CHAPTER TWELVE

“How do you feel about going up to Napa this weekend?”

Ryan looked up from where he was checking his email. Wyatt’s head was still mostly in the fridge, as he put together a quick lunch for them.

“I feel good about it,” Ryan said. “No plans here. Did you have something in mind?”

“This weekend is one of Bastian Aquino’s famous invite-only brunches at Terroir. I promised my nana I’d take her, and Tony, my brother, is going too. I could add you to the list, if you wanted.”

“Does this mean I can finally meet the Bastard?”

Wyatt laughed as he began to spread pesto on one side of the bread. “I’m not sure I want you meeting him if you’re going to call him by his infamous nickname. He’s killed people for less. But yes, he does generally make a pass through the dining room to take his allotment of praise.”

“Excellent, I’d love to come and meet your nana. Plus, I have an idea for something else we can do in Napa.” Ryan had a feeling Wyatt wasn’t going to like it as much as he was; Wyatt didn’t have the same craving for adrenaline that Ryan had.

But Wyatt kept piling sliced turkey and cheese on the sandwiches like he wasn’t concerned. Of course Ryan had discovered that when Wyatt was cooking, even if it was as simple as building some paninis, he was usually absorbed in his task.

“Napa Skydive is up there,” Ryan threw out casually, leaning back, and taking a long drink of his iced tea. “I thought we could give it a try.”

The shocked, apprehensive look in Wyatt’s eyes was priceless as he looked up at him.

“Oh, it’ll be fun,” Ryan teased. “You’re gonna love it.”

“I’m not an adrenaline junkie like you,” Wyatt protested.

“Yeah, you play it downright safe when we surf,” Ryan teased. Like just this morning Wyatt hadn’t been attempting tricks that Ryan wouldn’t even try. “I’ll tell that to the gigantic bruise you’re probably going to be sporting tomorrow.”

“I already told you,” Wyatt said as he slid the sandwiches into the pan, and weighed them down with another big heavy skillet, “I did that on purpose. So you’d kiss every inch of it.”

Ryan couldn’t help but laugh. Hanging out with Wyatt was fun and always so unexpected. If he’d known that hanging out with your hookups was like this, he would’ve been tempted to do it before. But then, he had a feeling there weren’t many Wyatt Blakes out there in the world.

If he’d ever run across someone like him before, Ryan wanted to believe that he’d have realized it right away, the exact same way he had this time, and done whatever he could not to lose him.

The adjustment to being together, even if it was fake, had seemed pretty smooth, despite his sudden anxiousness the night of the party, and so much of that had been because of Wyatt. He was calm and collected, and endlessly supportive. He made doing this easy, and every hour they spent together further convinced him of the truth he’d known from the first moment they’d met: he could only have this fake relationship if it was with Wyatt. He couldn’t have done it with anybody else.

“I guess if you come to brunch with my nana and my brother and endure not calling Aquino the Bastard to his face, I could skydive. Besides, isn’t that super safe now? And don’t they hook you up to the instructor?”

“Luckily for you,” Ryan said, “I’ve got enough hours to be considered an instructor. We can get hooked together.”

Wyatt’s response was a smoky, hot look shot from his cool, blue eyes. “How did you guess that’s my favorite position?”

Ryan snorted. “It wasn’t very difficult, considering how often it occurs.”

“Are you complaining?” Wyatt slid the sandwich onto a plate and pushed it in front of Ryan. “Because I sure as hell am not.”

Ryan definitely wasn’t. He’d unapologetically had a lot of sex and lots of it had been good, some of it had been great, and a little had even been extraordinary, which is why he’d expected some of his sexual obsession with Wyatt to wane as the novelty faded. But there was something addictive about him, and whenever Wyatt offhandedly mentioned how much he enjoyed them together, Ryan couldn’t help but be a tiny bit embarrassed at how much he agreed.

With how much experience he had, Ryan wasn’t the one who was supposed to be so into it, but he’d definitely passed casual bystander by a while ago. It wasn’t that it hadn’t ever happened, but it was definitely unusual.

