Cart Wright, J.M. - The Trouble With Angel 1

The Trouble with Angel - 1
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher. The Trouble with Angel TOP SHELF An imprint of Torquere Press Publishers PO Box 2545 Round Rock, TX 78680 Copyright 2011 JM Cartwright Cover illustration by Skylar Sinclair Published with permission ISBN: 978-1-61040-216-3 www.torquerepress.com All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. For information address Torquere Press. Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680. First Torquere Press Printing: May 2011
The Trouble With Angel

By JM Cartwright
Chapter 1
Angel Vargas walked into his office on a Friday at eight a.m., his arms loaded with files, juggling his morning mocha. If he started a day without his extra hot espresso drink, he was not such a happy person. Dumping the files on his desk, he took a sip of his morning energy drink. Slurping a little, he sucked up the whipped cream on the top of the drink. "Mmmm." Man, it wasn't quite worth four-fifty, but still, it was good. He straightened his black silk tie, which today he'd paired with his favorite pinstriped Armani shirt. His trousers were also Armani; his shoes and belt were Dolce & Gabbana. He was a walking advertisement for the best in men's fashion. He peeked at the mirror he'd hung on the wall alongside his desk. His thick, black hair was combed back in an attempt to tame the slight wave; he kept it cut shorter on the sides to add to his professional appearance. His dark brown eyes, though, with their long, long lashes, had managed to successfully sway more than one temperamental Hill client. "Vargas! If you're done guzzling your drug of choice and admiring yourself in the mirror, do you mind getting your ass in here?" With his back to his boss' door, he safely rolled his eyes to the ceiling before swinging around with a smile on his face. "Sure thing, boss. I'll be right there." He picked up his venti cup, a pen and pad of paper, and headed over to the large office connected to his. Walking inside, he headed to the chairs facing the broad mahogany desk, where he dropped down into a
comfortably stuffed club chair. Taking a sip, he looked over at his boss. Celeste Miller stared back at him. CeCe was a tough nut, though most days she disguised her shark persona by dressing like a soccer mom. Today, however, she must have scheduled a meeting with some bigwigs because she was dressed to kill -- or to sign a new client. "You know, I've always thought you should have been named Lucifer instead of Angel." CeCe used the pronunciation he preferred, the Anglo version. Smirking, Angel slouched down a little and crossed one leg over the other. "What are you talking about now?" "Roscoe Davis called me at six-thirty this morning. He was screaming in my ear about how we stole his client, Stephanie Winslow. It seems she told him she's switching representation -- and she named me as her new agent." Stephanie Winslow was the latest hottie to grace the Hollywood scene. "You mind telling me why she's switching to us? Not that I mind, of course, but I thought she was locked in over at Rydell." Angel shrugged, taking another sip of his mocha. "Mmmm. That is good." At CeCe's raised brow, he refocused. "She's a fag hag." "And?" "And I spotted her over at Lucille. She was with her agent, and he was reaming her out over something stupid. Apparently he was dumb enough to do it over contract negotiations." Another sip. "When she went to the bathroom, I followed her. Told her what a homophobic asshole Roscoe is -- which you know is true," he assured CeCe. He watched her nod in answer. "Anyway -- we hung out and I pitched us to her. It took a little talking -- and a few drinks -- but when I left her at eleven, she said she was going to call Roscoe and tell
him to shove it." CeCe leaned forward, bracing her elbows on the polished wood. "Well, apparently she did. In a big way." She pushed the LA newspaper across to him. "Have you seen this?" He shook his head, dropping his foot back to the floor so he could reach over. "Uh-uh. I was going to look at it when I sat at my desk. I got a couple of Google alerts on it, too, but I had to get my mocha first before I could process anything." He pulled the paper toward himself, a grin breaking across his face as he read. "She did it -she got him to show his bigoted asshole self in front of the cameras!" Angel was all but crowing in his delight. "Remind me not to fuck you over like Roscoe did." CeCe had hired Angel away from Rydell three years before, after he'd had an extreme parting of the ways with Roscoe. Abruptly sobering, Angel looked over at his boss. "That would be tough, since he did it between the sheets." Aware he'd finally managed to shock his unshockable boss, Angel looked away, focusing on the view out CeCe's large window. She was quiet for a few moments. "You mean that son of a bitch is gay? He's always mouthing off about homos-this and queers-that." Angel gave a short, humorless laugh. "Uh-huh. He is so far in the closet he'll never see the light of day." His lips twisted in a parody of a smile. "I was stupid enough to think that maybe, just maybe, I was worth... stepping out for." "Sweetie -- you know you can never change a man. He has to do it himself." His boss shook her head with a moue of sympathy. "What an asshole. You know you're better off here with me -- and definitely better off without him."
Despite his leftover hurt and anger, he smiled back at her. "Yes, CeCe, I do. Especially because I get to rub this one in his face. Even more since I know you're going to pay me a bonus for bringing Stephanie on board." He put his coffee cup on the edge of the desk and rubbed his hands together. "A huge one." He pushed up from his chair and grabbed his mocha, raising it in a toast. Laughing, CeCe nodded. "Yes, indeed. Let's see what we can squeeze out of the tightwad in the corner office. He should be mighty happy with our name being all over the place today, thanks to you." *** That afternoon, around three-thirty, Angel finished reading the email CeCe had forwarded from Charles Hill, the CEO of Hill Agency. He raised a fist into the air as he again skimmed the contents approving his bonus. "Oh, yeah!" This bonus could enable him to finally reach his goal of getting his mom to leave the old neighborhood and let him buy her a house, if she'd only agree. "Yes!" That three-year deal Stephanie Winslow was going to sign had dollar signs flashing in front of his eyes. He might even have enough for a down payment on a place of his own. He'd come to Hill as executive assistant to CeCe, and he'd learned so much from her, way more than he ever thought he would. He still wasn't sure he wanted to move up and become an agent. Angel didn't know if he was cut out to be that much of a shark all the time, but he definitely did enjoy working with her and helping her manage and increase her customer base, which ran the gamut from musicians and actors to athletes and writers.
While her sports and talent agents directly managed the majority of her client list, she kept a select few to personally represent. Of course, he had favorites among her group. Chief on his Yes List was Johnny Rayne, the former leader of the rock band Storm. Angel enjoyed working with several of her others almost as much, but he had a soft spot for Johnny. Johnny was the man who'd shocked the world the previous year by leaving Storm at the absolute top his game. Several months later, the rocker had compounded the sensational news by announcing he was in love with another man. Angel had nothing but very sincere admiration as well as liking for such a guy. It had to have taken real guts to walk away from it all. Then, to bare his soul like that... "I take it you like what you see?" CeCe's voice was amused but happy as she rested a hip on the corner of his desk. She'd been riding the tide of rainmaker today. Though Angel had brought the actress into the fold, he was content to stand behind CeCe as part of her team. He knew CeCe had been very upfront with the boss about how the deal had come to pass, though, and had shone the spotlight where it was warranted. Leaning back in his chair, he swiveled from side to side. Turning his head to look at his boss, a big smile flashed on his face. "My mom is going to like it, too. This should put me over the top for my house account." "Just don't go crazy -- make sure you shop around for both of you. This is most definitely a buyer's market." Motioning with her hand, she held up a delaying finger. "Hey. Before you go off and pick out new dishes, I need you to babysit another client. I've got to get to Sherry's soccer game tonight or Garrett is going to kill me. He had to fly to Sacramento for some problem at the main
plant." Angel knew she took her job as a mother very seriously, and she often sent her staffers to travel with her clients when she had obligations at home. "Who is it?" He looked at her skeptically. Sometimes she sent him to babysit the biggest pricks in the client list. He swore she did it to get back at him for being a way better dresser than she was. "Brandon Halvorsen." She held up her hand again. "Now, before you have a hissy fit, just listen." He snorted in disgust. "That egotistical ape. Why should I help you with him?" Brandon Halvorsen was definitely not on his favorites list. The baseball player was everything he detested in a guy -- straight, conservative, good-looking, straight, uptight, full of his own self-worth, straight. "Maybe because, even though you played rainmaker last night, you still work for me?" CeCe raised her brows, her hands held out palms up, shrugging knowingly. "Remember?" "Whatever." He could sound like he was born in the Valley any time he wanted. Almost every trace of East LA was long gone, buried under his carefully crafted Mr. Up-and-Coming. "Where am I going?" he asked resignedly. "I do have to go feed my fish, you know." CeCe gave him a very dry look. "You don't have any fish." "Well, I was thinking about getting fish." "You can think about what fish to get on your way over to the Beverly Wilshire. Brandon said he needed me to go to a meeting with him." CeCe grabbed her bag and her jacket from the guest chair in his office. "I've got to get going. Here's his room number. He's in the penthouse." Angel watched her walk away with a wave. "Of course he is," he muttered sourly.
*** Half an hour later, he looked around as he knocked on the hotel room door. The hallway interiors were done to the nines -- the Four Seasons Beverly Wilshire was high class all the way. Some day, he thought, I'll be staying here instead of knocking on the door. The door was yanked open. Brandon Halvorsen, in all his six foot four inch, straight-man, blue-eyed, blond-haired, highly-paid athletic glory, stood in front of Angel with a frown on his face. "Oh, it's you."
Chapter 2 Brandon stood there a moment longer staring at Angel before motioning him inside. "Sorry. I was just surprised. I was expecting CeCe." His shoulder brushed Brandon's chest as he walked past, and Brandon stepped back a little. Sigh. "Don't worry. It isn't catching." Letting the door swing shut, Brandon followed Angel into the main room of the penthouse. Angel looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows as he headed to the conversation area in front of the stone fireplace. He had to concede that the view of downtown LA and the Hollywood Hills was awe-inspiring from up here. The late afternoon sun reflected off high-rise glass and spread over the slopes. "What's not catching?" Looking puzzled, Brandon watched as Angel dropped down onto one of the luxurious sofas, crossing his legs and setting his arms along the back. "Being gay." Angel was sure that was why Brandon always seemed to stand a little apart when they were in the same room. Brandon looked at him. "You're being insulting." Angel studied Brandon with a considering look. "Yeah, well, it's a habit." He scratched his head, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Here he was, in an incredible penthouse suite with one of the most gorgeous men in LA, and he couldn't make a move. Brandon walked over to pick up the open bottle of club soda sitting there. Raising it as if to say want one? he cocked a brow. When Angel shook his head silently, Brandon took a long drink. "Your habit could get you fired, you ever
think about that?" Angel watched as Brandon "The Great Dane" Halvorsen paced over to the huge picture window and stood, staring out at the city below. His host looked kind of uptight, Angel mused. He tried not to stare at the ultra-masculine, brush-cut hair and a jawline that was just hinting at a five o'clock shadow. The tall, muscular blond wore a pale blue, button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showing off tanned skin. Tight lips and a clenched jaw belied Brandon's casual look. After waiting several minutes, during which time Brandon just stood looking out the window, Angel spoke up again. "Are you going to tell me why I'm here, why you needed somebody from Hill?" Brandon jerked his head around, looking over his shoulder. "Huh?" Weird and weirder. "You wanted CeCe to go to a meeting with you, remember? You want to tell me what we're doing?" "Where is she?" Brandon's voice was a little low. He rolled his shoulders, looking like he was trying to relax. "She, uh, had a family commitment she couldn't get out of." Brandon really did look like something was wrong, Angel was just realizing. "I'm, um, sorry. She sent me to make sure you got whatever you need." He lifted one shoulder. "Sounded like you just had a business meeting. What's it about, your contract? It's up next year, right?" Bringing his arms down from his casual stance, Angel sat forward on the sofa. "You know we can take care of that. You're a power lefty, anyway. You know the team will want to keep you happy." "Uh, yeah. Probably." Brandon paced back to the seating area again, then spun around as if looking for something. "What's going on?" Something definitely was not
right in Brandon's world. Turning back, Brandon looked over at Angel again, his eyes unfocused. He moved to stand across the coffee table from Angel. "I. Have to go to... I wanted CeCe--" Angel sat up expectantly. "Yes?" "Christ! I wanted CeCe because she's a woman, okay?" Brandon blurted. Taken aback by the sudden aggression, Angel sat back slowly. "You do know she's married, right?" "What?" Brandon sounded confused. "Married. Husband. Remember?" So, another straight guy lusting after a married woman. A powerful, married woman. "Look, kid." Brandon blew out a breath. "You better lose the attitude or..." Taking another breath, he continued. "I just need a woman with me, that's all." "What -- you don't think I can handle whatever it is? I can do anything a woman can do." Angel made the rash statement before he thought. "Really?" Relaxing slightly, Brandon smirked. "You sure about that?" Seeing that smirk, Angel's blood got fired up. "Well, just about everything but lactate, I guess. What do you need?" At that, Brandon laughed, shaking his head. "You are something else, Angel." The ballplayer shrugged. "Okay." He reached into his jeans pocket, pulling out his iPhone. "When you put it that way, maybe you will do, after all." Angel's eyes were drawn helplessly to the taut stretching of fabric over that masculine bulge. It so wasn't fair, he assured himself. Why the hell he found this guy -- of all CeCe's clients -- so potently attractive was just a goddamned cosmic joke. "CeCe?"
Angel's head jerked up when he heard his boss' name. "Hey, it's me, Brandon." Brandon nodded in response to something CeCe said. "Yeah, thanks. I appreciate that. Sandy was a really good guy. I'm going to miss him." Brandon's voice was subdued. "I can't believe it's been a month already." The ballplayer dropped down on the edge of the sofa. "Hey, I'm sorry to bother you; Angel said you had a family commitment, but I needed to run something by you." He looked over at Angel, who was watching him somewhat cautiously. "Yeah, he's definitely dressed to the nines, as usual." Nodding his head again, Brandon smiled ruefully. Dressed to the nines? Is he kidding? Angel listened to the one-sided conversation. What the fuck is going on? Apparently, Brandon and CeCe were much closer than he had thought. He was surprised to learn that Brandon knew the names of her children and what her husband did for a living. And the comment about Angel being dressed to the nines -- well, it was the truth, even with just his clothes for the office. "...So, I need him. I need to keep him for a while. Is that okay?" Whoa. If only. Wait. What? Wait a minute. He'd clearly missed a key part of the discussion while he'd been daydreaming. "Yeah. Great -- thank you. I'll tell him all about it on the way." The way where? Brandon disconnected just then and stuck the phone back in his pocket. He finished off his club soda, then walked over to the house phone. "Kevin, will you please have them bring the car around? I'll be down in two minutes." Angel stood up as Brandon turned back to face him.
"You want to tell me what's going on? What were you talking to CeCe about?" "Let's go. I'll tell you on the way." The major leaguer swung around and headed for the door of the penthouse, where he turned and looked back. "You coming?" Bewildered, Angel moved forward slowly, staring into the bluest eyes he'd ever seen. Sometimes he dreamed about those eyes, he admitted to himself. He dreamed that the man behind them had that gorgeous blond head on the pillow next to him. Is that Freudian? I don't even like him. Really. I don't. The trouble was, those Paul Newman eyes were attached to the straightest guy around. It was so classic, he whined to himself as he trudged out of the penthouse. Typical fantasy: gay-boy turns straight-boy gay. Right. As if. Telling himself to wise up and quit bitching, he moved faster over to the elevator and jabbed the call button. He refused to look at Brandon as the man came up next to him. "Is there a problem?" Brandon asked politely. "Not at all," Angel assured courteously, still staring at the elevator doors. The trouble was, they were highly polished steel, and he could see Brandon staring at his reflection. "Why would there be a problem? I don't know where we're going, why we're going there, or what we're going to do when we get there. You talk to my boss but you won't tell me. Why would that be a problem?" The car arrived just at that moment. Perfect timing. He moved forward into the cab and spun around on his heel, then held open the door graciously. "Coming?" He heard what sounded like a chuckle that was turned into a cough when he stared at his blond nemesis. "You're pretty good with that death-stare, you know.
Anybody ever told you that before?" Brandon didn't sound as if it bothered him one bit. In fact, he appeared to be enjoying getting under Angel's skin. Looking askance at CeCe's client, Angel spoke once again without thinking. "Yeah? Well, too bad it's not working." That had Brandon laughing once more, and had Angel fuming, since nothing he said or did seemed to penetrate that tough exterior. "I may have underestimated you, Angel. You're a tough little guy, aren't you?" Brandon sounded almost... admiring? Resenting that, since he was five eleven, Angel grunted. "I'm not little. You're just big." He eyed Brandon, his gaze skating quickly over the masculinity on display. "Probably too many 'roids, right?" As he spoke, the elevator arrived at the first floor. As soon as the doors opened, he stepped out, heading toward the entry. He was pulled up short by Brandon's big hand on his upper arm. Those fingers squeezed warningly as Brandon pulled him over behind a large plant grouping. Yanking unsuccessfully, he squirmed to get away. "What are you doing? Let me go!" he whispered fiercely. "Somebody's going to see us!" "And?" Brandon stared down at him, his face very close. Angel was really confused now. What the hell was going on? "And? What, are you dumb? I'm not exactly in the closet, you know. If people around here see you this close to me, they're going to make assumptions that I bet you'd prefer not be made." There. That wasn't too snotty, was it? He jerked his arm again, to no avail. "You know taking steroids can make your junk really tiny, right?" Brandon's voice was lowered and his head
was bent attentively over Angel's, their foreheads almost touching. If Angel hadn't known better, he would have sworn that Brandon wanted to stand this close to him. Brandon took a quick look around. Seeming assured that where they were standing behind the giant palms was hidden from view, he pushed Angel back against the wall and leaned his weight forward. "Just wanted you to know that my junk is all there -- and it's not tiny." With that, he rolled his hips into Angel's.
Chapter 3 Ohmygod, Ohmygod! Brandon Halvorsen is grinding his very hard, very... BIG cock against me... holy shit! Gasping for breath, his chest suddenly squeezed by the adrenaline flowing through his body, Angel stared upward. When Brandon moved again, he blinked slowly, confused. "Those eyelashes of yours drive me crazy. Did you know that?" Dumbfounded, Angel nodded, then shook his head, unable to speak. He watched Brandon's eyes linger on his hair. The air felt charged with energy all of a sudden. A throat clearing nearby nearly launched Angel out of his shoes. He jerked his arm forcefully and succeeded in freeing himself. Stumbling to the side, he looked up to see the concierge standing about three feet away, a bland look on the young man's face. Flushing, Angel looked away, straightening his already-straight tie and smoothing down his immaculate shirt. Brandon walked past Angel casually, pulling out a twenty and passing it to the concierge. "Thanks, Kevin." Unable to believe what had just taken place, Angel watched as Brandon strolled to the main entry, his pace steady. The big man nodded to the doorman as he stepped outside. "Sir, the limo is ready for you and Mr. Halvorsen." The concierge's tone was completely professional, despite what he'd just witnessed. Angel nodded distractedly. "Uh, thanks." He moved slowly, darting a quick look at the other man. Kevin continued to hold out an arm, directing Angel forward. Picking up speed, carefully not looking at the concierge again, he headed for the revolving door. The doorman held open the rear door of a stretch
Lincoln. Angel could see Brandon already inside, sipping another bottle of what looked like club soda. Stepping in, Angel immediately slid to a side seat, far enough away from Brandon so that he could breathe more freely. "You scared now?" Brandon's mouth was twisted in a wry grin, his brows raised, his expression provoking. Am I suddenly living in an alternate universe? Angel swiveled his head to make sure there weren't any of the Borg in the limo. He'd known Brandon professionally for the three years he'd been at Hill, and never had anything remotely like this taken place. The ballplayer's contract had been renewed during that time, and Angel had, as part of his job, assisted CeCe in the negotiations with the club and the presentations to their client. They'd also worked with Brandon on some endorsements and commercials the athlete had done, but never had he had even an inkling that Brandon swung his way. "You're fucking with me, aren't you? You think it's funny to jerk the gay boy around?" He tried to stare Brandon down. Brandon's lips quirked. "Well, actually, if we had more time, that's exactly what we'd be doing." He took another sip. "What are you drinking? 'Cause it sure as hell ain't water, man." Oops, careful. A little bit of the old neighborhood slipped in there. Resolutely staring straight ahead, he watched some of Beverly Hills role by. "I don't believe you, of course. And you know you can't trust the concierge; he's probably got TMZ on speed dial." Uh, why am I trying to help him? "You sound awfully concerned." Seemingly unperturbed by the possibility, Brandon raised the bottle to his lips again. Christ, was the big pitcher a mind reader now?
"Aren't you?" Brandon shrugged, tossing the empty drink into the cup holder. "I asked you first." Slapping the seat next to him, Angel sputtered. "What -- are we in first grade now?" Frustrated, he turned in his seat to face his provocative host. "Um, I think you know very well that the league isn't really going to go for you being gay. If you're gay, that is." Staring at Brandon, Angel dared the other man to contradict him. "True." Leaning his head back against the seat, Brandon closed his eyes and breathed out a huge sigh. "That's it? That's all you've got to say?" Raising his hands in confusion, Angel flopped back against the seat, kicking his legs out in front of him. This day keeps getting weirder. He frowned down at his feet. Was that a smudge on his right shoe? "Yep. I've got way bigger fish to fry right about now. Besides, Kevin's not that kind of guy." Brandon stopped talking, staring out the window. Watching him in confusion, Angel, too, was quiet for the remainder of the twenty-minute ride. Suddenly, Brandon leaned forward, looking out the window as the limo slowed. The driver pulled in to a church parking lot, swinging around near what looked like a rectory entrance. "What -- you're going to confession? Now I've seen everything." Snorting in amusement, Angel sat up. "Nope. I'm here to pick up my new kids. And you're going to help me." *** Still flabbergasted fifteen minutes later, Angel stood off to one side after Jim Maddox -- a Lutheran minister, not a Roman Catholic priest as he'd first suspected -- had
gone upstairs to get Brandon's children. Brandon's children! Unfuckingbelievable! "Um, I just want to go over exactly what you mean by 'I'm going to help you.'" Suspicious, Angel shifted his weight from foot to foot. He ran both hands through his hair, his fingers lifting the strands and tugging on them. Brandon eyed him. Despite the serious expression on the big blond's face, a small grin appeared on the chiseled lips. "You look like you're going to puke." Switching subjects, Angel pounced. "I don't get it! I've known you for three years now. I've never seen you even crack a smile around me. Now, today, you're acting completely different -- like you've gone over the side. What is going on? And who are these kids that you've come to get?" Sobering completely, Brandon tipped his head down for a moment. "Sandy... my old college coach, Sandy Reynolds -- you know about him?" Angel nodded silently. CeCe had mentioned more than once that Sandy was someone very important in Brandon's life. And Angel knew from his research on Brandon that Coach Sandy Reynolds had developed Brandon's talent to the point that the league scouts had come calling. "He, uh, you know, he died last month." When he nodded again, Brandon continued slowly. "Well, he had one... last... request of me." Brandon pressed his lips together. "Well, see, his daughter and her husband were killed in a car crash about six weeks ago. Apparently, a couple of years ago, they had named Sandy's wife and him as guardians, in case something ever happened to them." With a humorless chuckle, Brandon looked at the wall for a moment before bringing his burning gaze back to Angel. "Just goes to show that really shitty things can happen to good people.
Life can change on a dime. And the daughter never went back and changed her will after her mom died in March. I guess her husband didn't have any family left, and Sarah -- she was always close to her mom." Angel watched in grudging concern as Brandon seemed to wilt. He reached out a hand to Brandon, but the ballplayer had already turned away and plopped down on the bench along the nearest wall. Angel's traitorous heart ached as he saw the sadness on Brandon's face. "His daughter didn't know he was sick. Sandy wouldn't let Bev tell anyone except me. So, his daughter Sarah never knew. Sandy... well, Sandy had a history with her. He -- he was an alcoholic." Brandon looked up at Angel, assuring him, "But he was a good man. Sarah... oh, they had an on-again, off-again relationship, and Sandy hadnt talked to her in about five months. He'd been trying to rebuild his bridges with her since he dried out ten years ago. There were a few times it looked like it might work out. And, then, after Sarah and Grady were killed, when Sandy knew how sick he was, he named me to take guardianship of Marisa and Trey, as the only family he had left." Brandon's attention abruptly shifted from Angel to movement on the staircase, and he stood up. "Show time." His body tautened and he frowned, watching as Pastor Jim started down the steps. "Listen," he said, speaking quickly and quietly. "I told the pastor I was bringing someone special with me to pick up the kids." "What?" Angel squawked. Brandon hissed at him to be quiet. "Shhh! I had to. I didn't know if the pastor might be concerned because I'm single." He grunted. "'Course, at the time I thought it would be CeCe." The ballplayer shook his head. "Look. Just go with me on this."
Once again leaving Angel speechless, Brandon moved to meet the group. He smiled at the woman who had followed behind Jim Maddox. The pastor's wife? Angel wondered dumbly, still in shock. The couple each held a child by the hand as they came forward. The pastor had a young boy by his side, and they were followed by a little girl keeping step with the woman. The children had beautiful, medium-toned skin that was just a few shades darker than his own, Angel noted. The girl had lovely, curly hair that was reddish-brown, while the boy's short, looser curls were dark brown. Breathing deeply, Brandon stepped forward. He looked over his shoulder, his features tense, clearly sending a message to Angel. The only trouble was, Angel had no idea what Brandon wanted him to do. He watched in silence as the boy, who came up to Brandon's middle, looked up at the big leaguer. Pastor Jim spoke quietly. "This is Trey Collins -- and that's Marisa Collins there with my wife, Sheila." He motioned to the little girl. "Children, this is Mr. Halvorsen and his friend, Angel." Brandon dropped to a crouch, holding out his big hand. "Hey there, Trey. I'm Brandon. Some people, including your grandpa, call me Bran." Angel watched the boy stare suspiciously at Brandon and his hand. The child's green eyes were striking in his brown face. "I don't have a grandpa." His voice was sullen. He dropped Pastor Jim's hand but did not accept Brandon's offered hand. Brandon stayed in that position for a few moments longer, then dropped his hand and stood. "Well, I guess we can talk about that another time." He looked beyond
the boy to the little girl. "Hi, Marisa. How are you, sweetheart?" The little girl shyly dipped her head and shuffled her feet. The pastor's wife stepped down from the final tread and moved the child forward. She spoke for the first time, addressing both Angel and Brandon with a gentle smile. "Marisa is going to be six in one more month, on Halloween, as a matter of fact." Brandon seemed to realize he hadn't greeted Sheila Maddox. "I'm sorry." He reached out a hand. "I'm Brandon Halvorsen, and this is my friend," he looked over his shoulder again with a funny smile, "Angel Vargas." Did he just make that sound like we're boyfriends? Angel moved forward enough to shake her offered hand. "Welcome. I'm Sheila Maddox. Jim and I have enjoyed the opportunity to have the kids with us." Sheila looked as though she were trying to put a good face on their meeting. She looked down at Marisa again. "We've had some fun, haven't we, Marisa?" The little girl nodded briefly, her eyes on her feet. Watching the tableau was painful. Angel spoke for the first time. "Well, if there's a birthday coming soon, we'll have to plan a party, won't we?" At that, Marisa's head came up, her soft brown eyes searching his. "Really?" He dropped to a crouch so that they were at eye level. "Absolutely. My word is my bond. That means when I tell you something is true, it's like a promise." He tilted his head to the side. "Do you know what that means?" Marisa nodded her head, chest-length curls bobbing on her shoulders. "Uh-huh." "Do you want to come with me so we can talk about it and start planning?" He held out a hand.
Marisa looked at his outstretched fingers, then looked back up at Sheila. The question in her eyes was clear. "Go ahead, dear. You can go with Mr. Angel. He's very good friends with Mr. Brandon. Remember we told you you're going to be staying with Mr. Brandon?" With a small nod, Marisa accepted Angel's hand and followed him over to a bench near the front door. The two of them sat down, Marisa setting herself apart by about a foot. Angel was conscious of Brandon watching them both closely. *** God, they looked sweet together. Brandon had never seen Angel looking so... so warm and... well, nice. At the snort he heard coming from the boy, Brandon's head jerked back around. He raised his brows. "Something you want to say, Trey?" The child, whom Brandon knew to be nine years old, rolled his eyes and attempted a sneer. "'Risa's too dumb to know that there ain't going to be no birthday party." He screwed up his facial features into an angry scowl. "Who's going to care about us?" Brandon paused. "Well, boy, I guess that would be me... and Angel... and Pastor and Mrs. Maddox, for a start." He paused for a moment, unsure. He was so out of his depth. Pastor Jim spoke again, clearly trying to fill the silence. "You're welcome to join us for dinner tonight -unless you had planned to head back right away?" "Uh..." Brandon paused again. "I was thinking of taking the kids back to my hotel, where we could eat and maybe talk." He raised his hands a bit, clearly asking what the pastor and his wife thought of that. Sheila smiled at him encouragingly, speaking up
before the pastor could jump in. "I think that's a great idea." She stared over at her husband warningly. "The sooner you all get to know each other, the better. I told Jim that today." Relieved, Brandon exhaled a sigh. "Okay, that's good. That's good. Let's do that." He turned back to Trey. "Are you ready to go? We've got a huge car out front you might like to ride in." He waved his hand in the direction of the front door. Rolling his eyes, Angel stood up. "Aren't you forgetting something?" "Huh?" Brandon could see the knowing look that just wanted to come out on Angel's face. "You know, clothes, toothbrush, toys, books? Everything they own?" Marisa giggled, and Angel responded with a smile. "He is pretty funny, isn't he?" He nodded his head in Brandon's direction. That elicited even more girlish giggles. Brandon smiled at both of them, feeling sheepish. "Oh, yeah, I guess I did forget that." He turned back to the boy. "Hey, Trey, maybe you and I can grab some of your stuff and bring it down? Will you help me?" The sullen boy shuffled his feet, his eyes down. "I guess." Taking that as an encouraging sign, Brandon stepped forward. "How about showing me where your bags are?" Sheila nodded. "The kids' stuff is upstairs. We'll help." She waved her husband toward the stairs.
Chapter 4 Jim and Sheila helped sort everything, directing the children and the two men where to go and what to find. In the end, they took one large suitcase with the kids' clothing and a small box filled with Trey's Nintendo DS, Marisa's two little dolls, and assorted allergy meds, toothbrushes and more. "What else do you want to take tonight?" Brandon asked the children. Angel watched as the kids stared at each other, then looked around helplessly. Brandon wasn't much help, either. "You kids have iPods? How about some books to read?" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Brandon frown over at him. Well, too bad. Brandon had brought Angel along on this adventure, and the guy would have to take the help Angel could provide. "We don't have iPods," Marisa said softly. "My dad was going to get us each one -- but then he lost his job." Trey's voice was matter-of-fact. "Oh." Now Angel's voice was soft. It was his turn to feel helpless. He raised his head to stare imploringly at Brandon. "Uh. Okay. We'll worry about that maybe tomorrow. Let's get whatever you want to take tonight down to the car. How does that sound?" Brandon picked up Marisa's bag and tossed it to Angel, who caught it before it could smack him in the face. He grunted and glared at the big pitcher. Hearing a muted giggle from the little girl, he glanced down at her. She had the beginnings of a smile on her face; the moment of sadness had dissipated, he was glad to see. "He forgets I'm not on his team." Turning, he smirked at his nemesis.
Brandon's expression was cocky. "Really? I thought we were playing for the same team." It appeared as though he wanted to say more but, with a glance at Jim and Sheila Maddox, who were watching the sideshow without comment, he apparently thought better of it. With a shrug and a reluctant grin, Brandon picked up the other overnight bag. "C'mon kids, let's get going. I'm thinking we should have room service -- y'all ever have room service?" The southern drawl was back, big as ever, Angel noted with some disdain. Brandon had grown up in Chicago, but, before being traded to the northern California team, he'd lived in Atlanta for sixteen years. He'd most definitely picked up a slower cadence to his speech while living in the South. Angel had observed that when Brandon was under stress, the drawl went away. But when he'd been jerking Angel around by the elevator, it had made a reappearance. "Boys," Pastor Jim said to both of them, "don't hesitate to call us if you need us." Boys? "That means anytime. Anything we can do to help, we'll be there." Sheila nodded. "I wrote our phone numbers down for you. Here, Angel." She leaned close to him. Why is she giving them to me? "Store them in your phone and Brandon's. That way, you can call us when you need us." After placing the paper in his unwilling hand, she closed his fingers around it and patted his hand. "It's going to take time," she whispered, her eyes on the children walking ahead. "You and Brandon be patient with them." Angel opened his mouth to deny any kind of relationship other than professional with the ballplayer, but Brandon turned around with an impatient expression, one eyebrow cocked, clearly asking what the delay was. Shrugging to himself -- and to Brandon -The Trouble with Angel - 27
Angel nodded at Sheila. "Thank you. We will." Downstairs, Sheila handed a booster seat to Brandon as the group walked outside. Angel watched as the big man stared at it. Seeing the confusion on the all-toogorgeous face, Angel blew out a breath and stepped next to Brandon. Plucking the booster seat from the big hands, he gave it to the driver who stood next to the car's open door. Trey pulled up short. "Whoa." Angel, guessing the kid had probably never been in a stretch limo, saw an opening to perhaps make a connection. He didn't stop to ask himself why he was bothering. "Hey, kid. You ever been in a car like this?" At Trey's headshake, he smiled and waved an arm. "Well, this is your lucky day. I happen to know there's a television in there." With a smug look at Brandon, who was staring at him, he followed the boy inside. *** Brandon felt a tug on his hand and looked down. Marisa had stepped up next to him. "Is there really a television in there, Mr. Brandon?" Understanding what Angel had been getting at, Brandon grinned and dropped to a crouch. "Yes, sweetheart, there is. Want to see it?" At her nod, he stood and took her hand. He started to tug her toward the car but suddenly felt a little resistance. Marisa darted back to Sheila to throw her arms around the pastor's wife in a tight hug. "Bye, Mrs. M." Sheila moved her hands over the little girl's head and shoulders, patting her. "Bye-bye, Marisa. And don't worry, honey. You'll be fine with Brandon and Angel. They seem like a very nice couple." Angel poked his head out the car door at that. His
mouth hung open as he stared at Sheila and Jim, and he avoided Brandon's eyes completely. "Son, we don't judge folks based on what happens upstairs in the house." Eyebrows up, the pastor was clearly trying to be discreet in front of the children. "When you called us earlier today and told us you'd be coming over with a friend who'd help you take care of the kids, we wondered. Then when you and Angel showed up together... well, we told the kids before we came downstairs that they'd be living with two dads now; they know what that is," he assured Angel. "Uh-huh." Marisa's little voice piped up. "Cressie Lopez has two dads -- and my friend Jimmy has two moms." She nodded knowledgeably to both Brandon and Angel. Jim spoke again. "I hope we didn't jump the gun, telling them before you could." Brandon stood there speechless for a moment before nodding slowly. He scratched his jaw as he stared from the kids to Angel and back again. "Well. Uh. Yeah. Uh, I mean -- no worries. Good thing, then." He took Marisa's hand again and directed her to the car once again. After handing her in and watching Angel help her get settled in the booster seat, he turned back to Sheila and Jim. Stepping back from the car, out of the kids' earshot, he spoke again. "Pastor Jim, Mrs. Maddox -- I can't thank you enough for taking care of Sandy's grandkids." He paused, remembering why he was there. "I want you to know... I promised him I'd do anything for him, and his last request was that I raise these kids. When his lawyer showed me his will, I was -- well, the fact that he trusted me -- I... I don't know why he thought I'd be good at it but... I'll do whatever it takes to get that job done." Jesus, he was practically babbling.
