by Tara Lain
Rod’s heart skipped. Paint Hunter? Jesus. And the woman called him “darling.” Shit! But of course Rod called everyone darling, so maybe it didn’t mean anything. Maybe.
That melodious voice laughed. “Give me a break, kid. Don’t let the guys hear you calling me beautiful. Us manly men are handsome or nothing.”
Jerry chimed in. “Hey, man, I think you’re beautiful too. Or, uh, handsome.”
Oh, Jerry, you don’t think.
After a pause, Hunter said, “Uh, thanks. Look, if the artist comes back, just tell him I’m a new fan and I think his work is brilliant.”
“Sure, man. No problem.”
Rod let out a breath and leaned against the wall. A fan. The guy is a fan. He thinks my work is brilliant. OMG.
“Hey, Rodney, what you doing?” His friend Harry was walking by.
Rod waved the program. “Just checking the exhibitors.”
Harry laughed as he continued moving. “You ought to know that by heart.”
Yeah. He did. He took another deep breath and walked around the corner to his booth. “Hey, Jerry. Sorry I took so long.”
“Oh my God, oh my God, Rod, you missed it, man. The most beautiful guy on two feet. I’ve never seen anyone like him. Fuck, man, I wanted to hold him down and lick him all over. Oh, Rod, this guy is so great. I tried to keep him here so you could see him. I gotta see him again, I just gotta.”
Rod held up a hand. “Okay, I get it. You liked some guy.” Shit, Jerry never got excited about much.
“Not just some guy, Rod. This guy was, like, heaven, man.”
“Was he gay?” Might as well keep pretending.
Jerry looked like someone killed his puppy. “Nah, he had a chick with him. Really pretty. Damn, why are all the good ones straight?”
“I think straight women say, ‘Why are all the good ones gay?’”
Jerry slumped on the tall stool, then brightened as apparently a thought struck. “Maybe I could turn him?”
Rod had to laugh. “You don’t usually like to work that hard. You think he’ll consider being gay for you?”
“Oh man, dude, it would be so worth it. This guy is special.”
Rod adjusted the cards on the small plant stand beneath his paintings and glanced at Jerry. Talk about your gorgeous guys. Jerry had streaked blond hair to his shoulders surrounding an effortlessly beautiful face with full lips, wide eyes, and a cute, turned-up nose. The classic boy next door gone surfer dude. He wasn’t exactly an intellectual giant, but no one cared. Jerry was warm and fun. Friendly and unchallenging. He was great, and Rod enjoyed having him around. Yeah, and Jerry had even made him some money. Two paintings of Jerry in the buff had gone for top dollar. “Hey, darling, I owe you for booth sitting for me. Can I take you to dinner tomorrow?”
Jerry unfolded himself from the high stool. “Man, you don’t have to do anything for me. You know you help me out so much.”
“Indulge me, darling.”
“Okay, yeah. That’d be great.”
“We’ll go over to the Mexican place you like.”
“Cooool. See ya tomorrow.” Jerry ambled through the knots of people toward the festival’s exit.
“Great, Jerry. Yeah.” Rod turned back to the guest book and ran his fingers over Hunter Fallon’s signature. Did he have time to walk past the fire station before karate tonight?
BIRD’S TAIL. Single whip. Wave hands like clouds. Single whip. High pat on horse. Hunter is gorgeous. Concentrate, Rod. Kick left heel. Push down. Who was that woman? Never saw him with a woman before. Pay attention. Needle at the sea bottom. What an ass. Flash, turn, deflect, cross hands, close. Shit.
He peeked up from his palms-together position. Master Chen’s frown relaxed, his forehead smoothing. “Now that we are focused from our Tai Chi”—he flicked a glance at Rodney—“Rodney, will you lead us through the katas? Please give our new students special attention.”
Rod glanced at the two new guys in the back row. Wow, one was cute. He bowed low. “Yes, sensei.” He started through the prescribed forms, and the twenty or so students followed him while Master Chen observed. He might be old, but Chen was still a master in every respect. He let Rod lead the class in all but the new material, but nobody better sell him short. Though short he was, two inches shorter than Rod’s five foot six.
But Chen could take down the biggest tyrants, which inspired Rod, though they couldn’t be more different. Chen’s smooth black hair was cut short to his head, and he wore clothing to match. Rod had bleached his hair white—streaked with pink this week—wore gold and silver hoops down both ears, and, when he wasn’t in a gi, favored a touch of purple and gold. He knew he and Chen looked funny together in the class, but Rod always said contrast made for great art.
Once the students were moving through their forms, he went to the back of the group, where the two new men were having a go. A short, stocky young guy in bike shorts and a tank top flailed about like a bad imitation of martial arts movies. Crouching tiger, hidden raccoon. Beside him, the cutie patootie moved his tall, lean body, dressed in a gi with a brown belt, through a series of forms close enough to the katas they practiced that Rod could leave him alone for a while. He grinned at the tall guy, who gave him a big smile back. Cu-tie. He turned his attention back to the flailing rodent. “Okay, let’s get organized.”
