20
MOUTH FULL OF HOT WEINER
MY PHONE VIBRATED in my pocket again, and I sighed and pulled it out to check the screen. Not that I needed to. Martina had been calling all day, but now wasn’t the best time. We’d just arrived at the beach to have a bonfire with a few of Dylan’s friends on our last night in Sunset Cove, and I had no intention of being rude and taking a business call. She could wait.
Dylan came up next to me then, two plastic cups in hand, and nodded toward my phone, which I shoved back in my pocket.
“She’s called about a thousand times already. Don’t you think you should answer that? Might be important.”
I took the drink he held out to me and shook my head. “If I do that, it’s back to the real world.”
“We’ve gotta go back there tomorrow anyway.”
“Am I hearing you right? You want me to answer this call?”
“Might as well. I don’t think she’ll stop until you do. Just tell her to make it quick.” He leaned over and gave me a kiss, and then backed away toward where his friends were setting up chairs around a circular pit.
I groaned as I watched him rejoin the group, and then I fished the cell out of my pocket. The phone connected almost as soon as I hit her number.
“Ace?” she said, sounding frantic, and as soon as I heard her tone, my shoulders tensed up. “Where have you been? I’ve been calling all day—hell, all week—trying to get in touch with you. I know you’re on vacation in Florida, but you can’t tell me that phone isn’t attached to your hip.”
Yeah, okay, she has me there. “So you know I’m in Florida,” I said.
“You think just because you go off to another state that paparazzi can’t find you? Not that they’re swarming like they are here, so you probably haven’t noticed them.”
“Is that what this is about? Because I don’t care what they get a picture of. I’m not hiding. I just needed to get away for a few days.”
“I get that. I do.” Martina sounded sympathetic. “But I hope you get back raring to go, because I got the best phone call this morning. Are you sitting down?”
I glanced over at where Dylan was shaking hands and giving hugs to Derek and an attractive man in the brightest pair of electric orange Bermuda shorts that I’d ever seen. “No,” I said. “Not sitting down.”
“You should really sit down for this.”
That got my attention. “Is this good news or bad news? You said best phone call, right?”
“That typically means good, yes.”
Looking around me, I didn’t see anywhere but sand to plop down on, so I kept standing. “All right, I’m sitting. What’s up?”
Martina took a big breath and let it out on a rush. “Carly Wilde wants you on her show. Carly Wilde! An hour-long, possibly two-hour, interview exclusively with you.”
“That’s the best news ever?”
“Ace! This is huge. You know when Carly Wilde has someone on her show, it really ups their profile.”
I snorted. “Like I really need my profile upped any higher. I’ve got paparazzi sleeping outside my fucking gate, Martina.”
“You know what I mean. America loves Carly. You win her over, you win the viewers over, and we’re back in business, baby.”
I opened my mouth to respond with something sarcastic, but then I paused. She had a point, but why did Carly even want me on the show in the first place? When my career was plummeting faster than a skydiver without a parachute, and my love life was splashed all over every tabloid in the world?
“What does she want to talk about? Why’s she calling now? Why not when things were going well, hmm?”
“Oh, Ace. You know she loves a good comeback story. So does the rest of the world.”
“I have to make a comeback now?” I asked, my voice rising. I looked over at the group starting the bonfire; Dylan’s friends hadn’t noticed my outburst, but Dylan caught my eye and raised a brow. I waved him off so he wouldn’t worry, and then lowered my voice. “I’m not about to go on national television to do an interview with a woman who wants to know how I feel now that all my career prospects are suddenly vanishing and to rub in my face why.”
“It wouldn’t be like that—”
“It would, and I’m not doing it.”
“Ace—”
“No.”
I could almost see the shock on her face as she said, “So…you want me to tell Carly Wilde no. As in absolutely, positively no. Am I hearing you right?”
“That’s what I said.”
“You’re making a mistake with this. She could help you—”
“I don’t need her help. I don’t need your help. Let me just…figure out my next step, okay?”
Martina was silent for a long moment. “If that’s what you want…”
“That’s what I want.”
“I’ll pass along the message, then. See you when you get back.”
