Chapter Six
A MALE nanny, no matter what year it was, seemed to be of interest to a lot of people. The people at Carolyn’s boss’s house were absolutely riveted. I didn’t see what the big deal was, but what was surprising was the acceptance. All those powerful businesswomen, just like Carolyn, and they found me new and shiny and didn’t think it was strange that I was there. It was quite the surprise.
I was complimented on how good the boys looked, how polite they were, and over their manners. They didn’t run around like crazy people, drop anything, or make a general nuisance of themselves. Tristan helped open doors, Micah said please and thank you, and Pip brought the hostess a glass of water because he thought she looked thirsty. They were a hit. I gave all the credit to Carolyn; she volleyed it back to me. Apparently, my manners were wearing off on them, even after only a few days.
To Carolyn’s colleagues, I was her employee, so after the initial novelty wore off, they ignored me. The other nannies were looking for husbands to provide better lives for them or they were going to college, so they all treated me like a buddy. They shared juicy gossip about their employers, told me to stick to my guns when demanding days off, and suggested places to take the kids on outings. They were, as a group, far more accepting then I could have ever imagined. We were all doing the same job. I was one of them, and the shared camaraderie was nice. And while I had no misconceptions that I would always be met with such openness, that they were full of only friendly banter and no harsh judgments was very refreshing.
“Well,” Carolyn said with a sigh as we were on our way home, me driving because she’d had four cosmopolitans, “you were the belle of the ball.”
“Was I?” I teased her because she was a cute drunk—being tipsy made her giggly.
“Oh,” she said and burped, “yeah. I had to tell three of the women who work with me that I was paying you very well and that you did not want to leave my employment.”
I snorted out a laugh. “Did you, now?”
“Yeah.” She hiccupped. “Awww, crap.”
“God, you’re cute.” I smiled at her.
She sighed deeply and after a moment said, “Weber Yates, I wish you liked girls.”
I grunted. “And I wish you could have met my brother. You would have liked him, and he sure as anything would have liked you back.”
“Oh.” Her voice broke suddenly, and she grabbed hold of my shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, choked up that fast, the sting of losing him the only pain that had not eased with time. My brother with his quick laughter and wit, his warm eyes that flashed when he was up to no good, and his innate kindness, was a loss that I still felt as sharply as the day the army officers had found me to deliver the devastating news. I had wanted to see him get old.
She sniffled, and I knew without looking that she had teared up.
“He—” I took a breath, glancing over at her, seeing her biting her lip as she looked at me. “—was handsome, you know. He looked like my dad. Dark brown hair and deep blue eyes like your boys. My mama always said that I was the younger, lighter version of him.”
“I wish I hadn’t missed him.”
“Next time around,” I told her.
“Absolutely,” she whispered and took hold of the hand I offered her. “Next time.”
AFTER driving Carolyn and the boys home and taking the Lexus back to Cy’s, I was surprised that his car wasn’t in the garage when I returned. It was late and he was still out, and though I wanted to call him and check on him, see where he was, I had no way to do that as there was no landline in the house. What was interesting, though, was that when I walked into the kitchen, there was a cell phone on the bar. I was thinking that maybe there was someone else in the house, but after a quick walk through, I realized I was alone. When it suddenly played “Desperado,” I figured the call was for me and answered it.
“Very fuckin’ funny,” I grumbled.
“You needed a phone now that you’ve got the kids with you, and I should be able to get a hold of you, right?”
It seemed logical.
“And you might need to call me sometimes too.”
I grunted.
“Like tonight.”
“This one’s too fancy.”
“I’ll show you all the cool stuff it can do later.”
“All right,” I agreed.
“And how ’bout that ringtone?” He cackled.
“It ain’t funny,” I groused at him.
There was at once his lilting laughter on the other end, sensual and mirthful at the same time. “Oh c’mon, get a sense of humor.”
“Where are you?”
“I need a favor.”
“Whatzat?”
“I met some friends out for drinks tonight after work because you had to go to that party with Carolyn and you wouldn’t have been home anyway, but now I realize I should have just gone home and waited for you.”