After fifteen minutes, during which he knew Chen and the cute guy were trying hard not to laugh, Rod managed to get the overenthusiastic recruit under control enough that he might not hurt himself or others. Rod walked to the front of the room and ran through the practice the students needed to do at home. Everyone sat to listen to a short discussion with Master Chen, and then class was over.
Man, warm. Maybe a cool drinkie before he went home. He waved at the students as they filed out and started pulling clothes from his gym bag.
A voice came from beside the front door. “Hey, is that guy who was teaching us a fag or what?” The voice had to be the flailing raccoon, because Rod didn’t recognize it.
Silence, during which his heart beat fast, but he kept sorting through his clothing just to see what would happen.
A voice he recognized as one of his more alpha male students rang out. “His hair may be pink, but his belt is black. I’d be real careful what I said to Rodney Mansfield.”
“Hey, no offense meant.” The raccoon sounded worried.
The other guy laughed. “It’s not me you have to convince.”
The voices faded out the door. Shit. Little pipsqueak. Of course, not his fault, really. Rod had learned a long time ago that since people were going to assume he was gay anyway, he might as well flaunt it. Get there first. He wondered if the guy had the balls to come back to class.
He stripped off his top and folded it into his gym bag. His favorite bright purple David Bowie T-shirt would be a better weight for the warm night.
“My, aren’t we fit.”
What? Oh, cute new guy. Rod turned to let Mr. Patootie get a good look at his muscled abs. He might not have much to show, but what he had was purr-fect. “I try to stay in shape.”
“You succeed.”
Hmm. Was he flirting?
The guy had a lopsided grin below gold wire-rimmed glasses that made him look smart and cute. “I’m Bill, by the way. Bill Abraham.”
They shook hands. The guy’s palm was big and warm. “Rod Mansfield. You did well. Have you studied long?” He pulled the T-shirt over his head.
“About three years. I just moved here from Northern California, and I heard about your studio. Thought I’d give it a try.” Another lopsided grin. “And you didn’t have to put on the T-shirt for my sake.”
Okay, full-on flirting. Kind of nice. “Figured I’d give the world a break. You live in Laguna?”
“Yeah, I got a little place down in South Laguna. I’m from Berkeley, and I decided if I had to live in Orange County, it better be in the one gay-friendly town.”
Rod stuck out a hip, planted his fist on it, and lispe
d. “What? You thought I might know something about that?”
Bill delivered a sheepish smile. “I don’t want to be presumptuous.”
“Yeah, yeah, I don’t exactly have straight alpha male stamped on my chest.”
“And a very pretty chest it is.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere.”
“Will it get you to have dinner with me sometime this week? Friday?”
Hmm. The guy seemed nice enough. Shit, why was he hesitating? Afraid a date would cut into his mooning-over-Hunter time? “Friday’s a really busy night at the festival. I should be there.”
“Festival? Oh, like, the art thing?”
That was a strike. “Yes, I’m a painter. What do you do?”
“I’m a professor of mathematics at UC Irvine. They offered me a great position, or I’d never have left Berkeley.”
“I can’t add eight and nine.”
“Let’s start at one plus one. How about Thursday?” Again the eye crinkles. Definitely cute.
“Okay. I’ll find someone to watch my booth.”
“Great. How about Rick’s at eight o’clock?”
“I’ll meet you there, but you better give me a cellie ’cause life is unpredictable.” He pulled out his phone.
Bill took it and keyed in a number. “See? It all adds up.”
More from Tara Lain
Rand McIntyre settles for good enough. He loves his small California ranch, raising horses, and teaching riding to the kids he adores—but having kids of his own and someone to love means coming out, and that would jeopardize everything he’s built. Then, despite his terror of flying, he goes on a holiday to Hana, Hawaii, with his parents and meets the dark and mysterious Kai Kealoha, a genuine Hawaiian cowboy. Rand takes to Kai’s kid brother and sister as much as he drools over Kai, but the guy sports more prickles than a horned toad and more secrets than the exotic land he comes from.
Kai’s earned his privacy and lives to protect his “kids.” He ought to stay away from the big, handsome cowboy for everyone’s sake—but since the guy’s just a haole on a short vacation, how much damage can he do? When all of Kai’s worst fears and Rand’s darkest nightmares come true at once, there’s not much chance for two cowboys who can’t—or won’t—come out.
An Aloysius Tale
When Killian Barth, history professor, meets Blaine Genneau, quantum physicist, they ignite their own big bang. But Killian can’t pursue a physics professor—or a human. As the most powerful male witch in ten generations, Killian must bolster his dying race by reproducing—despite the fact that he’s gay.
Even a fling with Blaine is out of the question, because Killian has been told sex with humans drains his power. But if that’s true, why can young human Jimmy Janx dissolve spoons with the power of his mind? If Killian can sort through the lies he’s been fed, he’ll still face his biggest obstacle—convincing rational scientist Blaine to believe in magic.