"Well, son, doing whatever it takes means you need a stable home for them." The pastor's voice was mild but firm when he answered. "These last six weeks have been hell on these kids, but Trey has been able to continue in the church's school here, and Marisa has been in the prekindergarten class." He shook his head. "The accident that took Sarah and Grady was awful, but we thank God that the children were not with them that night." Sheila murmured an agreement, nodding her head. "Have you decided where you're going to live? I know you obviously travel with your team, and you're gone half the year. Have -- have you thought about what that kind of insecurity will do to kids who've lost their parents?" She was speaking delicately but clearly was concerned about the issue. Brandon was nodding his head slowly. "Yes, ma'am. I've had nothing but time to think about this since Sandy's will was read three weeks ago." He turned his head toward the limo, trying to see the kids through the tinted windows. Angel's leg was visible through the open door, and he focused on that. "I have a place up in southern Oregon that I bought this summer. It's fairly rough, since I need to renovate the house, and I need to move my furniture up there, but... it's a good solid house, and the land and community are really amazing. It's the only place I can think of to take them where they'll be secure, away from the press, and where they'll have room to grieve and get used to me." Brandon darted a peek at Angel again, noticing that the brat had slid closer to the door so he could eavesdrop. Now most of his body was visible, up to his shoulder. Smiling despite the seriousness of the subject, Brandon continued. "Us, I mean." Satisfied, Brandon noted that Angel had clenched one hand. "Angel and I
will work to make those kids feel like they have a home with us." Make that both hands. Oblivious to the little byplay, Pastor Jim was nodding. "That type of commitment is what's going to help get you through the next, oh, year and more of tough times, son." He clapped Brandon on the shoulder, holding out his hand for a shake. "We meant it when we said you could call us anytime. When the children were brought to us for emergency housing, we didn't hesitate - and we won't hesitate if they need us again." Brandon felt there were both a warning and a reassurance in that last statement. He met Jim's eyes directly as they shook hands. "Yes, sir. We'll call you if we need you. I'm going to send someone probably tomorrow to pick up the rest of the kids' things, if that's okay. And we'll call you when we get to Oregon. Maybe the kids will need to talk to you by then." Shaking hands next with Sheila Maddox, Brandon turned and stepped over to the car. "Move over, lover." He made sure to say it loud enough to be heard by the Maddoxes. He was gratified to see Angel lunge to the other end of the rear bench seat. Getting in, his grin immediately turned to a frown as he saw both kids had opened cans of Coke and were swigging them back while watching the television. Were they allowed to drink pop? Didn't that rot kids' teeth or something? Although... it did appear that limo's luxuries had helped to rid the hopeless expression from the faces of his new charges. Brandon sighed to himself. At least for the moment. He turned his attention to Angel and leaned in close to his fashion-plate cohort and whispered. "Did you hear everything? I could go over it if you missed any of what Jim and I said." He blew a soft puff of air on the sweet little ear, and watched a shiver run over Angel.
"What are you talking about?" Angel edged away. Brandon chuckled and slid his arm around Angel, pulling his reluctant guest close. "Um, you -eavesdropping?" "Stop." "Stop what?" Smiling, he nuzzled the silky hair. "Are you two going to kiss?" Trey's question was loud suddenly as the nine-year-old muted the television with the remote. Angel gasped, jerking back from Brandon as he darted a look over at the children, eyes round. Brandon saw the kids staring at both adults. The driver pulled out onto the road as they all watched each other. Trey took a slurping gulp of his Coke. "Well? Are you?" Brandon laughed slightly. With one arm along the back of the seat, Brandon reached to tug Angel up tight. "Why? Do you want to see us kiss? Or not?" Brandon was honestly curious. Trey shrugged and went back to watching television. His voice was carefully modulated. "I don't care." He flicked the remote and the sound came back up. Brandon noted, though, that the boy was watching them out of the corner of his eye. Brandon saw that Marisa was still looking at them. "What about you, sweetheart?" The little girl shrugged slightly but nodded her head. "Yes, please." She also took another sip of her Coke. "You heard the little lady." Brandon smirked. He leaned his forehead down to touch Angel's, staring into the chocolaty eyes. Angel's expression was somewhere between scared and fascinated. "What are you doing?" he whispered urgently. "Don't..." Brandon's lips quirked before he touched them softly
to Angel's. "I'm sealing the deal." His mouth then closed over Angel's, taking control immediately.
Chapter 5 Angel felt a rush in his belly, and he squeezed his fingers in an attempt not to grab the hunk of man that was leaning into him. Defiant, he kept his eyes open for a few moments until the thrill of Brandon (Brandon!) kissing him became overwhelming. His eyes slid shut, and he leaned back against the leather seat, his hands falling to his sides. The scent of the leather combined with Brandon's -- no man-fume, he didn't like guys who drowned themselves in artificial scent, just clean male, thank you -- and he breathed in deeply through his nose, excited beyond belief. Brandon's hand came up and cupped his chin, turning his head more into the kiss. That tongue drove deep for just a second or two before Brandon eased back, bringing their lips together one final time before sitting up straight. That large hand slid down his chest, then dropped back to Brandon's own thigh. The ballplayer stared down at Angel, breathing faster, before turning to look at Marisa. "Well, how was that, Marisa?" The little girl tilted her head, considering. "Um, I think it was okay." She released a loud belch suddenly, then clapped her hand over her mouth, horrified. Brandon shouted with laughter. "Honey, Coke does that to me every time." Angel couldn't help but chuckle. Eyeing the two men for a little bit longer, she smiled shyly. "Sorry," she whispered. Angel looked over at Trey to see what the boy thought about them kissing. Trey was staring at them, his can of Coke held suspended just below his lips. When the boy noticed Angel watching, he jerked the can up and took another slug.
Angel pushed Brandon away a little with his arm, the ballplayer reluctantly giving him some breathing space. "You okay, Trey?" Angel watched as Trey set his pop can in the holder and fiddled with the remote. A slight shrug was the only answer as the boy's eyes stayed trained on the LCD screen that was set in the roof of the car. Angel wondered what the boy was thinking. A few minutes later, the limo pulled to a stop under the hotel's portico, putting an end to any further questioning. As the driver got out to walk around, the doorman opened the near door. "Welcome back, Mr. Halvorsen." "Here. Let me get out first, and you can follow behind the kids, okay?" Brandon slid out, smiling at the doorman. "Hey, Jack. We've got some bags in the trunk." He turned around and held out a hand for Marisa, who was cautiously poking her head out the car door. "It's okay, sweetheart. We're going to go upstairs and have some dinner, okay?" Nodding silently, the little girl placed her hand in his and stepped out of the car. Brandon reached down and swung her up into his arms, catching her backpack as it banged against his legs. Inside, Angel waited as Trey continued to stare at the television, making no move to get out of the car. "Aren't you hungry?" A shrug was his only answer. Frowning, Angel considered. "Well, you need to get out of the car." That got a response. "Why?" Trey looked up at him truculently. "Because." Good answer. "Because why?" Trey appeared to settle back in his seat, looking ready to out-stubborn him.
"You're not my dad." Uh-oh. "No, I'm not. I'm... I'm just helping Brandon out today." "So you can't tell me what to do." It was a statement, not a question. "I guess that's true. But," Angel continued, inspiration striking, "I can tell you that the driver will get fired if he doesn't move the limo out of the entry. So, that means you have to get out of the car now." The driver obligingly poked his head through the door and nodded solemnly. "Please, sir -- I have a wife and kids to feed." The driver's lips quirked as he stood upright again. Angel frowned again. That was a bit over the top. "What's the problem, brat?" Offended, Angel slid out of the car and gave Brandon a look. "Are you talking to me or the boy?" Smiling, seemingly unperturbed, Brandon shifted Marisa higher in his arms as he answered. "You, of course. I haven't known Trey long enough to know if he's a brat, too." "Oh, I think you can count on that." Angel snorted, eyeing the troublesome nine-year-old. Grinning now, Brandon said, "What was that, Angelbaby?" Marisa's feet kicked as she watched both men. His blood heating up -- and not in the good, spanky way -- Angel stepped closer, his fists clenching. "Oh, no, you don't. You don't get to call me that." He knew this guy was jerking him around. Brandon backed off immediately. "Easy, there, sugar. How about you get the kid and we go eat some dinner, okay?" Sighing in frustration at the way this day had turned absolutely crazy, Angel blurted, "The kid won't get out of the car!"
"Hey! I'm right here," Trey announced. He'd gotten out of the limo and was standing off to the side, watching them. He had a smirk on his face as he stood, hip-shot, watching the adults around him. Angel huffed in disgust, grabbing Trey by the shoulder and pushing him ahead into the hotel. "Sure. Make me look like the idiot." *** "How could you do that? To a priest, no less!" Angel's heated whisper sent warm breath over Brandon's ear as they stood on the penthouse terrace. "And I have to go home, anyway! I think I have to feed my fish." "He wasn't a priest, he was a minister." "What's the difference?" "I have no idea. Maybe you can get married?" Shaking his head, Angel sighed. "Still. How could you lie to a min--minister?" They'd had dinner from room service, which had been a somewhat tedious process. The children couldn't make up their minds what to eat, and Marisa really couldn't read the menu very well. Angel had finally decided for them, plucking the menus from their hands and ordering them both grilled cheese sandwiches with fries. Brandon had ordered a Caesar salad. He'd watched in amusement as Angel had pointedly ordered the most expensive steak on the menu, along with a one hundred seventy-five dollar bottle of wine. "Might as well make the most of this," his guest had declared dramatically. Brandon had ignored the comment, enjoying Angel's continued frustration. Now, the children were again parked in front of a television, this time in the suite's media room. Angel
was pacing on the terrace, well into his third glass of the Chateauneuf du Pape. Ignoring Angel's question, Brandon gave one of his own. "Listen, sugar, do you think you need another glass of that?" Brandon thought the question was perfectly reasonable. "Hey! You dragged me along on this adventure today. At least allow me to enjoy this part of it, okay?" Angel took another big sip, appearing too exercised to enjoy it. "What the fuck were you thinking today? How could you make those nice people think that we're together? Who'd even believe that anyway?" he continued, staring up at the night sky. He mumbled something in Spanish before he edged backward, leaning against the stone wall and cocking his head. "You know," he said in a complete non sequitur, "the lights on the terrace are reflecting in your little blue peepers, making the color disappear." He giggled a little. "Did you know that?" Frowning once more, he waved one hand. "What is really going on here? Are you on medication? Are you sick?" Brandon couldn't help but laugh at that. He'd watched Angel get all worked up, and he'd wondered what would come out next. "No, Angel, I'm not sick and I'm not on meds. I do take some vitamin supplements, though." He frowned, looking the slender body over. "You could probably use some, too. In fact, you probably need to start eating better." Angel slammed his wineglass down on a nearby table. "What?" he squawked. "Are you kidding me?" He looked down, staring at his clothing, one hand smoothing his trousers. "This body is... is a... a finelytuned machine," he finished triumphantly. "You know how many guys want to get their hands on this body?" Brandon sighed. "Relax, Angel. I just meant that you
might want to think about eating more healthy, that's all." "I'll tell you how many. At least five guys a week are hitting on me. I... I can't go anywhere without... somebody saying he wants me," Angel professed passionately. "Even -- even Johnny Rayne wanted me!" "Really?" Brandon pretended to be impressed. "I heard he was taken." "Yes, really!" Angel grabbed his wine glass again and took another swig. "You might want to sip that, not toss it back like it's a shot of Jack," Brandon cautioned in amusement. "Especially since you really didn't eat most of your dinner." Angel had spent most of the meal frowning at Brandon, then switching to look at the children with a concerned expression. Shrugging in disdain, Angel raised the glass to his lips but started to sway a little. "Whoa." Brandon lunged forward, catching him around his shoulders and easing him down into a nearby chair. He set the wineglass on the small table. "Angel, did you eat anything today?" The sleek black hair tumbled over his brow as Angel dipped his head down. "Mmmm, si, I had my mocha this morning." He looked up with a silly smile on his face. "Me gusto. I love mochas. Don't you?" "Uh-huh. Can't imagine a world without them." Brandon chuckled to himself. "Look, I think you need to lie down." He crouched, taking one hand. "How about if you come with me, and we'll get you comfortable?" "'Kay." Angel obligingly got up with Brandon's help, leaning in as Brandon slid an arm around his waist. "God, if only you were this easy all the time." He directed Angel back inside the penthouse and led him into the master bedroom. "In the three years I've known
you, you've always been a prickly bastard with me," Brandon commented quietly as they stopped next to the bed. Angel laid his head on Brandon's shoulder. "Cant help it. You bother me." "Ohh-kay." Brandon slid his hands along the muscled biceps, urging Angel to turn around. Angel raised his chin out of the way as Brandon started to loosen his tie. Brandon slipped it from around his neck and tossed to the chair near the bed. "No, really. Es verdad. Hey, be careful with that tie -- I bought it new on eBay, but still, it's a Ferragamo." "Yes, Angel." The Armani shirt came next, Brandon slipping the buttons free one by one. Angel continued his monologue. "No, really," he repeated. "See, you'd come into the office all straight and stuff, and it would just bug me." He pulled his arms free of the shirt. "Raise your arms, Angel. Let's get this T-shirt off you." "And you'd always be polite. Like your mama trained you right or something." "Uh-huh. Take off your shoes, will you?" Angel obediently toed off his Dolce shoes. "I need to sit down to take off my socks." "Um. Okay, let's get your pants off first, then you can sit down. How about that?" Brandon's voice was low. "And you'd be nice to me even when I was all business with you. Who does that?" Angel continued to mumble. "Stuffed shirt. Always quiet. Why do I get the hots for you?" At that, Brandon stopped still, raising his gaze from where he'd been unbuckling Angel's belt. His eyes locking on Angel's, he jerked the belt loose and unfastened the gabardine trousers, then slid his hand
inside. "Mira. That's another thing! Why do I get hard when I see you?" The question was muttered into his shirt as Angel swayed into him. Brandon's voice was strained when he answered. "I don't know, Angel -- but I have to say I'm glad."
Chapter 6 "Is Angel sleeping?" Trey's quiet question came from the bedroom doorway. Brandon had been staring at Angel, watching the volatile man snore softly into the pillow. As soon as he'd finished undressing the fashion plate, Angel had tumbled into bed. Now, sitting on the bed next to the prickly bastard, Brandon turned his head to look at the boy. "Yes, he is, son. He had a little too much excitement today." The kid snorted. "Don't you mean a little too much wine?" Brandon looked at him alertly. The boy sounded awfully adult there for a moment. "No, he just didn't eat anything today, and he shouldn't have had the wine on an empty stomach. That's all." "Oh." Trey stepped into the bedroom, hands in his pockets and his sock-clad feet shuffling in the carpet. He moved aimlessly, poking his head into the huge walk-in closet, then trudged over to the floor-to-ceiling windows. He stared down at the lights of LA for a few moments. "Something you want to ask me?" Trey stayed silent for a long minute, then leaned his head against the glass. He spoke into the window without turning his head. "What are you going to do with us?" He sounded as though he didn't care, but Brandon saw the tension in Trey's body language. Rising to his feet, Brandon approached the boy, stopping a few feet behind. Trey's head came up and the child watched him in the glass. "Trey, your grandfather asked me to give you a home and to raise you right. Your mom and dad asked him to make sure that happened. So, that's what I'm going to
do. Sandy didn't live to fulfill your parents' request -- so he gave the job to me." He rolled his own shoulders, feeling the tension himself. Breathing deeply, he stepped up to the window and looked down at the boy. "Son, how about looking at me?" When Trey reluctantly raised his head, their eyes meeting, Brandon continued. "I know you never knew your grandfather, so this might not mean anything to you. But I want you to know that he cared a lot about you and your sister." Brandon tentatively set a hand on the boy's shoulder. "He talked about you, a lot. And he... missed your mother, very much. It was like he had a hole in his heart, not being able to see her very often." Trey stared up at him, his eyes searching. "Why... how come they didn't talk?" Brandon shrugged slightly, unsure how much to tell the boy. "I... well, your grandfather -- well, a long time ago, he had a... drinking problem." Trey nodded at him, appearing wise beyond his years. "I heard my mom and dad talking about it." His eyebrows raised in surprise, Brandon looked at Trey with concern. "You did?" His lips twisting a bit, the boy nodded. "Uh-huh. They were arguing. My dad said... he wanted my mom to call my grandfather... for help after he lost his job." Brandon's hand slid off the child's shoulder. "Look -let's sit down over there, okay?" He nodded toward the sitting area of the master suite. Brandon dropped down onto the loveseat, while Trey perched on the edge of one of the upholstered chairs that flanked it. He looked like he didn't know what to do with his hands for a few moments before shuffling back, pulling his feet up, and wrapping his arms around his knees. Pity in his heart, Brandon watched the child squirm a
bit. "Hey, I know you don't know me -- or anything about me." Trey eyed Brandon, looking stubborn. "I know that you got kicked out of rotation this year." That stung. "I didn't get kicked out of rotation!" Brandon said hotly. "My rotator cuff was..." He sighed. "Okay -- you're right. I... did struggle this season." Shrugging moodily, he huffed out a breath, dropping his head against the back of the loveseat. "My dad said you should have been traded." That brought his head up. "Really? I guess that was easy for him to say. 'Cause he didn't have to deal with a manager who was over-pitching him and a trainer who could easily get a job interrogating prisoners for the Egyptians." Trey stared back at him provokingly. "He said you were kind of a weenie." Irritated, knowing the kid was jerking his chain, Brandon jumped up, pacing to the windows and back. "Are you kidding me?" he demanded. "What does your old man know about pitching?" At that, Trey's head dropped down and his shoulders slumped. "Not much, I guess." Struck dumb at his own thoughtlessness, Brandon stood there rigidly, face heating. Trey had curled even more tightly into the chair, refusing to look up. A snore from the bed startled them both. Jolted, Brandon reached out a hand just as Trey jumped up from the chair. The boy bolted from the room before Brandon could react. "Christ." He rubbed his fingers over his face. "If I could kick my own ass, I would." Pulling in a deep breath and hissing it out slowly, he forced himself to walk out to the living room. He scanned the huge, open floor plan of the
penthouse, but there was no sign of Trey in the living room or kitchen. Following the television sounds, Brandon walked over to the media room. Despite his frustration, he had to smile. Marisa was asleep in front of the television, having fallen sideways on the leather sofa. He grabbed the remote from the coffee table and clicked it off, then bent down to swing her up into his arms. She rested, undisturbed, against his chest as he walked over to the two guest bedrooms. One door was shut tight, so he guessed that Trey was in there. Hiding. He placed the little girl down on the bed in the other room. He removed her shoes, then stood there, wondering if he should take off any more of her clothes or just tuck her in fully dressed. Shrugging, he pulled back the covers and slid her underneath, dressed as she was. Walking back out of the room, he rubbed his face again. "Well, time to go apologize for sticking your foot in your mouth, asshole." He stepped to the next room and knocked gently, pushing the lever at the same time. He was surprised to find it unlocked. I would have locked it against me. Slowly opening the door, he peered around the edge, his gut clenching at what he saw. Trey was lying across the bed, sobbing into a pillow. The little boy pounded the mattress a few times while Brandon stood watching, not knowing what to do. "You should be hitting me instead," he said quietly. At that, the boy flipped to face him, sitting up and angrily dashing the tears away. "What do you want?" The nine-year-old's tone was petulant. Opening the door further and walking inside the room, Brandon shrugged uncomfortably. "I... want to say I'm... sorry." Clearing his throat, he repeated, "I'm
sorry. I was an idiot. I let myself get angry about something that..." He shrugged again, this time irritably. "Something that really doesn't matter anymore -- and has nothing to do with you." It really didn't matter anymore. His life in baseball was over anyway. The boy was staring at him suspiciously. Brandon couldn't tell what he was thinking. "Trey, hey, I'm the adult. I'm supposed to control myself. You need to be able to rely on me, and I want you to know that you can." Deciding he'd fucked up enough and that he should leave it at that, he backed to the door. "Why don't you try getting some sleep? We can talk more in the morning, if you want." Brandon pulled the door softly shut and wandered out to the terrace, then leaned on the balustrade with a sigh. He stood there, staring out into the night, for quite a while. Struggling to find answers to the questions his new life had thrust upon him, he watched the late-night traffic move through the Hollywood Hills. What on God's green earth had made Sandy think that Brandon could make a home for these two kids? He'd been stumbling badly this whole day. He didn't see how it was going to get better since he didn't have the first clue how to raise a child. And just what the hell did he plan to do with the beautiful man currently sleeping in his bed? That was the sixty-four thousand dollar question. Sighing deeply once more, he pushed away from the balustrade. For now, he'd let tomorrow take care of itself. *** "Ohmygod." Angel's shocked voice woke Brandon from the deep sleep he'd finally fallen into around three
a.m. Irritated, Brandon pushed back from where he'd been spooned around Angel, flopping onto his back. "What?" he asked crankily. "You're in my bed." Sitting up, eyes darting around, Angel paused. "Wait. I'm in your bed." He looked under the covers. "Whoa. Dude. Naked." Sighing, Brandon rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, then rolled his head on the pillow. "Uh-huh." He arched his brows. "You look like the kind of guy who sleeps in the buff." Running one hand over his belly, Brandon admitted shamelessly, "I do, too." Mouth open, Angel stared at him, silky black hair all rumpled. "But I... you-- I think I was, uh, drunk." "Yes, you were. Kind of adorable, too." Angel actually blushed, ducking his head. The early morning sun highlighted the redness across his cheekbones. "Now, that's adorable, too." Sliding his tongue over his teeth to hide another smile, Brandon watched Angel fidget with the sheet. He slid his hands behind his head. "I have to say, I didn't expect to see this softer side of Angel Vargas." Brandon watched in open amusement as Angel's head popped up. "Hey! I'm not--" Angel didn't seem to know where to go with his protest. "Um." Taking a deep breath, Angel took care not to meet Brandon's eyes. "I, uh, I usually expect guys to wait for an invitation before they take my clothes off," he said primly. Snorting a laugh, Brandon turned on his side, propping his head in one hand. "Do you mean I should have waited for an invitation? Into my own bed?" Angel was so delicious like this. "Um. Yeah?"
"So you would have given me an invitation? If you
hadn't passed out from the wine, you mean?"
Chapter 7 Angel's head snapped up, chocolate brown eyes meeting his. "Uh. Um. Wait. What?" "So, if I'd moved like this," Brandon rolled his weight forward, crossing one arm over Angel's hips and planting a hand there, "and I'd done this," he softly kissed the scrunched-up lips, "you'd have said..." he licked his tongue across that full lower lip, "okay?" He leaned back to see the effect he was having. Squinting as though he needed glasses and rubbing his forehead, Angel stared at Brandon with confusion. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, as if he couldn't make up his mind what he wanted to say. Deciding to ask forgiveness rather than permission, Brandon crawled over Angel, satisfied as the other man eased backward. He settled down, feeling Angel's leanly muscled body accept his weight. He put his elbows next to Angel's upper arms, moving his knee between the lightly-furred legs, nudging them open. Angel gasped as Brandon's cock bumped his own. "Uhhnnnhh..." Brandon nodded encouragingly. "Uh-huh. That's it, Angel. That's better." Another hip bump. "How does that feel?" He rocked his hips forward again, rubbing their cocks together. "Mmmmm, isn't that good?" Lowering his head, he took possession of that feisty, smart mouth, shoving his tongue forward, claiming what he wanted. He was gratified to feel Angel's legs slide up along his hips, wrapping around them under the sheet. He rested more of his weight on Angel, changing the angle to rub his cock against Angel's balls. "God, you feel good." He was rewarded with a whimper, then Angel's arms came around his shoulders and one hand slid over
his scalp, pulling his head closer and locking their lips together. He was sure they both tasted a little musty, but just then, it didn't matter. He was right where he had just discovered he'd wanted to be for almost three years. Angel had been an irritating presence each time he'd visited with CeCe or called her office. He hadn't known why the pugnacious assistant had gotten under his skin until yesterday. And now? He just wanted to stuff his cock so deep inside this little prima donna that Angel would feel it for a week. Oh, yeah. He reached down and palmed the stiff prick that was rubbing against him. He felt as much as heard Angel's moan. Turning his wrist, he wrapped his fingers around the silky shaft and started jacking the other man. "That's it, baby, that's right. C'mon. That's it." He watched as Angel arched, hips thrusting forward. "Brandon!" A loud thumping at the door startled him. They both jerked as Marisa's voice shouted through the door. "Mr. Brandon! Trey went downstairs, and I'm hungry!" Jolting upright, Brandon stared at Angel in shock for just a moment. A second later, the import of the little girl's words registered. "Christ!" He ripped the sheet back and jumped out of bed, then grabbed the jeans he'd tossed on the chair the night before and yanked them on. With a finger pointed at Angel, he ordered swiftly, "You! Stay here with Marisa." Shoving his feet into his Vans, he grabbed a Tshirt from the dresser and bolted for the bedroom door. He cursed as the shirt got caught on his head as he opened the door, catching Marisa as she tumbled forward, her hand still on the lever. "Sweetheart, when did Trey go downstairs?" Brandon
dropped to a crouch next to her. He ran a hand down her tumbled hair, his hand shaking a little. Jesus, what would he screw up next? The little girl tilted her head to the side. "He left right after we watched Jimmy Neutron. He told me he was going to go back to our house." Brandon swung Marisa into his arms and rose. Striding to the bed, he dumped her on top of the covers bunched down at the foot. "Stay here with Angel. I'm going to go find him and bring him back." *** Angel pulled the sheet up to his neck and stared at Marisa as though she were an alien who'd just landed in the bedroom. "Hi, Angel." The little girl's voice was sweet. "Um. Hi." What was the protocol for this? His contract with CeCe didn't cover this one, he thought sourly. And he needed to go home. He was in way over his head. "I'm hungry." Frowning, he eased upward a little, shoving the pillows back up behind himself. "Um, okay." "Are you naked?" Flushing, Angel ran a hand through his hair. It was probably sticking out every which way, he fretted. "Yes. Why do you want to know?" "My mommy and daddy go naked." Oops. "They do? Um, did?" Plucking at the loose fabric of the duvet, Marisa hummed a little, considering. "Uh-huh. Sometimes when I was little and scared, I'd run in their bedroom if they forgot to lock the door." When she was little? "You're still little."
Shaking her head, Marisa looked at him patiently. "Angel, I'm almost six now." Jesus. The kid sounded like she was twenty-five. "Anyway, Mommy and Daddy made me go back to my room when I found them naked." Enough was enough. "Well, that was probably a good thing, don't you think? And I think you need to wait for me out in the living room." "Why?" Trying to inject some authority in his voice, he stared at the unrepentant little wretch. "Because, I need to get dressed, and you're not going to watch." He held the sheet to his chest with one hand and pointed to the door with the other. "Get going, mi'ja." Halting in the act of sliding off the bed, Marisa looked at him. Her sweet little face was scrunched up in a questioning manner. "What's... mee-hah?" Uh-oh. "Uh. Well, it means -- it... it's 'my little girl' or 'my daughter'... in Spanish." He stumbled a little in the face of her current parental situation. Marisa nodded, seeming to like that explanation. "Oh. Okay." "I'll open the door as soon as I'm dressed. Give me fifteen seconds." Nodding agreeably, Marisa headed out the door, pulling it shut behind herself. "Jesus." *** Impatiently waiting for the elevator, Brandon called down to the concierge desk, pulling up the stored number on his cell. The elevator arrived as he pushed send. He stepped in and jabbed the lobby button. "This is Brandon Halvorsen. I have a nine-year-old
boy staying with me, and he's taken off. Can you tell me if anyone has seen him?" Relief rushing through him at the answer he heard, Brandon said a shaky thank-you and hung up. The cell phone dangling from his fingers, he bent down, putting his hands on his knees, breathing hard. Hotel security staff had spotted Trey wandering through the lobby and currently had the boy in the office. Thank God. Straightening as the car slowed, he rubbed his tight chest with the heel of one hand. Adrenaline was coursing through his system, and his heart was pounding. Hurrying out of the elevator, Brandon headed for the concierge desk. "Where is the security office?" The concierge on duty came out from behind her desk. "Right this way, Mr. Halvorsen." He followed her down behind reception to a service corridor leading to the office suite. She left him at a door marked Private. "Here you go, sir." Thanking her, he opened the door and found himself in an office area where a young man addressed him. "May I help you, sir?" Still shaken, Brandon took a deep breath. "Yes. I'm Brandon Halvorsen. My..." (How did he describe Trey?) "...I have a little boy staying with me. He took off this morning, and I'm told he's back here?" The young man stood up with a smile. "Oh, yes. He's back with Mr. Killian. This way, please." Brandon was led to an office at the end of the short hallway. The door stood open. A tough-looking man who appeared to be in his fifties was on the phone, staring at the boy who sat slouched across the desk from him. Relieved that Trey was indeed safe, Brandon stepped into the office, catching Killian's eye. The man's brow
arched as he quickly ended his call. He stood as Brandon approached. "Mr. Killian? I'm Brandon Halvorsen." Brandon held out a hand. "I know who you are. Pleased to meet you." Killian gestured to a guest chair. "Have a seat." Brandon plopped down, thoroughly unnerved at the near miss. How would he have found the boy if Trey had gotten out of the hotel? Trey's eyes had gone wide at the first sight of Brandon, but he now had his gaze fixed on his shoes. His body language just screamed angry. Staring at both visitors, Killian spoke again. "This young man was scoping out the gift shop over by the elevators. Looked like he wanted to steal something." The security chief leaned back, his chair creaking in protest. Brandon could tell Trey wanted to dispute that statement. Darting a peek at Brandon, the boy appeared to think better of it. Brandon was still so relieved he couldn't focus on any accusation of attempted theft. "Trey, what were you thinking? You're only nine years old. How could you possibly get to Encino from here?" "I don't know." The boy shoved his Nike-clad foot against the metal desk a few times. He crossed his arms around himself and slouched down even further in the chair. Meeting Killian's eyes, Brandon grimaced for a moment. "Didn't your parents talk to you about being careful? What if somebody had tried to grab you?" The nightmare of that possibility was keeping Brandon's blood pressure elevated -- and it felt pretty damned high right then. Shrugging sullenly, the boy was silent.
Looking back at the security chief, Brandon sighed. "Mr. Killian, I apologize for the excitement this morning. Do we owe anything to the store?" Shaking his head, Killian smiled slightly. "No, sir. I don't think Trey had the chance to commit his crime." The other man emphasized the last few words. Trey's head came up angrily. "Hey! I wasn't going to do anything! I just needed a map!" Well, at least the kid had thought about his aborted escape attempt. He hadn't gone at it blindly. Brandon was slightly mollified by that information. "Kid, you even know how to read a map?" Did they even teach map-reading anymore, he wondered? Ignoring him, Trey looked away. "Well, Trey, looks like you're pretty lucky this morning. There are lots of kids who run away who don't ever make it where they're going." Killian's voice was soft but firm. Trey sent a scared glance toward the security chief, then raised his eyes to Brandon. "I think we'd better go back upstairs and talk about this." Getting to his feet, he gestured with one hand. "Let's go." Trey hesitated for a moment but got up as instructed. He moved over to the door, but Brandon's voice stopped him. "Haven't you forgotten something?" The boy looked at him blankly. "I think you owe Mr. Killian an apology for the trouble you've caused, don't you?" Brandon stayed by the desk. Flushing, the boy bit his lip. Killian got up from his chair and came around the side of the desk, waiting. The security chief's eyes twinkled as he met Brandon's gaze over the boy's head.
A mumble of words was heard. "What's that?" Brandon asked. He stared at Trey, relaxing bit. "Can't hear you, boy." He suppressed a smile when Trey glowered up at him. "I'm sorry." That was a bit clearer. "Don't tell your shoes you're sorry. Look Mr. Killian in the eye and say it. Then shake his hand." Was he being too hard on the boy? Grudgingly raising his head, Trey looked up at Brandon, then Killian. "I'm... sor-sorry, Mr. Killian." The boy bravely raised his hand to shake. Putting a hand on the kid's shoulder, the tough security chief grinned as he shook the boy's hand. "Son, I'm just glad it worked out for the best today. You go on upstairs with Mr. Halvorsen here. I bet you both can work out whatever the trouble is." When Killian dropped his hand, Trey scooted out the door. Watching him go, Brandon spoke softly. "I hope you're right, man. I hope you're right." Smiling briefly, he quickly shook hands and took off after the boy.