He was rambling, and his voice was rising. Someone was trashed. “And so?”
“Well now I’m a little drunk and so is everyone else and we walked to my friend Jeff’s place but I realized I left my car in the parking lot of the bar and I don’t want them to tow it but I don’t think I should be the one to move it and—”
“Take a breath before you pass out.”
“What?”
“I’ll move it,” I told him. “Is there a second set of keys, or do I need to come get them from you?”
“You don’t want to get me?”
“I do.” I smiled into the phone. Cy sounding unsure and needy was very cute. “But if there’s a second set, I can drive to you instead of making you walk with me back to the car.”
“Oh, yeah, that makes more sense.”
“So?”
“There’s a second set in the nightstand on my side of the bed.”
“Okay, where’s the bar?”
“Are you mad?”
“Why would I be mad?”
“Just that I went out drinking without you.”
“You’re a big boy. You can do as you please.”
“No, I know.”
“Did you have a bad day?” I prodded gently.
“What makes you ask that?”
“You’re not a big drinker. There has to be a reason for you to do that on a whim.”
“Yeah.” He sighed. “I had a long, shitty day. I lost a patient, really nice lady, mother, grandmother, right before Christmas—fuck.”
“And did you tell your friends that?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“We don’t—that’s not something we do. We don’t sit around and share our feelings. That’s what your boyfriend is for.”
“I see.”
“That’s what you’re for.” He said it, emphasizing the word “boyfriend” in case I missed it.
I was quiet.
“I mean, I told them I had a fucked up day, and they just told me to drink and feel better.”
But that was his fault for not explaining that he didn’t just have a bad day, he had a terrible one.
“You should have just come on home,” I told him.
“I know that!”
“Why are you yellin’?”
“Because I know I should have just come home. I said that already.”
“I would have been here.”
“Jesus, Weber, I know! The only place I want to be right now is with you, but my car will be in some impound yard tomorrow if I leave it at the bar!”
“Okay,” I soothed him. “I’ll be right there. Tell me where the bar is.”
After he explained and gave me the address, I called for a cab and went to change out of the good clothes I was wearing and into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and a long-sleeved button-down shirt. I grabbed the peacoat I found I liked more and more with each passing day, my denim jacket still hanging in Cy’s closet from the day I had arrived, and my cowboy boots that I had picked up that morning from the shoe repair shop. Why I was antsy I had no idea, but the idea of him being drunk when I wasn’t there to warn other men off annoyed me. My reaction to him was normal; the feeling of possessiveness was not.
If I just hadn’t stopped to see him, if I had simply stayed on the damn bus, I would not have to come face to face with the truth.
Hell.
I found the bar and the lot and drove the sleek car the five blocks to his friend Jeff’s place, easily finding the huge converted warehouse that was now full of renovated, trendy lofts. I took the stairs up to the fourth floor instead of trusting the old metal freight elevator.
I thought I was going to a small get-together, but even before I reached the level, I could hear the voices and the music. It was a party, loud and raucous, and it was surprising for a Tuesday night. But I was used to going to bed at nine and being up at four in the morning. My guess was that none of these people had to be up before dawn.
Pushing between people, making my way through the crowd outside the apartment, I finally made it inside and saw him standing by the kitchen, drink in hand, leaning heavily against the wall. Several men were near him, one with a hand on his shoulder.
As I crossed the floor to him, he looked up and saw me. His eyes lit up as he levered off the wall, putting his drink down before he brushed by the others to reach me. He could have waited, but he didn’t, meeting me halfway instead.
“Holy shit, Web.” He smiled wide, his eyes glittering. “You’re breathtaking.”
“You’re drunk.” I laughed softly, reaching out, my hand moving to the back of his neck, my fingers sliding under the open collar of his dress shirt as I drew him forward. The look on his face, the hooded eyes, made my stomach hurt. He was just beautiful. “Can I kiss you?”
“Really?” He asked because normally public displays were not within my comfort zone.
“No one cares in here, right?”
“Right.”
“Well, then—” I wet my lips. “—may I?”
“That would be good,” he answered, his voice hoarse.
