Aced (21 page)

I slid out of the seat and headed to the fridge, where I knew Ace kept stock of my favorite beer, and grabbed a bottle. After twisting the top off, I flicked it into the trash before leaning back against the counter and taking a swig of the cool liquid.
 

Ahh, yeah, that’s what I’m talking about.
I wouldn’t have minded curling up with a cold beer and pizza, to be honest. But I had my instructions, and if Ace wanted to take me somewhere to say sorry, then there was no way I wasn’t going to be ready and waiting when he came out of that shower.
 

I wasn’t waiting long. Ace was fifteen minutes max, and then he was walking back out dressed in jeans, a blue t-shirt, and a dark denim jacket. With the stubble lining his jaw, he looked gritty and a little rough, and he’d tucked his Aviators into the collar of his shirt, adding just one more dimension to the overall effect. Never had he looked more like the movie star Ace Locke than he did just then.
 

When he stopped in front of me, I got to my feet and whistled. Ace sure cleaned up nice,
damn
. He was just as tantalizing in his clothes as he was out of them, and when he reached out to touch the two buttons I’d left undone at the V of my cotton shirt, my breath got caught in my throat.

“You ready to go?” he asked.

I tried to speak, really I did, but found I had no words.

“Dylan?”

When I merely nodded, clearly unable to talk in the presence of all that was Ace, he smiled. “So, does that look mean I’m forgiven?”

Cocky shit.
I cleared my throat and shook my head. “Why would you think that?”

He gave a careless shrug that fit his bad-boy demeanor so well that I wanted to ask him to maybe be an asshole for the rest of the night to continue fulfilling this warped fantasy I was having.

“Dylan?”

“Huh?”

When he indicated the door with a tilt of his head, he said, “Are you ready?”

He turned to open the trailer door, and when I strolled by him, determined to keep some kind of haughty indignation in place, the fucker blew that intention right out of the water with his words.

“Keep this routine up much longer, Daydream, and I’m gonna turn you over my knee when we get home.”

My eyes found his, and I found out something very interesting about myself in that moment. My dick responded to the promise of being roughed up by this man, just as much as it did the idea of being naked and intimate with him…and wasn’t that a little bit of a head fuck.
 

* * *

AFTER I PULLED my SUV into the private covered lot around the back of Accardo’s, I parked by the back door and glanced at the man in the seat behind me.
 

I was, as always, blown away by the fact he was willing to put himself through this circus. I kept thinking that maybe I’d been in some kind of accident that day I’d been talking to Shayne on the phone about staring at the sexy man on the billboard, and I was now living some kind of dream while I lay in a bed in a coma. Because what were the odds that
that
man had walked into my life, ended up being gay, and was now spending every night in my bed or me in his? It really was kind of unreal.

“So, how many?” Dylan asked, as he sat up from the backseat.
 

“What? Cameras? Just one tonight. He’s relentless.”

“Will he be waiting for you the whole time we’re inside?”

“Unless there’s a breaking story. Fingers crossed.”

“So basically we’re hoping that some other poor schmuck takes the limelight off you.”

“Yeah, basically.”

We laughed as we headed toward the back entrance of my friend’s restaurant. As I held open the door for Dylan and he went to walk by, he stopped between me and the doorjamb and my heart thumped wildly.
 

He gave me a smile that was almost…shy, and then said, “I just want to say, before I forget, I love looking at you. For any reason. Even just to reassure myself that I’m not imagining you so close to me.”

It was that instant, right there, that I knew I would move heaven and hell to be with this man. Or, as it was, shut down an entire restaurant.

“Ace!”

Mateo’s familiar baritone reached my ears and had me tearing my gaze from the potent one holding mine, and as I rounded to see my stocky, Italian friend ambling toward us, I did something I’d never done before. I reached for Dylan’s hand and took it in my own. It was such a simple gesture, but when our palms met and our fingers entwined, I looked back at him and caught a rosy flush heating his cheeks. Dylan was beautiful. And tonight he was mine.

When a heavy hand clapped me on the shoulder, I greeted my friend, who’d stopped behind us.

