by Alexa Land
All I Ever Wanted
by Alexa Land
The Firsts and Forever Series
Book Fourteen
U.S. Copyright 2017 by Alexa Land.
All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission in whole or in part of this publication is permitted without express written consent from the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either used fictitiously or are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, business establishments or locales is purely coincidental.
This gay romance contains adult language and sexually explicit material.
It is intended for ADULTS ONLY.
Books by Alexa Land Include:
Feral (prequel to Tinder)
The Tinder Chronicles (Tinder, Hunted and Destined)
And the Firsts and Forever Series:
1 Way Off Plan
2 All In
3 In Pieces
4 Gathering Storm
5 Salvation
6 Skye Blue
7 Against the Wall
8 Belonging
9 Coming Home
10 All I Believe
10.5 Hitman’s Holiday (novella)
11 The Distance
12 Who I Used to Be
13 Worlds Away
13.5 Armor (novella)
14 All I Ever Wanted
A Firsts and Forever Family Tree is located at the end of this book
Dedicated to:
Jenn K.
Thank you for your friendship, Jenn! I love you!
Jenn and I both live with chronic pain, and to her and everyone who’s struggling: know you’re not alone. Take it day by day, and even when it seems discouraging, please hold on to hope.
Special thanks and so much love to:
Jera
Melisha
Rianna
Kim
Jennifer
And thank you as always to
My Firsts & Forever Group on Facebook
Your friendship and support means
the world to me.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
The Firsts & Forever Family Tree
Chapter One
“Hold on to your balls, boys, this is gonna be a scorcher!” There was a slightly maniacal gleam in Nana Dombruso’s eyes as she and I approached the enormous grill in her new outdoor kitchen. The three firefighters on our right looked nervous, as did the teens sitting beside them at the long, tile counter. That might possibly have had something to do with the metric ton of charcoal soaked in lighter fluid that rose out of Nana’s grill like Everest.
We were recording an episode of my eighty-something friend and mentor’s low-budget cable TV cooking show. For some reason, most episodes usually ended in disaster, which was probably why everyone seemed tense. Nana was actually a great cook and had owned a restaurant for a lot of years, but somehow pointing a camera at her was like opening a door during a hurricane. Chaos inevitably ensued.
The only people who didn’t seem nervous were Nana, her great-grandson Josh, who circled the scene with a handheld video camera and a look of gleeful anticipation, and his boyfriend Darwin, who was totally focused on filming with a GoPro attached to a remote-controlled quad-copter. The teens must have been action news reporters in another life to be so calm in the face of a potential inferno. That, or complete pyromaniacs.
Her guests from the San Francisco Fire Department had lent Nana one of their fireproof yellow coats and a helmet, both of which were absolutely enormous on her. The theme of the episode was firehouse cooking, and the gear was supposed to be just for fun. But everyone in the backyard was probably thinking the same thing I was: good call, dudes.
We all held our breath when Nana flipped down the face shield on the helmet and clicked her butane lighter a few times. Finally, the device ignited and she touched it to the charcoal in several places. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when all it did was produce a gentle smolder. I turned my attention to the prep station on my left to make sure we had everything we needed for grilling.
On the very long list of Nana’s virtues, one word was notably absent: patience. She watched the little flames for a few moments with a deep frown line between her brows, and then she exclaimed, “I don’t have time for this shit! I’ve got a show to film and hungry teenagers to feed!”
With that, she produced a bottle of lighter fluid from the pocket of her huge, yellow jacket. When I saw what she was doing, I started to hurry toward her as I called, “I wouldn’t do that, Nana.”
But she said, “You’re too cautious, River! What’s the worst that could happen?” With that, she pulled off the lid and tossed it over her shoulder, then dumped the contents onto the burning charcoal.
The resulting fireball was so massive that it actually made a whooshing sound as it shot up into the cloudless summer sky. I leaned back like I was dodging a bullet in The Matrix. A few feet away, Darwin pushed his black hair out of his eyes as he looked up from the tablet in his hands and exclaimed, “It actually formed a mushroom cloud! I thought it was going to take out the drone!”
Josh pronounced it, “Epic,” and continued to circle the grill, which had massive flames shooting from it.
Nana didn’t bat an eye at any of that. She just tossed aside the empty plastic bottle, brushed her hands together, and said, “While that burns down, Dylan can show us how to make his famous firehouse pasta salad. River, bring that basket of veggies and give him a hand.” I tore my gaze from the blazing barbeque and did as she asked, while two of the firefighters went to work trying to reduce the flames to a more reasonable level.
Dylan was a big African-American guy in his late twenties, with very short hair and a friendly smile that revealed a cute set of dimples. He and I went over to a second prep station beside the six-burner stovetop, and Nana said, “Stand real close together, so Joshie can get you both in the same shot.” She leaned toward me and wiggled her brows as she added, “Did I mention the fact that Dylan is single, and a gay homosexual?”
“Oh mah gawd,” I muttered embarrassedly. “Nana, you didn’t ask me to be your assistant today so you could play matchmaker, did you?”