He took a bite of the sandwich, and nearly moaned. It was perfect—the bread, the meat, the cheese, with the herb notes in the pesto. “I’d ask how you keep doing this,” Ryan said, “but you’d just tell me you’re a professional. Even when you’re only making a sandwich.”

Wyatt smiled, looking very pleased with himself. “It’s never just a sandwich,” he said. And Ryan was pretty sure that the end of the sentence was when it’s for you, and he didn’t know how he felt about that.

Except that wasn’t even true. He knew. He liked it. He loved it. That was probably selfish but Ryan couldn’t help himself.

“Should we take the Tesla or maybe the Maserati? Or the Ducati?”

Wyatt shrugged, in the middle of his own sandwich.

“I have an even better idea,” Ryan said. Wyatt didn’t like it when he, in his words, “threw his money around,” but he decided he’d be okay taking that risk. “You take care of getting Bastian Aquino to let us into this fancy brunch, and I’ll take care of the transportation and the hotel. Okay?”

Wyatt looked suspicious but nodded in agreement.

———

It was still worth it four days later when, instead of staying on I-5 to drive up to Napa, Ryan pulled off the freeway, and pulled up to the private terminal at LAX.

“I thought I told you I didn’t like you throwing your money around,” Wyatt said, frustrated edge to his voice, as they embarked onto the small private plane. “We could’ve driven.”

“And wasted six hours on the road, when this way, we can check in to the hotel early, get a massage, spend some time in the sauna, and have sex before we have to meet your brother Tony for dinner.”

“You are incorrigible,” Wyatt said, finally cracking a smile as they settled into their plush leather seats. “I’m not sure whether to encourage or discourage you.”

“I think you should wait until we get to the hotel before deciding,” Ryan teased.

Wyatt rolled his eyes and settled back in for takeoff. “I told you we could stay with the guys. They have some extra room, since both Miles and I moved out.”

“I am not staying with your ex,” Ryan stated. He’d known that from the first moment Wyatt had confessed that his ex-boyfriend had ended up moving in with his old roommates. He kept telling himself it wasn’t a jealousy thing, but when he couldn’t come up with an alternative explanation, he’d been forced to conclude it turned out he was the jealous type, at least when it came to Wyatt.

Of course he hadn’t been able to admit that to Wyatt, so he’d used some bullshit privacy excuse that he was pretty sure was horribly transparent. But Wyatt was such a good guy, he’d let it go gracefully and not made it an issue.

But it also meant that Ryan could check them into his favorite hotel and Wyatt couldn’t complain about the price.

“I’m not arguing about staying with Kian, Xander, and Nate, but I recognize that expression,” Wyatt grumbled. “It usually means you’re up to something.”

“I’m totally up to something,” Ryan agreed cheerfully. “But you’re gonna like it.”

“Does this have something to do with the massage, sauna, and sex you mentioned earlier?” Wyatt couldn’t quite hide the eagerness in his voice.

“You’re just gonna have to wait and see.” Ryan mimed zipping his lips shut, and tossing the key over his shoulder.

“Gentlemen,” the stewardess said, entering the main cabin, “we’re just about ready to take off. Would you like something to drink before we do?”

“Mimosas?” Ryan asked. Wyatt rolled his eyes but nodded in agreement.

“Are we celebrating something?” she asked when she returned to the cabin with two crystal flutes.

“Us,” Ryan said, shooting her his most charming smile. “I think that’s something worth celebrating.”

She laughed. “I’d agree. Now please keep your seatbelts fastened. It’s a quick, short flight and the pilot probably won’t turn off the seatbelt sign. But you can press this little button,” she indicated a discreet call button by Ryan’s seat, “if you need anything during the flight.”

“Cheers,” Ryan said, tipping his glass Wyatt’s direction. He rolled his eyes again, but toasted back.

“I’ll admit,” Wyatt said a few minutes after takeoff, “this is better than driving.”

“I’m glad you approve,” Ryan teased.

“I worked at Terroir, which is pretty much synonymous with wealth and excess, but we didn’t get to experience any of it.”

“That doesn’t seem fair,” Ryan said, but he wasn’t very surprised. Wyatt had let slip a few days ago how much money he’d been making before working for him, and it had been appallingly low, considering how many hours Wyatt had worked, and how tough his job had been.

