Double Blind (39 page)

Randy leaned back in his chair. “Ethan Ellison, you are farther into that nest than I have ever been. You can believe it or deny it, but I’m sitting here telling you that you know more about Crabtree than I do. Unless you want to know what he likes in bed.” Ethan went rigid and gave him a glare, and Randy fought a smile. He did, though, raise his eyebrows. “That bothering you, Slick?”

“I don’t like being reminded that you’ve fucked him,” Ethan said coldly.

Fucking hell, but Slick was hot when he was possessive. Randy decided to push him a little more.

“I can’t change the fact that I have,” Randy pointed out.

“Well, you’re done with that, so stop talking about it,” Ethan shot back. His gray eyes were bright and sharp, and he was sitting very tall in his chair.

Oh, just a little more.

“Who are you to say I’m done with it?” Randy asked.

Ethan stood slowly, and he came around to Randy’s side of the table even more slowly. Randy’s heart was pounding, but he held still, not smiling, not moving, just sitting, waiting.
Come on, baby. Give it to me. Right here in fucking Bellagio.

When Ethan’s hand came down on his shoulder, Randy did jump a little. And when Ethan bent down and spoke directly into his ear, he shut his eyes and waited for whatever masterful naughtiness Slick was going to give him.

“I adopted another cat,” Ethan said.

Randy opened his eyes, blinked, then frowned. “What the hell?” He turned to Ethan, annoyed. “Oh, come on. You were supposed to say something sexy, Slick, not make some stupid joke. What—” Then he got a good look at Ethan’s face, and his eyes went very, very wide. “Fucking hell,
you did not.
”

“I fucking did, in fact.” Ethan pulled out Randy’s cell phone and glanced at the time. “In fact, I need to go and get them soon. Crystal said she was off at five, and I wanted to ask her a few more questions.” He waved the phone at Randy. “I really need to get my own phone. But I think we’ve run out of time to shop. Sam texted you while I was playing—Mitch is making dinner, and he’d like us home by six.”

“You adopted another cat,” Randy said, still working on processing that part. “What the fuck, Slick!”

Ethan’s hand moved from Randy’s shoulder to his chin. He held Randy’s face loosely, but his thumbnail was digging in just slightly, just enough to get Randy’s attention. It worked. Randy held still, looked up, and felt a surprising and delicious rush of heat, especially when he caught the do-not-fuck-with-me look in Ethan’s eyes.

“You’re done with Crabtree,” Ethan said, very quietly, and very dangerously, “because I don’t fucking want you to have anything else to do with him. Not in bed. Have I made myself clear, or do you need additional persuasion?”

Oh, fuck yes.
Randy did his best to play it cool. “I might,” he said.

Ethan’s expression didn’t change, but his fingers tightened, just a little. It was fucking glorious.

“We need to get going so I can pick up Salomé and Daisy,” he said. His thumb brushed Randy’s lips, but it wasn’t exactly a caress. “We’ll deal with your persuasion once we’re at home.”

It was a cool play. It didn’t matter that Randy could see it, that he knew Ethan had deliberately wrapped the bombshell of the kittens up in the game. It was a good move. Randy didn’t laugh, but he had to grin. “Well played, baby.”

Ethan smiled, a slight, elegant smile, then bent and kissed Randy’s lips. “I’m serious. We need to get going.”

They left the restaurant and cashed in, Ethan leading, looking very at home at Bellagio, like he belonged. Because he did. The man had fucking come home.

“Were you like this before?” Randy asked, as they headed out to the parking garage. He paused, then added, because he was feeling brave, “with him?”
With Nick?

He watched Ethan’s face carefully, but Slick didn’t feel like giving anything away this time.

“No,” he said eventually. “No, I wasn’t.” Then he turned to Randy and gave him a crooked, wicked smile. “This is all because of you, Ace.”

It wasn’t, Randy knew. This wasn’t him. This was Slick, coming into his own. But he didn’t tell him, just squeezed his ass and led him to the bike.

Randy
had to admit that Daisy was seriously cute. So was watching Slick with his new best friend, the Cat Training Lady. Randy held the kitten and leaned against the wall as he watched Ethan listen to her intently, nodding and absorbing everything she said. They kept doing something with this very annoying clicking piece of plastic, a pink plastic stick, a bag of treats, and Daisy. For some reason if the cat touched the stick with her nose, they gave her a click and a treat and seemed to regard the act as her personal triumph. When Randy left Ethan and his new family at the Mazda, in fact, Ethan looked very much the king of his realm.

He looked good.

Of course, when they got to the house, he was really glad they had the cats, because they sure as fuck needed a distraction.

The whole place smelled of really, really good Mexican,
real
Mexican, because Mitch was doing the cooking. And it was tamales, which meant two things: Randy was going to roll into his bed that night, his belly as big as a house, and that Mitch was trying to show big love to Sam, because tamales were his favorite. And when Randy got a good look at husband and husband, he knew that the big love gesture was certainly called for. Because Sam was a wreck, and so was Mitch.