She exclaimed, “Of course I did!”
Josh, a cute sixteen-year-old with shaggy, dark hair, thick glasses, and a smile that could only be described as devilish, positioned himself on the other side of the counter and pointed his camera at us. “Nana’s right, you two need to get real close for this shot,” he said. Then he gave me an exaggerated wink and flashed a thumbs-up. He was as subtle as his great-grandmother.
I glanced at Dylan and muttered, “Sorry about this.”
But the firefighter just grinned at me and said, “I’m not.” Oh lord.
“Alright,” Nana said, “let’s roll!” Dylan turned to the camera and started explaining his recipe for pasta salad with a Mediterranean twist. While he was talking, he lifted a boiling pot from the stovetop and drained and rinsed a couple pounds of corkscrew pasta in the sink. Meanwhile, I busied myself by dicing every vegetable in front of me. I didn’t care if that was how anyone actually wanted them. I just needed something to do besides standing around awkwardly.
Fortun
ately, the pasta salad came together quickly. I acted as Dylan’s sous chef while Nana hovered over us and said things like, “You know, River, the firehouse is just a couple blocks away. When we finish filming, you should go over there with Dylan so he can show you his equipment!” I burst out laughing at that one, despite myself.
He was a good sport about the whole thing and joked and flirted with me while he cooked. I just smiled and tried not to look as self-conscious as I felt. Finally, Dylan finished the recipe and served up the pasta dish to the teens sitting along the counter, who pronounced it, “Awesome.”
When Josh lowered the camera and said he needed to swap out the battery before the next segment, I saw an opportunity to escape and blurted, “I’ll be right back.” I cut across the huge backyard and went through the back door into Nana’s beautiful home. It was calm and quiet inside, and I got a bottle of water from the fridge and exhaled slowly as I leaned against the kitchen island.
Okay, so what the hell was wrong with me? Normally, I could flirt with the best of ‘em. Granted, I was out of practice, but come on! I’d been about as engaging as a cardboard cutout.
It wasn’t that I didn’t find Dylan attractive. You’d have to be dead to fail to notice how hot he was. The man was tall and well-built with huge arms and shoulders, and he had a dazzling smile. I’d even seen a little ink peeking out from under the sleeve of his tight, dark blue T-shirt, which ratcheted up the hotness factor another couple clicks. What sane person would go running from a sexy fireman with dimples and bulging biceps?
When Dylan joined me in the kitchen a few minutes later, I was halfway through the bottle of water and no closer to figuring out why I was so defective. He said, “Mrs. Dombruso sent me in here to give you a hand with whatever you’re doing.”
“Oh, good. I’m dying of embarrassment, so you can help by killing me with that butter knife on the counter.” He grinned at that, and I added, “I had no idea Nana was going to play matchmaker today. She’s so subtle about it, too!”
“That lady is something else, but her heart’s in the right place. I just found out she took in those four kids sitting at the counter. They were all homeless, and she’s letting them live with her while they wait for the paperwork to go through on a shelter she’s opening.”
“In all, there are seven kids staying here right now, including Darwin, her great-grandson’s boyfriend.”
“She mentioned most of them are gay. Did they end up homeless because their parents kicked them out?”
“In Darwin’s case, he moved out to get away from his disapproving family. They won’t accept the fact that he’s transgender. The rest were either disowned after they came out or ran away from terrible situations.”
“Well, thank God for people like Mrs. Dombruso.”
“For real.” I set aside my water bottle and asked, “How’d she rope you into appearing on her cooking show?”
“We were over here last week because some cupcakes went up in smoke and set off the fire alarm. Once the situation was under control, she asked if any of us were gay and single, and my buddy Malone pointed to me. He’s the guy with a goatee who’s out there barbequing chicken right now. Anyway, Mrs. Dombruso pretty much insisted that we come back and film an episode of her show, allegedly because firefighters are known to be good cooks. Now I think she might have had ulterior motives.” Dylan flashed his dimples.
“She probably saw the opportunity for a two-fer: reel in some guests for her show, and chuck me back out into the dating pool at the same time. I’m sorry you got chucked in there with me.”
“There’s no reason to apologize.” When I glanced at him, he smiled again and said, “I like your accent. Where are you from?”
“Northern Louisiana originally, but I’ve been in California a long time. It always surprises me when people comment on the way I talk, because I think I sound like everyone else.”
“You don’t, and that’s a good thing.” He leaned against the counter and studied me as he asked, “Why is Mrs. Dombruso so eager to hook you up with a date? You look like you’d do just fine on your own.”
“I was in a serious relationship that ended about a year ago. Now everyone thinks it’s time for me to move on and start dating again.”
“And what do you think?”
I shrugged. “They’re probably right. I mean, it’s not like I’ve been a hermit since the breakup. I do go out and meet people. I just haven’t actually started dating yet.”
He asked, “Want to do something about that on Saturday? I have the night off.”
“Thanks, but you don’t have to pity date me.”
