Mine. It kept repeating in my head until I finally understood what it meant. It was a lot to grapple with. Too much. I didn’t react to it as well as I should have.
“Someone needs to look after it. You nearly gave it away to that weaselly fucker, and you didn’t even like him.”
“I liked him enough to invite him over.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you’d care that he was a cheater. I had no idea you were good with being a piece on the side.”
“Of course I care! All I’m saying is I can deal with my relationships on my own.”
“Relationships? You’ve never had a relationship. Have you ever even sucked a dick? You’re wound so tight I’m surprised he got your shirt off.”
I’m not going to lie. Things got progressively worse after that, until Miller had enough and decided to kick me out as well.
I was pissed and frustrated, but even then I knew I’d crossed a line. And I’d done it because I couldn’t face what I was feeling for him. Not at the time. And backwards as it sounds, I couldn’t come back to make things right until I made sure I knew that it was real.
“Fine,” I finally tell him. “We won’t talk about it. But I’m sorry for hurting you. And for not coming back sooner.”
He pats my arm and offers me a weak version of the pouty smile I love. “Let’s start fresh this morning, okay? What happened before, everything that happened last night is just erased. Clean slate. Deal?”
I frown. He wants to erase everything that happened last night?
There’s a tinge of panic in his expression that gives me my answer. I’m not sure how I feel about that but I won’t push it. Yet. “Clean slate.”
He beams in relief. “Great. Now go shower while I clean this kitchen before Royal gets here. The place is a mess.”
It isn’t. But Miller is a little OCD about keeping things clean. “Sounds good.”
As I head up the stairs, I’m trying to decide how to approach things now that I’m back to square one with this clean slate idea of his. I know last night was a little out of control. Miller was surprised and unprepared. He never handles that well.
Aurelia once told me that Miller’s need to control certain aspects of his life had to do with her illness. “I’ve been all he’s ever had. All he knows. He can’t heal this thing inside me. He can’t stop it. So what he can fix, what he can control, he must.”
His house. His job. His nice reliable Hyundai. The retirement savings account he started when he was seventeen. Miller Day is the most responsible, in-control thirty-year-old I know.
On the flip side, there’s me. I never thought about the future, never had to consider saving for a rainy day and never had to worry about anything or anyone but myself.
Until Miller.
Him, I worry about. I never stop. I want things for him I’d never consider for myself, and most importantly, I want to be the one to give those things to him.
So if he needs control, or needs to go slow, I’ll do the best I can to accommodate him. As long as I get to be there when he’s finally ready to let go.
Miller Day is mine.
That’s why I never trusted Robbie. Why I never liked the idea of Miller’s neighbors setting him up while I was gone. It’s why, no matter how far away I fly, I keep coming back home.
Now I’ve just got to convince Miller that I not only want him after a lifetime of playing for the other team, but I want the whole ballgame. Home, family…and apparently a dog.
I have to prove to him I can be trusted with his heart.
Tall order, I know.
Chapter Four
His Big, Hard Hammer
“Gripping hammers, nailing wood… I had no idea carpentry was so phallic, did you?” Royal asks, staring at the large metal nail gun in his fist.
My hammer slips, missing the nail and leaving a small chip in the cedar plank that I’m praying Miller doesn’t see when he gets back from the vet with the dog.
When I glare over at Royal, he grins. “See, Brendan—that’s why Miller gave me the nail gun and you got the hammer. Your aim sucks.”
“Thanks for clearing that up. Would it make you happy if I nailed my thumb to the damn deck?”
Royal rolls his shoulders, his snug t-shirt straining against his large frame. “You think I’m still upset about last night? I’m not. Let it go, man. That’s my theme song. Anyway, Austen’s giving all of us a chance to make it up to her tomorrow. A do-over, she says. I was just making a simple observation.”
And I’m still thinking about my dick. Which instantly makes me wonder what’s taking Miller so long. “Yeah, okay. A do-over?”
Royal points his nail gun somewhat menacingly in my direction. “Your answer is yes. Whatever it is, you’re going. You owe me that.”
I know I do. And I don’t care if she wants us to get pedicures, test out some of her famous facial scrubs or go skydiving in the buff. Royal has always been there for me, so I can take one for the team. “We’ll be there.”
He gives me a sideways glance. “We? So you and Miller are good now? All made up and friends again?”
“Yeah. We’re good.”
Only I want more than friendship and I’m not sure how to make that happen.
I thought about talking to him about that clean slate again, but by the time I got out of the shower, Miller was outside with Royal, walking him through hanging the floor joists in the frame he’d already built for the deck. I couldn’t help but laugh as I watched Miller hand Royal the nail gun. The big Samoan held the foreign tool by its air hose, dangling it in front of him like a dead snake.
“So this is what a nail gun looks like.”
I watched as Miller gently took the dangerous implement back, turned it up right and stuck into Royal’s big palm.
“Maybe...” He looked around like he was searching for something, “...maybe we should practice on that first?” he suggested, pointing to something out of my line of sight. Probably a piece of scrap wood.
“Like this?”
I heard the distinctive snap/hiss of the nail gun firing a nail into wood.