I eased him closer, my mouth slanting down over his, letting him feel my desire and need, my tongue tasting him, the tequila he’d been drinking, and the faint sliver of salt. When he moaned into my mouth, I clutched him tight, savoring the way his body melted against mine.
His arms wrapped around my neck fast as he whimpered, pressing his obvious erection to my groin.
Drunk and horny, his body flushed with heat—I needed to get the man home fast.
“No-no-no,” he whined when I pulled back, taking a deep breath of air.
“You need to come with me,” I said, loving the glazed look in his big, wet eyes.
“Web, just take me into the bathroom.”
“You have lost your mind.” I sighed as I held his face in my hands and smiled slowly, lazily. “I was worried that maybe you might’ve started kissin’ frogs again.”
His hand went to my shoulder, and he looked at me hard. I saw the muscles in his jaw flex. “Christ, Weber, you’re my prince, idiot. You were never a frog,” he said gruffly, his voice low and husky.
It was dumb that I needed to hear the words—I was an action-over-declaration kind of guy—but from him, it was necessary. Always had been.
“Let’s just go home. Please. I wanna go home.”
“Why?” I teased him.
He leaned his head forward so my hands slipped around his neck. “Because I need you, and you won’t fuck me here.”
I breathed against his ear and felt the shudder go through him. “No, I won’t, but I will put you over the couch in the living room when we get home if you can’t make it to the bedroom.”
“Fuck,” he half yelled, squirming like his clothes were suddenly too tight.
“Talk to me.”
“I don’t want to talk to you,” he whispered fiercely, and I watched him shut his eyes hard, hoping to stop the tears. They leaked out from under his long, thick lashes anyway. “I want you to stay. God, Weber, I have never needed anyone like I need you.”
“Same here.”
Instantly, his head tipped up, and I was swallowed in his golden-brown gaze.
“I love you,” I told him, and it finally felt good to say and not terrifying.
“You do?”
“Of course, don’t be stupid.”
He lunged at me, wrapped his arms around my neck again and this time hugged me tight. He was trembling, and with that realization, every doubt and every fear burned itself out of me. I finally understood that the man truly and completely loved me. And he didn’t love me because I was a cowboy, and he didn’t love me because I was some romantic ideal but because I was me. He loved plain old Weber Yates, poor, out of work, and clueless. He worshipped the ground I walked on. It made no sense. We were as different as we could be. I was a nothing, and he had the world at his feet, but apparently, in this scenario, he didn’t see it like that. He didn’t have everything unless he had me. The man saw me, cherished my heart, recognized how much I loved him, and knew that it would never occur to me to stop, ever. There could be no mistake. We would be in this for the long haul if I would finally, could finally, let it start. And really, why would I not? The only thing standing between us was my pride, and it was not strong enough to keep us apart. I was not a vain man, but I realized when I was needed and when I alone would do. I squeezed him tight and kissed his cheek.
“Oh God,” he shivered, pulling back just enough to look up at me. “You feel different. You sounded… different right then.”
“Did I?”
His smile was blinding. “Oh shit.”
“Nice.”
“Weber,” he gasped, and he lost it, tears, trembling lip, body shaking. It all happened at once. But he was drunk off his ass, so I understood. “You’re going to stay? Tell me you’re going to stay and move in with me and live with me until I die.”
“I’ll pass before you, idiot,” I told the most hopeful, happy, terrified pair of eyes I had ever seen. “I’m older.”
He climbed me, and I had to laugh because the man had his legs wrapped around my waist, arms around my neck, and his tongue shoved down my throat in seconds. The kiss was hard and devouring and ravenous, and breathing was an afterthought. He ravaged me, and after long minutes, I became peripherally aware of the applause before he tore his mouth from mine to look up.
“We get it.” One of the men close to us smiled brightly at Cy. “He’s yours: hands off.”
“God, that was hot,” someone else chimed in. “I had no idea you had that in you, Dr. Benning.”
“You’re going to stay,” he whispered close to my ear. “And be mine.”
I chuckled, looking up at my sweet man as he pulled back to look at me, his big soft eyes and swollen lips. God, he was pretty, and now that I’d claimed him, I was not about to have strangers ogling him.
