Chapter 4

Reece

 

 

Reece tried to stop staring at Tate as the three of them ate dinner at Reece’s table, but it was difficult. Tate had shown up with a detachable hose and washed LJ’s hair in the kitchen sink while Reece had looked on, almost cutting himself three different times, he was so nervous. Reece was glad when Tate had finally had LJ sit on a little stool in the living room to grease her scalp and braid her hair. By the time the man had finished, dinner was ready and the shaking in Reece’s hands had stilled. Now they were all tucking into the risotto, salad, and warm rosemary focaccia Reece had picked up from Trader Joe’s.

Tate’s low chuckle as he laughed at something LJ said drew Reece in. He felt a pull toward Tate, and it seemed like no amount of looking would ever give him a full picture of the man sitting to his right, chatting with his daughter like the two were best friends.

Reece loved that Tate really listened to LJ, his forehead wrinkled in concentration. Tate always let LJ finish speaking before he responded, and he never talked over her or placated her with empty fillers—Tate always responded to LJ thoughtfully, and Reece could tell that really boosted her confidence.

Reece appreciated Tate’s willingness to help but didn’t want to be just be a taker in Tate’s life. Reece didn’t have much to give but cooking was one of the things Reece both enjoyed and excelled at, so he was excited to share that with Tate in exchange for doing LJ’s hair.

“You were right, Mr. Tate, the ostriches did have super long eyelashes. They looked fake. They also had long necks too, like the giraffe’s but not as big around though.” LJ picked up her cup of water, taking a sip.

Tate’s eyes grew round in mock wonder as he set his fork down. “See, told ya. Did you get to see the ostriches run, too?”

LJ shook her head. “No, they were just kind of standing there.”

Reece pushed some food around his plate and smiled, still shocked that the man had agreed to dinner. Reece had been afraid Tate would shut him down after the way Reece had avoided him. When Tate had said he’d be willing to go on a date with him, Reece had panicked. What the hell did he know about dates? He and LJ’s mom had never dated so much as they’d hung out with mutual friends and had sex.

Tate was smart, independent, mature. Reece was sure he’d have certain expectations that Reece was equally sure he wouldn’t be able to meet. So rather than humiliate himself, he’d run from the apartment as quickly as possible and avoided Tate for the rest of the week.

It wasn’t until LJ had basically asked him what his problem was that Reece realized what a dick move that had been. Even without taking Tate out, he’d managed to embarrass himself anyway. He didn’t know how to explain his bitch-assness to Tate, so Reece had continued to avoid the other man, much to LJ’s annoyance. Tate’s voice pulled Reece from his thoughts.

“You know, I’ve never been to the zoo,” he said.

LJ’s jaw dropped, a look of disbelief on her face, at the same time her fork clattered onto her plate. She looked over at Reece.

“Dad, we have to take Mr. Tate to the zoo.”

Reece had to suppress a laugh at the way his daughter made taking Tate to the zoo a matter of life and death, but then he realized his sweet daughter had given him an opportunity to do what he told himself he would if Tate gave him the time of day again. He cleared his throat, wiping his mouth with his napkin, blood rushing to his face at what he was about to do.

“Tate, you interested in going to the zoo next weekend? Before it gets really cold?” He drew in a shaky breath, then winced internally. Technically, it wasn’t a date if his eight-year-old was going to be with him.

Tate dipped his head, then met Reece’s gaze with an almost shy smile. “Well, I’d love to go to the zoo, but I’m only off on Sundays and Mondays.”

LJ frowned, picking up her fork again, looking as disappointed as Reece felt. “We have Sunday dinner with my Nana Darlene and then Dad has work and I have school on Monday.”

Reece gave the two of them a small smile, feeling a bit braver. “Well, maybe we’ll have to invite Mr. Tate to Sunday dinner one of these weekends?”

That perked LJ up, her braids swaying as she bounced in her seat a bit. Now that Tate was sitting there at his table, Reece was grateful that LJ had wrecked her hair at the football game and that he’d let himself be talked into stopping by the shop, though LJ hadn’t had to pull his arm that much, truth be told. On the ride to the shop, he had vowed that, if Tate was willing to deal with him again, he’d apologize to the man, grow a pair, and ask him out. Well, he’d just shot his shot. Now it was up to Tate.