“Bring it up with the Bastard,” Wyatt said with a resigned sigh. “Actually, I shouldn’t say that, because you might.”

“Wyatt,” Ryan asked seriously. “Your nana is coming with us to brunch, right?”

“I told you she was.”

“I’d never do anything to embarrass you in front of her. I promise.”

Wyatt downed the rest of his mimosa. “But we should tell her about our relationship.”

“You don’t want to lie to her,” Ryan guessed.

“I don’t.”

“Then we don’t.” It didn’t matter that Eric had asked him to post some photos of their trip and the brunch. To show their “deepening” relationship, he’d said, because Wyatt wouldn’t introduce him to his grandmother unless Ryan was important.

But then, Ryan had a feeling that Wyatt hadn’t asked him to come with him this weekend to perpetrate their fake-relationship agenda. He’d wanted Ryan to meet his nana because it was important to him.

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t tell me you asked me to come because you imagined a whole bunch of cute staged Instagram photos,” Ryan said.

“I thought you should meet her while she still might remember you,” Wyatt said and Ryan could hear the pain in his voice.

“Then that’s what we’ll do.”

Ryan closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair and wondered if Wyatt realized he’d just revealed how much he cared. If he knew Wyatt at all, he probably didn’t care. He’d volunteer it if Ryan asked.

The problem was Ryan wasn’t sure if he wanted to ask.

———

A little over an hour later, they landed in Napa, and Ryan led Wyatt to the car he’d rented and asked to be left near the private terminal.

He was happy to see they’d even gotten exactly what he’d requested—a Tesla Model X, which he’d been dying to test drive for awhile now.

“You’re awfully spoiled, I hope you realize this,” Wyatt said, as he loaded their bags into the back.

“I was thinking about trading in the Range Rover. Combining a trip with a test drive was efficient.” Ryan checked his phone for the time, typing in the address of the hotel in the mapping app. “We made great time. Even with the traffic on a Saturday, we should have just enough time until we meet your brother.”

Twenty minutes later, they pulled up to the hotel. As soon as Ryan was out of the car, the valet was at the door, taking his keys. He didn’t always expect to be recognized, but it was a nice perk when he was and he got great service as a result.

“I’m internally rolling my eyes,” Wyatt hissed in his ear as they walked up to the front desk.

“Why just internally?” Ryan teased.

Wyatt flushed. “I don’t want to embarrass you by looking uncomfortable with all this.”

Ryan assumed by “all this,” Wyatt meant the expansive lobby with its shining wood floors and soaring vaulted ceiling, the metal and glass modern chandeliers echoing the design of a wine bottle.

Maybe he meant the way the manager recognized him and pulled him aside, checking him in ahead of the rest of the line waiting for service. Or that he showed them to the suite personally.

“I didn’t realize you came here so often,” Wyatt said as he dropped his bag on the sofa.

“Flor likes to go wine tasting,” Ryan said with a shrug. “And I like to give her trips because she can’t argue with those.”

Wyatt raised an eyebrow.

“Okay,” Ryan corrected, “she argues about them less.”

“I don’t blame her,” Wyatt admitted. “I don’t want you to think you have to do any of this. It’s nice, and I appreciate it, but I don’t need it.”

Ryan wondered if Matt would have expected all this, part and parcel with his position as Ryan’s public boyfriend. He wouldn’t have blamed him for expecting the private jet, the luxury suite, the couples’ massage booked in fifteen minutes.

In some ways, Wyatt was the perfect fake boyfriend, but in others, the role didn’t sit right at all. Ryan was just now beginning to figure out the reasons why that was—or else he would have, if he’d allowed himself to think about it. Instead, he shoved the logic aside, and settled his hip on the edge of the couch.

“Noted,” he said, feigning a pout. “Now come over here and kiss me. We’ve got a few minutes until our massage and I’m feeling neglected.”

Wyatt laughed, but Wyatt came, and his lips on Ryan’s were the last piece of the puzzle he needed to shove the rest of those annoying thoughts aside.

———

Introducing his boyfriend to Tony was blowing Wyatt’s mind for several distinct reasons.

