Cast Off (11 page)

Davy blinked at him, eyes suddenly shiny. Rick found he needed a few extra blinks himself to see past the unexpected blurring of his vision.

“You’re right.” Davy threw his arms around Rick and they hugged. He didn’t have many friends and losing touch with Davy had left a pretty gaping hole in his life.

Rick graciously ignored Davy’s sniff and quickly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand before he let Davy go. “Probably I should have become a psychologist. Be easier to say stuff like this.”

He’d certainly thought about it. But at the time he’d needed help, a speech-language pathologist—or more correctly, a student—had been the only one willing and able to help him. As a gesture of gratitude, he’d gone into the same line of work, although he was mature enough now to realize psychology might have been more useful. He did like helping people, though. Made the career choice worthwhile.

Davy cocked his head and opened his mouth, but footsteps interrupted. Actually, Rick had been surprised it had been just the two of them in the kitchen for this long, but it was still early. Once people got their initial introductions out of the way, they’d spread out.

“Hey, Rick.”

Rick turned to Kurt, intending to say something outrageous. The man didn’t fluster—much—but he did love seeing Davy come to his aid.

Instead, though, he looked at Kurt, and couldn’t speak. It wasn’t hard to imagine Ian’s dark hair and light-blue eyes taking the place of Kurt’s auburn hair and dark-blue eyes. Which sent his mind leaping all over the place, imagining Kurt doing the intimate, exciting things to him that Ian had. He wasn’t nearly as attracted to Kurt as he’d thought at first, and their bodies were shaped differently, but he couldn’t help but feel almost like he’d fucked Kurt, and the sensation was so disconcerting it had stolen his voice.

How in the hell did people actually fuck brothers, either at the same time or serially? Rick was weirded out in a way he never expected.

The looks of concern he got from both Kurt and Davy were impetus enough to push a few words out. “Uh, hi, Kurt.”

Judging by the frown drawing Kurt’s brows together, Rick hadn’t managed to display even a modicum of his usual flair.

A hot, fiery flush lit up his cheeks as he suddenly wondered if Kurt’s dick was built along the same lines as Ian’s. Then he flushed even hotter, because Rick never got embarrassed about sex. Never. He’d mentally undressed Kurt and imagined them fucking every time they’d hung out, although he would never, ever do such a thing in real life. Not to Davy. Not even if Kurt and Davy broke up. His friendships were more important than sex with anyone. But not once, not until he’d gone home with Ian after meeting him at Anaconda, had he ever felt awkward.

Davy nudged his shoulder. “You okay?”

No, he didn’t think so. “I just need a drink. Long day.” Not a lie. This was the one Saturday a month he saw clients and it was always packed from start to finish, with barely time to breathe in between, never mind necessities like eating or pissing. If it had been anyone besides Davy—or perhaps Jon—he would have declined the invitation, because a Saturday client day drained him like few things could. The dead squirrel hadn’t helped either.

Kurt nodded. “Sure thing. We’ve got more of that wine you and Davy polished off a couple of weeks ago. Davy said you were off tequila.”

The blush had started to recede, but Kurt’s words made it return. There was no recrimination in Kurt’s tone, only amusement. But he’d been here drinking that day because of Ian.

“Super. Is it in the fridge? I can get it.” But Kurt blocked him and bent into the fridge to get the bottle. Like a train wreck, Rick couldn’t help but stare at Kurt’s ass, and speculate and compare and….

“Got a glass?”

Rick jumped at the unexpected question. He hadn’t even noticed Kurt standing up and turning around. Nor had he noticed Davy leaving the kitchen.

Kurt stepped closer and leaned into him. Rick pressed back into the counter and peered frantically over Kurt’s shoulder, both praying for and dreading a rescue, but entirely unable to force his muscles to obey a command to escape. Surely Kurt wasn’t…. Davy would never forgive him, never speak to him again.

Rick stared up at Kurt, confused, afraid, and flustered as all hell, when suddenly Kurt smirked and pulled back, presenting Rick with the wine glass he’d retrieved from the shelf above Rick’s head.

Relief flooded him so strongly his knees weakened. Grabbing the glass with his right hand, he used his left to clutch at the counter, keeping himself upright.

He congratulated himself on exhibiting nothing more than a faint tremor that didn’t affect Kurt’s pour one bit.