“Mateo,” I said, and flashed a smile at one of my oldest and most trusted friends. I’d known Mateo Accardo ever since I’d moved to L.A. to go through film school, before he’d decided the moviemaking business wasn’t the life for him. His passion had lain in a much different arena—no less creative, though. Mateo was a world-renowned chef, and Accardo’s was one of the most prestigious establishments in L.A.

“Thanks for having us tonight, man. I know it was short notice—”

“Don’t even. For you, I don’t mind,” Mateo said, and flashed us both a smile that was blinding against his olive complexion. He was a good-looking guy, I’d always thought so, and so had the ladies.
A true Italian stallion, this one.

“Well, it’s appreciated all the same.”

Mateo then turned his attention to the silent man standing beside me, and I thought it was endearing that for the first time since I’d met Dylan, he appeared reserved. Which I knew was completely inaccurate.

“So…aren’t you going to introduce us? I assume this is who you’re groveling to.”

I didn’t think it was possible, but Dylan’s cheeks went from flushed to scarlet in an instant. And fuck if that wasn’t about the cutest thing I’d ever seen.

“Sure is. Dylan, this is Mateo. Mateo, this is Dylan. And you better have cooked up something amazing. It’s going to take a minor miracle to get me back in his good books. I mean, that’s my intention, anyway. But since my
last
good intentions were shoved firmly up my ass, I’m hoping this plays out much smoother. Right, Dylan?”

“Oh boy. What’d you do?”

“Nothing that bad,” I said, as Dylan finally spoke up: “He was a jackass.”

Mateo’s raucous laughter boomed around the hallway and he held a hand out to Dylan. When Dylan shook it, Mateo grinned at me and said, “Ha! Well, Dylan, anyone who has the balls to call him a jackass to his face is someone I need to know. Not enough people call him out on his crap these days. All too busy kissing his ass.”

“In all fairness, I don’t mind doing that either. But not tonight. He doesn’t deserve it.”

My mouth fell open as Dylan caught my eye and grinned in a way that said the nerves had vanished now that he knew he was free to say what he wanted, and Mateo laughed even harder.

“I like this guy.”

“Well, keep your hands to yourself,” I said, and feigned annoyance as I batted at their joined hands. “He likes action stars, not world-famous chefs—”

“Oh shit,” Dylan said, his eyes now darting from me to Mateo as the penny finally dropped. “You’re Mateo Accardo.
The
Mateo Accardo.”

Mateo gave me a smug smirk and puffed out his chest. “I am.”

Then Dylan whirled on me, his eyes wide as saucers. “You brought me to Mateo Accardo’s restaurant without telling me?”

Oh, yeah. I just scored major groveling points.
“I did.”

“Oh my God,” Dylan said. “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have eaten so when I put his food in my mouth I could really appreciate how heavenly it’s going to taste.” When he shut his eyes as if imagining it, Mateo, the jerk, winked at me.

“Maybe he likes world-famous chefs after all. Lucky for you, I don’t swing that way. I think I would’ve stood a chance here.”

I rolled my eyes and pointed down the hall. “Shut the hell up. Are you going to actually feed us tonight or just talk shit?”

Mateo chuckled but turned on his heel to lead us to the main dining room. I tugged on Dylan’s hand, and as we walked down the hallway in the back of the restaurant, I felt Dylan’s warm fingers tighten around mine.

“Mateo Accardo? Really?” he whispered.

I leaned in and pressed my lips to his. “Yes. Do you approve?”

“Do I look stupid to you?” he asked.

“No,” I said, and brought his hand up to my lips. I placed a kiss on his knuckles, and when his eyes glittered, I said, “You look gorgeous.”

As we got to the door that led to the main dining room, Mateo pushed it open and held it for us. I led Dylan through them, and as Mateo let the door shut behind us, we were enveloped by the low lighting, the flickering candles, and the intimate place setting for two over in a corner booth.
 

“Wow.” Dylan’s voice was filled with awe as he let go of my hand and walked into the large,
empty
space. There were tables and booths all around us, but for tonight, we were the only two who would set foot into Accardo’s.

“How?” he asked, and turned to face me. He was several feet away from me now, and the soft glow of the lamps on each table did unbelievable things to his flawless tanned skin. “How did you do all of this in the time it took me to shower?”

A slow smile crossed my lips, and I slipped my hands into my pockets. “You took an extra-long shower, remember?”