One, Tony was accepting of aforementioned boyfriend.

Two, Tony had mentioned his own boyfriend several times since they’d arrived an hour earlier.

Three, Tony was definitely flirting with Ryan.

Wyatt didn’t feel comfortable bringing Nana to Tony’s new gig at the Napa Tavern, but it was exactly the sort of place he wanted to bring Ryan. Laid-back and chill, with great food and an extensive draft beer list. He might be recognized, but none of the people in the bar would give two shits.

Tomorrow was going to be enough of a clusterfuck, Wyatt didn’t want to make a public production of the night before.

“Wyatt, you didn’t tell me your brother was this cute,” Ryan said, eyeing Tony up and down. It was still weird enough watching Tony flush and look undeniably pleased. It was even weirder that Ryan was the one causing the reaction.

“When we talked about my family, I didn’t really think it mattered how cute my brother was,” Wyatt retorted fondly.

Ryan was two and a half beers in, and for someone who didn’t drink much, it was enough to make him a little tipsy and a lot more daring than usual.

Anyone else might feel threatened, but Wyatt was feeling especially chill from the massage/sauna/sex combination that Ryan had arranged for the afternoon. It turned out it was difficult to feel threatened when the sex they’d had was so spectacular.

Ryan made a face. “I sort of expected you to get all hot. Jealous and protective and all that.”

“Wyatt’s never been like that,” Tony answered for him. “He’s always gone with the flow.”

Maybe that was true. Maybe it was also true that Wyatt had never felt like he’d had something to lose before.

“Are we really going to talk about going with the flow?” Wyatt teased. “You’ve flowed around plenty.”

Tony’s grin was wolfish. He set his elbows on the table, his tattooed forearms on full display and leaned forward, dark eyes sly. “Guilty as charged.”

“I also did not expect for you to have a bad boy as a brother,” Ryan said.

“He’s not bad,” Wyatt said, rolling his eyes, before Tony could even tee off on that particularly juicy bit of bait. “He just wants everyone to think so. He’s always just been a mouthy, snotty asshole.”

“Also guilty,” Tony said with a laugh.

“I’ve definitely had a thing for bad boys,” Ryan mused, pausing to drink his beer. “Sorry, but my current tastes are running more towards Cali beach boys.” He reached out and touched Wyatt’s neck, his hand warm against his hairline. “I’ve got to piss, be right back.”

Tony barely waited until Ryan had cleared the table.

“I thought you said you weren’t really together,” Tony demanded, his expression going from playful to serious. “You said it was just an image thing.” And Wyatt had told Tony that, when he’d called to make the plans for this weekend, but the fake-boyfriend thing had still been so new that Wyatt hadn’t expected Ryan to be so touchy-feely even when they weren’t trying to pretend anything.

“We’re not,” Wyatt said.

“Could’ve fooled me, and just about everyone else in this place,” Tony muttered.

“It’s . . . complicated,” Wyatt said, which was an expression he normally hated. The fact that he didn’t even hate it now spoke volumes.

“You like him,” Tony stated, like he fully expected Wyatt to argue with him. Wyatt wasn’t sure what he’d have to gain from that. His like was pretty fucking obvious, there wasn’t much point in denying it.

“Yeah, I do.”

“You need to figure your shit out. You’ve always had your shit together. A lot better than me, that’s for sure. It doesn’t feel right to watch you playing free and easy with this guy, not when you obviously like him.”

“It’s still developing,” Wyatt defended. “We’re figuring it out.” Technically a lie, but Wyatt was scrambling still, trying to acclimate himself to this bizarre new world where Tony felt able and obligated to give him advice on his love life.

“You and Nate, that was doomed to fail because he loved you more than you loved him.”

Wyatt rolled his eyes. “Why am I not surprised you knew about that and pretended not to?”

“Because we live in the same town and you weren’t exactly subtle?” Tony shrugged. “I’ve got to get back to the kitchen, but I just wanted to say, don’t let the opposite happen here. He’s obviously having fun, but it’s more than that for you.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Wyatt hissed through gritted teeth as Ryan emerged from the bathroom and made his way back to the table.