So Randy launched into high court jester mode. He made loud noises about how good the food smelled, and he made so many rude comments about Sam’s body and what he wanted to do with it that Ethan started to look at him askance. He was saved from having to explain that one by Sam’s finally noticing the second cat, and then Randy made all kinds of wry remarks about cat litter and scratches, and when Ethan started to explain about the clicker, engaging Sam, Randy turned his focus on Mitch, poking at his cooking until he snapped at him. Randy teased him back, goading and mocking and anything he could think of until all the damn spiky energy was redirected, and finally everyone was either glaring at him, or arguing with him, or waiting for him to piss them off again.

In short, it was a lot fucking better.

Of course, Slick was starting to get a little too smart for his own good, because he figured it out.

“I didn’t realize I should have stopped by the hardware store,” Ethan said, when Sam was soothing Mitch over Randy’s latest smart remark, which had gone a bit too close to the bone. “Or do you have a trowel in the garage? Because if you’re going to lay it on this thick, Ace, you might want to smooth it out.”

“Well, how about you give me a hand then,” Randy murmured. “They’re about to turn into the movie
Beaches
over there. And I’ve had enough therapy for one day, thank you.” When Ethan gave him a confused look, Randy pursed his lips. “Sam roped me into going to his therapist with him. I did not like it.”

Ethan gave him a wry smile and kissed his forehead. “Poor baby.”

Randy grunted. “So are you going to help me or what?”

Ethan looked over at the kitchen, where the angst was starting to descend again. “I don’t think pissing them off constantly is really helping much.”

It wasn’t, but Randy didn’t know what else to do. “The problem is that nobody can give them what they need. Mitch can’t get a guarantee that Sam will be okay while he’s gone, and Sam can’t get a guarantee that nothing is going to happen to Mitch, that he’s not going to end up alone again. You got any ideas on how to make them forget about that?”

Ethan frowned and tapped his fingers against his thigh a moment. “Give me a few minutes. In the meantime, dial it back down to medium-high, please?”

“Yes, sir,” Randy said, which made Ethan smile again. Slick gave him another kiss, this time on his lips with a tiny bite at the end.

Mmm-hmm.

So Randy went back into the kitchen, where Mitch threatened him with a spatula, and he held up his hands in mock surrender before turning around and offering him his ass. Mitch swatted him several times, and Randy made high-pitched squeals of mock protest until Sam was laughing. Then Mitch swatted him hard enough to hurt, and Randy yelped for real, and then everyone was laughing. He got out the dishes and set the table, settling into a babbling little banter that didn’t completely distract the angsty couple but did keep the tension down to a manageable roar. And through it all Randy kept one eye on Ethan, who was sitting at the table, Salomé in his lap and Daisy settled at his feet as he studied them all, his face unreadable.

Dinner was good, and Randy over-ate as usual, and then had dessert too: sopaipillas with real whipped cream. That made him look at Ethan, remembering the Crabtree Incident, but Ethan was busy studying Mitch and Sam, though, actually, he was looking mostly at Mitch. So Randy just kept up his stupid chatter, not even sure what he was talking about anymore, just waiting to see what Slick was up to.

Once all the dishes were cleared away and they were just sitting around the table, except for Mitch who was pacing and looking like he was about to go out for a cigarette. Finally, Ethan rose. He walked around the table to where Sam was sitting, stood behind him, and put a hand on his shoulder. Everyone watched, surprised, confused, and then simply interested as Ethan kept his hand there, massaging slowly.

Almost sensually.

“So.” Ethan looked at Mitch. “When are you leaving tomorrow?”

Ethan might as well have turned the air temperature down five degrees. “Ten,” Mitch said, snapping off the word.

Randy glared at Ethan, but Ethan ignored him and kept talking to Mitch.

“And you’ll be back when?”

“I’ll be gone two weeks, give or take,” Mitch said. “It depends on how things go.”

Ethan nodded. He massaged Sam’s shoulder a little more, then angled his head down to address Sam himself. “And when do you start work at the hospital, Sam?”

Sam kept his eyes down on the table. “I’m not due to start until the first of November, but they’d probably let me start early.”

“Do you
want
to start early?” Ethan asked.

Sam shrugged and didn’t answer.

Ethan resumed his massaging. Randy wondered what the fuck he was doing, but didn’t say anything, just waited.

And then he finally spoke, and Randy about fell over.

“Last night, in the limo,” Ethan began, then looked up at Mitch again. “I take it everyone enjoyed that?”

Mitch, who had been stiff and unhappy, was like a camera lens coming suddenly into focus. He was sharper and decidedly warmer, though he was still reticent. “Can’t say I saw anything to complain about.”

Ethan nodded, then looked down at Sam. “What about you, Sam?” His hands kneaded again, slowly, his fingers sliding farther down, dipping inside the neckline of Sam’s T-shirt. “Did you enjoy the limo?” Another massage, deep, with fingers that liked to wander. “I was thinking in particular of when you and Randy were dancing out the moonroof. You seemed to really enjoy that part.”