Like he knew Rick was going to drain the glass dry the second his back was turned, Kurt smiled and set the open wine bottle on the counter next to Rick’s white-knuckled left hand.

Kurt gestured at a dish of hummus and chips on the kitchen table. “Bring that out with you, will you? I’ve got a bunch of beers to get.”

Back in the fridge for almost no time at all, Kurt pulled out several beer bottles and left Rick alone in the kitchen.

He tossed back the entire glass of wine like he was at a fraternity beer-chugging competition and breathed deeply, letting the booze settle his shakiness. This was all Ian’s fault. When the hell had good sex fucked with his head as much or more than any other body part? Rick knew Ian and Kurt’s two other brothers weren’t gay, but he was hoping to meet them tonight. See if he had a similar reaction to them. Maybe it was nothing more than having a tiny crush on Kurt, followed up by having amazing sex with a brother that closely resembled him. That had to be it. There wasn’t anything special about Ian O’Donnell.

That determination didn’t stop him from pouring the rest of the wine into his glass, leaving the liquid a mere millimeter or two away from the lip.

He’d just picked up the glass, bringing it near enough to his mouth that the fruity scent of the Chardonnay tickled his nose, when an older woman walked in. She was a little plump, but she had a cheery, serene face, almost like Mrs. Claus. She bore enough of a resemblance to both Ian and Kurt that there wasn’t much doubt as to her identity.

“Well, hello, honey.” She inspected him from head to toe, and Rick considered the possibility of playing dead. This was shaping up to be the worst night ever. “You must be Rick.”

How had she known that? Rick opened his mouth, but nothing came out. It was high school all over again. His heart hammered as sweat popped out on his upper lip.

“I’m Deirdre O’Donnell.” She smiled her sweet smile, but Rick knew how easy it was for those motherly types to show fake smiles and speak poisoned words to a world that only saw sugar and honey.

He managed a nod, his larynx paralyzed.

“My son described you perfectly. A hot, outrageous blond.” Her grin got wicked. “I very much like your shirt.”

Rick glanced down, relieved he wasn’t totally naked, although he was wearing a tailored burgundy dress shirt made out of sheer, transparent fabric, tucked into pants tight enough to read the veins on his cock like a phrenologist. He’d even put on some eye makeup this evening, smudgy black and sparkly burgundy to accentuate his clothing. But in the crosshairs of the O’Donnell matriarch, he was lucky to remember his own name, he was so fucking freaked out. Sweat continued to form on his face and under his armpits.

“Oh, there’s the hummus.” The wily Mrs. O’Donnell grabbed the dish Rick had been told to bring to the living room. “My Sean’s been asking. Loves the stuff, he does.”

She pinched his cheek before she left. “We’ll chat later.”

Rick stood and trembled in the wake of Kurt’s… Ian’s mother. This time his hand shook so bad, wine sloshed out and onto the floor.

Damn, damn, double damn. Instead of grabbing a paper towel, he took a deep breath. Several deep breaths. Dealing with doting mothers—real or fake—through his work was one thing. He was able to mentally prepare for each one. Stupidly, he should have expected Kurt’s parents to show up at the housewarming, but he hadn’t prepared, not at all, and he’d been thrown back to that awful time in high school where he’d been incapable of speaking to anyone at all.

He raised the glass and took a swallow before setting it carefully on the counter. He sang a few bars of a simple nursery rhyme, an exercise he’d been given when his voice had started to return. Hearing himself vocalize put his emotions on a more even keel, and he finally grabbed some paper towels to wipe up the spill.

It wasn’t until he was squatting down, wiping at the floor, that he remembered what Mrs. O’Donnell said about him.

Which son had told his mother Rick was hot?

R
ICK
smoothed his hands over his shirt and took a deep breath. In, out. Again. He couldn’t hide out in the kitchen all goddamn night.

He’d be able to avoid Kurt’s parents. They were older. Surely they wouldn’t stay too long.

Picking up his glass of wine, he pasted on a smile and strode into the living room as though he was the choicest piece of prime man candy.

No one stopped and stared when he stepped into the room. No one pointed and laughed. Everything was so painfully normal, the tight tension around his chest eased. He quickly scoped out the room, making careful note of where Mrs. O’Donnell laughed with a younger woman who bore enough resemblance to Kurt that she must be one of the sisters.