LJ spoke up around a mouthful of food before Tate could respond. “Nana Darlene makes good macaroni and cheese. Dad cooks better, but she likes to cook everything herself and she won’t let Dad help.” LJ frowned before shoving another spoonful of risotto into her mouth.

It was true. Cooking was just one in a laundry list of things that Reece’s mother thought him incapable of doing. She had no idea that he was a good cook and always shooed him from the kitchen when he tried to help her. It bothered him, but what was one more hurt on top of all the others? He shrugged.

Tate cocked his head, pulling apart a piece of the focaccia with his long slim fingers. “Your mom has never tasted your cooking? That’s a shame. If you were my kid and you made meals like this, you’d be in charge of dinner every Sunday.”

Reece preened at the compliment, stabbing at his salad. “She’s not bad in the kitchen. I’m just better is all.”

Tate shook his head. “So, you’re humble and good in the kitchen. How did you learn how to prepare food like this anyway?”

Reece chewed the salad he’d just put in his mouth, lifting a shoulder. “When I moved in with my best friend Kam, neither of us knew how to cook. I couldn’t afford to eat out all the time, so I started trying recipes I saw on those cooking shows, and it just evolved from there.” The kitchen was the only place he felt totally sure of himself. He smiled at Tate. “I really love it. It’s like, I don’t get to be too creative doing my job all day. Doesn’t take a lot of creative energy to drive a forklift on a lumberyard, but I can experiment in the kitchen.”

Tate smiled back at Reece. “That’s how I feel about doing hair. I can taste your passion for cooking in the dish. My mom used to say that when a person cooks food, you can taste what they’re feeling in whatever they prepared.”

“I think that’s true.” Reece nodded, sharing a lingering look with Tate. The other man was the first to break eye contact, but he smiled as he focused on his plate again.

“So,” asked Tate, sipping the chilled white wine that Reece had picked up to go with the risotto and asparagus. “You drive a forklift?”

Reece’s muscles tensed as he considered how to answer that question. He enjoyed his job and it was honest work, but he’d certainly experienced other people looking down on him for doing manual labor, so he was self-conscious. But when he looked closely at Tate’s face, he saw nothing but genuine curiosity there, making the nervous tension in his body ease.

“Yeah. I work at a lumberyard.”

Tate nodded and asked, “Don’t you have to be certified to operate a forklift? My dad is a bus driver and has a certain kind of license. I don’t know how some folks are coordinated enough to operate forklifts and equipment like cranes using levers and gears. I’d seriously destroy some stuff.”

Reece laughed and explained about the process of getting his license and certification, then told him about a minor accident he’d had when he’d first started working the machine.

Tate shook his head, cradling his wine glass. “See that’s why I could never do something like that. I’d have knocked down an entire building or something.”

Reece scrunched up his face. “From the brief time I saw you work, I can tell it takes a lot of coordination. I’d probably cut off a chunk of someone’s hair. The way you were trimming that lady’s ends earlier…it was almost musical. Like you had a rhythm.”

Tate looked down at his glass, then up at Reece, his eyes searching. Reece’s heart raced at Tate’s assessing gaze, hoping like hell Tate saw something of value in him. Reece heated under the scrutiny and looked over at LJ, giving her a wink. She winked back.

“Dad goes to school too, Mr. Tate,” the little girl said before taking a big bite of bread.

Tate bobbed his head. “Yeah, that’s right.” He looked Reece. “You mentioned it at the shop. How do you manage that and work? Especially since you and LJ are on your own.”

Reece was grateful for the way Tate had worded his statement, carefully avoiding bringing up the topic of LJ’s mom, knowing without even being told that it was a sensitive subject.

Once again, Reece felt a little self-conscious talking about school since, like everything else in his life, he was behind the curve. But thus far, Tate hadn’t been judgmental or put him down, so Reece told Tate about attending the community college in the evenings and what he hoped to do once he finished his associate’s degree.

Reece pushed his empty plate away and reached for his wine. “I’m not sure if I’ll go for a bachelor’s degree since it will take me forever to finish ’cause I work full time. Even if I did get into Sacramento State, I wouldn’t be able to afford it without taking out tons of loans.”