Chapter 8 Upstairs in the penthouse, Brandon directed Trey out to the terrace. "Let's sit out here for a minute, okay?" They walked by the wide-eyed Marisa and pouty Angel, who were sitting together at the breakfast bar, munching on cereal. His fashionista was dressed in just a tank T-shirt and dress pants, bare feet curled around the stool rail. The luscious black hair was tousled. He'd never seen Angel looking rumpled. It was kind of delicious. Angel's lip was curled around the spoon, which was a trick, Brandon thought with a chuckle. Despite the seriousness of the morning's activities, he had to laugh at the snarly, gorgeous face watching him as he and Trey moved through the suite. "Sugar, we're going to talk for a few minutes, 'kay?" Without giving the pretty-boy a chance to snipe at him, he swiftly followed Trey outside. Trey parked in a chair at the table, refusing to look at Brandon. Brandon pulled out the flanking chair and sat down, propping one foot on the other knee. He tried a friendly tack. "Trey, I figure you and your sister got a rotten deal -- no two ways about it. There's no way I can understand all your pain, no way I can know exactly what you're going through." He sighed. "I... can tell you that, well, I lost my family when I was eighteen." It was technically true. His parents had kicked him out of their lives when he'd told them he thought he was gay -- or at least, bi. It was the first time he'd admitted that aloud for quite a while. Brandon paused as Trey briefly raised sad eyes at that statement. "Trey, what happened to your parents absolutely sucks. But..." He hesitated, then plunged. "It
happened. There's no going back." He sighed again. Trey eyed Brandon, then focused on his own fingers, which were rubbing the edge of the table. He shrugged. A non-answer. "Here's the deal." Here goes nothing, Brandon thought. "Legally, you and Marisa are supposed to live with me. My lawyer has already gotten the court's approval. That means that I'm going to provide a home for you both... and... and, we're going to get to know each other, all of us." He rubbed his jaw, nerves making his foot bounce. "Your grandpa and I were, well, family. He wanted to know you, but he never got the chance. So, I guess... I'm his do-over." Trey eyed him askance at that. The boy's green eyes were suspiciously bright in the morning sunlight, and Brandon thought he heard a sniffle as well. His chest tightened at the sound. "Look, kid, it's just going to take some time. We've got to all give ourselves some time." Sighing again, wishing he knew what the hell to say, he reached out to the little boy, his hand grazing the short curls. Inspiration struck as he heard Angel arguing with Marisa in the kitchen. The two of them appeared to be discussing the latest Shrek movie, with Angel loving it and Marisa giving it a thumbs down. Despite the seriousness of his situation out on the terrace, Brandon had to admit the little girl tickled his funny bone. "Hey, Trey, I'm going to need your help." He looked over his shoulder, spotting Angel and Marisa almost nose-to-nose over the breakfast bar. Angel was grabbing her cereal bowl and slapping it down on the counter next to the sink. Marisa was waving her spoon at his fashionista, the five-year-old looking for all the world like a schoolteacher chastising a student. "See those two in there?" He jerked his head toward
the quarreling twosome. "Those two are going to keep us busy. And, on top of that, Angel's not going to want to stay with us." Trey looked at Brandon oddly. "Why?" He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. Knowing he needed Angel's help, Brandon was prepared to do or say whatever it took to get CeCe's gorgeous assistant locked into his plans. "See, the thing is, Angel's going to be afraid, and nervous, and not going to want to help me. We're going to have to gang up on him. We can't let him take off on us." The boy tilted his head, curiosity beginning to replace the sadness. "What's he afraid of?" he scoffed. "You'd be surprised, Trey." He snuck another glance over his shoulder. Angel was watching him suspiciously while Marisa grabbed one hand and began tugging Angel toward the computer in the living room. "See that look?" Watching Trey nod, Brandon knew he'd hooked his interest. "Well, that's the look he gives me when he's going to tell me no." That was not a lie. Brandon had seen that look way too many times in CeCe's office. "Anyway -- he's still a little sensitive about anybody knowing about us." The boy held up his hands with a shrug. "How come?" "Well, with me playing in the majors, I haven't been able to be completely honest... about who I... who I am." It had been vital to his career to keep his private life quiet. Green eyes that looked as though they could see through him stared at him steadily. "You're always supposed to be honest. My mom said so." He should feel ashamed for manipulating this child. And he was. A little. "I know. I know. But it's not always that simple." He shook his head. "Anyway, I
wasn't lying... exactly. I was... just not telling everybody and his uncle, for chrissakes, that I -- that I... uh..." "That you're gay?" The question came from over his shoulder, and the tone was fairly snippy. He jerked his head around, his foot dropping to the floor. "I'm not gay!" At Angel's disbelieving look, he backtracked a little. "Well... I... it's not that simple!" "He just told me that." Trey's voice piped up softly. Brandon eyed the child with a sour look. "Thanks for the help, boy." That provoked a giggle, however small, from the boy. "I like women. I do." He turned back to Angel. "I just... like guys, too," he finished with a mumble. "Apparently." Angel's left brow was arched, way up. Marisa was right behind him. She'd seemingly dressed herself in an eye-popping combination of pink tights, red sweatshirt, and blue sneakers. At Brandon's perplexed look, Angel shook his head, waving both hands in a clear message of nonresponsibility. "Don't look at me. We argued for five minutes about that outfit. I refuse to accept any responsibility for that fashion disaster." Huffing in disgust, he walked over to the table where they sat and plopped down in an empty chair. Holding a stuffed bear that had seen better days, Marisa followed him, climbing onto his lap without fanfare. Angel was disconcerted, his mouth falling open slightly. "Seems the ladies like you, too, sugar." "Don't push me, Halvorsen." Angel looped a hesitant arm around the child to keep her from sliding sideways. "Brandon says you're not going to want to stay with us. How come? Don't you like kids?" Trey's voice was low, his head bowed over the glass table. He raised his
head slightly as he asked the last question, staring at Angel. Silently cheering the little boy for putting Angel directly in the hot seat, Brandon rubbed his hand over his mouth to hide his smile. He relaxed back into his chair, prepared to watch Angel squirm. Angel darted a look around the terrace, clearly seeking assistance. "I... um, I. Look, I have a job." He glanced over at Brandon. "Some people might not think it's as important as other jobs. But, hey, it pays the rent, okay?" Marisa raised her hand, touching his hair, and Angel jerked his head away. The little girl's lip pushed out in a big pout. "Hey, that reminds me of you, Angel." Brandon's tongue was definitely in cheek. Angel's brow furrowed as he stared at Brandon. Brandon rested one finger significantly on his smiling lower lip. Angel darted a glance at Marisa, noticing the child's lower lip in action. "Whatever," he hissed at Brandon. Leaning his head again toward Marisa, Angel allowed the little girl to pet his hair. A resigned look came over his face as he rolled his eyes toward Trey, focusing on the boy once again. "I have people depending on me." Raising a hand, Angel held up one finger. "My boss, CeCe, for one." "CeCe told me on the phone yesterday that you were mine for as long as I needed you." Brandon wasn't at all ashamed to use that angle. Mouth dropping open again, Angel looked over at him. "What?" Marisa chose that moment to lean her head against Angel, nuzzling into his chest. His arm moved up around her back, and his hand came to rest on her head.
What a picture they made. "Angel, your boss told me that whatever I needed, she'd make sure I got." Arching a brow, he stared meaningfully at Angel. "That means, sugar, that you are mine for the duration." Coughing in disbelief, Angel shook his head vehemently. "Oh, no! Uh-uh! No way would CeCe just promise me like that. She can't do that." Brandon shrugged, rolling his eyes a bit. "Mmmm, I don't know. She sounded pretty positive on the phone. You can call her and ask her." Pulling out his cell, he tossed it to Angel. Angel caught it one-handed, glaring. Switching his gaze back and forth between the keypad and Brandon, Angel quickly dialed CeCe's cell number. He scrunched his lips as he waited for the call to be answered. "CeCe? It's me." Angel sighed heavily. "Yeah, I'm using his phone." He tucked the phone between his shoulder and ear. His free hand then waved back and forth as he talked to his boss. With the other hand, he kept Marisa's head protected. Brandon thought Angel wasn't even aware he was doing it. The little girl stuck her thumb in her mouth as she quietly hummed to herself. "What do you mean, I'm his?" Gleaming brown eyes shifted back to Brandon. "You can't just give me to him!" Brandon noted Trey was watching the goings-on with curious eyes, shifting his gaze between the two adults. The boy was squinting. "Great!" Angel slammed the phone shut and tossed it back at Brandon. Grabbing before it took out an eye, Brandon cocked an eyebrow at Trey. "See what I mean? We've got our work cut out for us." His heart sped up as he and the boy
shared a smile. "I'm supposed to stay with you, at least for now." Turning his head away, Angel looked out over the balustrade. "I don't know what that girl is thinking," he muttered, tossing his head. "Putting me with The Great Dane. I mean, come on. We are so not a match." "Sugar, you better get your shoes on. We need to get packed."
Chapter 9 That evening, around nine-thirty p.m., Brandon turned the black Navigator down the long road leading to his Oregon home. He lowered the window, though the early October night was cool in the hills. A breeze came through the truck, carrying the scent of pine. Angel stared out the passenger window, still not quite believing where he was. The truck moved down the dirt road toward God knew what. He was tired; they all were. They'd come eight hundred miles north of Los Angeles to Cave Junction, Oregon in just a few hours. Apparently, the always-prepared Boy Scout Brandon had arranged for a flight before he'd even met the children. And he'd arranged to have the new SUV delivered to the airstrip in time for their arrival. After the phone call with CeCe, Brandon had moved swiftly. He'd called the concierge to confirm his charter to the closest airport, in Grants Pass. He'd called his attorney to arrange to have the children's belongings packed up and sent to the ranch. Angel had heard him talking to the lawyer about the kids' former home, too. Angel wasn't sure where that had ended up. They'd gone to Angel's apartment to get some of his clothes and personal belongings. Steaming by that time, angry with CeCe and afraid of what Brandon could make him feel, Angel had dithered, unable decide on which clothes and footgear to bring. On the periphery, he supposed he could have enjoyed making Brandon wait. The funny thing was, though, he really didn't know what to bring. He honestly didn't have the first idea of what to expect up in Nowhere-ville. He was a city boy, through and through. He'd never even heard of Cave Junction, Oregon before. Who wants to live in a cave? How would he find decent coffee up
there? And Brandon hadn't even seemed to notice he'd been kept waiting. He'd spent the entire time sitting on Angel's prized leather chesterfield, talking on his phone and emailing, making arrangements for the children. Even the two kids sat quietly on the sofa with him, just staring around. Angel had been flummoxed at not being able to get a rise out of the guy. What did it take, for crying out loud? Plus, he was getting more scared by the minute. Brandon Halvorsen was just too damned attractive. "We're here." Brandon's low voice woke him from his reverie. Angel blinked, looking around. The truck had come to a stop in front of a white frame house, which was partially visible in the darkness thanks to the security light mounted high on a nearby pole. He noted that it was actually extremely dark, pretty much everywhere but the house area. There was still a faint glow in the western sky, and there were stars visible, but at ground level, it was hard to see. The truck's headlights lit up the deep front porch, which wrapped the structure on three sides. He could see another security light behind the house, but that one was fairly distant. Night sounds began to seep into the truck now that the engine had been shut off. Crickets and frogs were loud in the quiet. Nervous, he swiveled his head around, trying to see if any predators were near the truck. Didn't wolves and bears live up here in the wilderness? "Let's get the kids inside, okay? I'll run up and unlock the door, then we can carry them upstairs." He watched for a moment as the big ballplayer shoved the door open and stepped down from the rig. Sighing, Angel pushed his own door open, deciding to
worry about everything later. He checked his cell phone for a signal. Sighing again, this time with relief, he blessed each and every engineer at AT&T. Thank God he had communication with the outside world. When Brandon returned, the house somewhat illuminated, the two men moved to the back seat. They opened up the rear doors, finding the kids sound asleep. Marisa was leaning over in her booster seat, her head on her brother's back. Trey had draped his upper body over the fold-down console and had his head pillowed on his crossed arms. For one brief moment, Angel and Brandon smiled at each other. When Brandon's eyes lingered, scanning his face, Angel felt himself blushing (again!), and he quickly ducked his head. He reached in to unbuckle Marisa's shoulder belt while Brandon took care of Trey. He followed Brandon inside, his eyes on the muscled back and ass. Well, he consoled himself, if he was going to be stuck up here in Nowhere-ville for a while, at least the scenery would be pretty. The man might drive him mad, but Angel would enjoy looking while he could. Brandon flipped on the light, Trey's weight settled over a brawny left shoulder. Angel followed, carrying Marisa against his chest. He looked quickly around as they moved through the front of the house. The entry opened into the living room, which was bare except for a small, ratty sofa. Brandon stopped at the sofa, gently easing Trey down in the corner. "Put her here for a minute, will you, Angel? I've got to get their sleeping bags from the truck." Obediently, Angel lowered his charge to the opposite corner of the sofa. While Brandon ran back out to the truck, he walked around. The dining room was accessed through the living room, visible through a set of French doors on the left side in the back of the room. It was a
stretch to call it a dining room because, at the moment, only a card table and two folding chairs were in the room. From there, he could see the kitchen in the back through another French door, along with a set of stairs that went up from the back right corner of the dining room. Angel was no connoisseur of architecture, but the house looked pretty old to him. He could see natural wood trim all around, at the ceiling and floor and on the windows. A fireplace was behind him. It was in yucky condition, though. The walls were chipped and discolored. The carpeting was ancient and stained. There were soot stains on the masonry surrounding the firebox, with black marks continuing up the plaster wall above the mantle. Brandon came back inside, carrying sleeping bags, and disappeared up the stairs. Angel could hear him walking above. Just then, the significance of the sleeping bags hit him. "Oh, shit." "What?" Brandon had come back down in time to hear him. The ballplayer cocked an eyebrow at him, bending down to pick up the sleeping Trey. "C'mon, sugar. Get it in gear, will you? Let's get these kids to bed." Angel stood still a moment longer, stubbornly eyeing Brandon. "I am not sleeping on the floor in a sleeping bag." Brandon stopped dead for a moment. "Okay. Don't worry about it. I got you covered." Nodding his head toward the little girl, he turned back upstairs. "Grab her, will you?" Huffing out a huge sigh of relief, Angel followed. Upstairs, there were three bedrooms, but Brandon directed him to follow into the one over the dining
room. "Let's keep them together until we get furniture up here for them. Maybe it won't be as scary in a new place if they wake up together." Angel set his burden down gently on the bag Brandon had set near the window. He undressed the little girl, leaving her in her underwear. Brandon did the same for Trey, and they covered up the children, sliding pillows under their heads. Angel looked around the bedroom. It was in much the same state as the downstairs, with stains on the ceiling, ratty carpet, and cracked plaster. It, too, was empty of furniture. At least the house appeared clean, he thought, trying to be generous. Brandon caught the look on his face. "I know. It's kind of a crime, isn't it? This old beauty was really let go." Biting his lip, Angel stared at him for a minute, absolutely stumped by that. He didn't know whether to be blunt or to be kind. His mouth engaged before his brain could temper his speech. "You're kidding, right? This place is in seriously bad shape. I don't know what you were thinking." He shook his head as he eyed the sorry state of the walls once more, then turned on his heel and headed downstairs. "Hey! Watch what you say about this place. You have no idea what you're talking about. As usual." Brandon threw the insult, then stalked past Angel on his way outside. He yanked open the driver's door on the Lincoln, then strode to the back and began grabbing the bags that were back there. Chastened, Angel had silently followed him outside, and Brandon tossed a soft-sided suitcase to where Angel stood on the stairs. Angel staggered a little, grunting, before carrying the
bag inside. He's a little pissy, isn't he? This place IS a dump. He couldn't imagine what Brandon had been thinking to buy the place. Brandon came back in, carrying his own bag and the kids' backpacks. "Will you grab the last two down there?" Not waiting for Angel to agree, he dropped the kids' bags by the stairs and went into a room Angel hadn't noticed earlier, opening off the dining room, next to the stairs. Coming back in with the remaining bags, Angel dropped them on the floor in the dining room. He stepped to that doorway and, breathing a sigh of relief, saw an actual bed, along with a pair of nightstands and a long dresser. This furniture actually looked good; it had to be new, he decided. His sigh of relief quickly changed to a squawk of disbelief when he realized something. "This is the only bed in this house!" "Uh-huh." Brandon continued unpacking his duffle, shoving T-shirts and boxer-briefs into the top drawer of the dresser. "But this is the only bed." "You said that already." Brandon hung his jacket in one of the two closets that framed the doorway, then kicked off his shoes and began unbuttoning his shirt. "But... but... Where am I supposed to sleep?" Ignoring him, the big ballplayer continued to undress, shoving his jeans down, boxer-briefs showing the tightly muscled ass and legs to advantage. Coughing slightly, Angel averted his eyes, turning instead to scan the room, looking for any kind of inspiration. "Um. I." Like magnet to steel, his eyes came back to the beautiful, strong body on display right in front of him. "Angel... sugar, I'm going to wash up, and then I'm
hitting the sack. I'd advise you to do the same. It's late. We can figure it all out in the morning." With that, Brandon disappeared into the dining room, heading for the bathroom that had to be in the back of the house. A tremendous yawn caught Angel unaware, and he dropped his bag at the foot of the bed. He decided it was too late to screw around, especially since the ratty sofa in the living room couldn't have been more than five feet long. He stripped down to his boxers, then grabbed his shaving kit and headed out to find the bathroom. It was indeed off the kitchen. Brandon exited the small room and shut off the light just as Angel came through the kitchen. "Oops. Sorry. Let me turn the light back on for you." Brandon flipped the switch, then stepped back, watching Angel as he walked past. Angel couldn't be sure, but it looked like there was a knowing smile on that chiseled mouth. He refrained from saying anything just then. Ignoring the taller man, he lifted his chin and brushed past. Five minutes later, he was back in the bedroom. Stopping short, he saw that Brandon was already in bed -- on the same side of the bed that Angel preferred. A lamp turned low was on the other side. Walking around, Angel pulled back the sheet and cotton blanket and slid in. He reached out and shut off the lamp, which plunged the room into complete darkness. He quickly switched it back on again. "Um." He could hear a soft chuckle from Brandon. "Yes, Angel?" "Uh. Don't you think you should leave a light on for the kids, in case they wake up during the night?" He was not going to admit he wanted a little bit of light in the ultra-darkness. Brandon was silent a second. If he laughed, Angel
was going to smack him. "That's probably a good idea." Pushing back the covers, he was gone for a few moments. Angel heard a light switch turn on and saw a glow from where the stairs came down to the dining room. Taking advantage of Brandon's absence, Angel quickly slid to his favored side of the bed, then yanked the covers over his shoulder as he lay down on his right side. He buried his head in the pillow which he found, to his satisfaction, was down. He heard Brandon come back in to the room, and heard the ballplayer halt briefly at the doorway. "Hmmmph." The sound was amused. "Okay, sugar. We might have to share that side. It's my favorite, too."
Chapter 10 Now wide awake, Angel listened to Brandon's every movement, following the sounds as Brandon moved around the room. Brandon got back in bed, sighing as his head hit the pillow. Angel's heart was starting to pound, and his breath shortened. He stared at the wall in front of him, unseeing. An arm snaked around his middle as Brandon rolled to his side. Angel's head turned on the pillow with a jerk. Brandon raised up on one elbow and moved in close. "Finally. You're awake this time -- and the kids are asleep." Brandon brought his mouth down, shoving his tongue forward. Angel didn't even try to stop him. This was what he'd wanted since he'd first met Brandon -- even though he would have gone to his grave denying it. He twisted, lying flat on his back and opening his legs in welcome. No slouch when reading signals, Brandon rolled on top of him immediately. Angel groaned softly as he brought up his arms, relishing the heavy body covering his. His hands slid up the muscled back, and he parked his heels at the bottom of Brandon's ass, holding the bigger man close. Brandon broke off kissing him, and they both panted heavily as they stared at one another. "You're not going to argue with me?" Angel shook his head, smiling. "And you're not going to pout about this tomorrow?" Shaking his head again, Angel tried not to pout too much. He almost couldn't contain his grin, though. Brandon drove his tongue forward again as he rocked
his hips into Angel's. "It makes me crazy when you do that." The words were interspersed with nibbles and licks at Angel's mouth. Angel arched his neck back, and Brandon's lips moved there, working down to the muscle at the side, where the ballplayer latched on and nipped. "Holy--!" God, that felt good. Brandon raised his head, grinning. "Easy, sugar. Don't want to wake the kids." Angel gasped, having already forgotten about the kids upstairs. "God! Get off me! We can't do this now. What if they hear?" Brandon shook his head firmly. "Oh, no, you don't. We are doing exactly this, and we're doing it right now." With that, he pushed himself away, shoving back the covers and quickly stripping off his underwear. Angel was agog at his first real look at Brandon's seriously hard cock, and he licked his lips in anticipation. Brandon attacked Angel's silk boxers, dragging them down. "Jesus, sugar -- even these are designer?" Shaking his head, Brandon tossed them over his shoulder. About to moan at the cavalier way his silky underthings were being treated, Angel groaned instead when Brandon bit his left nipple. His head tipped backward, and he lifted his arms, throwing them above his head in abandon as that nibble was followed with a strong sucking. He squeaked when Brandon's hand came up and tweaked his other tit, tugging and pulling on it in time with the suction. "God, Brandon. What are you doing?" "If you can't tell, I'm doing it wrong." With that, Brandon reapplied himself, moving down Angel's body like he was on a mission. He roughly spread Angel's legs as he moved his shoulders between them, pinning
them with his forearms. Angel raised his head for a moment, watching as Brandon stared at Angel's crotch. "Mmmm. I've never seen a man who waxes. Smooth. Pretty." He sucked the one ball into his mouth, and Angel moaned. Looking up, Brandon grinned again. "You better cover your mouth with a pillow. We don't need Miss Marisa down here asking what we're doing." Angel grimaced and grabbed a pillow. He listened as Brandon leaned over and ripped open the shaving kit on the nightstand. Impatient, he rolled his head on the pillow as Brandon grabbed a condom and some lube, then dumped them on the mattress. He gasped as Brandon then licked a long swipe up his cock. "This is a thing of beauty," Brandon whispered, staring at Angel's prick admiringly. Angel whimpered at both the praise and Brandon's agile tongue, then he sighed happily as Brandon grabbed the lube and squeezed out a dollop. When wet fingers touched him, circling gently, his hole spasmed in excitement. "Oh! Oh, yeah!" Angel's voice was breathy as he relaxed, allowing Brandon entrance into his body. He sighed again as Brandon fucked him with one finger, sliding in and out, pressing deep, then retreating. "That's it, sugar. Mmmm, oh, that's nice." Brandon pressed two fingers inside, gently twisting and plunging. He spent a while loosening Angel's opening, relaxing the tight muscle. "God, baby. You are so sweet. Just like I thought it would be." He grabbed a little more lube and added a third finger. "Here, Angel. How's that feel?" At the additional pressure, Angel whimpered, then grabbed his knees and pulled them up, spreading his legs wide. He licked his lips as he watched Brandon watching him.
"Oh, you are a hot little piece, aren't you?" Brandon kneeled back, grabbed the condom, and quickly gloved up. Angel rolled as Brandon pushed him over on his belly, the big hands gripping his hips, pulling him up. Angel grunted at the rough handling, then purred as Brandon stroked a hand down his spine and plunged two fingers back inside his hole. He spread his knees wider in reaction. Brandon fucked him rapidly with those fingers. "Uh, you might want to bury your head in that pillow. I have a feeling you're not going to be able to keep quiet." Angel offered his ass for the taking, tilting up, his hole pulsing, waiting. God, he'd been waiting three years for this! Catching himself, Angel did indeed bury his face in the pillow, biting down to keep from admitting anything incriminating. Brandon spread his ankles, making room, and a thrill ran through Angel. Then the ballplayer pushed forward. Angel felt a solid cock bump against his opening, and he mewled, loving the pressure as Brandon pressed forward aggressively. When Angel cried out at the next shove, he heard Brandon's warning. "You'd better hold on." *** Angel answered him by pushing back on his cock, forcing the head inside. Brandon barely held back a guttural cry of triumph. He gritted his teeth and shoved all the way inside, dropping forward and propping himself above Angel. He balanced on one hand, pulling Angel's hips back with his other. Thrusting hard, he grunted each time he bottomed out. He heard Angel grunt in return, then moan as he pulled back. Angel chased Brandon's dick with his hips, spreading
his knees wide and pushing back with his hands on the headboard. Between them, it was a chorus of grunts and groans, with occasional squeals and purrs. As the grip on his dick started to tighten, Brandon reached around and began jacking Angel, squeezing roughly. He rubbed his thumb just below the head, the spot he loved to hit on his own dick. Angel seemed to glory in the manhandling, back arching even more and the low cries becoming louder. Brandon responded by driving even harder, causing the headboard to bang against the plaster wall. He laughed hoarsely as Angel grabbed the pillow again and covered his head, just in time to muffle his scream as he came. His channel clamped down on Brandon's cock, milking it and causing Brandon's rhythm to stutter. Brandon arched his back and thrust deeply several more times before his own orgasm overtook him. He grunted as his body shuddered, spurting semen into the condom. Angel had collapsed under him, trapping his wet hand. He eased it out as he arched over his lover, barely keeping himself upright. Grabbing his cock at the base, he held onto the condom as he eased out, feeling Angel squeeze him as he did so. "Easy, sugar. Let me go," he crooned softly. A soft grunt was his only answer as Angel's face remained buried in the edge of the pillow. Working swiftly, he tied off the condom and looked for a place to toss it. Remembering he didn't have a trashcan, he swore softly. He'd have to get out of bed and walk to the bathroom. "I'll be right back." Brandon was ignored completely as Angel sighed hugely. His lips quirking, he cocked an unseen eyebrow at the prima donna. "Hmmmph. Whambam-thank-you-man?" He shook his head as he slid out of bed. "Oh, I don't think so, sugar." His voice was low
as he left the room. "I so don't think so." When he came back, he left the light on low and slid back in next to Angel. The other man was sleeping already, in exactly the same position, sprawled on his belly with his arms under the pillow. "Tomorrow is sure enough going to be interesting." Brandon punched his own pillow into shape.
Chapter 11 Angel opened his eyes the next morning to find Marisa staring at him from six inches away. Crying out hoarsely, he jolted back and banged his head against Brandon's. "Owww!" Rolling onto his back, Brandon crankily rubbed his forehead without even opening his eyes. "What the hell was that for?" "Psssst!" Angel whispered in a good imitation of Parsel-tongue. "Pssssssst!" Brandon opened one eye to stare at Angel. "What are you hissing about? Christ, can't a man sleep in peace?" Making a face, Angel smacked him on his bicep with the back of one hand. "Do you mind waking up? There are little people in this bedroom. " At that, both of Brandon's eyes opened and he raised his head, looking around the room. He spotted Marisa, who was kneeling next to Angel's side of the bed, her chin resting on the mattress. The more reserved Trey was standing next to the door, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "What time is it?" Brandon's voice was hoarse and he coughed to clear his throat. "W-o-w," Angel sang softly. His voice was filled with amusement. At Brandon's cranky behavior, his own attitude had correspondingly improved. "So, the perfect Mr. Halvorsen is not a morning person." Relaxing back with a grin, he set his hands behind his head. "Who knew?" Brandon gave him a look, adjusting the covers around his chest, and plumping his pillow behind his head. Marisa stood and put a hand on the bed. "I'm hungry!"
"What time is it?" Brandon asked again as he closed his eyes. Still smiling, Angel answered, his eyes on the quiet Trey. "I would guess it's time to get these kids some breakfast. And, since you rushed us up here to the middle of nowhere, we didn't go grocery shopping, did we? You'll have to take us all out to breakfast." He wiggled upward. "I want waffles." He watched Trey's mouth twitch. "Uh, it's six-thirty," the boy announced. With a groan, Brandon drew the covers over his head. The kids laughed outright at that. Glad to see humor on the faces of two children who'd lost everything, Angel waved his hands. "Shoo, you two, so we can get dressed. If you haven't already, bring your stuff upstairs so it's all in one place, okay?" Obediently, the kids shuffled out of the room. "Close the door behind you!" he called when they left it standing open. Trey poked his head around the doorframe with a smirk, reaching for the doorknob. "You guys naked again?" Trey grinned. "'Risa tells me everything." He shrugged and pulled the door shut. Brandon threw the covers back and turned his head on the pillow, looking searchingly at Angel. Angel pouted a little. "What? I wasn't doing anything." "Just making sure we're okay." Brandon moved closer, raising himself on one elbow. "You don't look pissy, but I need to make sure." Angel hummed when Brandon's tongue slipped in, caressing. He cupped the back of Brandon's head, fingers gently scraping the short hair as he returned the kiss with fervor. When Brandon eased back, he stared into Angel's
brown eyes. What he was searching for, Angel couldn't tell. "Good morning, sugar." Brandon leaned forward to deposit another quick kiss. "Mmmm, I love your little pouts." Angel smiled a tiny smile in response, feeling a little thrill go through him. Brandon grinned back, slapping Angel on the ass. He jumped back and slid out of bed. "Let's go. We've got a lot to do today." Rubbing that smarting cheek, Angel watched with an arched eyebrow as Brandon drew on jeans, then grabbed his shaving kit. "I'm going to grab a quick shower." At least he remembered to shut the door behind himself. Throwing his arms up on the pillow, breathing a huge sigh, Angel stared for a while at the ceiling. His body felt well used, and he was definitely a happy camper this morning. He might be able to put up with a couple of weeks in Nowhere-ville if he got fucked so nicely every night. He heard the shower turn off. Grinning to himself, Angel got out of bed, pulled on his pants, and headed to the bathroom, where he passed Brandon coming out. When he finished showering, he dressed and headed toward the front of the house. There was no one downstairs, and he didn't hear any movement upstairs. He stepped out on the front porch and looked around in the daylight. "Santa vaca." Amazed, he swiveled his head from side to side. He was absolutely floored by what he saw. To say there were trees was an understatement. The giants were all around, both coniferous and deciduous. About one hundred yards from the house and down a
slight slope, a stream about twenty feet wide flowed quietly, jumping over the occasional rock and ledge. What he thought might be a huge willow cast shade near the banks, with white-barked trees growing alongside. The tumbling water caught the morning sun, and a gentle breeze moved through the autumn foliage. Birds were singing cheerfully. From high above, he heard a screeching sound and spotted a big bird landing in one of the tall pines near the house. The land undulated to the mountains in the distance. He could see snow on some of the higher elevations. A quiet voice spoke from the corner of the porch. "That's why I bought this place." He turned to find Brandon perched on the top of the porch wall. Without knowing why, Angel found himself drawn to Brandon. He moved close, coming to a stop a foot away. "The house itself is an historic treasure." Brandon smiled faintly when Angel gave him a skeptical look. "It is. The house is a kit home that was made by a company in Portland back in nineteen twenty-one." Angel looked at Brandon blankly. What? Hands gesturing as he got revved, Brandon elaborated. "Angel, this is seriously good luck. The Fenner Manufacturing Company out of Portland built homes for just a few years, from nineteen sixteen to nineteen twenty-eight, and they had a number of models. Old Betsy here is a Hickory, and what's even more fun is that the homes were mail order. Can you believe that?" Angel marveled at the passion he saw in the other man. Old Betsy? How could he have believed him to be a stuffed shirt? "How do you know all this stuff?" He was honestly impressed at this other side of Brandon. "Well, when I was at UIC, I wrote a paper on the history of kit homes in America and their impact on the
ability of more Americans to buy really wonderful, quality houses." Surprised again, Angel's mouth hung open for a moment. "UIC?" Brandon cocked his head. "University of Illinois at Chicago. I got my undergrad degree in architecture there right before I was drafted." "You -- you're an architect?" "Sugar, that almost sounded insulting." Brandon's lips turned down a tiny bit at the corners. "I didn't actually get licensed, because I didnt complete the internship hours required when I got called up." Angel realized Brandon was waiting for him to respond. "Uh, no. No! I didn't mean to be insulting!" What the heck? Who is this guy? Cocking an eyebrow, Brandon made a face. "What? You think the big-league pitcher ain't got no smarts?" His drawl was really exaggerated that time. Blushing, trying to get his foot out of his mouth, Angel blustered, "That's not what I meant." He paused to figure out exactly what he had meant. "Uh. I guess I just thought you played ball and that was it. Not too many pro athletes actually go to class in college. And you have blond hair!" At that, Brandon burst out laughing, guffaws huge in the quiet of the morning. Angel watched him, staring at pointedly, arms crossed on his chest. Calming down, Brandon smirked, a knowing look on his face. "Blond, huh? You know what they say about blonds, don't you?" "That they have big tits and itty-bitty brains?" Shaking his head, still chuckling, Brandon leaned closer. "No, sugar. Blonds have more fun." God! A shiver ran down Angel's spine at that, and his belly clenched. This guy turned him on -- with a capital
O. It just wasn't fair. He whimpered in dismay. "What, Angel? Am I too smart for you now?" "As if!" With a smile, Brandon slid a hand over the curve of his ass. "You really crank my engine, you know that?" Sobering, Angel stared at Brandon for several seconds. "You know, in the three years I've known you, I've never seen you so..." He stopped, unsure of the appropriate adjective. Brandon looked at him. "So -- what?" "Um. So passionate. So excited." He quirked his lips. "So fun." Speaking softly, Brandon leaned toward him. "That's because you didn't have your eyes open last night, sugar." He grasped Angel by the hips, tugging until Angel rested between his thighs. Now it was Angel's turn to smirk as he leaned his weight into Brandon. "Um, I think I did a couple of times, actually, but I was facing the wall. Somebody," he drawled the word, "flipped me over and shoved me around." "Uh-huh." "You were manhandling me." Brandon snorted. "You liked it." Angel slid his arms up over Brandon's brawny shoulders. "Mmmm, I have to admit I did." He brought his head close and covered the smiling lips with his own. This time, he took the lead, pushing his tongue into Brandon's mouth, teasing, rubbing, nipping the other man's lips. In response, Brandon's hands gripped his ass and pulled him in tightly, rubbing their cocks together. "Angel, we have too many clothes on for this." Angel sighed. "I know."
"And I love your eyelashes. Did I tell you that?"
Fluttering them madly, Angel grinned. "I think you did, as a matter of fact. Do they get you hot?" The answer was offered with flattering speed. "Oh, yeah. You know what else gets me hot?" Angel raised a brow, feeling arrogant. "What?" Brandon ran a hand down the azure-blue cashmere pullover Angel was wearing over charcoal Brooks Brothers gabardine trousers. "Sugar, you are such a fashion-plate. When I see you all gussied up, I want to tear all these clothes right back off you." Angel backed up abruptly, glowering. "Don't even think about it!" Laughing again, Brandon hauled him back close. "Uh-uh, Angel. I'll wait until tonight. How's that?" His hand cupping the back of Angel's head, he brought them close enough for a burning kiss, his tongue plunging deeply. Angel gave way, submitting willingly. He tilted his head back, sucking and nipping on Brandon's tongue. "That's right. Just wait for tonight," Brandon whispered in his ear. Pulling back and sighing in satisfaction, Angel leaned his head on Brandon's shoulder, looking out toward the river. He spotted the kids about fifty feet away from the water. Bringing his head up quickly, he pointed. "Hey, I don't think they should be near the water without one of us there, do you?" Brandon snorted. "No. I told them not to get too close." He stood, pushing Angel back gently as he did so. "Let's go get them and get some breakfast, huh?" Angel felt Brandon's large palm drift over the curves of his ass again as they walked down the porch steps, the long fingers sliding inside the waistband and flirting with his crease. Angel shivered and moaned quietly. Brandon grinned down at him. "It's going to be a
good day, sugar."