Wearing a cloak of insouciance, Rick moved to the exact opposite corner of the room as though that were exactly where he’d wanted to be. Then he blinked. A familiar and unexpected man stood just meters away, his arm wrapped around a pretty young thing that called to mind the sea of newly legal man flesh at Anaconda.

Rick squealed in pure pleasure. “Ivan, I didn’t know you’d be here!”

Ivan lifted his eyes from the rapt contemplation of the twinkie in his arms, and his eyes lit with recognition.

“Rick? How are you?”

He hugged the man who could have had a star position in his roster if it weren’t for the fact he’d been a keeper through and through. Rick eyed Ivan’s boyfriend, although he couldn’t quite remember the guy’s name. Parker, he thought, but it wasn’t as though they’d actually been introduced. Rick didn’t want a relationship for himself, but if that’s what Ivan wanted, he deserved the best. Was this kid mature enough to give his friend what he needed to be happy?

“I guess you know Kurt, right?”

Ivan was gorgeous, muscular, and warm, and Rick was enjoying the comfort of being held by someone who cared for him but didn’t expect anything at all in return. Parker’s darkly jealous looks gave him a guilty pleasure too. Nice to know a cutie like Parker could feel threatened by his almost-over-the-hill ass.

“Yes, I know Kurt. We’re going to be in the same department when I go back to work. How do you know Kurt?”

Made sense that Ivan knew Kurt. After all, there couldn’t be that many gay police detectives in Toronto, could there? And if there were more, how did Rick find out who they were? There was something about a cop—or firefighter or EMT or soldier—that got under Rick’s skin.

“Davy’s one of my best friends. So, my big strong cop, are you feeling better?”

The last time he’d seen Ivan, he’d been buried under the weight of some crazy clusterfuck at work. Rick hadn’t pressed, but he’d gotten the impression it had involved Parker. Given Ivan’s relaxed, happy attitude, and Parker’s presence, he must have been mistaken. But he hadn’t been mistaken about the cornered look of a wounded animal he’d seen in Ivan’s eyes.

Parker’s eyes flashed and he stepped closer. “He’s my big strong cop.”

“Oh, ho, the boy has teeth.” And a possessive nature, but any idiot could see how much that pleased Ivan, and so Rick was also pleased.

“Rick, enough.” It was cute that they were protective of each other. Rick just hoped they’d last.

“I’m not a boy and he’s mine.”

Rick pressed his teeth together, trying not to laugh. Parker was so adorable; there was no doubt as to why Ivan had fallen. Probably he should let go of Ivan’s neck, but he was interested in just how far he could provoke Parker.

“Really, Rick? Aren’t you a little old to be getting in a catfight with a twink?”

Everyone swiveled their heads to check out the newcomer. Rick had recognized the voice immediately, but the bite of anger and bitterness in Ian’s words had shocked him.

“Ian?”

“Ivan?”

Oh, fuck no. He tightened his arms around Ivan’s neck, but he wasn’t sure if he was trying to make Ian jealous or if he wanted to wring Ian’s—or Ivan’s—neck.

This time, though, there was no mistaking Parker’s upset. “Ivan. Have you slept with both of these guys?”

Rick had been trying to push Parker’s buttons, but it had been Ian who’d committed Parker to true anger.

Squaring his shoulders, Ivan pulled himself free of Rick’s embrace. Rick edged away, his nerves twanging from the tension. Between two opposing forces on the field of battle was the last place he wanted to be.

Ian, though, didn’t give a damn about the drama brewing between Ivan and Parker. He fixed an angry blue gaze on Rick.

“Doesn’t look like he’ll be taking you home tonight. Whatever will you do?” Ian sneered, surprising Rick with his vehemence.

So many retorts came to mind, but every one of them would make Rick sound like a petulant teenaged girl.

“What will I do? What about you?” That wasn’t any better, but at least he and Ian had moved out of earshot of everyone else.

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t slip out of his bed like a thieving whore.”

An inarticulate sound of rage escaped his lips. Ian’s sarcasm stung like a thousand paper cuts, and all of Rick’s confusion and fear surrounding Ian coalesced into a fiery ball of fury.

“I’m not the one going around looking for anonymous hookups at bars filled with chickens, too scared to use his own name, darling.”

He let the last word trail out like a diva drag queen, knowing it would piss Ian off. Rick hadn’t missed that Ivan knew Ian’s real name and the knowledge rubbed like lemon juice in the wounds Ian opened up with his vicious words. He hoped he could return the favor.