“That’s most definitely not why I’m asking you out.” His eyes crinkled at the corners as his smile got wider.
My thoughts immediately went to my ex-boyfriend, and I felt a pang of guilt for even considering going out with anyone else. But that was ridiculous. Cole and I weren’t a couple anymore, and a lot of time had passed since we broke up. Maybe this was exactly what I needed to get over him once and for all.
Dylan was waiting for an answer, and I blurted, “Yeah, okay. Saturday night.”
After we exchanged numbers, he said, “Let’s get back outside. I feel like we should be keeping an eye on Mrs. Dombruso.”
Everything seemed to be under control when we returned to the backyard. A long table was set up about ten feet from the outdoor kitchen, and Heath, the blond firefighter, was placing a big platter of barbequed chicken in the center of it, between two baskets of cornbread. Meanwhile, Malone was at the counter, assembling something he called kicked up coleslaw, and Josh was filming. Nana had removed the big helmet and coat, and she daintily pushed back the sleeves of her yellow linen suit as she paid close attention to the recipe.
The teens were off to the side, grinning and whispering as they clustered around a tablet. I joined them and took a look at the incredible footage Darwin had captured with his boyfriend’s quad-copter and camera. The fireball seemed twice as big as I remembered it, and when played back in slow motion, it was as impressive as a Hollywood special effect. “We lucked out,” Darwin whispered, trying not to interrupt the show being filmed. “I just expected to get some shots of the new kitchen from the air. Who knew we’d end up with a giant fireball?”
Lucy, a tiny eighteen-year-old with crimson hair, said, “Well, since it’s Nana we’re talking about, the chances of a mega-catastrophe are always good. Actually, given how the other episodes of her show have gone, we got off easy this time.”
That would have been true, except for what happened next. Lucy glanced behind her and sneered as she exclaimed, “Oh gross. There’s a seagull picking at the chicken! That’s like, cannibalism or something!”
When Nana saw what was going on, she rushed over to defend the picnic lunch, waving her arms at the big, white bird on the table as she yelled, “Shoo, you sicko! That’s your cousin!”
The seagull flew away, only to be replaced a moment later by two bolder gulls. Nana yelled, “Oh no you don’t, you feathered freaks!” In the next instant, the rest of the flock descended on the table. As about twenty big birds flapped and fought each other for the food, Nana exclaimed, “Holy shit, it’s a fucked up feeding frenzy!”
She then decided to snatch a drumstick out of the beak of a particularly large gull. It didn’t give up without a fight, though. Nana dug in her low-heeled pumps and put her back into it while the bird flapped its wings and tried to fly backwards. Finally, the drumstick gave way like a wishbone. Apparently the gull got his wish, because he flew off with the big, meaty end while Nana was left holding a bare bone. I had to wonder what she’d thought she was going to do with the pecked up drumstick, even if she’d gotten it away from the bird.
My breath caught when a piercingly loud air horn echoed through the yard. All the startled birds took off at once. In the next instant, we found out where the expression ‘you scared the shit out of me’ came from, as the entire flock left behind a lovely parting gift. I covered my head with my
arms as poop rained down over the yard and its inhabitants.
After the gulls were gone, I looked around at the carnage. Almost everyone had gotten pelted with poop. I ran my hands over my elbow-length hair and inspected myself head to toe. I’d been fairly lucky, since just a sleeve had taken a hit. I pulled off my Hawaiian shirt and set it aside. Coincidentally, the T-shirt I was wearing underneath sported a drawing of a seagull, above the name of a local surf shop. Nana, on the other hand, had gotten blasted and was cussing a blue streak.
The only person who’d gotten off crap-free was Dylan, who stood under a nearby palm tree. Apparently his priority had been to save the big bowl of coleslaw, which he’d covered with a dish towel and was cradling in his arms. When I raised an eyebrow at him, he grinned and said, “It’s really good slaw.”
Nana turned to her grandson Dante, who was standing just outside the back door. Her big, black handbag was slung over his arm, and as he returned the air horn to her purse, he muttered, “Oops.”
The teens looked stunned. But when Jayden, the youngest of the group, started laughing, the rest did, too. He ran over and turned on the garden hose, then quickly rinsed himself off before directing it at his big brother Joely.
Cleaning off the bird poop turned into a huge water fight. A freckled, red-haired kid named Emmet grabbed a couple water bottles and dumped one on Darwin. Josh started to run away, but Darwin caught him around the waist and pulled him into the fray while Josh laughed and shrieked. Never one to be out-teenagered, Nana rushed into the middle of the action and exclaimed, “I got a shit 9-1-1! Help me out, kids!” Jayden sprayed her down with the hose while Lucy christened Nana with a water bottle.
Nana’s husband Ollie came in through the side gate, and when he saw what was going on, he ducked back out again. But then he reappeared a moment later and ran to Nana with a second hose. He handed it to her as Jayden yelled, “Kids versus seniors, it’s on!” With that, the water battle kicked into high gear, and the firefighters and I decided to run for cover.