Chapter 12 They were clearly in another world. Brandon had laughed at Angel when he scrunched up his nose at the raucous sound of the many diesel pickups in the restaurant parking lot. "City boy. Not exactly the BMW capital of the world, is it?" Making a face in response, Angel jumped when Brandon slapped his ass. "Hey! You want to get us jumped? We're not exactly in Gay-Town, USA, for chrissake." Brandon made a show of looking around. The kids were at the door to the restaurant, looking back at them impatiently. "Angel, all I know is that this is my home now. I'm not going to advertise, but I'm not going to hide, either." Somewhat impressed despite himself, Angel arched his brows. "Okay. I buy that you don't want to have to hide. But, really, this is cowboy country, isn't it?" He looked around furtively, afraid a wrangler would overhear. Snorting, Brandon wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Angel, I think you're going to be surprised by Oregon. They've got all kinds here. Even I've figured that out already." They went inside, finding a mom-and-pop restaurant that had homemade biscuits and the best hash browns Angel had had in quite a while. They sat in a booth by the window, where they could watch the traffic on the main road. The three Los Angelenos were agog watching the logging trucks coming down the road, astonished at the size of the logs on the rigs. They weren't exactly a common occurrence in LA. Trey was even somewhat animated as he commented on the many trucks pulling into and out of
the restaurant parking lot. "Those are cool." Over breakfast, Brandon brought up what to call him. "Kids, I think you should call me by my first name. Just Brandon is fine." He looked over at Angel. "And if it's okay with Angel, you can call him by his first name. Trouble." Angel rolled his eyes at Brandon while the kids tittered. The ice broken a bit, Brandon continued. "I know you kids have been through a really rough time, and I want you to know that I don't plan to try to replace your mom and dad." Trey looked down at his plate, his appetite apparently gone. Angel felt a slight pang as he looked at the boy. Marisa gazed up at Brandon. "My mommy and daddy are in heaven. Pastor Jim told me." Brandon nodded at her while Angel kept his own counsel. "Pastor Jim told me the very same thing," Brandon said kindly. He looked at Trey. "Trey, you probably don't want to hear this but... we need to figure out about getting you into school here." The boy nodded morosely and said, "Yes, sir." "And I want to tell you about your grandpa whenever you're ready to hear." He stopped for a moment to look over at Angel, as if seeking something. Angel stared back anxiously, not sure what he needed. Trey spoke up, distracting them both. "Brandon..." he said hesitantly. "Are you and Angel... going to keep us?" Angel tried to speak up, but Brandon waved him down. "Trey, you and your sister are here to stay," he said firmly, first with a nod and reassuring look to the boy and then a warning look at Angel. Angel blew out a quiet breath, not sure whether to
comment or not. He held his tongue as he watched Brandon and Trey. For the moment, Brandon's reassurance appeared to satisfy the boy. *** The day had started well. They'd had a nice time at breakfast. And Angel did manage to check his email on the drive over. It wasn't too bad. He hadn't missed much so far, since it was the weekend, anyway. An hour later, they were in the only grocery store in town when the two men had their first argument. They were standing in the deli section, with the two children wandering nearby. After Brandon mentioned they could each take a hand at preparing meals, Angel jumped down his throat. "I am not cooking for you. Don't even think about it. It's not in my job description." He looked pointedly at Brandon. This was all getting way too close to playing house. And he did not play house. Not for anybody. He reminded himself of Roscoe Davis as he waited for Brandon to speak. Frowning, Brandon growled slightly. "I know it's not in your job description, for Pete's sake. And keep your voice down!" Angel glared, but lowered his voice to a heated whisper. "I'm not your slave. Just so we're clear. My boss may have assigned me here for a few days -however the fuck long that is -- but I'm not doing anything I don't want to do." "Fine. Whatever. I'm sure that's your MO all the time anyway. I just thought we might take turns so the kids could get some good food once in a while. I suck at cooking." Angel watched him suspiciously. "How do I know
you're not just bullshitting me?" "Christ, Angel! Do you think I'm a liar, now?" Slightly ashamed, Angel slouched, shoving his hands in the pockets of his trousers, darting a look down at the floor before meeting Brandon's eyes again. "I." He sighed. "I just want to know how long I have to stay here. That's all." He looked away. He was already having a little bit too much fun here. The incredible sex -- and the fact that Brandon was becoming more than just a hottie to him -- were beginning to scare him. Another thought occurred to him. "Why are you letting them think that we're together? Don't you think they'll be freaked out when I leave?" "Look, Angel. These kids need some stability after what's happened -- and the fact that it took more than a month for them to know somebody was going to take care of them." With a grimace, Brandon looked over at the two children, who were whispering to each other by the drinks. "But what do you want from me?" Angel meant the question more than just professionally. Did Brandon realize that? "Sugar, I..." Brandon looked less than completely confident. They were interrupted by Marisa, who walked up to them holding a package of juice boxes. "Can we get these? My mom gets them for me all the time." The little girl stared earnestly up at Angel, her curly hair bobbing on her shoulders as she jumped in place. He swallowed thickly. Why was she asking him? He looked to Brandon for help but the ballplayer stayed mute, his face closed up. Stubborn asshole. Angel noticed that once again Trey hung back, observing silently. It sobered him quickly, reminding him of just how much the kids had lost and how minor
the meal prep issue was. The rest could wait. For now. "Fine," he whispered abruptly to Brandon. "I'll do the cooking." He shot a frustrated look upward. "But that's it. I draw the line at cleaning the house." Turning back to Marisa, he crouched down next to her. "Is this your favorite flavor, mi'ja?" He caught an odd expression crossing his lover's face before Brandon shrugged and nodded. "Okay. Whatever you say." Taking Marisa by the hand, Angel stepped over to Brandon and got up in his grill. "Give me a credit card. Why don't you figure out if you can buy beds for the kids in this one-horse town? I'm just going to get enough for today and tomorrow until we figure out a plan." Card in hand, he started walking away. "Chica, you can have the juice boxes, okay?" He motioned with his head for Trey to follow him as he lifted Marisa into the cart and pushed it toward the produce section. He was so not playing house with that... that ballplayer. *** An hour after that, they'd driven to Grants Pass to get a pair of Aerobeds. Angel sighed at having to drive to another town just to find a store that carried them. At least he'd had a signal on his cell for the trip. Brandon had stoically ignored him, which kind of aggravated him more. The kids had kept quiet in the back seat. It all broke down at lunch, when they sat down to eat at a restaurant/pub with a view of the Rogue River. They sat near the window of the main room and got their food orders placed. Angel took a sip of his iced tea, then looked over at Marisa, concerned because he thought he'd heard her
sniffle. He was shocked to see tears running down her face. Leaning toward where she sat at a right angle to him in a booster chair, he set his hand softly on her shoulder. "Marisa," he pronounced her name properly, with a Spanish accent, "What's wrong, mi'ja?" The little girl began crying openly and she stuttered out her explanation. "I... have... to go... to the... bathroom." Angel shrugged, relieved. He'd escorted his myriad nephews to the bathroom for years. "Um, okay -- well, um, I can take you, I guess." "No!" He was taken aback by her vehemence. Brandon leaned close to her. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?" Her cries began to grow in volume and the two men looked around. The other patrons were beginning to stare. "I want my mommy!" Uh-oh. How the fuck did they fix this? "Mi'ja, you... know that... your mommy is in heaven, right?" Marisa sobbed. "I need Mommy," she cried piteously. "I have to go to the bathroom!" "Marisa, I said I'd take you." Angel shrugged helplessly, then frowned at his lover. Was Brandon thinking about hiding under the table? The little girl's answer was launched at Angel. "No! I can't go to the big boy's room!" Oh, my god. Is that all? His nerves were just about fried from the crying and screaming. Brandon sat back in his chair. "Well, sugar, you did say you could do anything a woman could do." Despite his fracturing nerves, Angel considered popping Brandon on the side of the head.
Marisa was crying louder now. You've got to be kidding. I have to do this, don't I? When he saw her get ready to scream again, he blurted, "Okay! Okay! I'll take you to the big girl's room. Okay?" He crossed his fingers under the table. Please say yes. Marisa stopped in mid-cry, her breath stuttering and more fat tears squeezing out of her eyes. She appeared so pathetic, even his snarly heart felt a tug. He didn't have to admit it, though, right? "Okay, mi'ja? Let's go to the girl's room... you and me. Okay?" Angel didn't care if it sounded like he was begging. Marisa nodded slowly, rubbing her hand on her wet nose. Eww. Angel grabbed a paper napkin and began dabbing at her dripping nose as he pulled back her chair. "Venga, chica. We'll go take care of business and then we'll fix your hair, okay?" Picking her up in his arms, he marched to the ladies' room. As he neared it, a female patron approached, clearly intending to go to the same place. She looked at him with her eyebrows arched as he pushed open the door. He stared back at her, absolutely daring her to say anything as he swept inside. Following him in, the woman darted into a stall without saying a word. His eyes immediately zeroed in on the tampon machine near the sink area. Guh. Closing his eyes for a second, he ignored the urination sounds coming from the woman's stall and stepped into the large handicapped stall. Gazing at the little girl in his arms, he smiled reluctantly. She was so sad. "Mi'ja, you're going to be fine. You'll see." He gently set her on her feet. "C'mon. Let's get you up on the seat." Finally quiet again, Marisa obligingly lifted the purple skirt she'd put on over lime green tights and worked her pants down. Biting his lip, Angel lifted her
onto the toilet seat. Desperate to distract himself from the fact that he was in a ladies' room with actual females in it at the same time, he began talking. "We are absolutely going to have to do something about your dress style, young lady." He crouched down next to her to hold her steady. Again nobly ignoring the sound of urine hitting the bowl, he looked into the sweet brown eyes looking back at him. "Mi'ja, there's no one who has better dress sense than me." He heard a snort from the next stall, then the sound of the toilet flushing. He sniffed in response. "It's true, Marisa." He nodded to the little girl. "You and I are going to work together to develop your style. You simply cannot walk around with purple and lime green. It's a travesty." Finishing, the little girl began pulling paper off the roll. She hiccupped a breath, then nodded. "Okay, Angel." He had to look away as she grabbed a wad of paper to wipe.
Chapter 13 Angel was not used to this kind of pressure. Even when work was at its most insane, he could handle it better than this... this family thing. Trey was snotty, Marisa was needy, and Brandon was demanding. On top of that, CeCe had emailed him twice looking for a proposal he'd already sent her last week. It was Sunday, for God's sake! Was he the answer to everything? What would the world do without him, for crying out loud? Muttering to himself, clad in a leather jacket he'd borrowed from Brandon's closet, he paced on the front porch and typed into his iPhone, forwarding a message containing the file. "There, you demanding bitch, see if you can hang onto it this time." Mentally castigating his exhausting boss, he pushed send on the last email. He needed to get his laptop out and log in to get more documents. Sighing, he shoved a hand through his hair. He loved CeCe dearly, but sometimes he just wanted to chuck it all and move to Tahiti and be waited on by gorgeous cabaa boys. "Problems at the office, dear?" Brandon's snarky voice floated out through the wooden screen door. Angel turned to face his irksome host. "You. You're the reason my life is insane." He pointed a finger at Brandon. Brandon stepped outside, letting the door close gently behind him. "Moi?" Angel walked up to him. "You know, the dumb blond routine had me fooled, I admit, all the time you've been CeCe's client. I thought you were arrogant. Gorgeous, but I admit I thought you had just the image going." Angel snorted in disdain. "Until now. Now, I know how
devious, manipulative... how -- and I can't believe I'm saying this -- how Machiavellian you are!" Spinning again, Angel began muttering. "Christ, was I wrong." Brandon nodded his head slowly. "Hmmm. I knew I was good, but damn, you make it sound like I'm Dr. Evil." His hands moved out expansively. "I think I like it." Moving to the outer edge of the porch, he leaned against the wall, one hip on the wooden top. He slowly crossed his arms over his muscled chest as he watched Angel. Angel mumbled and cursed in Spanish as he paced, sending repeated dark looks Brandon's way. Shoving a hand through his hair, he tried to restore the stylish cut that he'd tugged, and scrunched, and pulled throughout the day. His cashmere sweater had food stains on it, courtesy of Marisa, and his gabardine trousers had a slight tear in the knee, thanks to Trey. Scowling again, he recalled colliding with Trey as the boy came running around the back corner of the old, dumpy house. Twisting to avoid bowling Trey over, Angel had pitched into the kitchen porch wall, his pants catching on a broken piece of siding. The memory was enough to drive Angel over the side. "And on top of that, I need to call my mother!" Brandon tilted his head. Scrunching his eyebrows together, he stared. "So? Give her a call." "She's going to want to know where I am. And lots of times I have dinner with her on Sundays, so I have to explain why I didn't do that today." Raking his fingers through his hair again, Angel spit out another curse. "Shit. I forgot to call her yesterday." "Angel, just relax for a minute, will you? You're making yourself crazy." "Hey, pendejo!" He used the Mexican slang too easily. "I have to check on my mom every few days!
You don't know the kind of neighborhood--" He was about to reveal way too much history. He pivoted on his heel, breath coming a little faster. "Sugar, call your mama. Make sure she's okay. And I don't have the slightest idea what you just called me." Brandon's understanding voice was a balm to Angel's stretched nerves. The big hands came to rest on his shoulders, then slid down his arms and wrapped around his waist. He was pulled back into the big body, feeling the muscled strength surrounding him. He also felt the big cock prodding his back, but Brandon wasn't pushing. "It's dumbass," Angel mumbled, feeling absurdly guilty now. He heard a deep chuckle, then the big hands slid over his belly, caressing. "Whoa. Call your mama. Then we'll talk about that." The hands slid away, and Brandon stepped back inside, clearly giving him his privacy. He turned his head, watching as Brandon retreated. Damn it! The man kept confusing him, acting differently than he expected, time after time. The guy had dragged him up here to the middle of nowhere, taking him away from his job, his mother -- his life! -and then Brandon turned around and was so thoughtful. Angel couldn't figure out if his lover was deliberately trying to befuddle him, or if the man was actually just being nice. How, in just a few days, had Brandon reversed an impression Angel had had for three years? Maybe because his own insecurities around Brandon had helped him form that mistaken image? And, if Angel was honest with himself, the sex had a lot to do with it. The attraction he'd always felt around Brandon had simmered under the surface, since Angel was sure nothing would ever come of it. Now, with the promise of it every night -- well, Angel almost couldn't
make it compute. And, as long as he was being honest, he had to admit that Brandon's commitment to taking care of the grandchildren of a departed friend was more than just admirable. It demonstrated a strength of character he hadn't known existed underneath the studly, blond, athletic exterior. Fretting yet again, he walked over to the wall and stared toward the river. The night was again beautiful, but this one had turned colder. Autumn had come to the Illinois River Valley. He was chilled, but he didn't feel like zipping the jacket. He crossed the two sides over in front, then brought his arms around himself. Rubbing his hands up and down his sleeves, he listened to the unfamiliar Oregon night sounds. It was so different from the traffic and people noise of Los Angeles. What the hell was he doing up here? He could, at any time, have put his foot down with CeCe and said he wasn't going. She might have argued with him, but she did have three agent assistants, any of whom could have helped Brandon. The answer was, of course, that he wanted to be with Brandon. He wanted to be the one who helped the handsome ballplayer deal with all the new life issues. What the hell was he thinking? He looked toward the house, seeing the mostly empty rooms in the front. The kids were upstairs on their new Aerobeds. They were still in the same room and did indeed seem to be comforted by being near each other. Tomorrow, Monday, Brandon would be taking Trey to school to meet the principal and find out about transferring. They'd talked about kindergarten for Marisa, about whether she was old enough. Neither of them knew the answer, so they'd presumably get some ideas about that from the same principal.
Jesus. Listen to me. Wasn't I the one crying today about not playing house? Brandon came into view, walking up from the back of the house. Angel found himself drawn toward the man, stepping in front of the screen door and watching as his lover came through the french doors of the dining room. Catching sight of Angel, Brandon detoured from the fireplace and stepped over to the door. The two men gazed at each other for a full minute. Angel broke the silence. "You need to get a satellite dish." It was inane but it was all he could think of. Brandon's eyebrows went up. "I do, huh?" He smiled slowly. "How's about I work on that tomorrow, okay?" Angel nodded. "Okay." "Why don't you come in here, sugar?" Brandon's voice was inviting, and one large hand gently pushed open the door. Angel smiled slowly as he came through the door. Brandon closed the inside door behind them, and, taking Angel by the hand, walked him into the downstairs bedroom. Closing that door as well, the two men moved over to the bed. Angel was glad to find it was warmer in the bedroom. At least the old boiler down in the scary basement worked. He shrugged Brandon's jacket off and slung it over the doorknob. Brandon sat down on the side of the bed and drew Angel between his knees. He slid his hands up under the cashmere sweater and the T-shirt beneath, caressing Angel's skin, tweaking the sensitive nipples, rubbing them with his thumbs. He pushed the sweater and Tshirt up, his mouth following the trail of his hands. Gasping and whimpering, his back arching, Angel leaned in to Brandon and slid his arms around the
muscled shoulders. He groaned when Brandon's teeth bit into one nipple and his fingers flexed, digging into the broad back in reaction. That clever mouth moved to his other nipple, biting, licking, and sucking. Brandon moved back and forth between both nipples while opening Angel's wool trousers. Angel felt those long fingers slide inside, moving around to cup the cheeks of his ass, gripping and caressing, then erotically pulling them apart, stretching his opening. He moaned loudly at that, his prick beginning to leak. He thrust his hips forward a few times, fucking the air, as Brandon nipped down his torso. He found himself running his fingers over Brandon's scalp, loving the crisp sound and feel of the short hair against his hands. He rimmed Brandon's ears with his fingertips, tugged on the earlobes -- anything to keep the connection between them. "How about you get rid of your clothes, okay?" Brandon stood, gently pushing Angel back, then stripped rapidly. His cock, heavy and hard, was dripping its own pre-come. Angel licked his lips as Brandon's prick was revealed. With his sweater off and tank shirt half over his head, he reached out a hand to touch, wrapping his fingers around its girth and squeezing. God, he'd had this beautiful thing inside himself last night. He started to drop to his knees to worship it and got tangled in his half-removed clothes. He fell forward, stumbling, landing half on the bed and half off. "Angel! Are you all right?" Brandon's concerned voice warmed him as he was helped upright. He nodded, too excited to be embarrassed by his clumsiness. Ripping off the rest of his clothes, he tried again, dropping down and taking the big cock into his throat in the same motion.
*** Brandon froze, sucking in a huge, surprised breath. His hands came around to cup Angel's head, his fingers parting the silky black hair. He tilted Angel's head back a little and pressed deeper, wanting instinctively to dominate. He was welcomed, Angel sucking strongly. Grunting, Brandon dropped his head down so he could watch every move this vexing, gorgeous man made. His breath started coming in pants as he thrust slowly into that willing mouth. "Okay?" In answer, Angel cupped his balls, caressing and tugging them erotically, then wet the index finger of one hand while continuing to suck. Brandon's belly clenched as he watched Angel prepare to penetrate him. He gripped a little harder for a moment to get Angel's attention. "Sugar, that's... that's kind of virgin territory back there so... so, go easy, will you?" Angel stopped sucking and stared up, his mouth a big O with Brandon's cock still spreading his lips. Embarrassed, Brandon shrugged uncomfortably. "You know I've had to... play on the downlow with the League. I just -- well, I always wanted to -- I just... I just didn't do this too much with other guys." Chest lifting with a big breath, Brandon consciously tried to relax and recover the mood. He thrust his hands through Angel's thick hair again, using his fingers to sift the strands and gently mold the back of his lover's head. When Angel encouraged him by sucking strongly again, Brandon began moving his hips once more, going a little deeper each time. "It's all right. I trust you. I... just wanted you to know." He spread his feet farther apart,
giving permission to explore. Brandon's heart began thudding as Angel carefully slicked up that index finger again, soaking it with saliva. Angel began sucking his dick once more, the strong suction distracting him from the slight pressure at his opening. Brandon desperately tried to loosen his sphincter muscle, and he was distracted as Angel pulled back to encircle just the head of his cock. His slit was teased by Angel's talented tongue, that muscle pushing into the opening and prodding it as though trying to press inside. The burn was so good he groaned, moving closer. Angel chose that moment to push inside, and Brandon grunted, surprised despite himself. It felt strange and wonderful at the same time. That finger moved around, sliding in and out a little, as the suction on his dick increased once again. The dual assault was almost too much for his brain to process. Angel brought his hand to his mouth for a moment and got his middle finger wet, then pressed both inside. Brandon grunted again at the new pressure, then moaned as Angel found his prostate and fingered it for a while. His gland was stroked, massaged, nudged, over and over. His pelvis jerked forward, sending his dick deeper down Angel's throat. He felt that throat close around his cockhead in a swallow, and he barely got his fist to his mouth in time to stifle his shout. His balls were boiling, the stroking on his gland unbelievably good. His belly was tight, one hand was locked in Angel's silky hair, his hips were jerking, and suddenly he was coming harder than he had in a while. He definitely shouted that time, his cry turning to a guttural moan as he thrust forward, sending his semen down that beautiful throat. "God!"
*** They were lying together, Brandon spread out, his taller body covering Angel, his head resting on Angel's chest. Angel's hand slowly caressed Brandon's hair, fingers sorting and sifting the short, blond hair. Their breathing was gradually slowing, their hearts quieting. After coming so hard, Brandon had been nearly incoherent with gratitude and lust, but he'd held it together long enough to rip back the covers and shove Angel down on the bed. He'd fumbled and mumbled, but then, in return, he'd given Angel a somewhat inexpert but heartfelt blowjob. It appeared that Brandon hadn't done that very often, if at all. The major leaguer's technique was hit or miss, but his enthusiasm and his desire to please were very clear. He'd stared up at Angel fixedly as he'd licked and sucked, his hands rubbing and clenching on Angel's rump. Looking down at the proud, rugged man who -- until very recently -- he'd perceived as an adversary, Angel almost couldn't comprehend that Brandon was on his knees giving head. Never had Angel dared to dream that he'd find himself in such a position with this man. Now, Angel delicately broached the subject, clearing his throat softly. "You've never...?" "Uh-uh." "And you've never...?" "Uh-uh." "Not until now?" "Uh-huh." "Why? Why now? Why me?"
Chapter 14 There was silence as Brandon apparently debated how to answer. Finally, with a sigh, he gave in. "I... think that I... thought -- if I just fucked... a guy, it wasn't much -- it wasn't really different than... a woman if I..." He ran out of words. "If you were in the driver's seat?" Brandon's head moved on Angel's chest as he nodded. "And?" Brandon didn't respond, so Angel poked him in the shoulder. Brandon raised his head a bit and turned so he could look Angel in the eye. "Huh?" Snorting softly, Angel quirked his lips. He wasn't letting Brandon get away with pretending ignorance. "You heard me. And? Why me?" Watching Brandon squirm, both literally and physically, was just the teensiest bit gratifying. This big, tough, professional athlete who -- before these extraordinary, changed-life circumstances -- had always appeared to have his entire act together, was floundering like a kid in front of the teacher, about to say the dog ate my homework. Poking that muscled shoulder again, he spoke softly. "C'mon, amado, talk to me." Brandon looked up again, chin resting on Angel's chest. "Amado?" Now Angel was the one feeling slightly uncomfortable. "Um... uh, it means -- sweetheart." Watching the smile that crossed Brandon's face, Angel felt his chest tighten a little bit. "It doesn't really mean anything." Brandon's head was back on his chest. "Uh-huh."
"Anyway, you didn't finish. Why now -- why me? What's different?" "You are." The words were pushed out of Brandon. Angel's eyebrows scrunched. "I am? Huh?" Brandon's chest heaved against Angel's belly. "Um." Brandon dithered a little bit, as if afraid to commit to the idea he'd just broached. "Uh. Well. You used to be this... um, managing, uh, authoritarian, um, guy..." Angel arched his brows, staring at the ceiling. He couldn't decide if he was pissed at the labels or if he liked the fact that he'd apparently been too much for the bigger man. "You know -- I think I like the fact that you couldn't quite handle me at CeCe's office." He knew he sounded smug but, he couldnt help it. This was too good. Brandon's head came up again. "Hey! I never said that!" "Nope. You didn't have to." Angel smiled at Brandon, enjoying the feeling of superiority. "Whatever." Brandon dropped his head, banging Angel's sternum in the process. "Oww!" Rubbing his hair against the injured spot, Brandon smirked. "Serves you right, you cocky bastard." "Hey, papi. Don't talk to me about cocky. When I would see you back at Hill, you couldn't be bothered to deal with the little people like me. You'd blow in and out of CeCe's office and barely talk to me." Did he sound as hurt as he'd felt at the time? "Okay, sugar. Enough." Brandon pushed up and moved over, setting himself on his side and facing Angel. "You want to know what's different?" Angel felt one calloused finger trace his eyebrows, and his lips quivered when Brandon's finger slid over them, pushing gently for a moment.
The big blond continued. "You are. You're different. Since these kids came into my life, you've been so... nice to them, and you're helping me with them and I can tell, even if you won't admit it, that you already care about them." Brandon shrugged, looking down at his finger as it wandered between the pectoral muscles on Angel's chest. "You've even been nice to me maybe once since we got up here." He grinned up from under his eyelashes. "No, I haven't!" "You're right. Swallowing doesn't count." The turquoise gaze was deliberately provocative. For some dumb reason, that embarrassed Angel, despite the fact that he clearly had more experience than Brandon when it came to guy-on-guy action. He snorted in disgust and flopped over on his belly. He shoved the pillow away and kept his head turned in the opposite direction. Brandon's quiet voice came over his shoulder. "Did you call your mama?" "No," he admitted quietly. "Why not?" "I don't know what to tell her." "Well... you... could tell her you're just up here working, or..." There was a long, long pause, during which Angel held his breath. "You could say that you've fallen madly in love with me and you're moving up here." Angel stared at the empty wall next to the bed for at least ten seconds, processing the outrageous statement he'd just heard. His eyes moved back and forth as he attempted to figure out just what the hell he was supposed to say to that. And what was really scaring him was that Brandon might be right.
Being Angel, he came out swinging, flipping back over and almost knocking Brandon in the nose with his elbow as he did so. "What the hell do you think you're doing? No me chingues! Not about this." Jerking back, Brandon raised up a hand in appeasement, grabbing the flying arm. "Easy, tiger. I can see I'm going to have to brush up on my Spanish." He cocked a brow at Angel. Slightly abashed, Angel mumbled, "Um, don't fuck with me." Making a face, he looked away again. "You kinda bring out the East LA in me." "Oh. Is that where your mama is? Where you're from?" Brandon didn't appear to be bothered by learning where Angel had been raised. Sometimes it was hard to read the ballplayer, though. Angel flopped back against the mattress, his fingers fiddling with Brandon's as his hand was held captive. He looked at their intertwined digits for a second before raising his eyes again. "Uhhuh." Brandon didn't push. He didn't pursue his mad statement of moments earlier, but instead slid his hand down to rest on Angel's belly. "Call her first thing in the morning, you hear?" With that blue, blue gaze focused on him, Angel couldn't look away. He nodded slowly, then moved his legs apart as that hand slid lower. He bit his lip as Brandon cupped his balls, caressing and rolling. "You want me to manhandle you some more?" The suggestive tone sent shivers of excitement down his spine. "Uh-huh." Please! "Say it in Spanish." Brandon had a devilish glint in his eyes.
That was easy. "Si. Por favor, hombre." That got him stroking on his hardening cock, the tugs and pulls feeling so good. He arched again at a tug on his balls. "Unghh!" "Gimme more, sugar." Sighing, his eyes closing, Angel complied. "Toca me. En mi verga." Opening his eyes, he translated. "Touch me. Touch my... cock." Brandon did exactly that, stroking. He brought his hand up to Angel's mouth. "Get it wet." The soft-spoken command hardened Angel's prick even more. He dragged his tongue along the big hand, lingering on the palm and sucking the edge of the middle finger into his mouth for a second. He bit the tip as he released it and heard Brandon exhale a shaky breath in response. Brandon used that wet hand to grip Angel's dick, jerking it a little roughly now. He rewarded Brandon with soft cries and grunts and spread his legs even wider, bending his knees and putting his feet flat against the mattress. "More." Brandon's voice was a whisper. Taking a deep breath, bringing his arms up, he began playing with his nipples. He pinched and tugged and twisted, all under Brandon's watchful eyes. "Muerdeme," he whispered. He tugged his little bits again meaningfully. Brandon moved to lie over Angel, dropping down into the cradle of Angel's thighs. His own dick, rockhard and dripping, bumped Angel's, and they both groaned. He lowered his torso, his hands at either side of Angel's biceps. "Tell me, sugar." "Bite me." Angel whispered it, loving the sound of the words. Brandon immediately complied, dropping down
completely, covering one of Angel's little titties with his mouth, sucking and biting and licking. He rumbled deep in his throat as he did so, moving from nipple to nipple, never settling too long, driving Angel slowly crazy. "Tus dedos." Angel gasped and cried out at a sharp nip, then tried again. "Your fingers... Tus dedos..." He gasped again at another sharp bite. "Ponga tus dedos--!" Giving up at translation, he grabbed Brandon's clever fingers, which had been twisting one of his nipples, and dragged them down. He led Brandon's hand along his middle, bumping his leaking dick, to his ass, shoving the long fingers against his own hole. Brandon moved up, his tongue tracing over Angel's lips, stabbing inside, then retreating, over and over. He moved to whisper in Angel's ear. "How do I say, 'I need some lube'?" He pushed back on one hand, smirking a little. Angel was having none of it. "Pinche pendejo! Grab the goddamn lube and fuck me!" With that, he threw one arm over toward the nightstand, thrusting his fingers blindly, feeling for Brandon's shaving kit. Laughing, the sound happy, Brandon leaned toward the kit, his nipple coming within range of Angel's teeth. He hissed as Angel lunged up and bit down, then groaned loudly as Angel started sucking strongly. "Oh, yeah, I can certainly understand that language." Finally grabbing the lube and condoms, he tossed them down next to Angel's squirming body. Jackknifing backward, he ripped open a packet with his teeth and swiftly rolled the glove on his cock. Holding Angel down again, he flipped open the lube and liberally coated two fingers. One arm across Angel's chest, Brandon thrust his fingers inside. "Oh, yeah," he crooned again as Angel cried out, "I do believe this is what you wanted, right?"
Brandon's fingers slid in and out, pushing and pulling, twisting and turning. Angel could feel the talented fingers opening his tight ring for Brandon's cock, making room, spreading the strong muscle, slicking it up. Using a wet hand to lube up, Brandon nestled close, prodding Angel with deliberate nudges. Angel raised his eyes from where their bodies were about to join and met the burning blue gaze that awaited. "Metelo!" Angel's frustration was showing. "Put it in! Now!" He gasped sharply when Brandon obliged, shoving forward, the head popping through and making him grunt. He arched his back and brought his heels up, digging into Brandon's tight ass and pulling his lover as close as could be. "Mmmmm, Brandon -- God, oh God, you're really good at this part." He crooned the words as Brandon bottomed out. Panting, Brandon leaned down and nipped at Angel's bottom lip, alternating with licks. Angel caught Brandon's tongue and sucked on it. He wrapped his arms around the strong back, his hands spread on the big lats. The two men kissed hungrily, their mouths eating each other. Pulling back, panting, Brandon looked down at him. They stared at each other, not moving for a few seconds. Brandon began thrusting, going deep, then retreating. Whimpering, Angel gripped harder. He cried out as Brandon's cock hit his gland, and his lover obligingly kept banging that very spot. He pulled Brandon's head down again. "Kiss me!" When Brandon's tongue drove deep, he nipped at it, wanting to mark the man who was claiming him so thoroughly. That got him a hard bang, and he shouted as his gland was once again bumped. "Shhh," Brandon said with a husky laugh. "Baby -The Trouble with Angel - 109
do not wake the kids up right now." Groaning, Angel grabbed the spare pillow and crammed it over his face. He let loose with a really loud groan as Brandon pulled all the way out, and shoved in again, hard. God, that felt so good. He took the pillow off his face long enough to say it aloud, which got him a repeat performance. Muffled once again, he grabbed his dick, pumping hard as Brandon reamed his ass. Watching him, Brandon pushed up and sat back on his heels, spreading his knees wide, continuing to thrust. The new angle had Angel mewling in pleasure and pumping faster. "Oh God, oh God, oh God." He threw off the pillow once again. "That's it, Angel. Come on, come all over me." Brandon's voice was hypnotic. He was thrusting faster, short, hard movements. He dropped forward once again and knocked Angel's hand out of the way, grabbing Angel's dick and jerking roughly. That was enough to send Angel over the edge. He arched, shoving a fist in his mouth as he howled with pleasure. His cock spurted, hitting Brandon's abs and dripping down the meaty hand. Angel vaguely heard Brandon grunt as his ass muscles clamped down. Brandon's thrusting continued, and Angel kept groaning as Brandon's efforts made it last a little longer. "God, sugar. You. You are -- so sweet," Brandon rasped, his breath coming with effort as he suddenly stiffened, shoving forward one last time. "God!" He shuddered, groaning for long moments before dropping down on top of Angel with a gusty sigh. "Ooomph!" Jesus, Brandon was heavy, but it felt so good to have the big body covering him, Angel thought
dreamily. His mouth opened, and he spoke before he thought. "God, Brandon. You're a pretty good cock jockey after all." When Brandon froze on top of him, not breathing, Angel grimaced quickly at his own big mouth. He bit his lip, holding his own breath, not releasing it until Brandon let out a bark of laughter. "Christ, Angel, you are one crazy guy."
Chapter 15 "Hey, aren't you taking somebody to school today?" The two men were lying together, just the sheet covering them. Angel had his head on Brandon's chest, and his fingers were wandering through the crisp blond chest hair of his muscular lover. The sun had not yet risen. It was pre-dawn, with a faint glow coming into the bedroom. Since Brandon had no window treatments, the light was unfiltered. Brandon sighed, stretching his arms a bit. "Yeah. I guess we have to do that today. I kind of wish that Trey could stay home for a few days while we all get to know each other." Angel considered that. "I'm no expert, but maybe getting back into a routine as soon as possible will be good for him. For both of them, for that matter." "Maybe you're right." Angel raised his head, a slight smile on his face. "Would you mind repeating that, please?" Grinning in response, Brandon brought their heads together. "Smarty." He smacked a kiss on Angel's lips just as Marisa banged on the door. Both men jumped a little. "Angel!" "Jesus, that girl has a set of lungs." Angel looked at Brandon wryly before calling out to Marisa. "Just a minute, mi'ja. I have to get dressed." Flipping off the sheet, he rolled to his side, then sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He arched a brow. "You'd better go up and make sure Trey is ready for this." Angel stood and dragged on his trousers from the day before. He stared down at the torn knee as he fastened them. "Don't worry, sugar. I'll buy you a new pair."
Angel's head came up, and he drilled Brandon with a look. "Damn right you will." He rolled his eyes as he headed for the door. When he pulled it open, he came face to face with the determined little girl. "Angel! I'm hungry." Amused, Angel swung her up into his arms and spoke to Brandon. "We're going to get breakfast ready. Then I have to get out my laptop and get some work done. You can take care of Trey." Brandon smiled faintly, bringing two fingers to his brow in a mock salute. *** Just after lunch, Angel was sitting on the ratty sofa with his laptop, cellular aircard in the slot supplying Internet access, madly typing an email. Marisa was on the floor, playing with one of the two dolls she'd brought in her bags. Hearing a car pull up outside, Angel set the laptop aside and got up, walking to the entry and looked through the full-light glass of the door. He frowned. There were two cars outside. He looked back at Marisa. "You wait here, mi'ja. Let me see who this is." Grabbing his jacket from the back of the sofa, he slipped it on as he walked outside, pulling the door closed behind himself. A man got out of the first vehicle and walked up to the porch. "Mr. Vargas?" He gave a huge smile. Nodding slowly, Angel moved to the top of the steps. "What can I do for you?" He noticed the second car was still running and the driver stayed inside. The young man held out a set of car keys. He walked up the steps until he stood one tread below Angel. "These are for you, Mr. Vargas. Mr. Halvorsen sent us
over with your new car." Dumbfounded, Angel stared at the keys. He looked up, his gaze swinging over to the vehicles. For the first time, he noticed that the car the young man had driven up in was actually a Mercedes -- the ML550 model. The black SUV gleamed in the morning sunlight. Holy shit. Without thought, he accepted the keys and began walking down the steps toward the car. What the hell had Brandon done? Beside him, the young man, whose shirt had the name Henry embroidered on it, paced along. "I'll need you to sign for receipt, Mr. Vargas. Then I can show you the features of the vehicle and you'll be all set." He held out a clipboard with documents attached. Angel read over the bill of lading and saw where his signature was required. Behind it, he found the purchase documents written in his name. His mouth dropping open, he scanned the papers, shuffling them in his hands. "But..." He looked up in amazement at the deliveryman. "What the heck is going on?" Grinning at him, Henry shrugged. "Mr. Halvorsen said to call him on his cell and he'd fill you in." Nudging the clipboard, he spoke again. "If you'd just sign, Joe and I can be on our way." He angled his head at the other driver, who was watching them curiously. Angel began shaking his head. "Look, I can't sign for this car. No way!" He couldn't just sign for a car. Could he? He pushed the clipboard back at Henry. Sighing, shaking his own head with a smile and refusing to accept it, Henry insisted. "Mr. Halvorsen was really clear that you needed to sign and that you could call him afterward." He looked at his watch. "Joe and I need to get back to Medford."
