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ADAM
Nick looks anxious and hesitant and utterly adorable when he walks into the kitchen as I’m finishing a phone call with a client in Boston. She’s hired me to redesign a dozen properties over the years, and she was checking in to let me know that she’s thinking about moving again after six months in her new Back Bay townhouse.
“Morning, handsome,” I say as he drifts into the room. “How do you feel?”
He shrugs. “Not too bad actually. I had some really weird dreams, but slept pretty much through the night.”
“Coffee?” I tap the carafe on the table. “Or we have juice and smoothies in the refrigerator.”
He smiles and sits across from me. “I’m okay for now.”
“That was pretty scary last night,” I admit. “When I found you on the steps, you were pretty dizzy and out of it.”
“Par for the course,” he jokes. “I’m just glad it wasn’t any worse.”
I feel a shudder in my heart, trying not to picture anything beyond the cuts and bruises. “I’ll second that emotion. I’m glad that you’re essentially still in one piece.”
He frowns briefly. “I keep having flashbacks of the guy standing over me. It makes my whole body go tense.”
“That’s to be expected,” I say, remembering an incident that happened to a friend in the past. “You should think about maybe finding someone to talk to once the dust settles.”
He hesitates, rubbing his chin. “What do you mean?”
“Maybe your friend Dede,” I suggest. “Or a professional if the feelings persist.”
“What about you?” A smile lifts his lips. “I mean, you were in the area when it happened, and you took care of the cuts and scrapes.”
I clear my throat. “Well, helping you talk about it is definitely something that I can do.” I pause long enough to consider the curious sense that something is changing between us. “If, that is, you’d want me to.”
He scowls and leans toward the table. “What do you mean if? I wouldn’t ask you if I wasn’t serious.”
I smile. “Do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions right now about last night?”
Nick makes a face. “Oh, no,” he mumbles. “Did I say something stupid after you found me?”
“Not at all,” I reply. “You didn’t say too much. Do you remember telling me that the man who hit you was wearing a jacket with red roses on the back?”
Nick takes a moment, shifting in the chair and glancing down at a pile of magazines on the table. His eyes shift left and right a few times. The frown on his face deepens, like he’s searching his memory and coming up empty.
“We don’t have to talk about it,” I say. “The last thing that I want to do is make you uncomfortable.”
He pulls in a long breath and then his eyes find mine. “It’s okay. I was just trying to remember if I actually saw their faces, but it’s mostly kind of a blur. They turned out the light above your front door, so it was mainly the streetlamps at that point.”
I nod. “And they don’t do much. I’ve lived on this block for almost ten years. I know how pitch black it can be out there.”
Nick nods. “Basically. But I did see his coat. There were three red roses on the back.”
“That’s really good,” I say. “You mentioned that, but I wanted to see if you thought it was one of the guys last night or a memory from another time.”
His gaze widens. “It was definitely the guy that hit me. He was wearing a ball cap and a leather jacket. When he was walking away, I got a good look as he went beneath one of the streetlamps. There were three roses, like big ones that had been painted on. At first, I thought it was a skull. But when he passed under the second or third lamp, I definitely saw roses.”
I clear my throat and sit back in the chair. “I know someone who owns a coat like that,” I tell Nick. “He works for Devon at Dirty Secrets. He has a fairly sketchy past, but I thought—”
“Is it Blake?”
I’m surprised by his guess, but confirm that he’s right. Then I say, “If you saw him here last night, I’m pretty sure that I know who he was with. My nephew and Blake are pals, but they’ve been on a slippery slope in the past year or so.”
“What do you mean?” Nick asks. “Drugs or something?”
“Drugs and everything,” I answer with a melancholy shrug. “Liam’s been struggling with addiction since he was sixteen. My sister and her ex-husband have been as patient as they can be, but Liam knows how to manipulate them too easily. I invited him to live with me for a while, hoping it would help, but it was a disaster.”
“So…last night?” He pauses for a long second. “Was that your nephew moving his things out or were they stealing from you?”
“I’m afraid it’s the latter,” I say. “Liam’s entire life can fit in a cardboard box at this point.”
“Okay, so…” He stops again, squinting into the distance. “If you’re sure it was those two, maybe we should let the police know.”
I smile. “Way ahead of you, handsome. I know a private detective who does some work for my company every now and then. I talked to him last night after I got you settled in bed.”
“What did he say?”
“Well, most importantly, he suggested that I have this conversation with you,” I tell Nick. “I promised him that we’d be in touch today after we discuss pressing charges.”
He gulps in a breath. “And then what?”
“Then it’ll be out of our hands,” I say. “I’ve coddled my nephew far too long. When he was pinching money out of my wallet, I looked the other way. Somewhere beneath all the bluster and bravado and pain, Liam’s a good kid. But the stunt he and Blake pulled last night, especially roughing you up for witnessing their latest feat of stupidity, that simply cannot be ignored.”
“What will happen if the police find them?”
“First, we have to decide about pressing charges for assault and burglary,” I tell him. “Liam wasn’t aware of this, but I installed cameras throughout the house a couple of months ago. I have them on tape stealing my artwork, a few family heirlooms, some clothing and a bunch of other things.”
He smirks. “That’s a pretty shitty thing to do.”
“It’s not all that surprising,” I say. “Everyone kept telling me to change the locks, but I was in denial. I didn’t believe that Liam would cross that line. He ambushed me at a client dinner a few nights ago, threatening to do something drastic if I didn’t loan him more money. Even then, I couldn’t imagine that he would burglarize my home.”
“Learned that one the hard way, huh?” Nick says with a grin.
I laugh. “I suppose so. I don’t really care about the clothes, but some of the art is very valuable and the family things are irreplaceable.”
Nick brushes one hand through his hair. “And then he’ll be arrested?”
“They both will if we decide to press charges.” I feel a spike of nerves about my sister. “Liam’s mother might never talk to me again, but he needs to get the message that his life is spiraling out of control.”
“I’m sorry all of that is happening to you,” Nick says.
“And I’m sorry that Liam and Blake keep making poor choices,” I reply.
When Nick goes quiet, I offer to make him a smoothie. He declines again, but then the smirk on his face slowly expands into a toothy grin.
“What’s that all about?” I say.
“Can I ask you something?” His voice is low and husky. “I mean, if you don’t mind.”
“Anything,” I say with a smile. “Unless you’re going to ask me to make omelets for breakfast.”
He stares at me for a few seconds. “I know how if you don’t.”
I laugh. “I make a mean omelet,” I tell him, “but we’re all out of eggs at the minute.”
“Ah, got it,” he replies.
Something crosses his face, a flicker of playfulness. Then he says, “Would it be okay if I kiss you right now?”
The question sends a jolt of heat to my cock. As I nod and Nick gets up from his chair, I feel it swelling against my boxer shorts. When he leans down and our lips touch, I have the sudden urge to get up from my chair, clear everything from the table with one sweep of my arm and then gently lift Nick off his feet and stretch him across the expanse of deep mahogany.
“Thank you for last night,” he says, resting one hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry if it messed up your plans, but—”
I stop the needless apology by reaching out, cupping the back of his neck with my fingers and pulling him toward me. Our mouths melt together for a few seconds before I slide my tongue along his lower lip. He moans, kneels beside the chair and drops one hand into my crotch.
“You feel so good.” He whimpers as I guide my hand down his back, under the waistband of the sweatpants and between his cheeks. “I want you to—” He pulls back and his eyes go wide when I press the tip of one finger against his tender hole. “—to fuck me again, please!”