“Wahoo! Holy crap, this is awesome!”
Snap! Snap!
“Yeah, kill that bad board, big guy,” Miller chuckled, causing me to snort the water I’d been drinking up my nose.
I’m glad they get along so well. Miller deserves to have a big group of people who care about him. A family.
Royal sets down his new favorite toy and crosses his arms, whistling until he gets my attention.
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh I’m just fine. Great really. But what’s up with you, Buttercup?”
I waggle my eyebrows. “I was thinking about how adorable you look with that nail gun, sweetheart.”
“How could you not? But seriously, tell me. My brother gives advice for a living. It’s in my blood.”
Raising one eyebrow, I line up another plank to nail down. “You aren’t blood relatives.”
“Tell me.”
This will be my first test. Royal is openminded, his brother is gay and he’s an all-around decent guy. On the other hand, we’ve picked up women together. Countless women. He knows more about my appetites than Miller would want to.
How will he react to my late-in-life change of heart?
I open my mouth and Royal holds up his hand. “Wait. Don’t say it. No way.”
“What?”
“No. Way.”
I scowl. “I’m not starting this with you. Just tell me.”
Royal grins at my irritation. “Was Austen right, buddy? Is the legendary Brendan Kinkaid now down for the D?”
“How would she know? And who even says that? It’s dick, not D. Use your damn words.”
But he’s too busy studying my guilty expression to worry about words. He lets out a loud whoop, grabbing me around the waist and lifting me off my feet like a rag doll. It feels like a bear attack. Or how I imagine a bear attack would feel if it was in an unusually affectionate mood.<
br />
“Put me down, lunatic. What’s gotten into you?”
Not that he hasn’t done this before, but it’s usually reserved for when his team wins the Superbowl or he gets lucky in Iceland.
Royal sets me down, the bright smile taking up miles of his face. “Just being supportive, brother. Am I the first person you’ve come out to? I mean, other than Miller. I’m honored.”
I take a step back, glancing toward the empty house and the next-door neighbors’ windows. “Keep it down, I’m not coming out.”
“No D?” Does Royal look disappointed?
I sigh. “Fine, yes, but I’m only into one and he doesn’t know about it yet.”
He might suspect something after last night. No wait. He’s erased it on his stupid slate.
At least he seemed to be trying like hell to pretend it never happened.
“We haven’t been alone long enough for us to talk, but I’m working up to it.” Confessing is easier than I thought it was going to be. It feels good to say it out loud. It feels right.
It feels—“What are you doing?”
Royal has his phone out, his wide thumbs flying across the screen.
“Texting my brother for you. Luckily, he and Carter were invited to a Finn thing this weekend. I hope he doesn’t drive them too crazy with his new book idea. He keeps saying he wants to do a study on their family, all very scientific, of course. His husband doesn’t think they’ll appreciate it.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
Royal winks at me. “His study? It seems an unusually high percentage of the men in that family like the D. I know, I know, use my words. They like dick. Penis. Anal. Cock and balls. Happy now?”
“Overjoyed.”
“Anyway, between my brother and that crowd, someone should have some good advice on how to woo a guy in two weeks.”
I’m not sure whether my heart is racing out of insult or panic. “So when I said keep it down, what you actually heard was ‘start a newsletter and tell everyone’? And since when do I need help?”
He slips his phone in his back pocket and shakes his head sadly. “You don’t know.”
“Know what, smartass?”
“How to romance. You’ve never actually done it. For years you’ve glided by on that rich-boy-wants-to-be-bad, kinky-Peter Pan charm of yours. But that only attracts the kind of woman who wants one night of dirty sex before she settles down with the boy next door.”
“Wow, man. I think that drew blood. But don’t sugarcoat it to spare my feelings.” I turn and sit down heavily on the wooden steps that still need to be attached.
Royal drops his chin to his chest and sighs. “Look, I know you’re a great guy. But that’s not what you show to the women trying to get in your cockpit. Things have been pretty easy for you in the getting laid department, but in all the years we’ve known each other, you never hinted at wanting more.”
I could say neither has he, but that wouldn’t be true. Royal has always had as much, if not more, success with women than I have, but he never hid that he was open to falling in love. Even actively searching for it. He’s just one of those guys who screams future soccer dad. He was built to have a family.
I was born to be a commodity, and I guess I’ve always acted accordingly.
“Do you think this is a bad idea?” That I’m not good enough for Miller because of my past?
Royal frowns. “Hell no, it’s a great idea. It kind of makes sense, now that I think about it. He’s the only one you’ve ever talked about on a regular basis. But the fact is, you have a track record that wouldn’t look so hot on paper, and Miller is the opposite of what you used to call your type. He isn’t female, he isn’t easy, and unless I’m mistaken, you’d actually like to keep him.”
When I nod, he says, “Good. So I did the right thing with the SOS text, because you’ll need all the help you can get.”
He doesn’t know the half of it. “Miller’s never…”
The loose stairs jostle and I’m forced to slide over to the edge as Royal sits down beside me. “Never? As in…never? Didn’t he have a boyfriend the last time you were in town?”
“That fight I told you about? That was me clocking the lying little shit and making sure things never got that far.”
