Bound by Lies (15 page)

“Are you gonna give me a straight answer or should I take the obnoxious sarcasm as a no?”

“You don’t want to meet her, then? I think you should. She has a sister. We could both get hitched and put all of Mom’s worries about dying without grandchildren to rest.”

“I’m sure you’ve got plenty of illegitimate kids out there, Jenny. Been tellin’ the folks that for years.”

He almost laughs aloud. With what sounds like genuine curiosity, Jenner says, “Huh. You think so?”

“Are we done? You can avoid us all again and we’ll keep talking about you behind your back.”

“I’m hurt that you don’t miss me enough to try to convince me to change my mind,” Jenner says, his voice dripping boredom.

“Sure, I miss you. I could do this all day. If you do change your mind, call the house. It would be non-shitty of you to come, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” he sighs. There’s some quiet sincerity in the words, enough to make Callum pause before hanging up.

“You aren’t in real trouble, are you?”

“No such luck. Trouble might be an improvement.”

Pussy’s eyes fix on the glowing light of the cell phone. She meows at it.

“Is that a cat? When’d you get a cat?”

“What cat?” He scratches behind her ears. She purrs and nuzzles into the touch. He can almost hear his brother roll his eyes through the phone.

“Okay then. Later, Jenn.”

“Yep.”

He ends the call and slides the phone back in his pocket.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he scolds Pussy when she mewls at him, her eyes watchful and fur fluffed wildly. “If he wasn’t such an ass I wouldn’t have to be such a dick. It’s a give and take thing.”

She licks his hand, then leaps from his lap, padding silently away from the bed and out of the room. “I don’t blame you. I’m not very good company, am I?”

The next few days find Jenner hiding from the memory of his night with Brayden by avoiding the apartment above the bar and retreating back to his primary residence. He barely speaks to Art and Max, though, and acts much more strangely than usual. Any desire to live up to people’s expectations of him is gone. He can’t bring himself to care about acting like he has it all figured out when bracing for such heartbreaking disappointment. They give him the space he seems to want. When he’s out of earshot, Max and Art try to figure out what could be going on with Jenner’s recent odd behavior at work and now at home. But he never gives them a clue, just leaves them with vague suspicions that it involves Brayden only because Jenner has been careful not to mention him.

On Tuesday morning, Jenner is in his office at the bar when the phone rings.

“This is Parrish.”

“Jenner. Hi. It’s me. Um, Brayden.”

Stomach dropping to the floor, Jenner tries to play it cool and says, “Hey. What’s up? You’re calling so I guess that means….”

“I can’t make it in today.”

Jenner takes the phone away from his ear, pressing it, hard, into his forehead for a moment, before placing it back. Making a valiant effort to control his tone, he says, “I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do or say to change your mind?”

“I’m not quitting, I just need another day. I’ll, uh... I’ll be in tomorrow.”

“Good. Good, I’m glad.”

There’s a pause.

“It’s gonna be weird, isn’t it?”

“No,” Jenner scoffs.

“Liar.”

Jenner laughs, despite himself. The jagged edge of tension dulls. It’s the first time he feels like maybe it’ll all work out anyway.

“Like I said, no one has to know,” he promises. “And you’ll be safe. From me,” he clarifies. “Just give me a chance to prove it. I told you about the different protocol levels. This is all part of situational D/s. We could use mainly low protocol for when we’re at work. That means it’s my job to watch out for you, make sure you’re okay and step in if needed to make any adjustments, but it would all be done with an understanding that those around us are unaware of the lifestyle. Privacy is key, but it’s about balancing that with addressing your needs. Nothing happens without your consent.”

“Jenner….”

There’s a hint of torment in the way the name is spoken. Jenner gets chills, racing up his arms, his neck, down his back, and a low pit of heat begins to burn. All he can think of is everything he’s experienced of Brayden—the taste of his skin, the sound of his moans, the gripping heat of him around his cock, but most of all his surrender and his trust—and everything he still wants.

“Tomorrow. Come to work.”

A command. Unyielding. Demanding.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Thank you.”

Max sits with Jenner on the stoop in front of the door to the apartment above the bar smoking a cigarette; the sometime habit they use as their excuse to be outside in the cool, crisp morning air rather than inside cleaning up the smelly, stuffy main room. They pass the cigarette back and forth between them, watching pedestrians mill around on the sidewalks to visit the stores or get coffee and waving to those they recognize.

A florist across the street arrives for work. As she gets out of her car, parked nearby, she smiles their way and sighs, “You two make such a lovely couple!”

Max snorts with stifled laughter.

“Hi, Marla,” Jenner replies. With a slight nudge of Max’s side he says, loud enough for Marla to hear, “I should be so lucky.”

“Damn right,” Max murmurs with a glance up at him.

Marla pauses to ask, “Who’s that new blond fellow working for you? Is that really Lara Clare’s boy? I thought he was over in Africa with the Peace Corps or something.”

“Yeah, that’s Brayden,” Jenner answers. “You’ll have to ask him about it. I have no idea.”

Max marvels that you can’t tell at all from his voice how this type of thing—the casual prying, snooping and implications—royally pisses him off. He really should have gone into acting. It’s a tragically wasted talent.