Tate drained his glass and set it on the table. “Oh, you’d definitely get in. It’s just a matter of deciding what you want to do and whether it’s worth the investment based on that.”

Reece was struck by how matter-of-fact Tate was about Reece’s ability to get into college. His insides lit up at Tate’s confidence in him.

“I didn’t go to school,” Tate said, turning the empty wine glass on the table. “I liked school and was always interested, but at the time, it made more sense for me to just get my cosmetology license and start working.”

Reece noticed a dark expression cross the other man’s face, but Tate continued talking before Reece could ask him about it.

“I have been considering getting a business degree or something, but I’d have to pay out of pocket because I make too much to qualify for student aid. I don’t want to take any loans out either.”

Reece nodded in understanding.

“Dad, can I wash my hands and pick out a movie?” LJ asked, now slumped in her seat, tearing the rest of her bread into little pieces. Her energy had waned after she’d finished eating, and she looked bored with the direction the conversation had taken.

“Sure,” Reece answered. “Just put your plate in the sink, so I can load the dishwasher.”

LJ jumped up from the table and reached for her plate before stopping mid motion. “Mr. Tate, do you want to stay and watch a movie with us?”

Tate wavered, and Reece’s stomach heaved at the thought of Tate turning them down. Tate still hadn’t even responded to Reece’s comment about coming to Sunday dinner.

“Well, that depends on what we’re watching.”

Reece breathed a sigh of relief. “Houseguest’s choice tonight,” Reece said, grinning.

Tate stood, grabbing his and Reece’s empty plates. “All right, I’m in.”

After clearing the table and loading the dishwasher together, Reece set Tate and LJ up to browse his Netflix account and the movies he had saved to his hard drive while he gathered some snacks and desserts. Reece didn’t own any DVDs but there were a few classics he liked that weren’t always available on the streaming services. He’d bought those and several of LJ’s favorites to have on hand.

Tate settled on the Sandlot which Reece watched at least twice a year. “It’s an American movie classic as far as I’m concerned,” Tate had sniffed. Reece’s belly flipped as the three of them settled on his second-hand leather sectional, a bowl of cinnamon and sugar popcorn between them and a plate of brownies and snickerdoodles on the cheap coffee table in front of the small hand-me-down flat screen TV his mama had given him.

Eventually, LJ moved from the couch to the carpeted floor with a pillow and the aging princess blanket she’d had since she was three.

LJ was completely engrossed in the film, laughing around mouthfuls of popcorn and cookies at the lines that both Tate and Reece quoted from memory along with the characters, looking over at each other when they quoted the same line at the same time, eyes dancing. Somehow, over the course of the film, they had moved closer and closer to each other so that, by the time Smalls had lobbed his dad’s Babe Ruth signed baseball over the fence into the clutches of The Beast, their shoulders, hips, and thighs were touching. Reece shivered at the feel of Tate’s bare arm against his, shaking with the effort it took not to run the pads of his fingers over the man’s slightly hairy earth-toned skin.

The two sat, lightly pressed against each other, the energy between them becoming increasingly tense as the movie wore on. Then, as The Beast chased Benny “The Jet” Rodriguez through town, LJ had grown silent and gone limp, her head on the pillow she’d had propped under her elbows as she’d watched the movie on her belly from the floor.

“She asleep?” Tate asked, looking down at the little girl, a whisper of a smile on his face.

Reece nodded and reluctantly rose from the couch, kneeled, and scooped up the little girl. “I’ll be right back. Let me tuck her in,” he said before heading down the hall. He got LJ settled in about ten minutes. She didn’t stir as he got her pajamas on her and made sure to put the cloth bonnet over her fresh braids so they wouldn’t get messed up in her sleep. After giving her a kiss on the cheek, he walked back down the hall.

“You want another glass of wine?” Reece asked as he came back into the living room.

Tate lifted up a full glass of wine and looked over the back of couch, smirking at Reece. “Already helped myself. Hope you don’t mind.”

Reece’s heart skipped a beat at the vision of Tate on his couch, legs tucked under him, looking at home. Reece plopped back onto the couch. “Not at all,” he said, before taking a deep breath and sliding close to Tate even though there was plenty of space on the rest of the couch.