“See you then,” I muttered, and ended the call, wishing I’d never called in the first place. I tried to keep my face neutral when I glanced across the beach to see Dylan’s eyes on me, but some of the strain must’ve showed, because he made a move in my direction and I shook my head and instead headed toward him. There was no way I was going to ruin tonight for him. This could wait until later, tomorrow, when we were on our way home. But here, tonight, with the balmy breeze blowing and the fresh, salty air wafting off the waves, I planned to enjoy the night with my boyfriend and his friends.
* * *
AS DEREK SLUNG an arm around Jordan’s shoulders, I watched Ace slip his cell phone into the pocket of his shorts and head in our direction. For a second or two there I was worried I’d made the wrong move in suggesting he call Martina, but now that he’d hung up he seemed to shed whatever they’d been discussing like a second skin, and relaxed into his stride as he headed toward us.
“Okay,” Jordan whispered, as he leaned my way, aiming a dazzling smile in my direction. “Before he gets over here. Can I just say how excited I am to meet your boyfriend?”
When Derek rolled his eyes, I chuckled and nodded. “You can. I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t mind if you told him yourself.”
“Oh my God. I would never,” Jordan said, clearly mortified by the thought.
“Jesus, Jordan. He’s just a man,” Derek said as if he hadn’t tripped all over himself when he’d first met him.
“I’m well aware he’s a man,” Jordan said, and then looked in Ace’s direction. “I mean, there’s no mistaking that. What is he, Dylan? Six foot three? Five?”
When Derek groaned, I couldn’t help my bark of laughter at his put-upon expression. “Actually, he’s only six foot or so. It’s the muscles that make him look—”
“Delicious?” Jordan asked, innocently enough.
“Oh for the love of— Where’s the alcohol?” Derek said.
“What? As if you weren’t thinking it too,” Jordan said. “I kind of have a thing for muscles.”
I glanced at Derek’s ripped biceps, which were on display in his black tank top, and then shot a grin in Jordan’s direction. “I remember. Relax over there, He-Man. You look like you’re about to have a stroke.”
“Yeah, yeah. Fuck you, Prescott.”
I bit the inside of my cheek as Ace finally came to a stop in front of the three of us, each of us looking at him with what I only assumed was wide-eyed innocence, and when silence was all that greeted him, he glanced in my direction and I couldn’t help it. I lost it.
I busted up laughing, and when Derek mumbled, “Fuckin’ hell,” I laughed even harder.
Jordan showed no hesitation then, stepping away from his man to extend his hand like he was the Queen of Sheba, and when Ace took it, Jordan took another step forward and glanced up at him, batting his lashes. Full-on sex kitten.
“Well, hello there, handsome.”
As Ace’s lips curled to one side, he looked my way, and I just raised my brow, letting him know he was all on his own with this one.
“Hi,” he said, and then tracked his eyes down Jordan to his blindingly bright pants. “Nice shorts.”
Jordan cocked his head to the side as if trying to decide if Ace was serious or bullshitting him, and then he gave him a coy smile and a once-over of his own before announcing, “Nice…everything.”
“Okay, Jordan,” Derek said, stepping forward and taking hold of Jordan’s elbow. “Excuse him; he actually has a brain, just not around—”
“Muscles,” Jordan ended, and then let go of Ace’s hand to trail his fingers down his arm, which made Ace’s eyes bulge and me laugh all over again. Shit, I had no idea how Derek had wound up with that firecracker, but damn if it wasn’t amusing as hell to watch.
“Obviously my boyfriend has a thing for your boyfriend, Prescott,” Derek grumbled, crossing his arms. “Yeah, yeah, just get it all out in the open there. Maybe add a bit of tongue.”
Jordan’s trilling laugh echoed in the evening air as he turned back to his man, his eyes gleaming, and then threw his hands over Derek’s shoulders. “You know I’m a sucker for a man with a possessive streak.”
“And muscles, yeah, we heard,” Derek said.
Jordan looked over his shoulder at us and said, “Anyone here know a guy by that description? Resting bitch face, tattoos, sexy fucking ass? Doesn’t usually play well with others?”