Medford? Another place he didn't know. "What... when... how did he do this?" Angel was almost sputtering. He reluctantly signed his name where indicated, then accepted the paperwork that Henry shoved into his hand. "Okay, Mr. Vargas! Let's go through the features, all right?" *** After Henry and Joe left, Angel dialed Brandon's cell number. It rang once before going to voicemail. His lips tightened. He looked at Marisa, who was sitting in the passenger seat of the new car. "He's hiding and doesn't want to talk to me." Insane bastard. They were still parked right where Henry had left the car. The booster seat for Marisa was in the Navigator, so Angel wasn't going anywhere. That didn't stop them, though, from starting up the car and playing with everything. He let Marisa turn on the wipers, the radio, the GPS, while he read the manual and fiddled with all the other controls. The interior of the car was like Mission Control. Even if he couldn't keep the car, it was surely nice to sit and pretend for a while. "Mi'ja, should we drive it around here?" At Marisa's enthusiastic nod, Angel jerked his head toward the back. "Okay, chica. Get in the back and buckle up. Just in case." Obligingly, the little girl climbed over the console and settled in the back. She buckled her shoulder belt with no trouble. Grinning despite the dusty footprints she left on the leather, he checked his seat belt, then slowly tugged the gearshift to Drive. Easing off the brake, he swung the
wheel around, moving the car down the driveway toward the outbuildings. The rear of the house faced a big barn, along with a multi-room equipment shed and a large garage. He headed that way. The buildings were spread out a bit, with the garage closest to the house at about fifty feet away. The others were down the slight incline toward the river, another two hundred feet away. There were trees and garden beds scattered around -- and Angel drove around all of these as he slowly began to get a feel for the car. They turned up the music on the satellite radio, taking advantage of the package already activated in the car. Marisa quickly told him which channel was Radio Disney, and he obligingly turned it on for her. A half hour later, Angel and Marisa were down by the barn. The new SUV sat parked in the sun, the engine off and windows open, blasting Miley Cyrus from the sound system. Angel decided he was actually having fun showing Marisa some of his favorite dance steps. "You like the car?" Brandon's amused voice could be heard as the song died down. Whirling to face his exasperating, crazy lover, Angel clutched Marisa. She had her legs wrapped around him, and she was laughing as they danced. He slowly untangled Marisa's hands and legs, letting her slide down to the ground. "Mi'ja, go turn the radio off, okay?" Whining a little, Marisa protested. "Angel!" She pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. "Boy, that didn't take long." Confused, Angel cocked his head to the side, eyeing his ballplayer suspiciously. "What?" "She's acting just like you." Brandon walked up to them both, bending down to peck the pouting little girl's lips, then straightening to plant a liplock on Angel, his tongue going deep for a second.
Shoving himself backward, Angel snorted. "Don't even!" Chuckling, Brandon raised his hands in surrender, then leaned down to swing Marisa into his arms. He settled her on his hip, tilting his head to look at her. "So, little girl, what have you and Angel been up to?" In disbelief, Angel watched as Brandon chatted with the girl, hearing all about what she thought about the new car. "Uh, excuse me!" Both of them paused in their conversation, turning to look at him inquiringly. "Whoa. I think I see steam coming out of your ears." Brandon grinned and spoke to the little girl. "Sweetheart, go ahead and turn the radio off, okay?" He set her down on her feet. "We're going to go get your brother pretty soon, anyway." While Marisa clambered into the car, Angel stepped up to Brandon, getting right up in his face. "Where the hell have you been? You were supposed to just drop Trey off and come back. Not only did you not do that, you've been gone for hours, and you just bought me a car!" "Yeah, I know," Brandon said without apology. "You're welcome, sugar." He lifted his shoulders in a rolling shrug as he admitted, "I knew it was the perfect match for you. That color goes great with your hair." "Guh!" Angel didn't know whether to laugh or yell. "Brandon! You bought me a car! You can't do that." He waved a wild hand at the Mercedes. "Especially not one that costs sixty-two thousand dollars. Christ!" Despite himself, Angel's mouth watered as he looked at the leather and blue-jean-clad hunk of man standing next to him. He tore his gaze away from Brandon's crotch and forced himself to refocus when Brandon spoke again.
A small grin on his mouth, Brandon crossed his arms over his chest, the leather jacket he wore creaking a bit. "I figured it wouldn't take you long to look that up." He waved at Marisa as she sat in the driver's seat playing with the steering wheel. "Angel. You need to have a car up here. And..." here he paused just a bit, struggling for a second, "you... you're helping me... with the kids, and uh, um, well, I want you to have it and -- anyway, don't worry about it! I can afford it." Lower lip caught between his teeth, Angel looked at Brandon for a long second. Marisa's hand movements caught the corner of his eye as she fiddled with the keys. He stepped over and removed them from the ignition, just in case. They didn't need Marisa getting too excited and starting the car. "See? Your instincts are good. I've been watching you around the kids, and you always seem to know what to do." Brandon's voice was impressed. His cheeks were burning -- why, he had no clue. "I've got... lots of cousins," he admitted quietly. Then, remembering what had pissed him off earlier, he blurted, "I tried calling you, and you stuck me in voicemail!" Looking guilty, Brandon nodded slightly. "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry! I was talking to my attorney on the other line, and I was sitting in the waiting room at the school. I..." He grimaced. "I didn't want to get into it with you right then, with other folks around." He stepped close to Angel, slipping his arms around Angel's back and tugging forward. "I'm sorry, baby." He leaned down to kiss Angel again, slowly. "I knew you were going to be pissy about the car, and I didn't want to have that fight with other people around." Clinging to Brandon, sucking on the tongue that kept stabbing into his mouth, Angel breathed quickly. Leaning away for a second, he smiled unwillingly. "You
are getting to know me." He pulled Brandon back down by the ears. They were interrupted by Marisa grabbing them each by the leg, pulling on their pants. "Hey!" Looking down at her, both men smiled. "Yes, chica?" Angel asked. "Can we go for a real ride now -- out on the road?"
Chapter 16 "Mama, you won't believe where I am. You won't believe what I got today." He could hardly believe it himself. "I don't even know where to start. Estoy tan confundido." He mumbled his confusion to his mother, the story of the last few days spilling out. God, it was good to hear her voice. He'd put off calling his mother long enough and now, waiting for Brandon to find Trey at school and bring him out to the car, he'd quickly dialed her number. Marisa had gone in with the other man, skipping alongside. He'd had to admit to himself that it was a precious picture to see them together. "What, Mama?" Her voice in his ear brought him back to the present. "I know, I know, Mama. I was supposed to call you on Friday, and I should have come see you for dinner on Sunday. I..." He stopped to take a deep breath. "That's why I'm calling you. I... Brandon, he... you, um..." His voice trailed off as he spotted Brandon coming out of the small school building with both kids. "Oh, Mama. You should see him." Brandon had Marisa on his shoulders, and Trey ambled alongside, toting his book bag on one shoulder. Sighing, he confessed to the woman who knew him best. "Mama, he drives me crazy, but I think I'm falling in love with him. And -- he bought me a car!" He threw up his hand in the air as he told her about that. His mother chattered to him in Spanish as he watched Brandon approach. The big man talked to both kids as they crossed the street, then stepped right up to where Angel leaned against the Navigator, bending down to kiss him in full view of the moms who were picking up their kids. "Mmmm, I know I've said it before but -- you are so
sweet." Brandon's voice was husky as he stepped back. Marisa's feet swung on Brandon's shoulders, and she chattered happily from her place on top, waving at the birds who sang in the trees near the truck. Angel looked quickly at Trey to see what he thought of the public kiss. The boy was watching both of them, a considering look on his face. Following Angel's gaze, Brandon spoke to the boy. "Does that bother you, Trey, if we do that in front of the other kids and their moms?" The boy lifted one shoulder, then slung his book bag into the back seat, hauling himself up. "Nah. My mom and dad used to do that all the time." He looked sad for a moment. "Son," Brandon told him softly, "it's good to remember the really good things. You tell us about them, okay? That way, you'll remember your mom and dad, and we'll get to know them through you. And we'll keep their memories alive." Looking grateful, Trey nodded, ducking his head as he smiled slightly. He busied himself buckling his shoulder belt. Angel's heart melted a little as he watched the interaction. Brandon handed Marisa up into the truck, telling her to buckle up. "Trey, you help your sister there, okay?" Angel was startled to hear his mother's voice in his ear again. He'd completely forgotten he was holding the phone to his ear and that the connection was still open. Shit! "Si, Mama. Es el hombre que amo." He couldn't believe it but he'd just confirmed once again to his mother that he loved Brandon. She'd been able to hear most everything that had just been said. Brandon, watching him closely, pulled open the
passenger door for him, waving him forward. "Hey, sugar. Hop up." His belly fluttering at the attention Brandon was paying him, he nodded distractedly while his mother chattered in his ear again. "Uh-huh, Mama. Uh-huh." He gasped when Brandon's hand slid over his ass as the ballplayer helped him up into the truck. "No-nothing, Mama. Brandon was just being bad." He frowned down at his lover as Brandon stood in the truck doorway. "Si, he likes to be bad sometimes," he answered his mother. Trey chimed in from the back seat, surprising Angel. "But you like it when he is, don't you Angel? You kiss him a lot." Trey's voice was loud. Gaping at the observant contribution from the usually silent, sometimes truculent boy, Angel jerked his head around to look at Trey. "What did you say?" "You kiss him all the time." The boy had an unrepentant grin on his face. Angel spoke into the phone. "Don't listen to him, Mama. He's only teasing." Brandon pulled the phone toward himself for a second, laughing. "No, he's not, Mrs. Vargas." His mother chortled in his ear. Huffing in embarrassment, Angel told all of them to shush. Grinning again, Brandon grabbed the phone as he shut the door. Angel's yell was ignored as Brandon put the phone to his ear, walking around the truck. Brandon paused near the back for a few moments, then came around, pulling open the driver's door. The two kids were laughing in the back seat, and Angel turned around to give them a frustrated glare. That made them laugh all the more. He listened anxiously as Brandon got in the Navigator.
"Uh-huh, Mrs. Vargas. Oh, you bet. No doubt about that." Brandon eyed Angel provokingly as he stuck the key in the ignition. "He's pretty high maintenance. But I can afford it." Floored by that statement -- and cringing at what his mother must be thinking -- Angel slapped his hand over his eyes and moaned. He leaned his head against the seat, sliding down a little. "Sugar, buckle up." Brandon's voice was amused. He held the phone to his left ear as he pulled down the gearshift. Checking his mirrors, he slowly pulled away from the curb. "Oh, yeah, Mrs. Vargas. He likes it up here. He just won't admit it." Angel lunged across the console. "Give me that phone!" Laughing, Brandon kept his eyes on the road as he jerked his head away. "Easy, there." He pulled up to a stop sign, holding there for a minute. "Okay, ma'am, your son wants to talk to you again. You think about coming up here, now, you hear?" With that bomb dropped, Brandon handed the phone back to a nowsilent Angel. Ohmygod. *** At dinner that night, as they all enjoyed Angel's homemade spaghetti and garlic bread -- which had been accomplished despite the fact that he'd had the use of one cheap stock pot and a smaller sauce pan -- they talked a little about Trey's new school. The boy wasn't terribly forthcoming, but, as far as Angel could tell, he wasn't trying not to tell them anything. "What did you find out about school for Marisa?"
Brandon took a drink of milk from one of the plastic cups he'd picked up in town. "Well, it's the same school as Trey's, and Marisa can start any time, the sooner the better, it seems." He turned to Marisa. "Would you like that, sweetheart?" At the little girl's enthusiastic nod, both men smiled. Then Brandon announced that furniture would be coming the following day. "Thank god." Angel sighed heavily. Eating on Chinette plates at the card table had gotten really old, really fast. They had almost no supplies in the house; it had been like going camping, he figured. Or at least as close to camping as he was ever going to get. Chuckling, Brandon explained. "I contracted with movers a week after I learned about you kids." He nodded to both children. "My condo in San Francisco was all packed up a couple of days ago; everything should be arriving tomorrow. The stuff from your house," he looked straight at Trey, "should be here by the end of the week. I put a rush on it so you would have all your things." Brandon really was sweet, Angel fretted. How was he supposed to resist that? Brandon continued slowly. "I was thinking that we could sort through all your stuff this weekend, and we could put some of your mom and dad's things around the house." He shrugged a little uncertainly. "If you wanted to, that is," he assured the boy. Trey was watching him, wearing an uncertain look himself. "That would be okay?" "Boy, this is your home now. You get to pick what you want to keep from your old house. There's plenty of room in the barn and the equipment shed to store the stuff we can't use now." Brandon forked up another bite of spaghetti. "Mmmm, sugar, this is good," he
complimented with a wink. "It's my mother's recipe," Angel admitted. But he'd put his own touches to it. "Thank you, Brandon." "One of the other things I was doing today while I was out," Brandon looked at Angel with a grin, "was finding an architect I can work with who'll stamp my drawings for the house." He turned back to the kids. "We're going to add on and make some more room for all of us." Angel was surprised. "You mean you're actually going to renovate this, um... uh, house?" he caught himself. He looked around, trying to picture it being brought into the twenty-first century. He couldn't help himself; he made a face, his brows arching up. The kids giggled as Brandon shushed him. "Now, Angel -- what did I tell you about this place? It's special." The kids giggled even more and he made a face at them. "I'm serious. Even if you heathens don't understand, believe me -- the architect I spoke to today surely did. She can't wait to see it." The pronoun caught his attention at once. "She?" Oh. Oh, no. Not again. He was so not going to play that game. Not again. Brandon couldn't be another Roscoe Davis. Right? Brandon nodded in enthusiasm. "Yeah. Lorna Reznick. I called my old prof back at UIC -- can't believe he's still there -- and he referred me to this group in Eugene near the University of Oregon." Smiling, he bit into a chunk of bread, talking around the mouthful. "It's only about three hours from here to Eugene. She's going to come down in the next few days." His appetite gone, Angel focused on the children with a forced smile. "Kids, you finish up. I'm going to go get some work done. My boss has been driving me crazy." With that, he stood up, carried his plate to the kitchen
and dumped it in the trash, then walked back to the living room for his laptop. Grabbing it and his bag, he went into the bedroom with just a wave to the children. Oh, I have to be able to resist him now. I have to. He listened with half an ear as Brandon and the kids continued to chat. The tenor of his lover's voice had changed; it was quieter, not so enthusiastic. Maybe because he hadn't meant to mention Lorna? Oh, yeah -- you let that little bit of info slip, didn't you? Trey was complaining about not having a television. Angel heard Brandon reassuring him. "The satellite company is coming out tomorrow. The moving truck will be here early, so I'll make sure they unpack the television first thing, okay? By the time you get home from school, you'll have the Cartoon Network fired up. In the meantime, why don't you and Marisa grab those books you brought up?" Angel could hear the boy murmur in response. Good, Angel told himself. The electronic babysitter would be here tomorrow, and he could get the hell out. If his heart died a little when he thought about that, he just ignored it. Oh. And he was damn sure taking his new car with him. Fuck it! Even though he'd yet to even really drive it, he thought moodily. His laptop reconnected, he began diligently checking his email. He ignored the soft talk and occasional laughter that came from the living room. Thirty minutes later, Brandon came to the bedroom, leaning against the doorframe. "Sugar, we're going to take a walk down to the river. You want to join us?" Angel didn't look up from his spot where he sat against the headboard. "No. I've got work to do." He kept his gaze on the screen.
There was silence as Brandon processed the short explanation. "Uh-huh." He pushed off the doorframe and stepped inside. "Okay. We'll be outside if you change your mind." He grabbed his leather jacket from where it rested at the foot of the bed and shrugged it on, then left the room without another word. "Isn't Angel coming with us?" Angel heard Marisa's voice. "No, sweetheart, he's not." Brandon was matter-offact. "Is he mad at us?" That was Trey. Angel cringed. He was pissed at Brandon -- not the kids! "Uh-uh. He's got a bee in his bonnet about me, not you." Brandon huffed out a small laugh. "Y'all better get used to that, right?" Angel heard the kids agree. "C'mon, kids -- it'll be fine. You'll see." Brandon was trying, Angel would give him that. Clicking his tongue in exasperation, he shoved the laptop to the side and hopped up. He grabbed his Ralph Lauren suede jacket, then slung it on as he walked out of the bedroom. The group was just walking out the front door. He shrugged at the surprised looks he got as he came up, zipping his jacket as he walked. "What? I can change my mind, can't I?" He avoided looking at Brandon as he slid a hand behind each child's back. "Let's go. I want to catch the sunset by the river."
Chapter 17 Angel led the two children down to the riverbank, Marisa taking one of his hands. Brandon ambled along behind them. The sun was just thinking about setting, and half of it was still visible in the western sky. The faint pinks, purples, and reds of the sky were just beginning, and, despite the hurt he was feeling, Angel had to admit that staring at the beauty around him was better than staring unseeingly at his laptop screen. He wished he knew the names of these trees. The fall foliage on them was gorgeous; not at all like the dry Los Angeles landscape, or the run-down streets of his old neighborhood. He heard Brandon's quiet voice from behind. "Hey, we might need to start raking up some of these leaves. Y'all have probably never smelled burning leaves, have you?" Halting in his tracks and spinning around, Angel looked at him skeptically. Pointing a finger at himself, he looked at Brandon from under his brows. "You want me to rake leaves?" he asked delicately. Brandon snorted in amusement, then strolled up next to Angel, who wasn't able to duck before Brandon swiped a finger down his wrinkled nose. "Yes, sugar. It's something we can all do together." "We don't know how to rake leaves," Trey commented. He, too, looked skeptical. He picked up a small rock and tossed it toward the river. "Nice toss." Brandon shrugged. "Anyway, I just thought it might be fun. When I was a kid, we used to pile the leaves up and dive into them. I'd wrestle with my buddies, and we'd throw the leaves at each other." He smiled. "Then my dad would get ticked at us for
wrecking the piles, and we'd have to start all over again." Angel tried to harden his heart, but he just couldn't. Who could resist Brandon like this? Not Angel, that was sure. To fortify himself, he turned around and started walking toward the river again. "C'mon, mi'ja." He waved a hand to Marisa. "Let them figure out who's going to rake leaves. Let's see if we can see any fish before it gets too dark." He heard a snort of amusement from Brandon, followed by a giggle from Trey as the two of them whispered together. Angel ignored them both as he walked over to the riverbank. With Marisa in tow, he ducked under some branches as they approached, and at one point, Angel slipped on a loose rock. "Be careful, mi'ja," he cautioned. Marisa nodded as he stepped in front of her. They reached the grassy bank, and he squatted down next to her. "Can you see any fish, pequea? Let's look." He wrapped an arm around her middle, holding her steady as the two of them leaned over the edge to look into the water. Here at this section, the river was a couple of feet below the lip of the bank. "Maybe we'll do some fishing up here, Trey." Brandon stopped next to them. "Marisa, what about you? You want to learn how to fish?" The little girl nodded rapidly. Trey again looked skeptical, but slightly more interested than he was about raking leaves. "Oh, you are so cleaning the fish, because I'm not." Angel forgot that he wasn't planning to be there longer than tomorrow. "Don't worry, sugar. I know that's not your thing." Snorting once again with amusement, Brandon looked him over. "Besides, you'd probably need a new outfit for
fishing." That made Trey laugh out loud, especially when the boy caught the look that Angel aimed at Brandon. Angel turned his head, hiding a pained smile. Marisa was pointing at minnows in the water. "Look, Angel!" He grabbed her as she reached down, losing her balance. "Uh-uh, pequea. Let's not go swimming yet. It's a little too cold this time of year." Time to distract. "You know, we should go shopping tomorrow and get some winter clothes for you. Trey, too." Too late, he remembered that he was leaving tomorrow. Shit and damn. "That's a good idea. One thing I know you can do is shop." Brandon's voice was very dry as he waved a hand at Angel's designer duds. "Only one thing?" He couldn't stop himself. Stop it! Stop being provocative. You're pissed at him, remember? "Oh, no, sugar, but I can't talk about that in front of the kids." Now that voice was gravelly, and when Angel snuck a look, he could see the taut front of Brandon's jeans, stretched over a growing cock. Unconsciously, he licked his lips. God, that voice and that dick made him hungry. So hungry he was almost ready to jump that bone. How easily he could forget his hurt when it came to sex with this man. "Easy, sugar," Brandon cautioned in a low voice. Jerking his eyes up, he met the burning intensity of the turquoise gaze. Brandon was just as hungry, just as ready. Brandon was the one, though, who remembered there were children present. Thankfully, the kids were oblivious to the undercurrents and were calling out to each other about the bigger fish they'd spotted.
Shaking his head to clear it, Angel blew out a big breath. What was wrong with him? He's bringing somebody else here, remember? What had he just let happen? He looked down at the water again, trying to focus. He spotted the fish the kids were yelling about and hung on to Marisa tightly as she tried to lean down to touch it. "Mi'ja, let's step back from the water a bit, okay? You're really making me nervous." He stood up and tugged her back, away from the bank. She whined a little as she walked backwards, pointing a hand at the water. "Trey, you too," he instructed. He jerked his head at Brandon, his hand coming up with a come on direction. Rolling his eyes, Brandon nonetheless obeyed. "Kids, how about we go in to town to the Dairy Queen?" Marisa started screaming in excitement, jumping up and down. Trey chimed in with a hurray and a pumped fist. Angel looked at them all, wondering what the fuss was about. "What's so exciting about Dairy Queen?" Shaking his head and smiling, Brandon said, "Sugar. You are so big city. You telling me you haven't tried a DQ Blizzard?" Being laughed at was the last straw. "Tried it? I don't like snow." Hurt again, he blew out a big breath. "And I was quite happy to keep it that way -- until you came back into my life." "Whoa, Angel. Take a breath and calm down. All I'm saying is that you haven't lived until you've tried a Blizzard. That's all." *** A half hour later, the kids were seated in the gazebo
on the Dairy Queen lawn, happily eating their Blizzards. Trey had gotten M&Ms, and Marisa had put Oreo cookies in hers. The two adults sat nearby, in the picnic table area. Even though the summer season was gone, some of the tables were still set up in the grass next to the parking lot. From where they sat, the adults could see the kids clearly. Marisa looked up and waved at them, then nudged her brother, who stopped slurping up his Blizzard long enough to raise his hand in a quick hello. Smiling, Brandon looked over at Angel, who was hunched against the fifty-five degree evening, his jacket zipped and a cup of steaming coffee in his hand. "Sugar, I hope that's decaf. The idea of you and caffeine at this hour scares me." Ignoring him completely, Angel sipped his coffee and stared at the kids. Sighing, Brandon shoved his Reese's Pieces Blizzard to one side. "You going to tell me what's got your panties in a twist? You've been moody since dinner." Lips tightening, Angel glanced at him, then looked back at the restaurant. "You want to at least try a bite of this? It might improve your mood." Angel turned back to face his tormentor, fed up. "Hey! I'm not the one who thinks it's okay to, uh... move on to -- uh, greener pastures while the other -- uh, the other... um, bull is still here." Christ -- where the fuck did he come up with that? It was an absolutely ridiculous metaphor, but once he'd started, he had to finish. Brandon was staring at him like a third eye had just appeared in his forehead. "What? What in the hell are you talking about? And keep your voice down." Slapping his hand on the table, he stopped himself
from shouting with an effort. "You know what I'm talking about! Pendejo!" He sent a guilty look toward Trey and Marisa, who appeared not to have heard him. Looking honestly blank, Brandon's mouth hung open for a moment or two. "Angel. I do not know what you're talking about. You'll have to be very clear. And stop calling me dumbass." He'd lost his drawl again and was speaking with the clarity of his Midwestern boyhood. "What bull? What pasture?" "Me!" "You?" "Don't play dumb! It's me. I'm the bull! Living in your pasture, remember?" He didn't even care how stupid it sounded now. Brandon attempted some deductive reasoning. "So," he said slowly, "you're a bull. In my pasture." He scratched the back of his neck." Angel tapped his fingers on the table. "And I'm moving on to... another pasture?" Brandon asked. Angel nodded his head sharply. Finally! "So..." Brandon tried again. "I've found somebody else?" Swinging his leg over the bench seat, Angel stabbed a finger in Brandon's face. "I knew it. I knew it! You couldn't even wait until I left tomorrow, could you? You're bringing her down here. And you have the nerve to tell me in front of the kids, like it's no big deal!" "You're leaving tomorrow? Why?" "Duh! Because you're bringing that... that woman down here!" "What woman?" Brandon's voice was blank with incomprehension. "I don't know!" Angel wailed in pained frustration. "Whatever her name was. You just said she's coming
down to look at that stupid, dumpy house." Belated comprehension lit Brandon's face and, unbelievably, his face crinkled up into a grin. A huge grin. Chuckles started deep in his chest, then grew to a rolling belly laugh. He slouched down, back against the edge of the table in his merriment. Angel eyes widened in shock. He really had a head of steam built up, and he was itching for a fight to release some of his hurt feelings. And just what the fuck was so funny? "Cabron! Stop laughing at me!" "Sugar, I am not laughing at you," Brandon said with a grin. "I am just so relieved that you are absolutely crazy that I..." He reached out with both hands, and Angel was pulled unwillingly onto his lap. "I have to let it out somehow." Affronted, Angel held himself as stiffly as he could. Usually Brandon's strength excited him, but right now it was just pissing him off. Brandon slid one of his long, heavily-muscled legs over Angel's when Angel tried to get away. "Easy, baby, easy," he soothed. He rested his forehead against Angel's. "Don't scare the kids, okay?" Still on fire, feelings bruised, Angel sniffed, turning his head away. Brandon grabbed his chin with one hand and brought his face around. Their eyes met. "Angel. Listen up. Lorna Reznick is coming down here all right -- but she's bringing her thirty-year-old son with her. They're going to look at the house -- and we're going to talk about me possibly working with them. Lorna, and her son, and her husband are all partners in their architectural firm." Angel was trying to understand what the other man had just said. "What?" "You heard me." Angel glanced around, and saw the two kids eyeing
them. But relief was coursing through his system, and he

bit his lip, trying to figure out how to get out of the mess
he'd created.
Just then, a voice came from behind them.
"You two boys queer?" They both jerked their heads around, finding a large man in overalls standing about five feet away, a dish of soft-serve in his hand. "Don't you think you ought to take it inside?" The man poked his spoon into his soft-serve and brought a mouthful up, swallowing it as he watched them. "There's kids over there." Angel would take a fight with this guy since he couldn't get one with Brandon. "Listen, asshole. We might be queer, but I can still kick your ass, okay?" He heard what sounded suspiciously like snorts coming from his lover, and the hold on his wrists tightened. "Let me go, Brandon, so I can kick his ass. I can do it, you know." "He's a scrappy little fucker, ain't he?" The man arched a brow at Brandon. To his extreme displeasure, Angel heard Brandon grunt an agreement. "You have no idea." "Hey, pendejo! I'm from East LA, okay?" That was directed at the visitor. He jerked his head first at the stranger, then back at Brandon. "After I kick your ass, I'm going to kick his." The man finished his soft-serve and took a step to the trashcan, tossing his plastic dish, then wiping his hands on a paper napkin. "I might be more inclined to believe you, son, if you wasn't stuck on his lap right now." Brandon caught him as he tried to lunge upright. He began muttering in Spanish, twisting and turning. He succeeded in sliding free for a moment but was hauled back by a hand in his hair. His hair! He dimly heard the
stranger speak again. "Whoa, nelly, boy. You got yourself a live one there." The arm around his waist tightened quickly and released, but it was enough pressure on his diaphragm to shut off his Spanish outburst. Struggling, Angel managed a deep breath as Brandon spoke. "Yes, sir, he is a feisty little guy." Hearing that, Angel stopped trying to get up, and turned enough to look at Brandon. "Don't start that again. I'm not little! I'm big enough to keep you in line." He frowned. "And those kids." Starting to feel calmer, he looked straight at Brandon. "You could have told me." "I thought I did." They were interrupted by the newcomer, who gaze was directed at Brandon. "Don't I know you, son?" Angel faced the irritating stranger once more. "Do you mind? We're trying to have a conversation." "Is that what that was?" Was that a smirk on Overalls Man's face? Brandon kept one hand on Angel as he spoke at the same time. "Depends. You follow baseball?" The farmer grunted in surprise. "Uh-huh! You're Brandon Halvorsen. The Great Dane." He snapped his fingers. "Hot dog! My wife won't believe me when I tell her I met you. Can I have your autograph?" "Sure." Angel was slid to the side, his hip bumping on the bench, as Brandon quickly got up. "Do you have something I should write on?" "Oh. Yeah. Let me look. The stranger rustled in his pockets. "I'm Cliff Danielson, by the way. I run the Ridgecrest Winery just outside of town." Hearing that, Angel stopped rubbing the side of his butt, and stood up. "You run a winery?" He looked Cliff
up and down, viewing the overalls, and flannel shirt, and the total lack of a refined hairstyle. "You." No way. Lips twitching, the older man stared back at him. "For a queer fella, you're pretty judgmental, ain'tcha?"
Chapter 18 Brandon's laughter boomed at that, making Angel want to crack him. His lover was overcome with hilarity, and exasperation was fast overtaking Angel's previous ire. Honestly. Huffing in disgust, Angel deliberately ran his fingers through his hair to straighten it. He sent a daggered look to Brandon as he did it. "Did you have to pull my hair?" Did it look all right? God, he needed a mirror! Brandon tossed up his hands with a shrug, snorting and laughing. "Angel! We saw you on Brandon's lap! Can you pick me up, Brandon? Can you?" Marisa ran toward them, skipping and hopping, excited and happy. Trey lagged behind a few steps. The little girl jumped up on Brandon, taking a running leap while her brother maintained a dignified stance a few feet away. "Oooff!" "Serves you right." He was still conscience-stricken at his misinterpretation of Lorna Reznick's pending visit to Cave Junction. Ohmygod. He'd been awful to Brandon, just awful. He couldn't deny it; he was going to have to apologize. Marisa piped up again, her excitement evident. "Trey and me was watching you all the time. Was you two fighting again? We saw Angel try to smack you, Brandon." She turned to look at Angel, squirming in Brandon's hold. "That's mean, Angel. My mommy said so." Trey spoke for the first time, a sly smile on his face. "Does Angel get a time out, Brandon?" The nine-yearold looked as though he enjoyed asking the question. Angel blushed, still feeling guilty. He was mortified
at being admonished by children. "Well, now. That's a mighty fine idea, Trey." Brandon sent a toothy grin Angel's way. "Don't you think so, sugar? We could put you in lockdown for an hour or so. Maybe teach you to control that temper of yours." "Holiday dinners must be interesting at your house, huh?" Cliff's amused voice broke in. Finally. A target for his frustration. Angel jerked his head, aiming a glare, which provoked chuckles on the older man's part. "You stay out of this," he warned the vintner. Holding up his hands and backing away a step, Cliff laughed openly, smiling down at the children. "How's about you introduce me to these kids of yours, Brandon?" Struck by the phrase, Angel looked quickly at Brandon. Angel could see that Brandon swallowed thickly before answering. "Cliff Danielson, meet the LA kids." Brandon slid a hand over Marisa's curly hair, gently catching one of her kicking feet with a hand. "This here is Marisa -- who's apparently on a sugar rush -- and that's Trey." He waved Trey closer with his free hand. "Trey, shake hands with Mr. Danielson and introduce yourself, okay? Be sure to look him in the eye, son." Shuffling forward, Trey stuck out his hand and mumbled a greeting. Brandon softly reminded him to look up, which he did. Cliff shook the boy's hand. "A pleasure to meet you, Trey. I just told Brandon that I recognized him from somewhere. You must be mighty proud of your dad." Trey immediately recoiled. "He's not my dad." Looking uncomfortable, Cliff swung his gaze back to the two men, clearly seeking guidance.
Brandon nodded slowly, his eyes on Trey. The boy was looking down at the ground, stubbing his shoe into the grass. "That's right, Cliff. I'm not the kids' father. I'm their legal guardian now." He cleared his throat slightly. "The kids just came to live with me, so we're all still getting used to this. We just moved into the old Hayes house over by Old Stage Road." Cliff made a face as he lifted his hands. "Sorry about that." Brandon waved him off. "No worries. No way you could have known. Trey and I are working it out, aren't we, Trey?" The boy seemed to be regretting his outburst because he nodded his head quickly and muttered, "Yes, sir." "Whew." Cliff reached over to shake Marisa's tiny hand. "A pleasure to meet you, little lady." Marisa giggled and bobbled around on top of Brandon. "Easy, sweetheart," Brandon chuckled. He raised a hand toward Angel, his fingers waving him to step over. "And with all the hullaballoo going on here, I don't think you officially met Angel Vargas." Angel was brought up short at the gleam in Brandon's blue eyes. His fingers were caught in a strong grip as Brandon pulled him closer. "Mi cario." Brandon's voice was husky. Shocked, Angel stared at Brandon. The Spanish term for darling seemed to flow off Brandon's tongue. "No hard feelin's, son? I kind of got a kick out of you, if you want to know the truth." Cliff held out his hand. When a nudge from Brandon was accompanied by a head jerk, Angel woke from his stupor and focused his gaze on the older man. Still befuddled, he gripped the callused hand and shook it. "I could use a scrapper like you on my team, let me
tell ya, son." Cliff eyed Angel with an assessing look. "Really? You like having somebody work for you who threatens to kick your ass?" "Angel! You said a swear!" Marisa said. At the same time, Brandon hissed a laughing admonishment. "Angel! Oops. "Uh, sorry." That sounded lame. His mother would be ashamed of him, the way he'd acted tonight. He grimaced and tried again, looking at Marisa. "Mi'ja, I was bad for saying that. I'm sorry." He included Trey in his apologetic look. The boy stared at him. "You swear a lot," he commented. Yeah. He did. "It's not a good habit, I know." Angel shivered as the wind abruptly picked up. He looked over at Cliff, glad he could change the subject. "Aren't you cold with just that flannel shirt on?" Pulling the zip on his jacket all the way to his chin, he avoided looking at his lover. What the hell was he supposed to say? Cliff snickered, the sound surprising coming from the big, gruff man. "Cold? Son, you should try living over in eastern Oregon in January. Then you'll know what cold is." Brandon stood, bringing Marisa with him. "Kids, let's head home so we can get Angel warmed up. I think we'll give him his time-out when we get home." Surprisingly, even Trey laughed at that. "Say goodnight to Mr. Danielson." Angel watched as the kids and Brandon said their goodbyes to the grape farmer. Angel went to follow them to the truck but was stopped by Cliff. "Son. I meant what I said. You interested in a job, you call me, y'hear?" His brow wrinkling, still embarrassed, Angel looked
up at the man as he started to walk past. "Yeah. Like I'd want to stay in this backwater." The gruff voice carried as Angel walked away. "You might be surprised, son. You might be surprised." *** The kids were in bed, and Brandon had a fire going. It crackled gently behind the screen. Angel recalled watching Brandon collect kindling from the grounds surrounding the house that morning. "Hey. Since I'm getting this to help keep you warm, how about pitching in?" Brandon had called up to where Angel stood on the porch. He'd grinned, liking the way the worn jeans lovingly cupped Brandon's ass as his lover bent down to grab some broken branches. "Uh-uh. I like watching you." That had earned him a smile as Brandon tugged him off the porch, and a burning kiss that still made his belly flutter more than twelve hours later. Now, though? Now, it was time to face the music. He sat watching as Brandon adjusted the wood on the fire with a tire iron taken from the Navigator. He decided to try being nice. "I bet you'll be glad to have all your stuff up here." It was a peace offering. Brandon nodded as he stayed crouched in front of the fire. "I will." Huh. That went nowhere. "Uh. Trey seemed to like his new school." "Yeah. We'll see -- but so far, so good." Jesus. It was like pulling teeth. "Um." He cleared his throat. "Uh." At that, Brandon turned his head, the blue, blue eyes zeroing in on him. "You got something you want to say?"