Reece rubbed the back of his head with his right hand then stretched it out along the back of the sofa so that Tate was basically tucked into him. “So, do you want to watch something else? I think I have the Goonies on my hard drive.”

Tate shook his head slowly then looked up at Reece, tracing the rim of his wine glass with one finger. “I want to talk to you.”

“Wha— Uh…what about?”

Tate lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “You. I want to know more about you, Reece. Like, what’s your middle name and how you ended up being a single dad. And why you didn’t ask me out last week when I thought you wanted to and I practically guaranteed I’d say yes.”

Whoa. Reece chuckled. “Damn. You’re direct, man. But that’s cool, I respect that.”

Tate inclined his head and waited, leaning his head back so that it was resting on Reece’s arm. The contact sent a jolt of electricity up his spine. Reece leaned forward and grabbed his wine from the coffee table and took a sip before setting it back down and speaking.

“Well, my full name is Reece Christopher. Reece Christopher Evans,” he said, letting his hand creep down and over Tate’s shoulder.

Tate leaned forward and set his glass on the table then stuck out a hand. “Nice to meet you Reece Christopher Evans. I’m Tate Lee Robinson.”

Reece grinned and slipped his hand into Tate’s. The other man ran his thumb over Reece’s knuckles, his fingertips lingering over Reece’s skin before slowly releasing his grasp, making Reece’s breath catch. As soon as they’d broken contact, he wished they were touching again, and as though he couldn’t help it, he scooted closer to Tate, placing his arm back around Tate’s shoulder. The other man leaned into his side.

“Um…how did I end up being a single dad?” Reece inhaled and let out a deep breath. Part of him was reluctant to tell Tate something so personal, but he also trusted Tate instinctively and felt compelled to tell the man as much as he could about himself. Tate put a hand Reece’s knee as though he sensed Reece’s struggle, and that loosened something inside Reece and he spoke.

“LJ’s mom, Jenna—she’s a heroin addict. I took over full time when LJ called me crying one night.”

Tate drew in a sharp breath, covering his mouth, moisture clouding his eyes. “Is she—she’s not—did—”

Reece shook his head, the cold dread of that night returning and making it momentarily hard for him to breathe. Then Tate’s hand squeezed his knee and he relaxed. “No, Jenna didn’t overdose or anything like that,” Reece said. “I dropped LJ off to her one Sunday night. Jenna seemed fine, a little tired…but shortly after I left, she left too and didn’t come back. LJ didn’t call me until the lights stopped working Wednesday evening and someone showed up at the door and spooked her.”

Reece’s throat closed up and ached with the remembered panic and fear of getting that call.

Looking back, he’d noticed that Jenna had been off and not herself for months, and after the dust had settled, he’d hated himself for not guessing what was going on, especially after he’d found used needles in her bedroom. He shuddered at the thought of what could have happened if LJ had stumbled across them.

When Reece had arrived at the house, a shaking and inconsolable LJ had flown into his arms and hadn’t wanted to disentangle herself from Reece even when he explained he needed to drive them to his place.

After he’d fed, bathed, and finally calmed her down, he’d found out that this hadn’t been the first time Jenna had gone out on a bender leaving LJ alone, but it was the first time she hadn’t come back. LJ felt guilty about revealing what was going on with her mom, so she hadn’t said anything to Reece or any of her grandparents.

Reece was brought out of his thoughts by the cool smooth touch of a hand on the back of his neck. When his vision focused, Tate was cupping the back of his neck with one hand and gently rubbing his knee with the other. The feel of Tate’s skin on his made the ball of darkness in Reece’s chest break apart. He sank into the man’s touch, the breath rushing from his lungs. The words came pouring out of him as he turned more fully toward Tate and rested both his hands on the man’s thighs.

“I don’t know what I’m fucking doing, Tate.” Reece met the other man’s eyes, his body trembling. “When I picked her up that day, the house was fucking filthy. There was no food in the cabinets. LJ told me it had been like that off and on for months, and I didn’t even know.” Reece sucked in a breath and Tate’s hand dropped to his back and curled around his shoulder.

