him. His biggest sin had been that he was a self-made man rather than a member of the old money set they preferred their son to associate with. The fact that he’d also been the proud grandson of poor Irish immigrants had only provided the icing on their judgy cake. While he and Nick had hit it off and began a lasting friendship, Nick’s parents had made him feel like an unwelcome interloper among their Country Club cronies. Devil would be lying if he said that he hadn’t taken extreme delight in hiring their talented son years later and relocating him hundreds of miles away from their Boston home. “I think difficult puts it a bit too mildly, bud,” Devil grunted, shaking his head as he frowned at the man he’d hired almost five years ago. “I met those folks that claim you as a son for thirty minutes over a decade ago and even I can call it like it is. Y
our parents are a pair of the biggest blue-blooded bigots on the Eastern Seaboard.”

  “Jesus, Dev! That’s a little harsh,” Grant winced, shooting a shocked look toward his friend.

  “No,” Nick denied. “Devil pretty much nailed it. They’re that horrible. That’s one of the biggest reasons I had for avoiding them the last several years. I mean, I knew I was gay back in college, but I never met someone that I could imagine a future with until I met Armando. Finding him was like finding the missing piece of myself, you know?”

  “Okay,” Devil muttered, “I do know, but you’re flirting perilously close to a chick conversation now…let’s dial it back a bit.”

  Nick glared at his boss. “God forbid we have a sensitive, meaningful conversation about our feelings.”

  “Amen to that,” Devil grunted as their waitress returned to their table with another round of drinks. Barely offering her a dismissive nod when she smiled flirtatiously at all of them before sashaying away, he growled, “Continue.”

  “I guess after Armando and I got serious I never wanted to inflict my uptight family on him. He’s already been through so much with his own relatives. I mean, my God, they disowned him when he came out to them. I’ve seen his face when he speaks about that time in his life. I didn’t want to put him through it with me. For God’s sake, my parents remember they have a son exactly twice a year: when they send me a card with a check at Christmas and when my mother makes her obligatory phone call the week of my birthday. I don’t know why the hell she’s calling early this year. My birthday is still a little over two weeks away. It was just bad luck that Mannie ever picked up that phone with her on the other end.”

  “Or, maybe it was fate all along,” Grant suggested.