As Ace and I began to laugh, Derek tried to bite back the smile that was playing on his lips.
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he said.
“You’re lucky I have a thing for bad boys named Derek Pearson,” Jordan replied, and then dropped his arms and faced us. “So while we wait for the others, let’s get our drink on and you guys can tell us every little juicy detail about how you met, how you’ve been sneaking around, how that place we can’t talk about but we all know about was…”
“Nice try,” I said as we all took a chair and Derek stoked the fire a bit. It had been relatively mild weather the last few days, and we’d spent them relaxing on the beach, boating, spending time with the family, and generally unwinding. I couldn’t say I was dying to get back to the crazy that would welcome us tomorrow, and I had a feeling Ace wasn’t looking forward to it either. But it’d been a good trip, and I hoped it’d gotten his mind off everything for at least a little while.
“See, this here’s how we treat fancy folks who come visit us in little ole Sunset Cove,” Derek said, and held up a skewer and a packet of beef franks. “We make you cook your own wiener over the fire pit.”
“We’re classy like that,” Jordan agreed, passing us both a couple of skewers and a separate package of hot dogs.
Ace laughed and leaned forward in his chair toward the fire. “I’m not complaining. It’s a nice change.”
“You know,” I said, “if you wanted to really go all out, you could’ve brought the—”
“S’mores?” Derek held up a bag of marshmallows and chocolate bars, and I promptly shut my mouth.
“Jordan brought these. I don’t do sweets,” he said, tossing the bag of marshmallows my way. “I shouldn’t think you would be doing too many sweets either, Prescott.”
“Oh shut it, Derek. Just because you’re weird and don’t eat desserts—” Dylan said.
“Really?” Ace asked, looking over at Derek. “You don’t like dessert? Of any kind?”
“See, weird.” Jordan grinned in Derek’s direction.
“If we’re gonna talk about weird, how about we discuss the fact that the last time we sat around a bonfire with s’mores you managed to—”
“Derek Pearson, you shut your mouth,” Jordan interrupted, shooting to his feet. His eyes were round and his lips were pinched together as he glared daggers at a chuckling Derek. “Oh, but what fun would that be, Posh?”
Ace leaned over to where I sat beside him watching the show playing out across from us, and pressed his lips to my temple, where he whispered, “Did he just call him Posh?”
When I nodded, Ace laughed and turned back just in time to see Jordan’s scarlet face. “Be careful, He-Man…”
That only seemed to encourage Derek, though, because his hand whipped out and he grabbed a hold of Jordan’s wrist to pull him down onto his lap.
“Are you threatenin’ me?” he asked, his eyes glued to his boyfriend’s in a way that made it crystal clear to anyone watching the two of them that they were madly in love.
“Only within an inch of your life,” Jordan replied, and smacked a kiss to Derek’s lips. “Oh fine,” he said with a wave of his hand. “If anything, this story makes me sound extremely…talented.”
“That’s one way to look at it.” Derek settled back in his seat with his arms wrapped around Jordan’s waist. And if the attentive way Ace was now staring at the two of them across the fire was any indication, he was just as eager as I was to find out what had happened the last time these two had sat down to eat s’mores.
* * *
SITTING ACROSS FROM Derek and Jordan was like sitting across from lifelong friends. Within seconds of meeting them I felt accepted, comfortable, and welcome. But more importantly, I felt as though I could be the exact version of myself I wanted to be—Dylan’s partner.
Dylan had reached across to take my hand in his, as Derek began to relay his story, and I couldn’t help but wish for a few seconds that this could be our life. This simple, easy, day-to-day routine we’d been living since we’d arrived in Florida. Because this life was as close to perfection as I had ever imagined possible.
“The story goes like this,” Derek began, grinning like a devil as Jordan rolled his eyes in a dramatic way I was coming to associate with the effervescent man. “We’d gone over to Brantley and Finn’s for a bonfire, just like this one. They’ll be here a little later, and anyway, we decided to make s’mores. A decision that was made before we’d all had a few too many drinks, and when it finally came time to get out the ingredients, this one here picked up a marshmallow, looked at me across the fire, and bet me that he could fit more marshmallows in his mouth than I could.”