“Hey, it was great to meet you,” Tony said, standing as Ryan approached the table. “I’ve got to get back to the kitchen. I’ll send some food out for you guys.”

Ryan grinned, and Wyatt realized that somehow in the last hour, between all the flirting and the beers, Ryan had become friends with his brother. “You too, and thanks for that. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

They didn’t hug as Tony departed, but it was a near thing. Wyatt set his forehead against the table and considered banging it against the wood.

“What is your deal? I thought you’d like that I liked him,” Ryan questioned, downing the rest of his beer.

“I did. I do. I’m just . . . acclimating,” Wyatt protested.

“Is it weird?”

“I’m almost thirty years old, and my brother just met my first boyfriend. And I’ve found out that not only has he known basically this whole time that I was gay, but that he’s bisexual. And very curious. So to answer your question: yes, it’s weird.”

Ryan rubbed a reassuring hand across Wyatt’s shoulders. “Should I tell you about the time Flor walked in on me giving our next-door neighbor a blowjob?”

Wyatt let his head fall back against the table. “God, no. Definitely not.”

Ryan was Ryan and didn’t listen to Wyatt’s half-hearted denial. “He was so hot, and liked to wash his car. Like, every weekend. And since it was LA, and usually at least eighty, he never wore a shirt. I spent three summers on the front porch, tongue on the ground, desperate for a chance to show him that I wasn’t a little punk teenager anymore.”

Wyatt wanted to stick his fingers in his ears and yell la la la la la until the story stopped, but the only person possibly more stubborn than himself was Ryan. There was no way he wasn’t going to hear this story, eventually. It might as well be now, when he was already two beers in.

“Anyway, the summer I turned eighteen, he finally invited me over to help him wax.”

“Him?” Wyatt nearly yelped.

“No, no,” Ryan laughed, “but that would have been a great pickup line. He invited me over to wax his car.”

“You went, obviously,” Wyatt said.

“Obviously,” Ryan teased. “How else was I supposed to get my mouth on his cock?”

“I can’t think of any other way.” And somehow, Wyatt was smiling again, and the world didn’t feel quite so weird anymore.

“Right, it was brilliant. So we ended up in my house.”

“Wait,” Wyatt interrupted. “I thought you were waxing his car?”

“We were, I had to invite him for a soda. I didn’t want him to get heatstroke, right?”

“You’re such a good Samaritan,” Wyatt said sarcastically. “Was the blowjob to make sure his pipes didn’t get clogged?”

“Actually,” Ryan said thoughtfully, “we were in the kitchen, and suddenly he dropped his jeans. Said that he knew I’d been waiting for it.”

“You had,” Wyatt pointed out. “You said you’d been flirting with him for years.”

“It was everything I’d been fantasizing about, but then Flor walked in, and yeah . . . not the ending I’d anticipated. She dragged him out by his ear, and he moved six months later.”

Wyatt chuckled. “Am I supposed to feel sorry for him or for you in this story?”

“Him, obviously. You know how good my blowjobs are and his got interrupted mid-suck.”

Wyatt snorted his beer as he laughed helplessly. “Just don’t tell my nana that story.”

Ryan’s expression was angelic as he said, “Oh, I’ve got lots of others.” He turned, so he was straddling the bench, and put his hands on Wyatt’s shoulder. “Do we have to let your brother feed us?”

“Did you telling me about giving the hot guy next door head then being caught by Flor turn you on?”

Ryan shrugged, eyes so bright, the curve of his lip giving away that he was trying hard not to grin. “Maybe? No shame.” His hands slid down Wyatt’s chest, and found their target—the waist of Wyatt’s jeans, tucking his fingers under, and tugging him closer. “Let’s go,” he murmured. “We can always order room service later. I’ve got a pressing . . . issue that we need to discuss.”

Wyatt leaned in, his lips almost brushing Ryan’s. His eyes had darkened so much it was tough to see the pupils in the dim room. “Is there a fire?”

Ryan lost the fight, and grinned wide, lighting up like a neon sign. “In my pants? Yes. Absolutely.” Wyatt felt his heart thump arrhythmically in his chest, and wondered if this was what really falling for someone felt like. Uneven and uncertain and all-consuming. He didn’t know what he’d been doing before meeting Ryan. Maybe just marking time until this moment?