“Huh.” Marla unlocks the shop’s front door, keys jingling, and tugs it ajar. “Your bar is the last place I’d expect someone like
him
to work. You’d think he’d be over here asking
me
for an application!”

Oh shit
, Max thinks.
Bitch, you went one step too far.
Sparing Jenner a sly glance, she sees something tighten like a coiled spring inside him. Gritting his teeth, the muscles in his jaw flexing, she watches him regulate a surge of anger with tempered control. Max rests a hand on Jenner’s leg, a silent message to let it go.

With a wave, Marla slips through the doorway, calling. “Well, talk to you later!”

The door shuts behind her. Lights flicker on inside the store. Jenner finally meets Max’s gaze.

“This fucking town,” he sighs. She passes him the cigarette. He takes a drag, then passes it back. Rubbing his back, proud of his restraint, she knows it has always bothered Jenner more when the seemingly neverending stream of thoughtless, snide comments are made about people he cares about, as if it was commonly thought Jenner privately cares so little about people like Max, and now Brayden, that he would join in with the joke about how pathetic they really are.

And yet, despite his quietness and the fleeting flare of tense anger thanks to Marla, the air of raging bitchiness has mysteriously dispersed from Jenner as quickly as it materialized. He’s not hiding in his office or avoiding Max. He’s outside, socializing. The typical smart-ass, bring-it-on tone to his voice is curiously absent, but it’s definitely an improvement compared to the past few days. He simply sips coffee from a Styrofoam cup, hunching forward around it, his free arm slung around Max’s back as they share one another’s company.

“Look,” Max murmurs, motioning with the burnt-down butt towards the east. Moving through shadows cast by the buildings lining the street is a male figure. Steadily it approaches.

Other than stiffening subtly, Jenner doesn’t react. He only takes another sip of coffee. Max places the cigarette’s filter between her lips, free of stain or gloss for the moment—she doesn’t bother getting dolled up for clean-up duty, no matter how cute her co-workers might be. Jenner’s palm slides up and down her upper arm, the friction and radiating body heat from him more than enough to keep her comfortable.

“Morning,” Brayden nods, stopping in front of them. There’s a bag slung over his shoulder. Max catches Jenner staring at it as he grunts hello.

“Welcome back. Long time no see,” Max smiles.

“Aw, you missed me?”

“Never.” Blowing smoke out in a thin plume, her smile remains. She drops what’s left of the cigarette into a bucket of sand by the door, crushing it out. “I’m just sick of having to cover for your ass, Clare.”

Brayden chuckles, his eyes darting quickly to Jenner, then away. Freed of her excuse to be outside, Max stands. Jenner’s arm falls away and he stands after a moment’s hesitation. Feeling the building tension between her male co-workers, Max wonders if Jenner is pissed off about Brayden’s prolonged absence. She breaks the heavy silence, saying, “So, I guess we should go in and get started, huh?”

Glancing again at Jenner, perhaps expecting a reprimand about calling out from a shift without any notice, Brayden says, “Sure.” But when she turns and goes inside, he doesn’t follow, choosing to wait for Jenner instead.

Jenner clears his throat. “Thanks for coming in.”

“No problem.”

Neither of them moves. Max squints confusedly at them from the doorway.

Jenner steps up beside Brayden and claps a hand onto Brayden’s back. As Max speculates whether Jenner has been acting weird out of fear that Brayden was going to quit, because he finally caught on to Jenner’s constant, creepy staring, Jenner says, “Enough slacking off. There’s work to do.”

“What are we, your slaves?” Max calls back.

Brayden chuckles, but awkwardly, like he doesn’t think it’s funny at all. They head inside. Behind her Jenner asks Brayden, “Need some coffee?”

“Yeah, coffee’d be awesome.”

A moment later, they get to the break room. Brayden unloads his bag, securing it in the locker. Max ties her hair back from her face, still keeping an eye on the boys. Jenner gets out a fresh cup and passes it to Brayden, stepping aside to give him room to get at the coffeepot. Grabbing the bucket of cleaning supplies, Max gives up the guessing game, leaves them and goes to get started on the usual morning detox.

When Max is gone, Jenner locks eyes with Brayden. As soon as he does, he instantly regrets it, because he sees in Brayden barely concealed, amorphous, shifting need behind a sheen of normalcy. If that’s all there was, there wouldn’t be a problem. The trouble is that there’s also terror and helplessness. It makes Jenner want to kiss away all of the confusion, to leave Brayden nothing but breathless and wanting. He’s not sure if he should impose some rules for Brayden to play by, or if, should he try to, that would be the one step too far, pushing Brayden over the line and scaring him off again. They need to talk about this. Come to a more formal agreement, but now is not the time, nor the place.

Chest rising and falling, Brayden bears the scrutiny as his gaze shifts lower to Jenner’s lips, like he’s waiting for that kiss. Reflected in the brightness of his eyes, the terror begins to outpace the need and lust, so Jenner steps back, folding his arms over his chest.

“There’s a lot to do. The morning deliveries should be coming any time, so come out when you’re done with the coffee. Or bring it with you. Just don’t leave it on the edge of a table. Max is liable to knock it with the mop handle or something.”

“Sure.”

With a nod, Jenner turns to go. He feels the tension break as soon as his back is turned. Right on Jenner’s heels, Brayden takes a deep, filling breath, exhaling heavily with a groan.