“I should have known, Tate, but I didn’t because I’m a fucking idiot.” He shook his head, moisture pooling in his eyes. “Even after Jenna fucked up royally, her parents didn’t want me to have LJ,” he whispered.

“Why?” Tate pulled back, face confused.

“’Cause I’m bi. They’re fucking homophobes and I’m a fuckup.”

Tate shook his head. “No. No, Recce. That’s bullshit and you know it. You’re not a fuckup.”

But that was the thing, Reece didn’t know. Even his own damn mama thought he was a flake, and sometimes LJ took better care of him than he did of her.

Like earlier tonight when she’d insisted on him showering and putting on some jeans and a decent shirt instead of the sweats he’d pulled out of his dresser. He hadn’t been in the mood to get dressed up, and he hadn’t wanted to be overdressed in case Tate showed up in sweats himself, but LJ had insisted. Reece had asked why. She seemed reluctant to respond at first, but when he picked up the sweats again, she’d snatched them out of his hands.

“I don’t want you to be by yourself when I grow up and get my own house, Dad,” she had said emphatically.

He felt like he’d been punched in the chest. “Nana Darlene lives by herself. What’s wrong with that?”

LJ had shrugged. “Nothing is wrong with that, but Nana Darlene says she likes her space. You— You’re…You look lonely sometimes, Dad, and I don’t want you to be alone.” She’d then marched over to dresser and picked out a nice pullover shirt to go with his jeans while Reece had just stood there stunned.

Eight years old and LJ was already more intuitive than her father and aware of what he needed even when he wasn’t. And it made him feel terrible. She was a kid. She shouldn’t be worrying about him.

He briefly dropped his forehead against Tate’s before pulling away.

“I’m a mess, Tate. I let her play football instead of putting her in ballet or some such shit. I left her with her drug addict mom. I can’t comb her hair and I can’t even afford to pay you to do it.”

Suddenly Tate stopped caressing him and pulled back. Tate cupped Reece’s chin. “Enough with the pity party. Seriously, Reece, no more weak talk.”

Reece frowned, and Tate just lifted his eyebrows in challenge. Reece stayed silent.

“First of all, you let LJ be LJ, and Ms. Lettie Jean ain’t no ballerina. She’s a DB who just so happens to also adore Princess Tiana as much as I do.” Tate ticked off one finger and popped up another. “You’re not responsible for her mother’s shitty actions, and no one can blame you for trusting the woman who, up until recently, had been, from your description of her, a good parent.”

Reece opened his mouth to interject, but Tate held up his palm briefly before holding up three fingers. “And finally, the ability to braid hair and make smooth ponytails doesn’t make you a good parent.”

Reece felt slightly defensive at Tate’s tough words but let them sink in for a moment. He thought about his best friend Kameron’s mother who kept a clean house, had always kept Kam and his siblings dressed well, but couldn’t give a damn about their academic performance when they’d all been in school and didn’t support them in anything they pursued. Maybe Tate was right.

Then Tate cradled Reece’s face in thin but wide hands, looking into his eyes, inches away. Reece was captivated and couldn’t look away.

“You’re a great dad, Reece Christopher Evans,” Tate whispered, face earnest. “I can tell by how amazing that little girl in there is. No one is perfect, but, honey, you’re doing okay, so stop being so hard on yourself.”

Reece took in his cheaply furnished apartment, still doubtful, but then he looked back at Tate’s shining determined eyes and the man’s honesty settled the roiling in Reece’s chest.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right,” Reece said softly.

He didn’t know why Tate’s words meant so much to him—he barely knew the guy—but they did. Tate had given Reece exactly what he’d needed: affirmation. Then Tate divined Reece’s needs again, giving him more of what he needed—touch, closeness, drawing Reece in to him until their lips met in a gentle kiss.

They drew closer together, encircling each other, with Reece’s legs around Tate’s waist and Tate’s thighs and legs fitting around Reece’s butt. Lips never parting, they fell into place around each other, broad hands gripping muscled backs covered in cotton. Reece loved the contrast of Tate’s smooth lips on his rough ones. Reece also liked the hardness of Tate’s pecs against his own muscular chest. Tate didn’t shy away from maneuvering Reece where he wanted him to go, one hand at the base of Reece’s neck, the other at the small of his back.