His dimples appeared as he grinned and spun around again, taking in his surroundings.
 

“This is unreal, Ace. Thank you.” He glanced back over his shoulder, and I walked toward him, and when I reached his side, he moved a step closer and raised his arms to loop them around my neck. “I don’t have any words.”

I circled his waist, pulled him in close to me, and kissed him softly. “I’m sure you’ll find some. You’re never quiet for long. Now come on. Let’s sit down before Mateo comes out with the food.”

We walked over to the curved corner booth and slid in, side by side, and I loved how Dylan shifted all the way around until our thighs brushed. My pulse raced at the simple touch, and I couldn’t believe how right this all felt. Sitting there with Dylan was like coming home.

“You’re pretty amazing, you know that?” Dylan said, and placed a hand on my leg.

“Not a jackass?”

“Well, let’s not get carried away. You’re still a jackass. But this…this is crazy. You shut down a whole friggin’ restaurant, Ace.”

I laughed at his enthusiasm. It was infectious, and I wondered when I’d become so blasé about the perks of being a celebrity. Not everyone could get a private sitting at Accardo’s, let alone on an hour’s notice, and I was almost ashamed to admit I had forgotten that wasn’t the norm.
 

I shrugged, embarrassed by his admiration. “It just seemed the easiest way. This way we can actually eat out of our houses.”

“Oh, please. You were totally trying to charm my pants off.”

“Did it work?”

Dylan leaned in and pressed his lips to my cheek then whispered, “Oh, you’re definitely
much
closer than you were an hour ago.”

He shifted back to his seat, smoothed a palm up my thigh, and squeezed.
 

“How long have you known Mateo?”
 

I swallowed around the lump that had formed in my throat and licked my suddenly dry lips. My brain felt like mush, and all because Dylan was so close, was touching me, and looking at me like I’d hung the damn moon.

“Since film school.”

“That’s a long time.”

“Hey,” I said, and reached for the pitcher of water on the table. I poured us both a glass and then took a sip. “I’m not that old.”

“No. No, I didn’t mean it like that. Just that you’ve been friends for a while. I have a few friends from college. High school, hell no. College, yes.”

As he looked away, I wondered if his high school years had been hard. Dylan had told me so very little about his past. I wasn’t quite sure when he’d actually been adopted by Sunshine and Ziggy. I was about to ask more when he got in first.

“Has he always known you were…”

“Gay?” I finished for him, and Dylan nodded. “Yeah, Mateo’s known since pretty early on. And to this day he’s been one of the few people I really trust. He kept my secret all these years, and I’d trust him with my life.”

“That’s amazing,” Dylan said, as his eyes scanned the restaurant. “I can imagine he’s been asked…questions.”

“He’s been offered millions for an exclusive tell-all.”

When Dylan’s mouth parted and he removed his hand from my thigh as though he might suddenly be caught feeling me up and be splashed all over a tabloid, I drew his palm back and placed it even higher on my leg.

“But he said no.”

“That’s some friend you have.”

I nodded. “Yeah. I’m lucky.”

“You are. Derek would do the same for me. He’d likely punch the guy who offered the money in the face, but he’d do the same.”

“Derek?” I asked, and was shocked by the pang of jealousy I felt over another man’s name falling off Dylan’s lips.

“Yeah. He’s my roommate back in Florida.”

I tried to appear nonchalant about that little piece of information, but I guess I wasn’t as good an actor as I thought, because Dylan started laughing.

“He’s
just
a roommate and friend.”

I squeezed Dylan’s fingers where they lay on my lap and gave a tight-lipped smile that made Dylan laugh even harder.

“Is something funny?” I asked.

“You. You’re jealous.”

“I am not.”

“Yes you are. Why not just ask me what you want to ask?”

“There’s nothing I want to know.”

Dylan nodded, and I knew he was thinking,
Yeah, right.
And just as he opened his mouth to answer, Mateo came into the room wheeling a cart with several plates covered with stainless steel domes. “Don’t think we’re done with this.”

The grin Dylan gave me let me know he was more than ready to pick up where we had just left off once Mateo was done. So we sat there through my friend’s elaborate description of the food and wine he was serving us tonight, and Dylan asked him an abundance of questions about our meal that were making me crazy, considering I wanted to ask him a few of my own.