With his ancient and powerful cat familiar, Aloysius, on his shoulder, Killian brings the lightning against deceit and greed to save Blaine from danger and prove love is the greatest power of them all.
He'll marry the maid to get $50 million but a secret could queer the deal.
Taylor Fitzgerald needs a last-minute bride.
On the eve of his twenty-fifth birthday, the billionaire’s son discovers that despite being gay, he must marry a woman before midnight or lose a fifty-million-dollar inheritance. So he hightails it to Las Vegas… where he meets the beautiful maid Ally May.
There’s just one rather significant problem: Ally is actually Alessandro Macias, son of a tough Brazilian hotel magnate. But if Ally keeps pretending to be a girl for a little while longer, is there a chance they might discover this marriage is tailor-made?
A Love in Laguna Novel
How can you be twenty-five and not know you’re gay? Billy Ballew runs from that question. A high school dropout, barely able to read until he taught himself, Billy’s life is driven by his need to help support his parents as a construction worker, put his sisters through college, coach his Little League team, and not think about being a three-time loser in the engagement department. Being terrified of taking tests keeps Billy from getting the contractor’s license he so desires, and fear of his mother’s judgment blinds Billy to what could make him truly happy.
Then, in preparation for his sister’s big wedding, Billy meets Shaz—Chase Phillips—a rising-star celebrity stylist who defines the word gay. To Shaz, Billy embodies everything he’s ever wanted—stalwart, honest, brave—but even if Billy turns out to be gay, he could never endure the censure he’d get for being with a queen like Shaz. How can two men with so little in common find a way to be together? Can the Stylist of the Year end up with the Knight of Ocean Avenue?
A Love in Laguna Novel
Jim Carney has a full-time job—running from himself. Since he walked out on his wealthy family at sixteen because he’d wrecked his best friend’s life over some yaoi graphic novels, Jim has lived a macho, blue-collar existence of too much booze and too little responsibility. Then Billy Ballew, the man Jim most admires, gives Jim a chance to come through as his construction supervisor. For once, Jim is determined to make someone proud. Then Jim goes in for a physical for his new job, and his yaoi dream comes to life in the form of cardiologist Ken Tanaka. Jim discovers he has two heart problems—a wonky mitral valve and a serious attraction to his doctor. But Ken is a major player, and Jim might be just a notch on the doc's stethoscope. To Ken, Jim is unforgettable—but the living embodiment of his traditional family’s worst nightmares. How come the minute Jim decides to be responsible, he finds himself taking care of his kid brother, getting a proposal from a wealthy woman, making a deal with the devil, and winding up in the hospital—when all he really wants is the Knave of Broken Hearts?
TARA LAIN writes the Beautiful Boys of Romance in LGBT romance novels that star her unique, charismatic heroes. Her best-selling novels have garnered awards for Best Series, Best Contemporary Romance, Best Erotic Romance, Best Ménage, Best LGBT Romance, and Best Gay Characters, and Tara has been named Best Writer of the Year in the LRC Awards. Readers often call her books “sweet,” even with all that hawt sex, because Tara believes in love and her books deliver on happily-ever-after. In her other job, Tara owns an advertising and public relations firm. Her love of creating book titles comes from years of manifesting ad headlines for everything from analytical instruments to semiconductors. She does workshops on both author promotion and writing craft. She lives with her soulmate husband and her soulmate dog (who’s a little jealous of all those cat pictures Tara posts on FB) in Laguna Niguel, California, near the seaside towns where she sets a lot of her books. Passionate about diversity, justice, and new experiences, Tara says that on her tombstone, it will say “Yes!”
E-mail: [email protected]
Website: www.taralain.com
Blog: www.taralain.com/blog
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By Tara Lain
Cowboys Don’t Come Out
Spell Cat
Volley Balls
DREAMSPUN DESIRES
#5 – Taylor Maid
LONG PASS CHRONICLES
Outing the Quarterback
Canning the Center
Tackling the Tight End
LOVE IN LAGUNA
Knight of Ocean Avenue
Knave of Broken Hearts
Prince of the Playhouse
Lord of a Thousand Steps
PENNYMAKER TALES
Sinders and Ash
Driven Snow
Beauty, Inc.
Sinders and Ash and Beauty, Inc. (Print On
ly Anthology)
TALES OF THE HARKER PACK
The Pack or the Panther
Wolf in Gucci Loafers
Winter’s Wolf
The Pack or the Panther & Wolf in Gucci Loafers ((Print Only Anthology)
Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS
www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Published by
DREAMSPINNER PRESS
5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886 USA
www.dreamspinnerpress.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Volley Balls
© 2017 Tara Lain.
Cover Art
© 2017 Reese Dante.
http://www.reesedante.com
Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.
All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or www.dreamspinnerpress.com.