When Tate nipped at Reece’s bottom lip, stuck his tongue out, paused then went for it and licked Reece’s bottom lip, Reece opened for Tate. There was an ebb and flow of tentative nibbles and pecks and breath-stealing lip-locks, their hands roaming each other’s torsos. Reece was warm like he was when he woke after a good night’s rest, cocooned in his comforter. And while his heart pounded with excitement at finally being in the arms of the man he’d been crushing on, he wasn’t nervous; kissing Tate felt new but natural as though they’d kissed a thousand times before. 

Eventually they eased away from each other, their lips pressing briefly against a cheek, an eyelid, the corner of a mouth, until their foreheads were touching as they shared slightly labored breaths.

“I like you, Tate.” The words spilled from Reece as though Tate had wrung them from him. Tate pulled back, forcing Reece to disentangle their legs. Tate was in profile to Reece now, his head dropped against the back of the couch. His stomach seized and his confidence drained, waiting to hear Tate’s response.

“I like you too, Reece,” the other man mumbled.

Oh, thank fuck.

Reece sighed in relief as Tate shifted to meet his gaze.

“I’m crazy attracted to you. Obviously. But, I’m just nervous because guys like you—”

Reece’s hackles rose. “Guys like me?”

Tate closed his eyes briefly then opened them. “Yeah. Guys like you. Stereotypically male. Not so obviously queer. Well, they’ve been attracted to me, dated me. But inevitably break things off, because they think I’m too femme. Too flamboyant.” Tate’s shine flickered, and a well of heat raced up Reece’s chest.

“Well, fuck those dudes,” Reece said, throwing himself back on the couch. “And don’t ever compare me to them. I see you, Tate.” He turned his head and waited until Tate met his gaze. “I like what I see. All of it. All of you. You look good to me in heels, kicks, tight-ass ladies’ jeans, and sweats too. I just like you, man.” He ended his little tirade on a shaky breath and then leaned over to brush his lips against Tate’s.

As he went to pull back, Tate trapped Reece against him, gliding his tongue across the seam of Reece’s lips, coaxing Reece to open then luring him into an urgent kiss. Their lips and noses smashed, teeth bit and clacked as they clutched at each other before Tate pulled back abruptly.

“What am I doing?” Tate whispered, resting his head against Reece’s. “You have a kid. You’re my client. My neighbor.” He pulled back, his face serious, eyes searching Reece’s. “And I like to top. Mostly. Like seventy-thirty.” Tate lifted his chin as though waiting for Reece to object.

Reece just smiled, his dick twitching at the thought of Tate topping him, bending him over the couch and making him wail. He brushed his lips against Tate’s. “Well, lucky for both of us then that I like to bottom, mostly. I’d say about sixty-forty. I figure we can meet somewhere in the middle. As far as the other stuff goes… What? You discriminating against me?”

Tate shook his head. “No, it’s just that I’ve been here before, okay. With the straight guys, the bi guys, even the gay ones, and most of them just wanted to fuck and didn’t even want to take me out on a date because I was too effeminate for them.” Tate waved his hand. “Too whatever, too…me, and I just…” He trailed off.

“You expect me to be like them,” Reece finished.

Tate groaned then covered his face briefly. “No, okay? Maybe. Ugh. It’s hard not to expect this to be the same, you know?” Tate grimaced.

Disappointment surged through Reece but then quickly dissipated. Tate didn’t think Reece would personally fuckup whatever this was that was starting between them. No, this had nothing to do with Reece. Tate had been burned, and Reece could relate. He couldn’t make any promises about the outcome of their budding whatever it was, but he damn sure wanted to try. He didn’t want to be to Tate what all the other men who’d come before had been.

Reece grabbed Tate’s hand, turning to face the man. “Well, how about we do the unexpected? Can I take you out next Friday after work?” Reece held his breath.

Tate ducked his head in a rare show of bashfulness. It was adorable. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Tate squeezed his hand. “Any idea of where we’re going yet? I have to figure out what to wear.”

Reece did, in fact, have a place in mind. He grinned at Tate then leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Wear whatever you want, just make sure it includes heels.”