“Let’s go home. The car’s outside.”
“Yessir.” He breathed over my face, beaming down at me, his face, his eyes, his smile all infused with more joy then I thought was possible.
I turned, still carrying him as, from how hard he was hanging on, he had no inclination to be put down, and started heading for the door.
“You know what I want?”
“Tell me,” I said, one hand on his ass, the other around his back.
“When we get home, will you hold me so tight that I can feel your heart beating?”
“I will,” I promised and took a settling breath.
“Weber.”
I stopped as I recognized William Reece, one of his friends from my last visit. “Will.”
“Yes.” He smiled at me as I gently set Cy down on his feet. “It’s good to see you. Are you staying this time? From the look on his face I’m thinking you’re staying.”
“I am,” I assured him.
He offered me his hand. “I’m so glad, Web. For both of you.”
But I didn’t even have a job. I was homeless and—
“Weber?”
I realized I had not taken his hand and grabbed it fast, shaking.
“You scared me.” He sighed, and I understood at that moment that he liked what he saw. He liked me. “I want us to be friends.”
“I appreciate that, but you—”
“I meant every word,” he promised, and the look in his clear green eyes, solid, let me know he was telling the truth. “I’m thrilled that you’re going to stay. I look forward to hanging out with both of you. Come say a quick hello to the guys, all right?”
“Next time,” Cy told him, shoving William gently back. “Gotta go home and get laid right now, Will.”
“Oh, okay,” he said quickly, his black eyebrows shooting up as he mouthed the word trashed to me and ended with a wicked grin. “We’ll see you soon.”
“God, you’re drunk,” I assured Cy as I grabbed his hand, yanking him after me toward the front door.
“Yeah, so what?” he growled in reply.
We were stopped outside, before we hit the stairs, but this time by someone I had never met before.
“I saw that over-the-top display inside, Cy,” the tall, handsome man who was barring our path said. “I don’t get an introduction to the man you pined for?”
The ex. I got it.
“Just let it go, Seth. We’re just leaving.”
“So let me understand.” He squinted at me. “I wasn’t good enough, but a homeless drifter is. Explain to me how that makes any sense.”
I moved to walk around him, but he cut me off. And I understood. I really did. Cyrus Benning was a catch. He was beautiful and rich and smart and funny and just Prince Charming in the flesh. I would have tried to get him back if I lost him too. Fortunately for me, I was the one. I was the guy, his guy, the man he wanted to grow old with.
“Move, please,” I asked nicely.
“So,” he said, looking me up and down, “you’re what the fuss was all about. I can’t say I’m impressed.” He sneered at me. “Still riding bulls, cowboy?”
“Nope.” I smirked at him. “I only ride his cock now.”
Not the answer he was expecting.
His mouth fell open.
Cy gasped.
“Are we clear?” I wanted to make sure.
“Get the fuck out of our way before I kick your ass!” Cy yelled, slurring his words, on the verge, it seemed, of taking a swing at the guy.
I turned, grabbed Cy, threw him over my shoulder, and took the stairs easily even with his added weight.
Outside on the sidewalk, I started back toward where I had left the car.
“Put me down!”
“So that was the guy you slept with when I left last time, huh?”
“Weber Yates, put me down!”
“How the hell did he know I was a bull rider?” I asked as though he wasn’t screaming at me.
“Because I told him all about you just like I told every guy I ever dated all about you because you’re the love of my fucking life!”
“Why’re you mad?” I tried not to snicker.
“Because you just told that piece of crap that I fucked you and that was just between us!”
Well, now it wasn’t anyway because he had just yelled it to the whole block. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why would you care if I told him?”
“Because it’s private!” He was probably foaming at the mouth, he was so mad. “What we do in our bedroom is no one’s business but ours, and it was beautiful and amazing and nothing I would have ever shared with—”
“Calm down,” I said softly, patting his ass, my voice deep and low.
“I don’t want him to think about you like that, like he could fuck you, because only I fuck you!”
I stopped and put him down because he was still fuming and not losing any of his anger.