"You know I do!" Oops. With an arched brow, Brandon stood slowly and walked over to the ratty sofa, which had been turned to face the fire. Dropping down next to Angel, he stretched out his legs and rested his clasped hands on his belly. Heaving an exasperated sigh, Angel turned on the sofa, tucking one foot under his thigh. "I'm sorry." His voice was small, his eyes trained on his crooked knee. Brandon didn't respond for a few moments. "For what?" Still looking at his knee, Angel picked at the wool of the second pair of gabardine trousers that he'd brought to Oregon. "I. Uh. Well, you said..." he started, then stumbled to a stop. Brandon rolled his head where it rested on the sofa back, turning to look at Angel. There was a speculative look on his face. "Okay!" "Okay?" "Okay! I know I was an asshole. I jumped to all sorts of conclusions about what's her name. I... all right. I'm a jerk. Your architect friend is apparently not some piece you're bringing down to replace me." He shook his head in irritation. "Although, I guess... you could, since we're just kind of... fuck buddies." He looked up at Brandon from under his lashes. "Aren't we?" Brandon quirked a tiny smile. "You know those lashes make me crazy. That's why you're doing that, isn't it?" Caught, Angel was surprised, then peeved. "Jeez! I can't even work you now." "If you want to ask me something, sugar, you're going to have to say it plain." The drawl was back in spades. Angel didn't know if that was good or bad. He decided to spit it out. "Okay, okay. Whatever."
Sniffing, he rolled his shoulders to loosen them. "You and I... well -- you made me come up here..." At the look on Brandon's face, Angel gave a sheepish grunt. "Okay, I could have said no." Brandon sat up and turned to lean back in his corner of the sofa, taking his time rearranging himself. Angel bit his lip. "Um. Well, for three years you've been... under my skin and... uh, I just -- I just want to know if this is a short-term gig or what." He said that last part in a rush. When Brandon didn't answer right away, the silence -- and Brandon's watchful gaze -played on Angel's nerves. "Quit doing that. You're making me nervous!" "Whoa. That's quite an admission coming from you." That soft, gravelly voice was ever and always his undoing. It got to him like no other man's voice. Angel's belly fluttered. "Angel, for three years, you and I have rubbed sparks off each other. I guess we didn't know it -- at least I for sure didn't know it -- but it apparently is because our chemistry is super-charged." Brandon was quiet for a few seconds. "It probably wasn't helped by the fact that, well, I had to act... straight as an arrow when... I was around you," he added slowly. "I had to be careful in the league." Brandon reached out a long arm, his fingers trailing through Angel's hair. His face was pensive. Remembering the painful tug on his hair earlier at the Dairy Queen, Angel scowled. He reached up and carefully adjusted a stray lock. Chuckling softly, Brandon relaxed again,. "Sorry, baby -- but you were just being so bad. I had to hang on to you somehow." He shrugged. "I wasn't going to let you go." Looking straight at Angel, he continued. "I'm not going to let you go."
Afraid to breathe, afraid to read too much into that, Angel just watched Brandon, watched every move he made. Brandon grasped Angel's arms with both hands and yanked. Angel went willingly as he was pulled between the strong thighs. Brandon tugged until Angel was draped across his lap as he leaned back in the corner. "I kind of have this feeling that we could... maybe..." Brandon hesitated. "Build something here." He lifted Angel's chin with two fingers. "But we need time. Time to get to know each other. Time to see if we won't kill each other if we're together longer than a week." Angel smiled unwillingly at that. His heart was beating faster, his breath starting to get short. "I... need to know you... won't run out if it gets rough."
Chapter 19 Well. That was plain-spoken enough. Angel drew his head back as he thought about that. Would he -- could he -- stay? He nibbled on the inside of his cheek as he weighed it. Brandon ran a comforting hand down his back. "Angel. How old are you?" Angel sniffed. Why did that matter? "I'm thirty-two," he admitted reluctantly. "Don't you think it's time you figured out if you're going to let yourself trust somebody?" Feeling entirely too cynical, Angel gave a tiny shake of his head, his lips twisted with disgust. At himself, and at life. "Oh, I did trust somebody once. It didn't work out so well." He turned a little to stare straight at Brandon. "Oh, yeah. He liked to pretend he was straight, too." Grimacing, Brandon shook his head, holding up a hand. "You know that was because of the league. But I'm done hiding the fact that I like men just as much as I like women." He sent an arch look toward Angel. "Sometimes more than women. In fact, one guy in particular is really ringing my bell." Still not trusting what he was hearing, Angel shook his head again. "No. No way. The majors will not accept one of their best pitchers suddenly announcing he's bi -let alone gay. And what about your sponsors?" He shuttled back, sitting on his own again, one knee tucked underneath. "You'd be crucified." Sighing, leaning against the cushion again, Brandon looked at the fire. "You and I both know I wasn't one of the best this year." He smirked at himself. "Like Trey's dad said, I was kind of a pussy." "You were not!" Angel immediately defended Brandon. "You had a problem with your rotator cuff!"
He was fired up by the thought that somebody would consider Brandon a pussy. "Thanks, sugar. That means a lot, coming from you." Then Brandon made a face. "But I did have performance issues this year. My sponsors weren't too happy, believe me." "You'll come back strong next year." Angel had no doubt. He'd seen Brandon's strength of mind and body time and again over the last three years. Brandon took a deep breath, jaw tightening for a moment. "Well, it really isn't going to matter." At Angel's questioning look, he elaborated. "Because I'm done." "Huh?" "I'm done. I'm retired. I was retired the very moment Sandy's attorney told me about the kids." Honestly shocked, Angel didn't know what to say. Laughing slightly, Brandon again reached out and ran his fingers through Angel's hair. "Ha. Now I know how to shut you up. Just say I'm retired." Angel's mind abruptly focused. "Are you serious? You're going to walk away. Just like that." He couldn't believe it. "Sugar, I'm almost forty years old. My time in the majors was coming to an end anyway." Leaning his head back again, Brandon ran his eyes over the ceiling. "I've been thinking for a couple of weeks that this might actually turn out to be a very good thing. This way, I don't have to debate about the right time to walk away. I..." he rolled his head toward Angel, "I don't have to dink around about choosing the right time, like a lot of guys do. Then they don't know when it's time to go. They stay too long at the fair. Or worse, they try to come back after retirement." Brandon shook his head slightly. "I know what I have to do.
I promised Sandy I would do whatever he needed me to do. Well." He slapped his hands on his thighs and straightened. "This is what he needed. What those kids need." He stood up. "And you need to figure out what you need." With that, he held out his hand. Angel stared at that hand. It wasn't just an invitation to get up and go to bed. Somehow he knew it was more than that. Fuck. What was he supposed to do? At that moment, Marisa screamed upstairs, the sound jarring. The men looked at each other for a split second, then Brandon bolted, spinning around and racing for the stairs. Angel was right behind him, taking the steps two at a time. They found Marisa sitting up, her eyes open, her hands clenching and unclenching as she sobbed. Trey was lying in his sleeping bag, blinking his eyes. They knelt on either side of the little girl, hesitant, afraid to touch her. The light from the hall spread to where her sleeping bag lay, casting a faint glow over the child. Brandon spoke softly. "Marisa? Sweetheart?" The girl continued crying, not looking at them. Angel reached out a hand, stroking the curly hair, trying to soothe. "Easy, mi'ja... easy. It's okay. We're here." She cried louder, tears running down her cheeks. Her little body shook with her sobs. They looked at each other helplessly. Brandon reached down, trying to gather Marisa up in a hug. She resisted, twisting and crying. A particularly loud cry had him grimacing and backing up. "She gets like that sometimes." Trey's quiet, sleepy voice came from behind them. Twisting to look at the boy, Angel asked, "What do you mean? This has happened before?"
Sitting up, knuckling his eyes, Trey nodded. He bent his knees, sitting lotus-style. "Since -- since my mom and dad... you know." After Marisa let out another heart-rending sob, Angel lifted her onto his lap, crooning to her and cuddling her close. She continued to cry, and he felt a distinct pang in his middle. Brandon crawled over to the young boy, sitting back on his butt as he, too, folded his knees. "What about you, son? You have any bad dreams?" Trey looked down, one side of his face creased from the pillow. "Sometimes." His voice was low. "You know we're right downstairs, don't you? You can always come down and get me or Angel." Brandon motioned back and forth between Angel and himself. "Any time, day or night." Angel's eyes met his lover's as they nodded together. "Really?" "Really." Brandon nodded again at the boy. "We're here for you. Whatever way you need." With a little shrug, the boy looked down again, his fingers fiddling with folds in the sleeping bag. "Sometimes -- sometimes I... think I see my mom. While I'm sleeping." His voice lowered to a mumble. "Do you think she's a ghost?" His brows arching, Brandon's mouth flattened. "Well, I don't think she's a ghost -- but she might be just watching over you. While you're dreaming." He shot a help-me look over at Angel. Perplexed, Angel shrugged. He didn't know what the heck to say to that. He waved his hand, though, encouraging Brandon to keep talking, then snuggled Marisa closer to his chest, leaning back against the wall. The little girl was quieting down slowly, her breathing becoming steadier. His Armani shirt was wet, and he
sighed in resignation. He listened with half an ear as Brandon and Trey talked, the sound muted. He thought they were almost just talking to hear themselves and each other. Maybe they were comforted by the opportunity to talk. He found himself comforted by the action of rocking the little girl. "Angel, sugar. Wake up." Brandon's low voice whispered in his ear. Lifting his head, he peered blearily at Brandon. "Huh?" "You fell asleep with sweet Marisa, here." Brandon's voice had a smile in it. He gently lifted the little girl away from Angel. She was sound asleep again and didn't move as Brandon set her back in her sleeping bag. Tilting his head around Brandon, Angel saw that Trey was once again asleep, too. "How long have I been out?" "Oh, I don't know. Maybe a half hour? You got Marisa to sleep no problem -- and then you must have followed her." He watched as Brandon straightened the sleeping bags for both kids, adjusting their pillows and pulling up zippers. "C'mon." He obediently followed his lover downstairs, then stood in the bedroom doorway. Brandon looked back at him and smiled tenderly. "You look beat. Why don't you go brush your teeth and get ready for bed?" Nodding absently, Angel turned and headed for the bath. As he walked, he rubbed his neck, which had stiffened from bending over Marisa. Coming out of the bathroom, Angel passed a boxerclad Brandon. Sleepy, he yawned as he shuffled toward the bedroom.
"Go ahead and lie down on your favorite side of the bed." Brandon's voice was soft. Now how was he supposed to resist a man like that? When Brandon returned, Angel was indeed snugly on the left side of the bed. The light went off as Brandon slid in behind him, then a heavy arm crossed his middle. Brandon sighed heavily, easing a little closer. "Say it again," Angel whispered in the darkness. It took Brandon a second to respond. "Say what again?" "What you called me earlier." "Oh." The one-syllable word was drawled slowly. "Cario mio." Brandon's breath brushed over Angel's ear as he whispered it. Angel shivered in response. He continued to face the wall as he spoke. "Tell me how you learned to say that." He heard the grin in Brandon's voice as the ballplayer answered him. "Antonio Diaz." Angel rolled over in absolute surprise, forcing Brandon to back up a bit. He was suddenly wide awake. "Get out of here! You called Diaz to ask him that?" Brandon had called the shortstop for his team? Mr. Machismo himself? Unbelievable! "Yep." "No way." He refused to believe the biggest lady's man on the team would have offered that information. "Didn't he want to know why you wanted it for a guy, not a woman?" "Nope." Huffing in disbelief, Angel brought Brandon's face close by using his favorite method -- pulling on Brandon's ears. The faint glow from the security light outside cast dappled light and shadow on Brandon's rugged face. "You cannot tell me that Diaz likes dick."
He watched as Brandon suppressed a grin. "Okay, I won't tell you." Still processing that, he was surprised when Brandon whispered cario again, then again. His dick hardened immediately, and he reached down to bring Brandon's hand to his cock. Quick on the uptake, Brandon began stroking and tugging. He brought his lips to Angel's throat, nipping, licking, and kissing everywhere he could reach. "Quiero que me hagas el amor." Angel whispered his desire. Brandon's cock, which had been hardening nicely, was suddenly poking him determinedly. "Mmmmm. I'm not sure what you just said, but I think I like it." Acting on his desire, Angel grabbed Brandon's hand and pulled it up from his cock to his lips. Kissing the calloused fingers and biting the ends, he spoke between nibbles. "I want you to make love to me."
Chapter 20 That night, they romped and played. They took their time with each other, drawing out their caresses and kisses, stroking, tugging and rubbing. Angel's tender little titties were nibbled, sucked on, bitten until he was ready to scream. His belly was licked and kissed, his navel poked by Brandon's tongue. The line where Brandon's thigh met torso was sucked and licked until Angel had Brandon groaning for mercy. The backs of Brandon's knees were explored and teased. At one point, on top and in control for the moment, Angel spread Brandon's thighs widely, then pushed his knees up. "Hold them there." Panting, Brandon struggled to get hold of his knees. Once he had his hands under them, he slowly tugged upward. Angel saw the discomfited look on Brandon's face. "Easy, amado. I'm going to take care of you." Brandon had said that he was new to this -- and Angel wanted it to be perfect for him. Shoving his hair back, he lay down between those spread legs and buried his face in Brandon's crotch. He licked and sucked the hefty balls, gently rolling and tugging, enough to make Brandon cry out hoarsely. Running his tongue up Brandon's dick, he covered the head with his lips, then slowly dragged them off, sucking strongly. That brought forth another sound and a spurt of pre-come; he swallowed down the salty taste, then went back for more. He played with Brandon's cock and balls for a bit, self-satisfaction pouring through him when Brandon writhed and moaned. Angel looked up with a sassy grin. "Hey, you." Brandon drew his arm down from where it was covering his eyes and raised his head enough to look
Angel in the eye. "You're making me crazy." Angel laughed softly, triumphantly. "Let's see." He pretended to think. "My eyelashes make you crazy. I believe you said... my pouts," he comically scrunched up his lips, "make you crazy." He giggled. "What else is making you crazy?" Mouth working soundlessly for a few seconds, Brandon rolled his eyes before his head flopped back down on the pillow and he threw his arm back across his face. "Ungh! You!" "That's the idea, mi amor. But you're the one who better grab that pillow and cover up. You're going to wake the kids." Laughing and groaning at the same time, Brandon did indeed grab a pillow. Angel reapplied himself, dragging his tongue down below the furry balls. He licked and pushed against Brandon's perineum, his own belly clenching when he got a muffled cry in answer. God, it was making him so horny watching and listening to Brandon react to what had to be an unfamiliar feeling of submission. He slowly drew his tongue down to the opening that he'd wanted to claim for three long years. He gently pressed and poked, feeling it tighten and loosen against his tongue. The musky flavor drew him in, and he redoubled his efforts, determined to get Brandon to submit to this deeply intense act of male sex. At the first touch of Angel's tongue to his anus, Brandon had tensed, then groaned low and long. His cock quivered and pulsed, pushing out a fresh spurt of pre-ejaculate. One hand kept the pillow clutched close and the other hand grasped at the sheet, fingers digging into the bedding. His legs jerked and then tried to shut, but Angel's arms kept him open, accessible, vulnerable. "Sugar, I... I -- I don't know if..." He gasped as Angel's
hot tongue poked him again. "Oh, God!" "Oh, God is right, amado." Angel couldn't help how cocky he sounded. He finally had Brandon at his mercy, and there was no way he was going to let up until he got what he wanted -- to be balls deep inside Brandon. Angel continued to explore, sticking his tongue in a bit more each time, using it like a little dick, forging into previously undiscovered territory. He got a little farther each time as Brandon relaxed. Thrilled and exulting in his sexual prowess, Angel suddenly jackknifed upward, reaching over to the nightstand and rummaging madly, looking for lube and glove. Brandon slid the pillow off his face, turning his head slightly to follow the reach of Angel's arm. Shoving his hair back again, Angel flipped the top of the tube. Brandon bit his lip. "Are you going to...?" Angel grinned big. "Oh, yeah." "So I'm going to...?" "Uh-huh." Angel lubed up one finger, and slowly pressed against Brandon's tightly-clenched opening. "Angel!" The faint cry was high-pitched, part protest and part excitement. "Easy, amado." The tip of his finger popped inside. "Easy. We're going to take this slowly while I get you ready." Angel paused to reassure Brandon. "Believe me, you are going to love this." With that, he pushed all the way inside. His mouth came down over Brandon's wilting cock, coaxing it back to fullness with sucks, licks, and tiny nibbles. "That's it, baby," he crooned. "Let me just--" He twisted his finger, trying to find Brandon's prostate. He knew he got it when Brandon's body jerked again and his cock leaped back to life.
"God!" That hoarse cry prompted him to grab the pillow that Brandon had dropped and toss it back up to his struggling lover. "Hey. Keep it down, amado, remember?" He frowned. "Or, on second thought, keep it up." With that, he took another strong suck on Brandon's dick. "Ohh, sugar," Brandon sighed, relaxing a bit, a beatific smile on his face as he kept his eyes closed. He grunted as Angel nailed his prostate again -- then grunted once more as Angel pushed another finger inside. "How's that?" Angel kept up the small talk as he played, wanting to keep Brandon focused on the pleasure and not on the scary part of having something up his ass. "Full. 'S full." "Not yet, love. But you're going to be." Angel squeezed a little more lube on his fingers and pressed a third inside, causing Brandon to issue another, deeper grunt. "Okay, baby?" Angel asked. He gently spread his fingers, stretching and retracting, loving the wet, hot feel of his lover's channel. "Doesn't this feel good?" He eased deeper, determinedly pushing on the walnut-sized gland, stroking it, pressing it, making Brandon's cock jerk and leak some more. Brandon's eyes were scrunched closed, but Angel could see a smile come and go across the rugged features. "Angel..." Brandon sighed again. "Will you...?" The answer was immediate. "Uh-huh." "Now?" "Oh, yeah." Angel pushed upward, kneeling for a second as he grabbed a condom and quickly suited up. He got more
lube on his fingers to slick up his cock, then pointed toward home. He paid attention to every movement of Brandon's face and body as he pushed against the tight muscle of Brandon's anus. He began crooning in Spanish, whispering in his lover's ear. "Esta bien, guapo. Estoy loco por ti." He groaned as the head pushed inside, then muttered fiercely, "Se siente rico." Brandon was now panting heavily, his fists clenched and his eyes tightly closed. Angel leaned down again and kissed the closed eyelids, one by one. "Easy, love. Easy. You're doing just fine. Relax and let me in, 'kay?" Nodding, Brandon took a deep breath, and Angel could feel the muscles around him easing a bit. Brandon cracked open one eye. "Tell me again," he rasped, "this time in English." Frowning for second, Angel tried to remember what he'd said. He pushed forward an inch as he struggled to recall. "Um." With minute movements of his hips, he got his cock buried deeper. He brought his mouth to Brandon's, his lips pressing and his tongue coming out to swipe a wet path. "Okay." He lifted upward, which moved his pelvis deeper into the cradle of Brandon's thighs. His dick went in another inch, and he moaned as he shifted side-to-side. "Angel!" Brandon's deep cry brought him dropping low again, his lips pressed to his lover's ear. "Okay, okay!" He sucked Brandon's earlobe in and bit down slightly. He was rewarded as his ballplayer's hips tilted up just enough to send him another half-inch deeper. "It's good, beautiful. It's good," he murmured in between nips and licks. "You make me crazy, you know. A good crazy," he admitted as he thrust again, "but crazy." He swiveled his hips a bit, and Brandon cried out
again. "Se siente rico, huh, baby? Doesn't that feel good?" Losing his ability to translate when he bottomed out in Brandon's ass, he brought his weight down onto his forearms, his chest pressing against Brandon's. He rubbed with his whole body, determined to make Brandon feel everything. "Amado." Pulling back almost all the way, he sank slowly in again to the accompaniment of Brandon's fractured breaths and whimpers. He continued to thrust slowly, trying to find the right angle. When Brandon's body curved upward into a bow, Angel knew he'd hit it. He kept at that spot, over and over, and was rewarded as Brandon began cursing and begging. "Fuck! Oh, God, oh, God." Pants accompanied the low mutterings. "Please, sugar!" Nodding even though Brandon had his eyes closed and couldn't see him, Angel picked up the pace, beginning to push harder. He reached with one hand to start jacking the thick cock. "Uhgnnnnh..." That grunting moan made him smile with clenched teeth. He was pushing hard, thrusting against Brandon's hotspot, and from one moment to the next, Brandon's ass clamped down on him and the gorgeous cock began spurting semen. Angel kept jacking, the fluid lubing his hand nicely. He tried to keep thrusting through the tight grip on his cock, just to extend Brandon's pleasure -- but the muscled grip on his dick was driving him crazy. He rammed home two more times before coming himself, shooting into the condom. "God!" He shuddered for long moments as his spunk gushed up from his balls. Wrung dry, he dropped his weight down onto Brandon, producing another grunt. He
stayed there for a few minutes as his lungs heaved with his breathing, his head rubbing against the big chest muscles of his lover. His dick softened, and he sighed hugely as he circled his cock to grab the condom. He leaned over the edge of the mattress to toss the spent condom into the new trashcan, then lay back down on top of his man. After several minutes, Brandon's quiet voice drifted down to him. "Angel... sugar, I -- I don't even know what... to say." Smiling, Angel rubbed his cheek into Brandon's chest, his lashes catching on the crisp hair. "You don't have to say anything, amado. Your body said it for you." Huffing a tiny chuckle, Brandon raised a hand to caress Angel's hair. "You are something else." He yawned hugely. "Something else."
Chapter 21 Over the next week, Angel found himself working with Brandon to get the house set up, though he protested daily at some of the tasks that Brandon asked of him. His squawking was so easily overcome that he was almost embarrassed. Brandon dealt with his objections by kissing him until he stopped talking, and, in one crazy instance while Marisa slept, Brandon tugged him into the bathroom and gave him another novice blowjob. They called in a cleaning service from Grants Pass to once again go over the house from top to bottom. This was, of course, after the first load of furniture came, so they were all moving things around repeatedly as they cleaned, and sorted, and decided where things would go. Brandon surprised Angel by getting him to laugh about that by the end of that day, though. Angel was skeptical when Brandon relied on him to determine where it should all be placed. "Hey, you're the designer -- you're good at putting things together." Angel would bet Brandon had his tongue in his cheek. "You can figure it out. I'm just a lowly ballplayer." With that, Brandon went back outside to what was apparently going to be one of his projects here in Oregon -- the equipment shed building. The large structure looked like it had been used to store equipment, farm rigs and, at some point, livestock. Brandon was planning to build an office back there, and he'd already started laying out the space by removing an interior wall and beginning to clean it out. Huffing in exasperation, and amused despite himself, Angel watched his lover walk away. He turned to Marisa, who had been watching the byplay. "Pequea, whenever a man tells you you're good at something, he's
probably just trying to get you to do the work. Remember that." While she giggled in response, he grinned, took her hand, and led her to the kitchen, where they worked companionably together to put away Brandon's dishes. In between, he directed the movers who'd brought the furnishings from Brandon's condo in San Francisco. Brandon and the school principal had determined that Marisa could start school the following week, to allow her a little time to acclimate since she was so young. Personally, Angel thought Marisa could adapt to just about anything, but he was finding he did like her company. He chattered to her throughout their mornings together. They talked about her dolls, argued about movies, and discussed what to eat for dinner. He found that she was a surprisingly good movie critic for being so young, and he had to wonder if he was dealing with a budding genius, the way she was able to converse with him. He'd also been tossing around in his head the email campaign CeCe was working on him. Brandon had established internet service through the satellite company, and Angel had been able to get a faster connection on his laptop. Each day she asked him what was going on with Brandon. If he hadn't known better, he would have sworn she had planned this. He was convinced, though, that if CeCe had known Brandon was going to become guardian for Sandy's kids, she would have been there to help meet the children. So far, Angel had been able to work long distance, with a combination of phone, video conference, and FedEx. Since he wasn't an agent, he didn't usually work directly with the clients in the negotiation process; he performed more of the supportive, behind-the-scenes work that went into generating the obscenely large
contracts CeCe seemed expert at producing. He had talked to her on the phone over the last several days, and they'd emailed regularly. He'd had to join a long conference call earlier in the day, one that resulted in him getting aggravated at one of CeCe's agents, a vain peacock he normally ignored as much as possible. Reporting the conversation now to Marisa, he looked in the rear view mirror. "Mi'ja, just listen and learn from me. People like that twit Justin enjoy telling other folks how great they are. But they need us -- the workers -- to make things happen." He loved listening to her sweet giggle, and he continued to talk to her just to hear it. With Trey in school and seemingly beginning to adjust, Brandon was focusing on making the house into a home for the kids. Via phone and email with the Reznicks, he plotted the renovation of the historic structure, while at the same time, began working on the outbuildings. He seemed to respect Angel's contributions, asking his opinion on everything from child-rearing discussions to future work opportunities. At night, Brandon concentrated solely on Angel. And, since the time he'd let Angel fuck him, Brandon had taken back control, asserting himself and fucking Angel into the mattress each night. During the day, however, he was all business -- house business. That left Angel to watch the kids and work on organizing their belongings. They were going to have to talk about how they were sharing some of this stuff. Angel was starting to feel comfortable here in Oregon -- and that was causing him to worry. What if he started to get really attached here? He and Marisa were now on their way to pick up Trey at school. It was past time to have a shopping day as therapy -- and Brandon was going to pay big time with his gold card. Trey's school was letting the kids out
before noon today, due to some teacher institute. What the heck was that, anyway? But, it did give him the opportunity to pick up Trey at eleven-thirty and head up to the outlet mall over in Medford. There was no way he was going to find what he wanted at the local Emporium, so he didn't mind the ninety-minute drive to real shopping. He still couldn't get over the fact that the store was actually called Emporium. What -- are we in eighteen-sixty? Driving his new car -- his new car! -- over US 199, he thrilled at the handling of the Mercedes on the twists and turns of the Illinois River Valley highway. It handled like every automotive dream he'd ever had. The day was beautiful, with the sky a shade of blue he hadn't seen in Los Angeles in... maybe, ever. The kids had plenty of room in the back seat, and he had the entire cargo area to fill with shopping booty. He managed to locate the factory outlet mall thanks to his GPS, and he found a place to park away from the other cars. Trey questioned him as he made a production of parking his new baby near the back of the lot. "Why are we so far from the store?" "Be-cause, I don't want anyone touching this car." "But we're going to have to walk forever to get inside." Trey was already whining. "Yes, we are -- so we might as well get started." He hardened himself against guilt since the car was, after all, brand new. It had barely one hundred fifty miles on it. "Besides, we're going to cover a lot of ground today, so I hope you've got good shoes on." With that, he grabbed each child by the hand and set out for the outdoor gear store he saw ahead. ***
That evening, Angel pulled to a stop at the side of the house in their newly designated parking area. He saw Brandon walking up from the shed as he turned off the ignition. A smile breaking out on his face, Angel got out of the Mercedes and skipped over to Brandon, throwing himself at his man from three feet away. Brandon caught him -- barely -- with a surprised grunt. Angel wrapped his legs around that lean waist and grabbed those beloved ears. He tugged Brandon's face in close and planted a lusty kiss on the parted lips. His tongue dived deep several times before he pulled back and smacked both cheeks with more kisses. "Mmmm!" Staring in happy confusion, Brandon looked first at Angel, then at the kids who'd gotten out of the car a bit more slowly, before returning his gaze to Angel. "Sugar -- what has gotten into you?" Angel leaned forward to whisper. "You, I hope -- and soon." Blushing bright red, Brandon jerked his head away. "Angel! The kids are right here!" Adoring the flustered look he'd managed to produce, Angel laughed in delight. He was joined by the two kids, who were clearly enjoying the show. "Ha!" he whispered fiercely. "Finally, you get to be embarrassed instead of me." He chuckled again, grinning widely. "Anyway, I just want to say thank you for my beautiful, wonderful, fantastic car." He kissed Brandon quickly before his lover could pull back, then hopped down and ran back to the car. Using his key fob, he opened the cargo door as he went. "Kids, come get your stuff." Brandon, still a bit flummoxed, follow slowly. He came to an abrupt halt as he caught sight of the bags. He
turned an appalled look on Angel, a huge scowl darkening the rugged face. "Holy shit! How much money did you spend?" "Brandon! You said a swear!" That was Marisa. Angel hid a grin as he began digging the bags out. He pretended disinterest. "Um, I don't know. I brought the receipts for you. They're here somewhere." "Vargas!" Brandon barked. "You get your Latin ass over here right now and tell me how much money you spent!" Angel burst out laughing and spun around to rest his Latin ass on the tailgate of the Mercedes. The kids were jumping around trying to reach their bags, while Brandon was sputtering, steam about to vent from his ears. In the midst of it all, Angel crooked his index finger in a come-hither motion. Brandon glared at him mulishly before stepping forward. Once Brandon was within reach, Angel lifted one hand, sliding it behind that stubborn blond head. His fingers skated over the crisp brush-cut before cupping the back and pulling Brandon in close. He kissed his man slowly, using lots of tongue. It took a moment or two before Brandon relented and began kissing him back. An ear-piercing whistle cut through their lust and they broke apart, staring at each other with goofy smiles. A second whistle caused them both to wince, and they turned as one to face their tormentor. Trey had four fingers to his lips, ready to whistle again. At Angel's raised brow and warning look, he slowly drew the fingers away from his mouth. "Where in the heck did you learn to do that?" Angel was sure Trey would have used that before now if he'd known how to do it.
Scuffing his sneakered toe into the gravel of the drive, Trey looked down a moment before his head came up and he smirked. "From Steven Chang at school." "I don't know whether to be happy you're making friends, or if I should go strangle that kid for teaching you that." Brandon's voice was a little tight as he discreetly adjusted himself. Shrugging, Trey grabbed a couple of bags and trotted inside the house. Angel turned back to the cargo area, making sure to push his ass against his lover. He was rewarded with a grunt from Brandon as he leaned in and grabbed a big pink bag. "Here, mi'ja, here's your princess stuff. Take this inside, okay?" Mumbling happily, Marisa took her bag and began dragging it inside. Long arms slid around his middle as Brandon pushed him against the car. "Baby, did you bankrupt me today?" Angel reached in to the rear of the cargo space. "I don't think somebody who bought this car without even blinking an eye needs to worry about what I spent today. Unnnhh!" He gasped as Brandon pushed him further, spreading over his back and flattening him forward. A large hand slid down to cover the front of his trousers. Brandon's big cock was poking him, and he helplessly ground himself against it as he held himself up on his elbows, his hands splayed inside the car. "Oh, I do love it when you get lippy with me." Brandon leaned down and nipped his earlobe, then dragged his tongue over the tendon in Angel's neck, biting down. Angel cried out hoarsely, his hips rolling as he tried to fuck into Brandon's hand. Just then the wooden screen door slammed and Trey's
voice could be heard yelling. "When are we eating? I'm starved!" Dropping his head to Angel's back, Brandon groaned and laughed at the same time. "I think the kids are settling in, don't you?" *** After dinner, which consisted of the pizza that Angel and the kids had picked up at the grocery on the way home, the adults and kids settled in the living room, enjoying the fact that there was now furniture spread around. They began a fashion show for Brandon, showing him what they'd bought. Angel had the kids try on their winter gear, then the clothes he'd found for school. He'd also found some great dressy things for the kids, and he had them show those off for Brandon as well. "What about you, sugar? What'd you find?" Brandon eyed him knowingly, a gleam in his turquoise eyes and a soft smile on his chiseled lips. Angel blushed a little as he hemmed and hawed. "Um, I, um, did manage to find a couple of things." Laughing aloud, Brandon grabbed him as he stepped by the sofa, tumbling him down onto his lap. "I've no doubt you managed to do that very thing." He kissed Angel again, then raised his head to smile as Trey began groaning. "You guys kiss a lot!" "Uh-huh," Brandon answered unapologetically. "Better get used to it." He kissed Angel again. Groaning again, Trey pulled out a Kings hockey jersey, immediately getting distracted. Just then, they heard a car pull into the drive. The men looked at each other questioningly before Brandon got
up. "I'll go see who it is." Angel looked at the kids, smiling at their excitement and happy all over again at the extraordinary bargains he'd been able to find. Who knew that Ralph Lauren had a line for kids? Or that Columbia had such great jackets for both adults and kids? "Mi'ja, show me your pink jacket again. I love that!" Marisa immediately complied, digging her pink parka out of the bag and dragging it on. Angel sighed. God, she was adorable. Her curly hair tumbled over the shoulders of the jacket and she had her tongue stuck between her teeth as she attempted to zip it. "Pequea, let me help." Turning to Trey, he instructed, "Put your jacket on, too, I want to see again how it fits." Brandon's voice called from the doorway. "Sugar? C'mon over here, will ya?" "Okay!" he called. "Kids, sort all your stuff and then we're going to take it upstairs, okay?" He got up from Brandon's cream leather sofa and walked over to the door. He stopped short when he saw Cliff Danielson standing on the other side. His lip curled the tiniest bit. He couldn't help himself. This man had seen him at his worst. He was greeted with a tiny grin and a quick salute. "Why, hello, Angel." He muttered a greeting in return, then looked at his lover, who had the silliest grin on his face. "What are you grinning at?" Shrugging, his head canted to the side, Brandon just grinned some more and pointed to a box at his feet. Slowly coming forward, Angel leaned over hesitantly, almost afraid of what he might find.