This moment right here, right now, his brain and his heart and his dick screamed at him, and it was the easiest decision in the world to grin right back and say, as serious as he could, “That sounds serious, we should go take care of that situation.”

———

“I don’t think you’ve ever driven faster,” Ryan said, sounding breathless and approving as Wyatt pushed him back up against the door.

“Like that, huh?” Wyatt asked, nudging his neck to the side so he could kiss his way down to it, and then back up to the sensitive spot on his ear.

He’d been spending the last week cataloging every especially sensitive spot on Ryan’s body and felt he had a bit more to explore tonight.

“You driving fast or you exploiting my ears?” Ryan teased.

“Yes,” Wyatt said.

“Watching you drive fast was one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen,” Ryan confessed, and the truth in his tone made Wyatt’s traitorous heart beat even faster. Did Ryan know statements like that affected him? Did he care? Was that why he made them?

The questions distracted Wyatt for a split second, and that was all it took for his back to be the one flat against the door.

“This is much, much better. More my style,” Ryan purred as he lifted Wyatt’s t-shirt off and slid a hand down the center of his chest, pausing right over the button of his jeans. “I love it when you’re at my mercy.”

“Am I?” Wyatt questioned. “Or are you at mine?”

Ryan’s fingers hesitated on the button he was working open, and he glanced up from his crouched position. “Because I want this so badly?” He ghosted his palm against Wyatt’s erection and he hissed through his teeth at the sudden pleasure.

“Yeah, I want it too,” Wyatt admitted. “Did you think I didn’t?”

“Doing this to you,” Ryan said, his voice low and gravelly, as he popped the button and pulled Wyatt’s jeans and boxer briefs down, “reminds me of the night we met.”

For Wyatt, it was a reminder that he’d been falling from the first time he’d glanced up from the bar and seen Ryan across the dance floor, in the VIP section. Roped off. Exclusive. Unobtainable. Until suddenly, they were on Wyatt’s bike, flying across the Hollywood Hills and none of those things were true.

“Doing this to you,” Ryan continued, tongue slicking across Wyatt’s abs between hissed words, “reminds me that I wanted to the first second I ever saw you.”

It was the echo of Wyatt’s thoughts, and that was too much. Wyatt’s fists flexed against the wood of the door, and he wanted to drag Ryan up by his hair, and crush his mouth to his. Tell him everything he felt, that it was so much more than sexual desire. That it had always been more than just a hookup. That he’d been a fucking light in the midst of the darkness that Wyatt had been trudging through for too damn long.

But that was edging far too close to the other feelings spilling over and they weren’t really together. Not the way Wyatt was desperate for them to be.

Ryan’s tongue teased against the head of his leaking cock, and Wyatt pushed away everything else but the way it felt. Hot and silky, wrapping around him as perfect as it had the very first time they’d done this. When Wyatt hadn’t realized that it could feel like this.

“God damnit,” he gritted out as Ryan sucked him down. “You’re too god damn good.”

Ryan’s glance up was half-angelic, half-devilish tease. Wyatt loved it all; the way he loved all of him.

“You want it like this?” Ryan asked, cock slipping out of his mouth, his lips red and swollen and perfect.

Wyatt was undone and could only nod, watching as Ryan began to expertly work him over, everything blending together in a red-hot wave of bliss, so much more intense than it had ever been before.

When he finally let go, shooting down Ryan’s throat, they both hesitated for a long moment after, and Wyatt could hear himself panting in the quiet of the room.

Or maybe that was Ryan.

“Give me a sec,” Wyatt said, every nerve ending feeling raw and over-exposed.

“You can fuck me later,” Ryan said, and he sounded equally breathless, even though Wyatt knew he hadn’t lasted long enough for Ryan to have made a real effort.

Wyatt slid down the door, and landed in an awkward heap next to Ryan. “Whatever you want,” he said, and knew it was true no matter how you sliced it. Whatever Ryan wanted; that was what Wyatt was going to do.

It probably had something to do with falling in love with him.