“I’m so pissed at you right now!” He was still snarling and yipping like a rabid dog.
“Don’t be.” I grinned before I grabbed him and pulled him close. “I like that you’re possessive of me, of us. It means a lot.”
When I bent to kiss him, he parted his lips for me eagerly, but I took my time, and when I lifted up just barely, not enough to be parted from the feel of his warm breath on my face, I noticed that his eyes were open.
“You’re supposed to close your eyes when I kiss you.”
“But I’m a little bit afraid I’m dreaming right now so I kind of don’t want to stop looking at you.”
“God, you’re so drunk and cute.”
“What?”
“Get in the car,” I ordered him, holding open the passenger side door.
“I am not cute, and I’m not that drunk.”
I shoved him down, held onto his head so he wouldn’t clunk it, and closed the door. Once I was behind the wheel, he reiterated that yes, he was a little tipsy, but not sloshed.
“Okay, darlin’,” I agreed, strapping him in. “Try not to puke in the car.”
“I’m not gonna be sick.” He was indignant. “I drink all the time, Weber.”
Uh-huh.
I didn’t even say I told you so when I had to stop three blocks away so he could hurl up a lung. It would have been mean.
At home, I put a cool washcloth on the back of his neck as he threw up some more and then rubbed his back when it subsided to retching.
“This is supposed to be the most beautiful night of my life,” he groaned, head on the rim of the porcelain bowl, his skin moist, pale, and chilled.
“But this way it’s memorable.” I smiled at him.
“I’m disgusting.”
“You’re drunk.” I sighed. “Did you even eat anything today?”
He ignored my question. “How can you even be in here?”
“Because all this don’t bother me none. Now get up, wash your face, brush your teeth, and I’ll get you some Tylenol and water.”
“This is gross, but I’m kind of hungry.”
“Okay.”
“And I want a shower.”
“Good.” I couldn’t stop smiling at him. “You do that. I’ll make you a sandwich and some soup. Meet me in the kitchen.”
“Thanks.”
I got up and left him then.
By the time he staggered out to the kitchen and took a seat at the bar, I had a turkey sandwich made for him, just plain except for a light smear of mayonnaise, and a bowl of chicken noodle soup. There was a glass of water as well, and two Tylenol caplets.
He ate and I cleaned up.
“Web.”
I turned around, leaned back against the sink, and looked at him.
“What are you planning on doing now that you’re going to stay?”
“I’m gonna work for your sister and take care of them boys. I don’t think her husband is comin’ back, but even if he does, she’ll still need me. He cheated on her once, she ain’t about to be made a fool of a second time. She won’t have another woman in her house.”
“I agree.” He cleared his throat. “Are you okay with doing that? Taking care of the kids?”
I crossed my arms. “I am. Are you?”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, you’re the one who has to say to people, I sleep with a nanny.”
He choked on his water. It went down the wrong hole, and I moved quickly, taking the glass and shoving a napkin in his face.
“Don’t barf anymore.”
“Well, what the hell,” he yelled at me. “Jesus Christ, Weber, I don’t give a shit what you do. I just love thinking of you here at home, in our home, just puttering around doing nothing, just being with me every single day. All I want is—”
“A foundation.”
“What?”
“You wanna build. You want us to make a life together.”
“Yes. Exactly.”
I nodded. “The other day, Micah had to draw somethin’ that reminded him of me, and he drew me as a mountain.”
“He did?”
“He did, and it got me thinkin’,” I said as I walked around the bar to stand beside him. “I am a mountain. I don’t have roots like you and your family, but I’m here and I won’t move. You can build on me, count on me, and we’ll use your roots, and I can make a home for all y’all.”
He was nodding and not speaking, and it was easy to see that he couldn’t. I turned him in his chair and took him into my arms, cradling his head in my hand, smoothing my hand over his back, rubbing circles there.
“Oh God, please, Weber, be my home.”
“Thank you for believing I could be. I won’t let you down.”
He hugged me so hard, so tight, and kissed the side of my neck before something occurred to him and he leaned back to look at my face.
“What?”
“Who is you all?”
My smile was huge.