Chapter 22 "Ohh!" Angel gasped automatically as he spotted the two puppies in the box. He immediately stepped through the door and dropped to his knees, sighing as he gazed at the adorable babies. They were cuddled together on a ratty old blanket. "Ohh!" he said again. "What kind of puppies are they?" He looked first at Brandon, who just beamed at him and shrugged, then at Cliff. His orneriness melted away as he waited for the answer. Cliff looked delighted at Angel's reaction. "They sure enough are cute, Angel. They're German shepherd pups... girls -- about nine weeks old. My girl Marta had a litter of six, and these are the last two." "Can I touch them?" Angel was dying to feel the silky fur. Head tilted back, he watched Brandon and Cliff exchanged a happy, knowing look. His brows lowered, and he scowled as he tried to figure out what the two of them were up to. Cliff distracted him by nodding and slowly crouching down next to him. He used a hand on Angel's shoulder to balance himself. "Go ahead, young fella, you can pet 'em. Lizzie -- my wife -- and I've been socializing 'em quite a bit." With that permission, Angel slowly slid his hands down and lifted one precious pup to his chest. Crooning, he drew his fingers over the delicate little head, feeling the whiskers. The puppy moved her head and slowly opened her little eyes, looking up at him. He fell in love immediately -- headfirst. "Ohh," he sighed again, "What's her name?" Cliff grabbed a hand from Brandon to stand up again. "That's up to you, Angel. I brought them over for you." Eyes wide, Angel raised his head to stare at Cliff.
"Oh, my God. Really?" Brandon slapped Cliff on the back. "I told you. This is the way to Angel's heart." Scowling once more, because clearly his lover had been conspiring with the vintner, Angel sniffed disdainfully before turning his attention back to the baby in his arms. He was secretly thrilled at their conniving. "Never mind them, bebe." He reached for the second pup, gently bringing her up to his chest and cuddling them together. He gave his lover an arch look as he stood, then indicated the door with a slight jerk of his head. "Will you open that, please?" Chuckling, waving his arm and bowing, Brandon did as he was asked, holding the door open theatrically. "Yes, your highness." Brandon and Cliff followed Angel inside, bringing the box along with them. Angel called out softly to the kids. "Come and look, kids." Squeals of excitement issued from the two children, who came at a run. Angel shushed them, "Easy, nios. Easy. Take it slowly. Don't scare them." He knelt down on the rug near the fire, thinking the babies would appreciate the warmth. Marisa and Trey hovered closely, reaching out to touch. Angel and the children touched, petted, crooned, and murmured to the puppies, while Brandon and Cliff watched approvingly. The two men stood to the side, chatting quietly. Angel tried to hear what they were saying, but he kept getting his attention diverted back to the squiggling babies in his arms. They were so precious. Marisa piped up with the key question. "Angel, can we keep them? Can we?"
Even Trey was looking longingly at him, his hand on one of the babies. "Have you had a dog before?" Trey shook his head quickly. "No. Uh-uh. Me and 'Risa wanted one, but my mom always said no. She was allergic or something, I guess." "Well, um, Cliff said he brought them over for me, but..." Angel stopped when Marisa's smile turned upside down. "Um, I think that they should belong to all of us," he finished with a smile. Trey and Marisa screamed excitedly, immediately jumping up and down in their joy. Watching them, Angel knew he would not have been able to say no to them about this. It was such a little thing to do to bring happiness back into their lives. He looked up at his clever lover -- and his lover's clever friend, darn it -- and smiled, his chest tightening a bit. Thank you, he mouthed to them both. As Brandon looked at them, he unashamedly wiped away a tear, while Cliff busily dug for a handkerchief. Neither of them were unaffected by the children's hopeful exuberance, it was clear. Clearing his throat, Angel looked at the kids. "Okay, nios, let's get these little girls back in their bed, and we'll see what we need to do to make a home for them." He again had to shush the children as they began crying out. "I know, I know. Okay, Trey, bring the box here, please. Marisa, get their blanket all nice and cozy for them." He and the children set the puppies back in the box. Angel looked over at the two conspirators. "Gentlemen," he said politely, "I believe we'll need some newspaper, and puppy chow, and milk, right? Oh, and I guess we can use the french door in the kitchen to keep them honest." He wrinkled his nose a little bit.
"Not that we'd be able to tell with this carpet if they did anything on it." Snorting, Brandon blew him a sassy kiss. "You're going to pay for that, sugar. Later." Brandon and Cliff once again exchanged knowing grins, then Brandon pointed to himself. "It just so happens I have the supplies back in the pantry. While you were on your marathon trip to buy enough clothes for the Octo-Mom and her kids, I ran over to the Shop Smart. Come on, Cliff." "Ignore them, nios," Angel instructed the two kids with a smirk. "They think they're in charge, but they're not." He gathered up the puppy box, and with the kids trailing behind, walked to the kitchen. *** "God, Mama, he got me puppies!" he wailed to his mother. The kids and puppies were in bed, and he'd ducked outside to call. He was bundled up in his new Columbia parka, with the hood pulled up and his sleeves pulled down over his hands. He'd checked on his iPhone, and the temperature was hovering at fifty-one degrees. Jeez! It was just the first week of October. "I know that! Do you think I don't know that he's staying one step ahead of me?" He was taking his frustration out on his mother, and that wasn't fair. "Mamacita, perdoname. I'm being a jerk." Sighing loudly, he stalked over to the resin wicker chairs that had shown up with Brandon's furniture. Dropping onto the cushioned seat and turning his body, he slung his legs up over the side, leaning his head against the back. "Mama, he's got me wrapped around his finger. I just hope he doesn't know it." He listened to her soothing voice and words of
wisdom with half an ear. In his heart, he was a goner. It was his head that was holding things up. He was afraid to give in completely and risk it all. It hadn't turned out so well when he'd trusted once before. And he hadn't even gotten to a Starbucks once since he'd gotten here! Well, he had found a little place in town that actually made really great espresso. In fact, he might even have to admit it tasted better than Starbucks, but Angel wasn't going to tell the stubborn blond inside the house about that. "Huh?" He'd missed what his mother had been saying. "Si, mama, I was listening." He crossed his fingers as he told that white lie, then grunted when his mother called him on it. "Okay, so no, I wasn't listening." How could he? His mind was twirling in circles as he tried to figure out what to do about Brandon and these children. "Mama, how can I resist him? Between these children and the puppies and... oh, how he makes me feel..." He sighed as he remembered the lusty moment when he was unpacking the car earlier. "Uh-huh, Mama, he is hot." They laughed together at that one. "Listen, Mama, I'd better go inside. It's getting colder. I just wanted to hear your voice and let you know the latest." Blowing her a kiss and sending his love, he disconnected the call and headed back inside. He found Brandon closing the screen on the fireplace, pulling it tight to prevent sparks from jumping. The flames had died to a very low point, and Brandon had pushed apart the remaining pieces so they'd burn out quicker. "So, which fashion designers are you going to name your new babies after?" Angel stopped short for a second. "Ha, ha." He eyed his lover, the man now sprawled out on the carpet in
front of the fireplace. Brandon looked so relaxed, so gorgeous down there. His tempting lover held up a hand. "C'mon down here, sugar. Keep me company." The blue, blue eyes captivated him. Angel grabbed a pillow cushion from one of the two dark green, velvetcovered chairs that flanked the cream leather couch. Kneeling down, he set it near Brandon's head and lowered himself on his back, his head resting on the pillow. He looked over at Brandon. "Your furniture looks good here." Dope. What a stupid thing to say. Chuckling gently, Brandon agreed. "Yup. It does, doesn't it? Makes me think that maybe this is working out the way it was supposed to. What do you think?" "Me?" "Yeah, you. You usually have an opinion on everything else." It was hard to be offended by what was obviously the truth, but he tried, scowling. "I do not." Laughing in delight, Brandon grabbed the back of his head and brought him up close and personal for a deep kiss. He caught Brandon's tongue with his lips, sucking strongly, longing for more. His arms slid around the strong back, and he flattened his hands along those tough deltoid muscles. Pulling away to breathe, he stared at Brandon. "You did that deliberately." Brandon's brows rose in question. "You and Cliff brought those puppies here to make me want to stay up here. With you." He held his breath. Lips quirking, Brandon brought his arm up and rested his head on the flat of his hand. "Did you really need an excuse?" God, there was no bullshitting with Brandon. "Christ,
you don't let me get away with anything, do you?" Smiling faintly, one finger coming up to tease Angel's lips, Brandon gave him a knowing look. "I have the feeling if I did, you'd eat me alive." He should probably be offended by that -- but inside, he was elated. It meant Brandon took him very seriously. He changed the subject. "You never talk about your family -- only Sandy. How come?" "Was I getting too close, sugar?" Without waiting for an answer, Brandon continued. "Sandy is -- was -- my family. The two people who raised me didn't think that I measured up as a son the day I told them I liked guys as well as girls." It was said without emotion, but Angel could see the remnants of anger in the turquoise eyes. "So, that was the day I had no more family. Until I met Sandy at UIC. My parents," the word was said with complete derision, "didn't mess with my scholarship because they wanted me gone." Shrugging, he trailed his fingers over Angel's face. "Sandy was my coach. He became more of a father to me than the guy who knocked up my mother." Angel winced at the awful way that was phrased. "Are they as bad as that, Brandon?" Brandon turned his head a bit to stare down at Angel. "Uh-huh. The last time I talked to them was the day I left for college, when I was eighteen." Wow. Angel couldn't imagine not having his mother in his life. "That's really sad." Pushing out his lower lip, Brandon shook his head a little. "Not really. Sandy was the one who cared about me, who loved me. Who... needed me at the end and I... was too busy for the last couple months he was alive." He took a shuddering breath. "I almost didn't make it back to Chicago before he... died." "It seems really rotten that he never got to know his
grandchildren." Angel commented quietly. Nodding, Brandon agreed. "Yeah. It's hard to argue with his daughter, Sarah's position since she had to deal with Sandy when he was drinking, but -- I knew the man he became. Sandy... still had issues when I met him, but he ended up getting it together and saving his marriage. It was -- it was just too late for Sarah. And now, those kids will never know him." Angel considered that for a moment. "You can help them to know him. You were very close, right?" At Brandon's nod, he continued. "Then talk to them about him. Let them learn about him." As a proponent of tightly-knit families, he couldn't not do something to make a difference. "Show them pictures, and some of his things." "You know, I guess I really didn't think about it in such simple terms. I was just concentrating on somehow linking Sandy and the kids." He smiled slowly. "You're good for me. You know that?" He rolled over on top of Angel. "Even if you do deserve a spanking for making fun of Old Betsy again."
Chapter 23 The next morning, Friday, at seven a.m., Angel was standing at the kitchen counter, stirring his cup of coffee. His mind was filled with images of the night before, when Brandon had been merciless in making Angel submit. The sex had been amazing -- and when Brandon had pulled that big plug out of the drawer, Angel had been astounded. Brandon hadn't struck him as the type to play with toys... "Angel!" Shaking his head to clear it, he stared down at Trey, who was looking up at him impatiently. Angel got the feeling Trey had called his name more than once. "Huh?" The nine-year-old eyed him askance, looking impatient. "Can we take the puppies out of the box? Can we?" "May we," he corrected. Putting down his untouched coffee, he moved over to stand by the puppy box. His heart melted as he looked at the babies. God, that man was too much. "Okay, let's put some newspaper down first. Do we have any more?" He was organizing kids and puppies when Brandon came in the back door. His lover had been gone when Angel had awakened, so this was the first time he'd seen the ballplayer since they'd torn up the sheets. Looking up from where he crouched next to one of the pups, Angel watched for Brandon's mood. My god, what we did together last night... was that too freaky or what? He wasn't quite reassured by Brandon's offputting behavior, since Brandon went straight to the coffee pot and grabbed a cup from the cabinet above. The blond stayed facing the cabinet, sipping the
steaming brew. Uh-oh. What the hell was going on? Slowly straightening, he stepped up behind Brandon. "Something bothering you?" He decided to go on the offensive. "Uh-uh." A quick shake of Brandon's head accompanied the denial. "Really." Now a quick nodding of the stubborn blond head. Determined to find out just what was bothering The Great Dane, Angel grabbed one muscled arm and yanked, pulling him around. Cursing, Brandon bobbled his coffee cup and barely kept from dropping it. "Angel!" The blue eyes finally met his. Angel zeroed in on the red face and sheepish look on his lover's face. "What the hell is going on?" "What are you talking about?" That was pure Midwestern twang. "Oh, I don't know. You didn't look at me when you came in, and you won't look at me now." Pursing his lips, Angel pondered the oddity as he watched Brandon fidget. Then, after several seconds of staring, it suddenly hit him. "My God, are you embarrassed about last night?" Brandon's blush deepened, and he dropped his head to look at the floor. Shocked -- and absolutely amused at the absurdity of it -- Angel huffed out a short laugh. "Oh... my... God. I thought I was the only freaky one." He began laughing, hugely relieved that Brandon wasn't dissing him. "Angel! Shut up! The kids are here!" On cue, Marisa piped up. "Brandon, you're not supposed to say shut up. It's inappropriate." The adult word sounded adorable coming from her.
Brandon leaned in close to his ear. "I do not want to talk about this now." Still laughing, happy and amazed, Angel shrugged good-naturedly. He could deal with anything now. They could talk about their kinky sex life tonight. He leaned back toward Brandon and whispered that very thing. "Angel!" *** After Brandon left to take Trey to school, Angel got Marisa set up with toys and books, the puppies asleep beside her, then sat down at his laptop. He quickly logged into his work connection. "God!" There must have been fifty unread emails sitting there. He sighed. Just then, his cell phone rang. He picked it up and rolled his eyes. Figured. It was CeCe. She must have psychic radar. "Yeah, boss?" "Is that any way to talk to me, young man?" CeCe snorted. "What are you doing?" "I was planning on working. I just sat down at my laptop. What's up?" "We-e-e-ll, guess who's coming out to see me?" Shrugging to himself, he started typing a response to an email he was reading. "I don't know. Who?" "Johnny." It took a second before that registered. Gasping, Angel shoved his laptop away. "Johnny Rayne? Seriously?" Ohmygod. "I thought he didn't like leaving the mountains anymore." Humming in agreement, CeCe affirmed, "He doesn't really, not with the kids to worry about. But I've gotten him a meeting with the studio heads and the director to
talk about the score for the new Hankin movie." Joe Hankin was the hottest Hollywood blockbuster director around. Angel was impressed. "Wow, CeCe. You are amazing, you know that?" He propped his feet on the coffee table. Idly, he stared down at his Mark Nason Braybrook boots. He did love those boots. "Huh?" He'd missed something. "I said, when are you coming back down? Johnny will be here on Tuesday." Now what? His gut clenched. "Angel? Did you hear me?" He cleared his throat. "Uh-huh." "Well? How much longer is Brandon going to need you? I would have thought you'd be chomping at the bit to finish up." "Uh..." He didn't really know how to answer. At least twenty seconds passed. He heard a distinct musical hum at the other end of the call. "Ohh, I get it." "What?" That didn't sound too defensive, did it? "You don't want to leave, do you? I knew it." "What? You're crazy." He jumped up. "Hold on." He quickly walked into the dining room, away from Marisa. "I can leave any time I want." "Uh-huh." God, she was a pain when she saw right through him. Shit. "You know, I always thought I saw something between the two of you, but you never did anything about it, so I dismissed it." He could picture her leaning back in her chair as he stayed quiet. "Nothing to say?" He sighed. Looking back at Marisa, who was contentedly talking to her dolls, he smiled helplessly. "I. He." He sighed again, loudly. "God! Did you know how complicated this would get when you sent me to help
Brandon? Did you?" "Honestly? I wasn't sure what team he was playing for. Angel groaned at that pun. "Sorry. That was unintentional." CeCe hummed. "Well, I'd occasionally catch him checking you out -- at least I thought he was checking you out. But then, when you didn't hit on him or say anything, and he didn't do anything, I thought I was misreading him." She sniffed in disgust. "That pisses me off. I've got to get my gaydar checked." Her chair made noise again. "So, does this mean you're not coming down Tuesday?" Angel thought hard for several moments. "I. I just can't, CeCe. I've got to stay and... see if we can... make this work." He shook his head, even though CeCe couldn't see it. "I know you sent me up here just as a job, but -- it's become, um, way more than that." He turned and leaned against the wall, rolling his head up and staring at the ceiling. "I can't even believe how quickly this has happened. It's like the last three years were the lead-up to this. I -- I think, even Brandon thinks, that we've been attracted to each other all this time and it just took us being together like this to -- uh, I don't know, make it all happen." He grunted. "Is that crazy or what?' CeCe didn't say anything. "Am I overthinking this?" She finally spoke. "Hmmm, I -- you know, you have to decide what's right for you. You can't make your decision based on what I think -- or what anybody else thinks." When she paused again, Angel considered her words. "Several months back, I gave some advice to your friend, Johnny -- almost the very same thing." He could hear the smile in her voice. "Angel, only you know what's right for you. If in your heart you believe you and
Brandon might have something special, then you need to think about what it will take to keep that." He pondered that, nodding to himself. "Yeah. I was hoping you'd tell me what to do, though." She laughed. "I can do that if it's about work, you dope." Her manner turned serious. "By the way, so far we're handling you working remotely. If you're seriously going to consider staying up there, we'll have to talk about how we go forward." There it was. "Yeah. I know. I haven't really wanted to sit down and figure that out yet, but I guess I'm going to have to. I do have vacation time saved up." "Yeah, yeah. We'll work that out." The tone of her voice altered as she changed the subject. "What's your mother say about this, by the way?" "Don't think I don't know you're laughing your ass off right now." He coughed to disguise his own reluctant chuckle. "I'm sure you'll be surprised to hear that my mama loves him and she hasn't even met him. I'm surprised she hasn't bought all his trading cards and joined his online fan club. God!" At that, CeCe burst out laughing. He had to move the phone away from his ear as her shouts of hilarity blasted his eardrum. "Should I take her out to dinner and quiz her?" "No!" Absolutely not. God, what a clusterfuck that would be. Acting offended, CeCe made a rude noise. "Well, if that's how you feel about it." "It is." Just then, he heard the Navigator pull up outside. "Hey, I gotta go." "Uh, wait a sec, Vargas. We're not done." "Yes, we are. Brandon just got back." "Ohh. The lord and master is home, huh?" "Bite me." He disconnected on her laughter.
Brandon came in the kitchen door, shaking off the dampness from the morning rain. "Hey, sugar." Angel was glad to see Brandon was back to normal. "Hey, Slugger." Brandon halted, staring at him. "What? What is it?" Coming toward Angel slowly, tossing his jacket on a dining room chair, Brandon stopped inches from him. He looked up into the turquoise eyes, curious. "Sandy called me that." Brandon's voice was husky. "Said it was because I was one of the few pitchers that could actually hit the ball." "Oh. Is it okay if I call you that?" Nodding, Brandon gathered Angel close, hands sliding down. "Oh yeah, baby. Oh yeah." Head lowering, he thrust his tongue in Angel's mouth. Angel felt a thrill as his lips were spread by that muscle stabbing deep. Coming up for air, Brandon rasped, "God, I don't know why we waited three years, Angel. We could have been doing this all along." He brought his head down again. "Kiss me! Kiss me!" Marisa danced around their feet. The puppies were tumbling along after her, tripping over their own toes. Laughing and sighing at the same time, Brandon pulled away. He swung Marisa up into his arms and bussed her cheek noisily, making her laugh. Looking back at Angel, he said, "I came in to tell you the movers are here with the kids' stuff." Nodding, still breathing a little deeply, Angel smiled back. "Oh. Okay." He turned to the little girl. "Mi'ja, let's get Dolly and Gabby back in their box, okay? We don't want them to get stepped on." Nodding importantly, Marisa pushed her way free
from an accommodating Brandon. She picked up one puppy and marched it over to the box near the fireplace. "Dolly and Gabby? That was quick work on the names." Brandon's eyebrow quirked up. Smirking back at him, Angel picked up the other puppy. He spoke over his shoulder as he walked. "I decided to take your advice." Depositing the little pup in the box, he turned back and faced his lover. At the questioning look on the beautiful, rugged face, he grinned. "I named them after my favorite designers. Dolce and Gabbana."
Chapter 24 They stored everything from the Collins home in the empty barn, planning to sort it out the following weekend. Angel had to admit that, as un-modern as the Fenner home was, it did have charm now that it was furnished. By the time they added things the kids wanted to have around them, it might just all come together. While Brandon was scheduled to meet with Lorna Reznick and her son, Angel conveniently took Marisa and went shopping. He was glad to have the excuse to vacate the house. He was still embarrassed at how overthe-top he'd been about Lorna's visit. In addition to that, he decided that he needed to get a Wii for the kids. Now that the televisions had been set up and the satellite installed, they had just about everything else a twenty-first century kid could need. So he strapped Marisa in to the Mercedes and off they went. "Oh! I forgot!" Angel looked down at Marisa as they walked through the Costco in Medford. "Didn't we talk about getting iPods for you kids?" Marisa stared up at him, her mouth open in a big, round O. "Really? Really-really?" Her tone was so hopeful and so excited, she was practically vibrating where she stood. "Yes, really." He didn't care if others would think he was spoiling the children. After having lost both parents so tragically, it was his opinion that the kids could use some spoiling. "Let's go pick out a Nano for each of you." He held on tightly to the little girl as she skipped toward the display, afraid she might just dance away in her excitement. The two of them giggled over the different colors available and how they could be paired with the best outfits. They picked blue for Trey and
purple for Miss Marisa. Then they grabbed the Wii and got several game packages, as well as Guitar Hero and other accessories. At the self-checkout lane, he ran their items through the scanner, then pulled out his credit card. He stopped still, hit by a very basic realization. You're playing house, after all, pendejo. Now what? Just what exactly did he think he was doing? He was far from home. He had a real job back in Los Angeles. He had friends there. Well, mostly acquaintances, but he did have a few good friends. His mother was there. CeCe was there. But Brandon was here. "Angel? Can we set up the Wii when we get home?" Struck by the obvious with that simple request, Angel stared at the little girl. As he did so, Marisa smiled sweetly up at him from her seat in the shopping cart. Watching her, he smiled helplessly. He couldn't not. He was home. This was where he needed to be. Where he wanted to be. Where he was meant to be. *** As he headed back toward Cave Junction, he glanced at the Tiffany analog clock in the Mercedes. God, I love this car! He might just be able to make it in time to pick up Trey at school, if he stepped on it. He dialed his phone through the car sync, listening as it rang over the speakers. Brandon's voice came on after the second ring. Angel's belly tightened a little when he heard the deep voice. "Hi, sugar."
"Hey." He had to clear his throat for some reason. "Um, we're heading back now." He heard a snort. "Yeah, it's safe to come home now. She's gone." "What? What do you mean?" He could do innocent with the best of them. Another snort. "Uh-huh. Just get your ass home." Grunting, Angel huffed out a breath. "Whatever." He ignored the laughter from the speaker as he looked in the mirror and changed lanes quickly. They were heading out of Medford on I-5. "I was thinking I might be able to pick up Trey, but now I'm thinking we won't get there in time." He watched as an SUV driver ducked into the lane ahead of him, trying to get around a tractor-trailer in the right lane. "What do you want to do for dinner? And will you pick up Trey?" He cursed suddenly as the trucker in front of him suddenly veered into the passing lane, sending the tractor-trailer sliding dangerously near the SUV that had cut in front of it and giving Angel almost no room to maneuver. He slammed on his brakes, holding tightly to the wheel, feeling the Mercedes fighting for traction on the concrete. He could dimly hear Brandon's voice shouting over the speakers, but his heart was pounding and Marisa was screaming in the back seat. The car finally shuddered to a halt on the left shoulder. He watched blankly as the trucker and the SUV continued on up the interstate, clearly having no idea or caring about the accident they'd almost caused. "Angel!" Brandon's urgent voice came over the speaker again. He breathed deeply, then shoved the gearshift into park. "I'm okay. We're okay." He unbuckled his shoulder belt and turned in his seat. "We're okay, aren't
we, mi'ja?" He reached back to the little girl, who was crying. "C'mon, pequea, unbuckle your belt and come up here, okay?" He could see that Marisa was too scared to comprehend. "Brandon, hang on a sec. I'm going to unbuckle our baby girl." He shoved open his door and quickly got into the back seat. Unbuckling Marisa, he hauled her into his lap. The little girl was crying big, fat tears, her chest heaving with her cries. Cuddling her, he crooned softly in her ear, his own fear slow to recede. "It's all right, pequea. It's all right." Between sobs, she told him, "My mommy and daddy went away in a car crash. Pastor Jim told us." Heartbroken at the sadness and fear in her voice, Angel whimpered a little himself. "Marisa? Angel?" It took a couple tries before he processed that Brandon was talking to them. "Angel? Marisa? Come on home now. Come home and we'll sit by the fire and we'll roast marshmallows, 'kay?" Voice a little husky, Brandon coaxed them. "C'mon, get buckled up and come home now." Home. Yes, he wanted to go home. "Marisa," Angel whispered as he held the little girl to his chest, "let's go home, okay? Brandon and Trey will be waiting for us. We'll go slowly, 'kay?" It took a moment or two, but she nodded her head, her curly hair rubbing against his jacket. She pushed up a little bit, then sat back on his lap, staring up at him. Wishing he had Kleenex in the car, he used his thumbs to push away the tears still tracking down. "Good girl. Good girl." Giving her a kiss, he lifted her back into her booster seat and carefully strapped her in. With one last kiss, he moved to the driver's seat. God. He buckled himself in again and locked the
doors. *** Brandon's voice kept them company the entire way home, since the stubborn blond refused to hang up. While his lover went to pick up Trey, Angel drove up I5 and got on US 199, heading south to Cave Junction. When he pulled into the yard area forty minutes later, Brandon ran out to meet them, Trey wandering behind. Angel's big, tough lover yanked open his door and pulled him out of the Mercedes, then hauled him into strong arms. "God, baby, don't ever scare me like that again!" He was crushed against the muscular body, his face smashed against Brandon's T-shirt. He could smell Brandon's familiar scent and that, like nothing else, reassured him he was safe and home. "I'm okay, amado. I'm okay." Angel squeezed him back. "Let's get our girl out of the back." He turned to hug Trey as Brandon opened the rear door. He squeezed the little boy, needing the connection for a second. "Hey!" With a nine-year-old's lack of sensitivity, Trey pushed back. "You're squishing me!" With a slightly shaky laugh, Angel released him. "Sorry, nio. It's just good to see you." Brandon, meanwhile, had Marisa in his arms and was spinning her around, making her laugh. It was really good to hear her laughter again. Slinging one arm around Angel, Brandon kept Marisa on his hip as he headed toward the house. "C'mon, gang. Let's get inside." Angel tugged Trey along by the hand. "You too, young man." He gently ruffled the boy's hair, smiling indulgently as Trey rolled his eyes.
Chapter 25 Over the next weekend, they worked with the kids to settle in some more. They discovered some of the items the two had most missed. Trey unboxed his baseball memorabilia, hauling it out with a cry of triumph. Angel spotted a poster of Brandon among the boy's belongings. Catching Brandon following Trey's movements as the boy quickly rolled it up and shoved it back in the box, Angel smiled to himself. Marisa found a china teapot that she determined she had to have in her room. Angel talked with her for ten minutes before she agreed to let it be used in the kitchen to make actual tea. "Here, pequea. How about if we keep your mama's jewelry box in your room? When you're older, say about fourteen or so, you can start wearing her stuff." Angel tried to maintain a neutral expression. Marisa had a thoughtful look on her little face. "Um, I guess that's okay." Blowing out a quiet breath, Angel ceremonially carried Sarah's jewelry box to the little girl's room, making a production of setting it on her dresser. They also made a call to Pastor Jim and Sheila Maddox, letting them know the kids were fine and were settling in. The kids declined to speak to the Maddoxes, which Jim took in stride. "I think it means they don't need to talk to me right now, not that they don't want to talk to me." Musing that hopefully the pastor was correct, Angel listened as Brandon chatted with Jim and Sheila for a few more minutes before signing off. They moved the kids into separate rooms, much to Trey's pleasure. They set up the master bedroom with furniture from Brandon's condo and moved the
downstairs bedroom set to the third upstairs bedroom, to use as a guest room. Brandon looked at Angel and smiled, deliberately. "Your mama can use this room, sugar." Ignoring him, even though the very idea gave him a thrill, Angel finished smoothing the duvet they'd found in the Collins' belongings. At one point, he walked over to Brandon and whispered, "Isn't this kind of sad, amado?" He actually thought it was a little ghoulish, picking through the belongings of dead people. Brandon shrugged philosophically. "Oh, I don't know, Angel. These kids need parts of their past, I think. They'll need to hold onto that for probably a while, until they get their sea legs under them." "That actually makes some sense," Angel admitted, shrugging. "Who knew you'd be so smart?" he teased softly. "Baby," Brandon murmured in his ear, "before I was Machiavelli, and now I'm Einstein?" He chuckled. "You're good for my ego." Snorting, Angel tossed his head and went back to digging through the boxes. *** Sunday afternoon, the kids were playing Frisbee on the Wii, and Angel was on his MacBook, the puppies asleep at his feet. He hadn't had a puppy in about fifteen years, so he'd been boning up on puppy parenting, and had been surprised to find some human crossovers, like establishing routine, and giving praise. Huh. Then, Brandon announced that Cliff and Lizzie Danielson would be coming over for dinner. Exasperated, and ignoring the way Brandon rolled his
eyes, Angel followed him into the kitchen. "Get it all out, sugar. What's your problem?" "You know he rubs me the wrong way." Raising his hands, Angel shook his head. "How about that? Oh, let's not forget that it's Cliff Goddamn Danielson you're talking about." Despite the gift of the puppies, Angel still hadn't forgiven Cliff for catching him at his worst. Intellectually, he knew it was his own embarrassment that made him feel that way. Still. "Angel, I think you're overreacting, don't you? Cliff didn't mean any harm that first night we met him." "Are you serious? He called me a scrappy little fucker." One little part of him was secretly proud of that epithet, though. But he had to keep up appearances. He paced to the back door, muttering in Spanish. "Sugar, look, I thought you might appreciate the opportunity to get gussied up a little bit and entertain." Brandon spoke out of the side of his mouth. "It's like unwrapping a present when I get to take your dressy clothes off." He now looked as though he were trying to hold back laughter. "And Cliff said he's bringing a case of his best wine to tempt you." "As if I could be tempted by that." He wasn't that easy. "I can't believe you said that." He walked the length of the counter, then pivoted. "What kind of wine?" *** Cliff and Lizzie brought two types -- a pinot blanc and a pinot noir. They were seated after dinner at the dining room table, which was a glass and steel monstrosity from Brandon's condo. The chairs they lounged in, while very
comfortable, were extremely modern black leather and chrome. Angel had been surprised that Brandon had chosen them, given his love for the historic beast they were living in. When he mentioned that, the day they'd moved the furniture in, he'd been informed with a sheepish look that Brandon had paid a designer to outfit his condo. "That's what some of the other guys on the team did." Despite his grumbling, Angel put together the Sunday dinner he'd already planned. The two men had made a deal the day they'd argued about cooking. If Angel prepared, then Brandon did all the cleanup. Surprisingly, it had actually been working fairly well thus far, and seemed to be an equal split on the labor. Angel was making it a practice to follow in his mother's footsteps now that he had three other people to feed. For dinner that night, he made carne asada with rice, homemade guacamole and -- even though it wasn't truly a Mexican dish -- empanadas tres quesos as a starter. He'd had difficulty finding a Mexican grocery in the area, but, thanks to the Internet, he'd located one near Grants Pass. He'd certainly cooked his share of meals since he'd been on his own, but it had still felt a little strange to do this. Maybe it was the family setting in which he now found himself. Walking through the supermercado, he'd wished his mama was with him to share in his enjoyment as he discovered all kinds of things to buy. Brandon commented during the meal. "You know, I have to say that this pinot is great, and," he looked over at Angel, "it very nicely complements the steak, Angel." He raised his glass to the cook. Blushing slightly, Angel smiled at him and took a sip of the really good pinot noir. "It is good wine." It was actually superb.
Cliff and Lizzie smiled and nodded, murmuring their thanks. They'd clearly enjoyed the Mexican dinner and the company of the two men and the children. Now, after dinner, the adults were relaxing with coffee. The children were playing with the puppies in the kitchen. The glass door between the dining room and the kitchen was closed to keep the pups in, but they could occasionally glance over and check on the kids. "The Ridgecrest varietals are on the cusp of becoming known," Lizzie confided to Angel and Brandon. Following up on Lizzie's comment, Cliff chimed in. "Yep. We just can't seem to break through. We've been growing here since nineteen eighty-eight. That's when we planted our first twenty acres." He looked down at the glass tabletop for a moment. "Our winemaker thinks we need somebody really strong to market for us." Wide-eyed, Angel wondered why Cliff was now staring directly at him. He'd been very pleasantly surprised to find how much he'd been enjoying the evening. Lizzie was absolutely delightful, and Cliff was actually a very nice guy. And the talk of the winemaking business was intriguing. "Hmmm," Brandon murmured. He looked at Cliff. "Somebody really strong, huh?" "Yes," Cliff answered. He and Lizzie shared a smile. "We want someone who will be dedicated to us. Not a consultant who has ten other wineries as clients." Lizzie sighed a little, leaning back in her chair. "We're thinking that we'll need to create a position at the winery. That's probably going to be the best way to do it." Brandon nodded his head as he thought. "I wonder how you're going to find the right person?" He turned to look directly at Angel, a faint smile on his rugged face.
Lizzie sat back, her eyes thoughtful. Feeling cornered, Angel sat back in his chair. "What?" Shrugging, Brandon assumed an innocent expression. "Nothing, sugar. Just thinking it might be an opportunity for a certain Latin firecracker, that's all. Maybe somebody who's helped negotiate with the big boys, promoting CeCe's clients, someone who's street-smart and business smart? God knows you showed me your all-business side often enough." Cliff coughed at that, and even Lizzie chuckled. "And," Brandon stressed, "someone who just happens to have an unused MBA, who said he wanted more than babysitting clients?" Scared, Angel answered quickly. "I have a job!" "That's true. It just happens to be eight hundred miles away." That was the plain, unvarnished truth. Angel's life, up until a couple of weeks ago, had been centered in Los Angeles. It had been completely turned around and updumped at the same time. He had the most exciting man in the world as his lover. He had two children looking to him for -- he couldn't believe this -- parenting. That was, maybe, the biggest shocker. And now? It was obvious he couldn't keep going along, playing house, and not acknowledging that three other people were coming to depend upon him. And he couldn't not acknowledge that he was coming to need them just as much. He already knew he was in over his head with Brandon. And the kids had sunk their claws into his heart, that was for sure. Lizzie Danielson stepped in, thank God. "Cliff. Leave the boy alone. If he's interested, he'll call you. Right, Angel?" She looked at him with brows raised. She was an elegant-looking woman, with beautiful, long, silver
hair, and she was dressed smartly in a long skirt and short tweed jacket. Completely the opposite of Cliff, who once again wore denim, this time jeans, not overalls, with a plaid shirt that sported pearl buttons. Hmmph. Did that mean something -- that two clear opposites appeared to be very happy together? Was he just looking for signs to tell him what he should do? Before Angel could answer Lizzie, Brandon spoke again. "Sure, Lizzie." He pushed back from the table. "How about some cheesecake? We found a great little bakery in town yesterday." With that, the subject was dropped. Angel sighed to himself. For now. "By the way, Angel. Did I tell you what Oregonians call people who move up here from California?" He shook his head, almost afraid to hear this. With a slight grin -- and a nod to his frowning wife -Cliff looked at Angel expectantly. "We call 'em Californicators."