Jordan was pretending to pay very close attention to inspecting his nails as Derek continued to tell the tale. I had to admit, I was curious now just how many it had taken to win, since Jordan now claimed this story made him sound…talented.
“So, never one to back down from a dare, I took him up on the challenge. Really, I should’ve known better, having been at the receiving end of watching him swallow a mouthful of—”
“Derek!”
Dylan placed my palm high on his thigh and squeezed as he let out a laugh, and when I cut my eyes in his direction, he licked his lips. The tease is flirting with me.
“Oh please, now you’re acting shy?” Derek said.
Jordan shot him a glare. “Stick to the story.”
“Oh, fine. Anyway, we started to each put a marshmallow in our mouths, one at a time. Finn was out at four. You’d think a lawyer would have a bigger mouth than that. Though his professor got five inside, and that explained a lot as to why he held Finn’s attention all these years. But Jordan,” Derek said, smoothing his hands up and down the top of Jordan’s thighs, making him squirm atop his lap. And Dylan chose that moment to slip my hand down the inside of his thigh, making me almost mirror Jordan’s agitated move. “Well, he gave me and my big mouth a run for my money…” Derek chuckled and then bit at Jordan’s ear before saying, “Then left me in the dust.”
I rubbed the firm thigh under my palm, and then glanced over at the two telling the story, and couldn’t help but ask, “So just how many marshmallows did Posh get in his mouth?”
When Derek and Jordan both froze and pinned me with equally shocked expressions, Derek’s eyes practically twinkled with mirth, as if he couldn’t believe I’d just called Jordan the name I’d heard earlier, and Jordan…well, to say he looked shocked speechless was a gross understatement. He’d gone all slack-jawed, and straightened on Derek’s lap like someone had just zapped him in the ass. I had a feeling I was witnessing an anomaly, because this guy didn’t seem the type to be speechless or shy in any way at all.
“You better watch out, Locke,” Derek advised as laughter bubbled out of him. “This one takes issue with that particular nickname.”
“I don’t know,” I said as I looked Jordan over. “I think it suits him. I’ve been called much worse, trust me, and that’s a title you should be proud of. By the way, you still didn’t answer. How many marshmallows?”
Jordan seemed to preen under the compliment, before he settled back into Derek’s arms and said, “Twelve.”
Now it was my mouth’s turn to fall open as I glanced at the bag of marshmallows sitting on Dylan’s lap. How in the world…? Those things weren’t exactly small, either. When I raised my eyes to find Dylan’s, he held the bag up at me.
“Think you could beat that, hotshot?”
I shut my mouth and looked back toward Jordan, who’d brought Derek’s fingers to his lips, where he kissed them, telling me, “What can I say? There isn’t much in life I prefer than having my mouth full.”
“He ain’t lyin’ about that, either. Thank God,” Derek said, and though he was clearly joking around with his boyfriend, there was an underlying affection there. A love that was obvious to anyone looking at the two of them, and that made me yearn for what they had. I wanted to be able to feel that free with the wonderful man sitting beside me. I wanted to be able to show the world that I meant what I’d told him the other day on the boat. That I loved him.
AN HOUR OR so later, Derek’s buddy Finn and his partner Brantley arrived, and not too far behind were Dylan’s parents. We spent the rest of the night telling stories around the fire and eating hot dogs and s’mores, and I felt more “normal” than I ever imagined I could. Not only did I feel like a person, rather than a celebrity, but the deep sense of acceptance I was experiencing was unlike anything I’d ever hoped to feel. Down here, with Dylan’s friends and family, I could be me. The real me. A person I was finally starting to understand, thanks to the man I currently had my arms wrapped around.
Dylan was cradling a beer as he spoke with Sunshine about when we would next visit, and as he spoke he casually turned his hand over to entwine his fingers through mine, as if he’d been doing it for years rather than months, and I marveled at just how lucky I was.
Somehow through all the chaos that was my everyday life, Dylan had found me. And as I stood there surrounded by so much love and warmth, I knew there was no way I was ever going to let him go.