“Damn, son. So that’s what all that cockblock rambling was about last night. I knew Miller was a bit of homebody but… You’ve got your hands full, don’t you?”
“Yep.” I tilt my head in his direction. “So do you, by the way.”
“You mean Austen?” Royal rubs his hands down his thick thighs and nods soberly. “I’m aware. I think the Waynes might be the biggest hurdle. I’m used to big families, but Matilda has always let us do our own thing—unless it infringed on someone else’s rights or hurt the environment, you know? Hers…”
I pat his back supportively. “Well, I think they’ll love you, but you shouldn’t be wasting JD on me, man. He’s right there in the belly of the beast. Austen has a brother and a sister who married into that Finn family right? Tell JD to put in a good word for you.”
Royal snorts. “You think I’m giving him that kind of ammunition after all the grief I’ve given him over the years?”
“You haven’t told him about Austen? What does he think you’re doing in town?”
“Saving you from yourself.” Royal smirks when I try to push him off the steps. The man is as immovable as a mountain. “What? It isn’t a lie. Especially now that I know how you’ll be spending your surprise time off. You ready to tell me about that yet?”
“No.”
“Fine. I’ll find out eventually. Until then, think of me as that cricket on your shoulder.”
“Big damn cricket,” I mutter, making him laugh.
“Yes I am. And connected via text to an entire colony of gay or gay-adjacent crickets who can guide you through the perils of loving a socially awkward man-virgin with impressive carpentry skills and nosy neighbors.”
As if on cue, an old Madonna song starts to blast out of Diane and Heather’s open windows, making me think someone heard at least part of our conversation.
Like a Virgin.
“Jesus.” I laugh and rub my hand over my face. “Why am I doing this to myself? Why are you? Remember when we had no one to answer to? When our biggest and only concern was what exciting destination we would fly to next?”
Royal’s dark eyes sparkle as he stands and tugs me to my feet, slapping my hammer back into my hand. “Everybody needs a direction, Kinkaid. And a solid place to land. Now let’s get some of this work done so we can impress your future husband. From what I can tell, Day takes this shit seriously.”
***
“Rub it, Miller. Please. Oh God. Deeper.”
“If I go any deeper I’ll— Yeah, that’s a big one.”
I wish this was as hot as it sounded. But despite the pain radiating from my neck to the middle of my back, I’m still turned on enough to be poking a hole in his mattress with my erection.
As long as I don’t roll over, we should be good.
Fuck, I really want to roll over.
I don’t think this was what Royal had in mind when he thought we could impress Miller with my handy skills. I’m not a moron. I have mastered the tech manuals of every bird I’ve ever flown and can do some pretty fancy math in my head. I understand the ins and outs of finance, thanks to the lectures that passed for dinner conversation in my childhood home. And I’ve been told I’m gifted with my tongue.
But I am unquestionably subpar when it comes to the fine art of backyard deck building.
Wasn’t I the one who helped start the first three projects on this house?
Yes, you were, man with fragile ego. And you steamed off that ugly wallpaper like an Alpha dog champ. Feel better now?
“Oh God, right there,” I moan when Miller digs into one particularly stubborn knot with his fingers of steel. Who has fingers that strong?
The massage therapist you want to nail.
Miller shifts closer. I feel his hips against mine as he hovers over my back to apply more pressure. “This is my fault. I shouldn’t have left you two alone to go to the vet. I mean, it’s a good thing I did, since Dix needed new heartworm medication, but I shouldn’t have let you work on the deck while you were still hung over.”
When a man talks about heartworms and you still want to fuck him? That’s got to be love.
“I was fine.”
Miller scoffed. “Obviously. Your neck’s been hurting since you woke up, hasn’t it? And you let Royal egg you on. He doesn’t know his own strength.”
Oh, Royal knows his own strength. He just doesn’t realize that I’m only human, with a fragile back that’s many, many years older than his.
Not that many.
“I had to do it,” I grunt. “He was making me look bad, carrying all those planks over his shoulder.”
“Royal would make the Hulk look bad, and he’d probably whistle a happy tune while he was doing it. You, on the other hand, should know better.”
“What about our years of friendship tells you I should know better?”
But I really should. I just couldn’t help myself. I heard Miller pull into the driveway, glanced over at my shirtless, Bunyan-esque buddy and felt the need to step up my game.
Dropping my sweat-soaked shirt on the ground, I reached for the next slab of cedar and imagined Miller looking through the window. He’d see me and not be able to look away. Maybe he’d slip his hand under those easy access sweatpants of his and stroke himself while I worked to build him a deck I could fuck him on.
That fantasy was abruptly cut short when the crick in my neck morphed into the kind of immobilizing pain that would have made a lesser man cry.
No one saw me cry, so it didn’t happen.
“There,” Miller grunts while I feel a firm, painful pressure.
A sudden rush of release, almost euphoria, hits me and I moan out loud. “Yes. Oh, thank God. Damn, I swear your hands should be bronzed for this.”
He chuckles. “Sure, but if they were, they wouldn’t be able to help you when this happens again. And we’re not done yet.”
Two Weeks -kindle Page 5