Chapter 26 Another week went by. The kids settled in even more and began to develop their own routines. Trey began using the bus for school, at his own request, which they saw as a good sign. Each day, Angel took Marisa to kindergarten class and Brandon picked her up. Angel continued to work remotely, even though he arranged to use his fifteen days of accrued vacation, beginning with the current week. He had three long calls with CeCe to go over deals in progress and follow up on the contracts he'd been assigned. He did the research where he'd gotten a little behind; he also managed to put CeCe off again when she asked what he was going to do. The puppies now had free rein in the kitchen. The glass swing door came in handy for keeping them from getting into trouble -- and enabled him to keep an eye on them from the living room. Brandon began the process of creating his office. He was doing most of the work himself, including the electrical. Angel was so impressed by that he almost didn't know what to say. God, his man was something else. His stubborn blond did intend, however, to use a plumber for the underground work and an electrician to bring additional power to the shed building. Brandon had already begun the demo work as he worked on finalizing his drawings and applying for a permit. "What are you going to do in this office?" Angel was honestly puzzled. He broached the question on Friday morning. "What kind of work do you want to do now? How are you going to make a living?" Brandon looked over to where Angel stood in the
main doorway of the shed. "Well, I'm hoping to get some type of long-distance internship with the Reznicks. It's a requirement for licensing. And they seem to be open to having a conversation about it. If that doesn't work out, I'm thinking I might go back to school for my master's in architecture." Brandon appeared at ease with his decision. "Wow." Angel was most definitely impressed. He shivered suddenly. The overnight chill had not yet burned off, and it was about forty-five degrees. Angel had grumbled when he'd had to don his new winter ski jacket to drive Marisa to kindergarten. He frowned at the sound of Brandon's chuckle. "What?" "We gotta get you used to this weather. Your hot Latin ass is going to freeze if you don't toughen up." Sniffing in disdain, Angel eyed him. "You like my hot Latin ass just the way it is." Grinning, Brandon stood up. He'd been on his knees checking an electrical receptacle in the wall he'd exposed. "That's ever so true, sugar. Ever so true." Frowning, he cocked his head to one side. Alarmed, Angel looked around then down at himself. "What? What's wrong?" The puppies gamboled at his feet, tumbling over each other in their play, and he checked them as well. "Sugar, you look..." "What? What?" Angel's voice was strained. His appearance was very important to him, and he always looked his best. "You look a little bit country. Are you actually wearing... jeans?" Now Angel could hear the amusement in his lover's deep voice. The tension in his shoulders released. "Ha, ha. I have to up here. I'm constantly cleaning up after Dolly and Gabby -- not to mention Marisa and Trey."
"Angel. I know you like a clean house. I do, too. But you can relax." Brandon's voice was now soothing. "And the kids need to clean up after themselves. They're not going to be waited on in this house." Sighing, Angel nodded. "I know, amado. I know. But they've... lost so much. It just seems like I shouldn't... hassle them about silly things." "You know," Brandon said slowly, "I talked to Sheila about this." "When did you talk to her?" The pastor's wife had been very sympathetic and supportive thus far. "While you were driving Marisa the other day." Brandon's face showed concern. "I wanted to make sure we were heading down the right road. I don't know anything about raising kids. At least you have experience with your big family." He did have quite a variety of cousins and children of cousins. Angel had spent many an hour playing, fighting, and growing up with them, and, when he got old enough, he became one of the go-to babysitters. With the help of his mother, he'd successfully avoided the gangs, and he'd managed to shelter some of his cousins along the way. The experiences he'd had were now serving him well, but he still felt like he had to cut the Collins kids more slack because of the death of their parents. "Yeah, I do have experience with my thousand cousins," he admitted, "but I'm having a problem making these two kids toe the line." Brandon slung an arm around Angel's shoulders, sliding his hand up and down Angel's biceps. "Sheila says that kids need structure and they need discipline. She says that tells them that we care enough to set rules and expectations." Musing about that, Angel shrugged. "I guess that
makes sense. I'll... try." Brandon stopped walking, bringing Angel around to face him. They paused in the warm sunlight halfway to the house. The puppies had followed them and were whimpering for attention. With a little shush directed at them, Brandon looked deeply into Angel's eyes. "Your lashes still make me crazy." Angel couldn't control the quiver that ran through him at that. Quirking a smile, Brandon spoke softly. "Angel, don't you think it's time we talked about us? About how we're going to make this work?" Put on the spot, Angel tensed. He'd successfully avoided a real discussion for two weeks. And he would have been happy to continue to avoid it for at least a little longer. He wasn't sure he was ready for Brandon's questions. He felt Brandon's hand come up to cup the back of his head. The long fingers slid through his hair, tugging gently, tipping his face up. He had no choice but to stare back at the determined turquoise gaze. Angel opened his mouth but nothing came out. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "Um. I guess... I. Well, you know, we..." Just what in the hell was he going to say? "Jesus. You this bad on the job? What's CeCe been keeping you on the payroll for?" "Bite me, asshole!" Angel whirled and nearly tripped over Dolly and Gabby as he tried to get away. Brandon caught him with a hand on his jacket, jerking him back. He successfully got away again, taking several steps toward the house. He was brought to an abrupt stop as his body was shoved toward his car, the momentum throwing him against the rear passenger
door with a thud. "Christ!" Angel couldn't believe the way Brandon was manhandling him. Even while he was pissed about it, his dick started to get hard. That pissed him off even more. "Easy, sugar." Brandon pressed behind him, grinding him into the metal of the car. "You're not going anywhere until we get this settled. You like to avoid things you don't want to talk about." He heard a big sigh, Brandon's chest moving against his back. "Not today. Not anymore." The determination in Brandon's voice made him shiver. God, this man made him hot -- made him crazy with love -- and made him tense in fear. He blurted it out. "What if it doesn't work?" His eyes were fixed on the metal doorframe as he spoke. A big hand came up to stroke Angel's hair, and he caught the movement in the door glass. He watched as Brandon's face moved into view, the shadowed reflection indistinct. "Do you want a guarantee, Angel?" The question was asked quietly, no derision in the voice. He shook his head rapidly, still facing the window. "No! I know it doesn't work that way. I just..." He leaned his head against the glass and watched peripherally as his breath fogged the glass. "I have this... thing for you and it kinda... scares me." He heaved a sigh. Brandon moved slightly, his weight keeping Angel tight to the unforgiving metal of the car frame. His arms came up on either side, hands flat against the roof. "It scares me, too. This thing between us comes at an inconvenient time, to say the least." At that, Angel's back started to get up, and he tensed his muscles, ready to shove back, planning to dislodge the insensitive clod behind him.
"Ah-ah-ah," Brandon cautioned, a slight note of humor in his voice. "You don't always have to get so pissy so fast." He leaned down to nuzzle Angel's hair, his lips drifting down to nibble on one earlobe. "I didn't mean it the way you think." He took another quick bite, then raised his head. "It would be better if we had time to concentrate only on us -- but we don't. We have Trey and Marisa to worry about, too. But, in a way, the kids are the reason we're together, since I don't know if you would have given me the time of day without their interference in my life." "I would have... if you'd asked." It was barely a whisper. Angel turned his head slightly to the side, almost looking at his lover. "You weren't interested." A humorless snort came from behind. "Oh yes I was, baby -- but I was too busy being The Great Dane, remember?" Angel heard the derision in Brandon's voice. "I couldn't play around outside the small circle of guys I knew who were -- what did you call me? -- cock jockeys." Angel dropped his head against the glass, smiling despite himself. "I do have a big mouth sometimes, don't I?" "Sugar, it's one of the things I love best about you." Angel stood frozen for several seconds before he worked himself around. The big blond was watching him with a half smile, a bit of worry in the turquoise eyes. "Do you mean it?" Angel's voice was quiet, reverent. "You love me?" Brandon nodded without speaking. "Oh, my God." Angel's whisper was filled with awe. His hand came up to trace the strong jaw, his fingers loving the suede-like feel of Brandon's shaved skin. "Oh, my God."
Chuckling, relaxing a little bit, Brandon arched a brow. "Is that all you can say, Angel? Isn't there anything else you could say right now?" Screwing up his face in thought, Angel cocked his head to the side. He brought his other hand up to run over the strong nose and broad cheekbones of his stubborn lover. "Are you going to want me to ask Cliff Danielson for a job?" He frowned. Brandon shouted with laughter, his tension visually disappearing with that inquiry. "What if I say yes? Would it be so bad?" Angel's lower lip pushed out. "The man wears overalls!"
Chapter 27 When Trey got off the bus that afternoon, he came wandering up the lane dragging his book bag, wondering at the noises he heard. He headed for the area between the barn and the river, where he soon spotted his sister and the puppies at play. Marisa was sitting in a pile of oak leaves, tossing the crisp remnants at Dolly and Gabby, who were digging their noses into the pile around her. She suddenly screamed as Angel popped out of the big pile next to her, yelling 'boo.' Then Angel screamed along with her when Brandon came around a tree and scared them both. Trey laughed to himself for a moment, then sobered. Standing there, watching his new family together, he felt a twinge of sadness and guilt as he remembered his mom and dad and the last time they'd all played together. Brandon spotted him standing there. His guardian raised a hand, motioning him over. "C'mon, Trey! I need some help over here!" Trey hesitated a moment. Watching him, Brandon tilted his head to the side. Shrugging his thin shoulders, Trey let the memory go. His nine-year-old mind wasn't ready to choose between the two. Dropping his book bag in the dirt, he ran over and jumped on Angel. "Pile on!" Shouting in surprise, Angel wiggled out from under him and, startling Trey with his agile strength, picked him up and tossed him to the side, directly into a deeper pile of leaves. Trey giggled madly, loving the feel and smell of the leaves around him.
***
"Hey, young man, you are definitely going to help me get that pile back together." Brandon had a smile on his face. "We just spent an hour getting this section done." Trey sat up with a grin, looking around. "Huh? Don't look like you did much to me." Marisa piped up, pulling scattered leaves out of her curly hair. "Me, and Angel, and Brandon raked under this tree already, Trey." Importantly, she pointed to the big oak above her head. Angel, too, raised his head, sighing at all the leaves that were still on the big tree. "How many times do we have to do this, amado?" His heart thumping at the endearment, Brandon dropped to his knees and kissed Angel, long and hard. "Cario mio, if this is anything like where I grew up, we'll probably be back here a couple more times this fall." While Angel moaned, Trey groaned. "You guys are kissing again!" He grabbed a handful of leaves and tossed it at the two men. Marisa joined in the fun, and any semblance of organized piles disappeared. "You know," Brandon whispered to Angel, "I bought a leaf blower, but that would take all the fun out of this, wouldn't it?" His prima donna glared at him. "You have a leaf blower? And I was out here raking for an hour and a half?" Biting his lip, Brandon tried to look innocent. "I thought you'd like it, sugar." Scrunching his lips, Angel stared hard at Brandon for a few seconds. His gaze slid to Trey, who was watching them closely. Angel jerked his head at Brandon, then
suddenly lunged forward. "Get him, Trey!" he yelled. Brandon laughed as Angel's lean strength pressed down. He grinned, watching Angel's delight as Trey dumped handfuls of leaves on both of them. "Yippee-ki-yay, Brandon!" Angel's catcall was joined by the two kids, who were screaming with laughter and throwing leaves all over the place. The puppies, who'd been ignored long enough, jumped into the game by leaping on Brandon's head. Sputtering with laughter, he gently caught the two babies and lifted them off. Catching sight of his watch, Brandon sat up. "Hey, gang, I found this place I want to take y'all to for dinner. Let's get cleaned up. I want to take off in half an hour." Angel sat up, too, brushing leaves out of his hair. "But it's barely quarter to four, Brandon." Levering himself up, Brandon reached a hand down to his beautiful lover. "I know, sugar, but the place is in Medford, and I don't want to get there too late." He yanked Angel to his feet, then slid a hand down over that delectable ass. Angel flashed a look at him. "The kids are right here!" "I know, but you had a leaf there." "Uh-huh." Angel nodded, obviously not believing him for a second. His prima donna sniffed, making him grin. Looking down at the children, Angel instructed them, "Let's go get cleaned up and put the babies in the kitchen, okay, kids?" Head canted to the side, he smirked a little. "See you later, Slugger." Angel took Marisa by the hand, and with a motion to Trey, began sauntering away, adding a sexy little sway to his walk. Brandon adjusted himself, grinning again. Angel was
getting too good at handling him. *** An hour and a half later, Brandon directed the Navigator down I-5 and got off at the Central Point exit. "Where is this place? Is it by the airport?" Angel had noticed the signs for Rogue Valley International. "How did you find it?" Eyes on the road, Brandon shrugged slightly. "Cliff told me about it." Angel snorted almost in reflex. He was like Pavlov's dog when it came to Cliff Danielson, he admitted to himself. Actually, he was now finding it fun to play up a reaction to Cliff's name. Brandon sent a quick look across to Angel. "But I'm actually picking up something for Cliff at the airport. It'll just take a sec, okay, cario?" Trying to control the shiver he felt every time he heard the Spanish word, Angel smiled softly, forgetting all about Cliff. His eyes drifted over his big lover. "Mmm-hmmm," he agreed dreamily. He didn't even mind the grin that flashed across Brandon's face. Brandon slowed the truck for the turn onto Airport Road. A few minutes later, he pulled up at the arrivals terminal. He neatly tucked the big truck into a spot at the curb, then threw the gearshift in park. "Just a second, baby, okay?" He turned in his seat. "Be right back, kids!" Jumping out of the truck, Brandon ran inside. Shrugging, Angel turned around to talk to the kids. "You two hungry? It's still a little early, I think. I guess by the time we find the restaurant and order, it'll be okay." He was clearly talking to himself because both kids had their new iPods on and earbuds in. Frowning, he waved his hand to get their attention. "Hey, nios,
how about turning down the volume?" Hmmm. Maybe it was a mistake after all to get the iPods for the two little music fans. He stared at them with a jaundiced eye. He was startled when his door was yanked open. Whipping around to curse at Brandon, he stopped in shock. "Mama!" His beautiful mother stood next to his grinning lover. Trying to leap out of his seat, he got caught in the seat belt he forgot was around his shoulder and almost hung himself trying to get free. Cursing in Spanish, he yanked at the belt while stabbing the release button. "Mi'jo, not in front of the children," his mother said with a laugh. She stood on the sidewalk, dressed in hip LA style. She wore a short black cashmere jacket and cream silk crewneck over black leather pants. Brandon just snorted behind his hand. Finally free, Angel lunged out of the truck. Embracing his mother, he looked down at her. "Mama! What are you doing here? How did you get here?" He shook his head at his own obvious question. Chuckling, she smoothed down his hair. "Oh, I've missed you, mi'jo. Your man, here," she eyed Brandon with a smile, "made all the arrangements." A hand sliding down his back, Brandon moved close. "C'mon, Angel, let's get your mama in the truck and we'll go to dinner. We can talk on the way." He pulled the front door open more. "Maria, would you like to sit up here?" Oh, his drawl was a little thick, Angel thought with a frown. What in the hell was he up to? "No, no, Brandon. I want to meet the children. May I sit in the back?" Jolting forward, having forgotten the kids in his
shock, Angel yanked open the rear door. "Here, Mama, come and meet the kids." He waved a hand inside. "Trey, will you please move over to the middle so my mama can sit back there with you?" Staring at the adults like they were animals in a zoo, Trey complied, sliding next to his sister. Helping his mother up, Angel leaned in across her. "Mama, this is Trey and that's Marisa." He shoved the door shut, then hopped in the front. Looking back at the children, he continued. "Kids, this is my mother, Senora Maria Vargas." While Brandon got back in and headed the truck out of the airport, Maria buckled up. Exclaiming over the kids, she ran a hand down Trey's cheek, then reached out to touch Marisa's curly hair. "Oh, my, mi'jo, they're beautiful." She addressed the children directly. "If it's easier, you can call me Abuela." The children were watching her curiously. Trey, frowning, asked a question. "What's that mean?" "It means grandmother in Spanish." Angel, curved around in his seat and looking backward, couldn't help but swallow hard. He and his mother shared a smile. Trey spoke up. "You don't look old."
Chapter 28 Angel's shocked "Trey!" was drowned out by the laughter of the other two adults. Angel spotted Brandon and Maria sharing a grin through the rear view mirror. He frowned at them before he got busy glaring at the unrepentant nine-year-old. "What?" The boy shrugged. "She doesn't." "That's true, she doesn't." Brandon shook his head. "Nobody would know you're old enough to be Angel's mom. With what you're wearing and your hair," he gestured awkwardly, "you look way too young to be this firecracker's mama." His brows lowered, Angel admonished both Trey and Brandon. "She is Abuela or Senora. And, of course, she doesn't look old. She's beautiful." He twisted in his seat to look back at his mama. Laughing again, Maria shook her head. "Don't worry, Angel. I take it as a compliment." She looked back at Trey. "And thank you, young man. That's very kind of you to say." She held out her hand. "I'm very happy to meet you, Trey." She shook the slowly offered hand, then reached over to Marisa. "Hola, mi'ja." Marisa touched Maria's hand with her fingers. "Angel calls me that, too." She cocked her head. "I'm going to be six soon." "Ohh." Maria sounded duly impressed. "Congratulations. Are you having a party?" The little girl nodded importantly. "Uh-huh. Angel promised." Raising her brows, Maria looked toward Brandon. Their eyes met again as she spoke. "Well, mi'ja, when my son makes a promise, he keeps it." "That's what I'm counting on, Maria... that's what I'm
counting on." Brandon's deep voice rolled over Angel's nerves, and he felt his belly flutter. God! He squirmed in his seat. "Hey, we're getting too serious." His laugh was a little forced. "Um, where's the restaurant?" He ignored the knowing look that Brandon sent over. "I thought we'd try the River's Edge. There's supposed to be a great view through the windows. It's way too chilly to sit outside, especially for our spoiled babies from Southern California." Slightly huffy, Angel looked askance at his troublemaking lover. "You should be happy to keep this body warm, I told you before." Maria laughed in the back seat, and Angel gasped, having shot off his mouth before he thought about the fact that his mother was now in the car. "Maybe I'm going to have to reconsider that spanking," Brandon whispered. Apparently he'd recovered his equanimity about their bedroom antics. Angel's face burned. Hissing at Brandon, Angel slapped his arm. His mother had heard that! "Shut up!" "Angel!" the kids chorused. Honestly. *** The restaurant did indeed sport large windows facing the Rogue River. The view was incredible, and Maria and the kids exclaimed over it as they walked to the round table. Angel was busy rubbing the ass that his lover had just pinched. They enjoyed a great dinner, the adults talking companionably about the beauty of southern Oregon and what they'd gotten done thus far in the house. The kids
chimed in with reports on school, the puppies, and the leaf fight. At one point, Angel noticed his mother watching all of them, a smile on her face. She spoke gently to the children about their late parents, expressing her sorrow. "Can you tell me about your mother and father?" Trey looked a little unsure. Maria tilted her head to the side encouragingly. "What color was your mother's hair?" Trey was silent, but Marisa answered, her mouth full of French fries. "Her hair was kind of red and kind of brown." She tossed her head a little. "Like mine." "Well, now, that's great to know. What else can you tell me?" Slowly but surely, she drew the children out, and they began to speak about their parents and the life they'd lived until very recently. Angel watched his mother interact with the kids, unable to keep from smiling. His mother had always had a way with children. He'd certainly seen her with enough of his relatives over the last thirty years, he thought wryly. Brandon nudged him and he realized Maria had spoken to him. "What? Sorry, Mama." "Mi'jo, it's so good to see you happy." Kissing him on the cheek, she rubbed the smudge of lipstick away and turned back to the children. He marveled, as he'd done many, many times, how lucky he was to have her. When he'd confessed his homosexuality to her at age seventeen, she'd been shocked but had never wavered in her love for him. And in the Latino community, that was not exactly the norm, he reflected. Latin machismo was a stereotype for a reason. While some of his aunts and uncles had disowned him, his mother had never, for one moment,
left him in any doubt about how much she loved him. Some of his thoughts must have been visible on his face. Brandon, who was sitting next to him at the round table, leaned down to kiss him. "You're lucky to have her, sugar." Looking back across the table, Brandon spoke directly to Maria. "Maria, I have to compliment you. You've raised an amazing son... and even though he's a temperamental brat sometimes, he's a good man." Her brows raised, Maria stared at him for a second or two. "I see you've come to know him well. That's good, guapo, very good." Embarrassed and wanting to turn the attention away from himself, Angel interrupted. "So, tell me now how the two of you got together to arrange this." He turned his inquisitive gaze to his lover. Brandon shrugged. "Wednesday morning, I called CeCe while you were in the shower." Astonished at his absolutely shameless lover, he stared at the co-conspirators. "I needed to bring in the big guns, sugar. I wasn't sure you were going to admit how you felt. I guess I got lucky today when I was pushing you around." "Oh, yes," Angel remembered derisively, "when you threw me into my new car, you mean?" He looked at his mother. "Did he tell you that, Mama? He likes to shove me around?" Fighting a smile, Maria looked at both of them. "I believe Brandon mentioned that he had to get tough with you a time or two so you'd..." she cocked her head, "how did he put it?" Chuckling, she eyed Angel. "Oh, yes, so you'd stop being such a mule-headed fool and admit how you feel." Snorting, Angel made a face, grabbing Marisa's drink glass from the edge before she could knock it over.
"Well, Mama, he's lucky I love him, otherwise I'd crack him a good one." Brandon laughed triumphantly, grabbing him around the neck. "Maria, he actually admitted it out loud. We're making progress!" *** Brandon showed off the antique home to Maria while Angel sorted out the kids and puppies and got them all ready for bed. Whining a little, Marisa tugged on his pant leg. "Can't we stay up a little longer? Abuela said she wanted to play Wii with us." Chuckling, he looked down at the adorable little girl. "Abuela, huh? Okay," he nodded, "for a little while." Trey and Marisa yipped and jumped up and down. "Brush your teeth first!" Angel reminded them, then headed downstairs. There he found his mother and Brandon settled in front of the fire, each with a glass of wine. Brandon patted the leather beside him. "C'mon, baby, sit here and relax." Angel plopped down with a sigh. He toed off the Hugo Boss Centauros he'd found at the outlet mall the week before, then propped his feet on the glass coffee table. His lover leaned toward him and offered him a sip of red. "Mmm. Is that Cliff's pinot noir?" It really was damned good wine. "Uh-huh. Your mama likes it, too." Brandon arched a devilish brow. Angel made a playful face. Brandon did like to turn his crank about Cliff. They heard the tromping of the kids coming down the
stairs, then the detour to the kitchen to grab the pups. "Bring their box," Angel called to the children. "I don't want any accidents on the carpet -- even though it's fifty years old." He rolled his eyes at Brandon. Laughing, Maria nodded. "Angel has always been meticulous about a clean house." Snorting softly, his lover nodded. "You're telling me. He makes me crazy sometimes, bitching at me to pick up my stuff." Closing his eyes, Angel didn't even rise to the bait. "You like a clean house, Brandon. You've told me so." He felt Brandon's fingers caress his face and he smiled, his eyes still closed. "Abuela! Come and play Wii with us!" Marisa's highpitched voice came from behind them, where the sixtyinch flat screen hung on the wall. "Okay, nios," Maria told them. She slid out of her black suede ankle-boots as she stood. Brandon nudged Angel. "Why do I get the feeling that either your mother rubbed off on you or you rubbed off on her?" With a jerk of his head, he indicated the gorgeous boots Maria had pushed to the side. With a conspiratorial grin aimed at his mother, Angel affected innocence to Brandon. "What do you mean?" "I mean," his ballplayer said, drawing out the words, "that even though I'm a dumb jock, I've seen women's shoes before." "I'm sure you have." That was said with a bite. Ignoring the interruption, Brandon continued. "What did those set you back?" "Four ninety-five," Angel said without apology. "Plus tax." "Five hundred dollars? For shoes?" Brandon's voice almost squeaked. "How in the world can you possibly be shocked after
you picked up the phone and bought a car in half an hour?" Angel demanded. As Brandon continued to stare, he relented. "Look. Mi madre won't let me buy her a house, even though," he aimed a semi-glare at his parent, "I've been saving and trying for five years." He shrugged. "So, I buy her clothes, and shoes, and stuff. She lets me do that. She likes to wear them at the bank where she works." He sat up straight and moved to plop onto Brandon's lap. "Besides, Slugger, you spent sixtytwo thousand dollars on me without batting an eye." Grunting, Brandon grimaced. "Yeah? Well, I plan to take every dollar out of your hide." Chuckling, Maria walked around the table. "Boys, that's my cue to go play with the kids." Looking over the back of the sofa, Brandon grinned. "Okay, Maria, but remember, after breakfast tomorrow, we're going to check out the barn to see about turning it into an apartment for you." His head swiveled between his mother and Brandon. "What?" This was the first he'd heard about Maria thinking about coming to live in Oregon. "I remember, Brandon," his mother said as she walked over to the loveseat facing the television. "But you remember our agreement was I'd consider it only if I believed that Angel was truly happy." "And?" Brandon eyed her, his uncertainty plainly visible to Angel. Not having a clue what to say, Angel was content to be a bystander for the moment. Picking up the Wii remote, looking as though she knew how to use it, Maria turned to face the men. "Angel, are you happy?" She dropped a hand to pat Marisa's head, as the little girl tugged at her pant leg. Angel nodded. He heard Brandon release a shuddering sigh.
"Do you plan to stay here and make a life with this man?" Gently taking Marisa's hand, his mama shushed the little girl while she waited for Angel to answer. Taking a deep breath, he nodded again, relaxing. He felt Brandon's hand slide up and down his back in a tender caress. "Then I guess we'll be looking at that barn in the morning." With a comical face, she added, "Though I'm not quite sure about living in one." Angel hugged Brandon tightly as he heard his lover answer. "No worries, Mama." Brandon's voice was husky. "I'll take care of you."
Epilogue "Brandon Lee Halvorsen!" Angel's outraged voice carried through the window of the big shed building. "Get your ass out here right now!" With a long-suffering sigh and a snort of amusement, Brandon stepped off the elliptical machine and grabbed a towel. The workout room he'd built in the shed could rival the one he'd had access to while still playing in the majors. The machines were state of the art, of course, and the room was spacious, with a huge, flat-screen television on one wall and multiple cardio and strengthtraining machines spread around. The main wall had huge windows showcasing the view to the river, and he and Angel liked to watch the water move as they worked out. Even the kids liked the room, often coming in to keep the adults company, watching movies and playing on the climbing wall Brandon had set up. Now, rubbing the towel around his sweaty neck and chest, Brandon walked to the entry. He found his crazy, adorable lover pacing alongside the planting bed they'd added in front of the remodeled building. The late summer foliage was lush, and the flowers were a striking contrast to the multiple shades of green. Angel, however, didn't look like he was going to stop and smell the roses. So to speak. Brandon felt some pride in the knowledge that, in the ten months since they'd come to Oregon, they'd done an outstanding job on the creation of the garden spaces that now surrounded their home. He'd worked with a landscape architect from the University of Oregon that Lorna Reznick had referred him to, and he'd spent many hours learning and laboring over plants and gardening bed ideas. That time had been doubly well spent since it
had pointed him toward a future he could really enjoy. The large shed building had been totally remodeled into usable space. Brandon was the primary user since he was pursuing a future as an architect. The back of the fifteen hundred square foot building housed the office and a small kitchen and bath suite, and the front held the fitness room. Brandon had indeed gotten the internship with the Reznicks and was working as a project draftsman for the partnership. His initial project with them had been the remodeling of the old shed and the barn and the building of a new equipment shed farther from the house. His new bosses had agreed that he could apprentice with them while he attended the University of Oregon in its master's program in landscape architecture -- and he'd found that the weekly drive to Eugene for classes and work assignments actually wasn't too bad. Pushing open the wooden screen door, Brandon came outside. He shivered from the breeze, since his T-shirt and trackies were sweaty. Looking at his Latin firebrand, he scratched his chest. "What's up, sugar?" Sometimes playing dumb was fun with Angel. "I don't believe you." He walked up to Angel with a smile. "What's the matter, cario mio?" He received a disdainful sniff in response. "Did you tell Cliff's winemaker that he could date my mother?" Uh-oh. "Well, yeah, kind of." Brandon tried to look innocent. "You said you wanted your mom to find a nice guy. Danny's a nice guy." "Well, I didn't really mean it!" "Huh?" Angel gestured. "Duh. If she needs a man, I'll find her a man!"
Sometimes his high-maintenance lover just needed a little tightening on the reins. Smirking at him, Brandon crossed his arms over his chest. "Looks like she found her own man, mi fresa." Angel advanced on him, poking a finger in Brandon's chest. "I am not spoiled! And don't use Mexican slang on me!" "You sure about that, mamey?" The term for sexually attractive male was designed to soothe the savage beast. It seemed to work, too, as Angel paused and bit his lip. "You know, you and Antonio Diaz are spending way too much time on the phone together. He needs to get his own boyfriend." Coughing out a laugh, Brandon grinned widely. "I don't know, amado. He says he wants to play for another year or two. He's got to keep it on the down low." Shrugging again, Brandon made a face. "Who knows, though? It just takes meeting the right guy, huh, baby?" Stepping up close, Brandon slid his hands down Angel's lean back, reaching to cup the sleek behind. "Nice culo, by the way." Sputtering with laughter, Angel relaxed, leaning his head against Brandon's broad shoulder. "You are too much, papi." Nuzzling, he wrapped his arms around his man. "Did you really tell Danny he should ask my mom out?" Rubbing his cheek in the silky black hair, Brandon smiled. "I really did. He and your mom have been making calf eyes at each other for four months. I couldn't take it anymore; I had to step in. Neither one of them was going to make the first move. It was like eighth grade all over again." He rolled his eyes. "I had to tell Maria that Danny liked her, and I had to tell Danny that Maria liked him. You'd swear they were teenagers." "Uh, that's what I'm afraid of!" Back to being
aggravated, Angel smacked Brandon on his bicep. "You dope. What if he tries to put the moves on my mother?" Raising his eyes heavenward, Brandon hid his smile by burying his face in Angel's hair again. "She's a grown woman. I assume, since she had you, she knows a little bit about sex -- and men." Squawking, Angel tried to shove Brandon away, but Brandon held on tightly. "Easy, sweetheart -- just relax, I was kidding." "No, you weren't!" The voice was muffled but Brandon understood the words. "Okay, I wasn't." He chuckled again. "Angel. You have to let her live her own life. She came up here every three or four weeks for months. Getting her to commit to move here was a big deal for her -- but she did it." He cupped his hands around Angel's head, his thumbs lifting the stubborn chin. "Don't you think you should just step back and let her have some fun? How long's it been since your dad died?" "I know you're right, but--" Blowing out a breath of frustration, Angel met Brandon's gaze. "She's my mama, Brandon," he whined quietly. Rubbing his thumbs over those delectable, pouting lips, Brandon smiled. "I know, baby. I know. But at least she's up here, living in the barn." Grinning again, he poked at his lover. "When she found a job without your help, that must have frosted you, huh?" "Pahhh!" Angel's sound of disgust made him laugh. "I can't believe she went to work at a rival winery. My own mother!" *** Angel was still aggravated that Maria had ignored his efforts to assist her transition. When she had decided to
move to Oregon, she'd made it clear she would do it on her own terms. But her decision to accept a job at the Riley Rogue winery was still a thorn in his side. After a long, long conversation with CeCe, Angel had formally separated from the Hill Agency -- though he still took the occasional phone call from CeCe when she desperately needed his opinion. And, he'd indeed gone to work for Cliff Danielson, which had proven to be quite an experience. Angel's first day on the job, Cliff had introduced him around to the winery staff, calling him "The Scrappy Little Fucker." He'd been both mortified and extremely proud that he'd made such an impression on Cliff. It appeared that Cliff did indeed know what he was doing. The winery was a small but impressive operation. The successful businessman apparently liked to hide his light under a bushel -- er, his overalls -- but he was sharp as a tack. The winery employees had been amused but still welcoming. He'd been working closely with Lizzie, since she ran the business side of the winery, and he'd been putting his college studies and work experience to good use almost since day one. Recalling now the day he'd told Brandon about the job he and Lizzie had agreed on, he looked at Brandon with his brows scrunched. "And on top of that -- you were surprised I had an MBA!" Brandon shook his head, looking down in bemusement. "Huh? Sometimes I cannot follow the way your mind jumps." "Remember? When we were talking about the future -- yours and mine. Well... anyway, that was back when you thought I was just a pretty face." Snorting, Angel tossed his head a little. He wanted some TLC -- and he knew how to get it.
"Sugar, you never told me in the three years I knew you at Hill. How was I to know?" The big guy sounded a little worried. Clueless, blundering lover, Angel thought, hiding a grin. "Brandon, I expect you to figure things out." Slyly, he prodded his lover a bit. "Aren't you the one they call The Great Dane?" Frowning suspiciously, Brandon watched him. "You're jerking me around again, aren't you?" "Well, I did want to talk to you about the renovation plans for the house." Biting his lip, Angel pulled a piece of paper from the rear pocket of his Ralph Lauren cargo shorts. He had to work to conceal a smile as Brandon automatically backed up. "Whoa. You know your ideas aren't always... um, well, you know that when you tried to help me with the apartment in the barn that... well..." "What?" He could act innocent when necessary. "What do you mean?" Brandon shoved his hands in his track pants pockets. "Uh, well, let's just say that it cost me an extra ten grand when the flooring guy refused to come back to work in the barn while you were there." "You mean just because I asked him to fix the design in the entry four times?" "Uh, no. I mean because you asked him to change it four times -- in the same week." Finally no longer able to hide his laughter, Angel grabbed Brandon around the neck and kissed him, holding tightly for a few seconds. He leaned back, looking up at his confused lover. "I was awful, wasn't I?" His only excuse had been that his mother was moving up the weekend the porcelain tile was supposed to be finished, and he wanted it done perfectly. Rolling his eyes, Brandon snorted. His hands cupped
Angel's ass. "Uh-huh, sugar. So, how about if I handle the house renovation, and you take care of building up the wine cellar?" Pretending to consider, Angel watched Brandon out of the corner of his eye. "Mmm, I suppose that sounds fair." Laughing again when Brandon couldn't contain his huge sigh of relief, Angel crooked his finger. "How about we discuss it up at the house? In bed?" He swore Brandon's ears perked up like Dolly's did when the treat bag was opened. "Now?" "Uh-huh." He began walking toward the house. Brandon immediately began following. "Where are the kids?" "Mama has them upstairs in the barn. They're playing Guitar Hero." The children had continued settling in fairly well, though they did act out from time to time. Through counseling for the kids and parenting classes for the two men -- and loads of mistakes and fumbles -the family was slowly coming together. "They're going to turn into Guitar Hero. Especially your mother." Opening the door to the kitchen, Angel stepped inside. He turned to face his lover. "You don't really care about that right now, do you?" Pushing forward and shoving Angel fully into the house, Brandon grinned down. "Uh-uh, baby. Uh-uh." Laughing out loud, Angel dashed toward the bedroom.

Cart Wright, J.M. - The Trouble With Angel 1

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Cart Wright, J.M. - The Trouble With Angel 1

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good day, sugar."

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