Edward Unconditionally Common Powers 3 (19 page)

Rush laughed. “That's ‘cause he's such a bad player, I look good compared to him.”

“Is that what it is?” Jack didn't believe that for a second.

“Yep.”

“Don't let Rush fool you,” Mitchell chimed in as he walked in from outside. “He's damned good. The steaks are on the grill,” he told everyone. “Another beer, bartender.”

Rush chuckled, opened another longneck, and handed it to Mitchell. “Don't tell Jack that or he won't play. Everyone's playing, aren't they?” Rush's eyebrow rose.

“Just more money for you, right?” Mitchell laughed. “Sammi's not going to play. He doesn't know how.”

Jack looked over at the couch where Sammi sat, his legs curled under him. He had a glass of cola in his hand. Sammi didn't drink at all, he'd explained earlier. Again, Jack was struck by how much Sammi reminded him of Edward.

They were delicate, lithe, and damned sexy.

Sammi watched them from behind a long dark swath of bangs that covered one-half of his face, making him look mysterious. Mitchell was a brave man, not afraid of what others might think about his choice in a lover.

But Mitchell lived in Houston. Being gay in Houston was a far cry from being gay in Spring Lake. Let Mitchell try running around this town with Sammi on his arm. It'd be another story, for sure.

“We could teach him,” Jack offered. “Hey, Sammi. Would you like to learn how to play poker?” Damn, he hadn't meant to say that, but Sammi had looked so alone sitting there on the couch.

Sammi looked up and smiled. “You're sweet, Jack.” He shook his head and the bangs shifted, giving Jack a glimpse of his dark eyes. “No, I'm fine. I'll let Mitchell lose all of his money.” He laughed and stood, unwinding himself from the couch.

Every man's eyes were on the younger man as he sauntered up to Mitchell. Sammi's jeans-clad hips shifted in a subtle rock and roll, his pierced navel peeking from under the short hem of his T-shirt. He leaned against Mitchell as Mitchell's arms wrapped around him, pulling him even closer. The room stopped breathing as something thick and tangible arced between the two men. Jack could feel their arousal building, and somehow it had spilled over to stiffen his cock.

Brian came in the back door, stopped and stared, then barked out, “Get a room, you two! We have guests.”

Mitchell gave Sammi a quick kiss on the lips, and Sammi stepped away. “Sorry.” He blushed.

The electricity in the air popped, dispersed, and Jack's prick deflated as fast as it had filled. And from the look on Rush's face, he'd felt the same thing.

Fuck. What had just happened? It was as if they'd been mesmerized by the motion of Sammi's hips.

Jack needed some air or another whiskey. Going for air seemed too obvious, so he turned away and took another sip of his whiskey.

Rush caught his gaze, smiled, and raised his bottle again. “I know what you mean.” Knowledge passed between them, and Jack nearly choked.

Shit
. Did everyone know? Was he wearing a fucking sign on his back?

Edward followed the directions to the ranch Rush had given him when Rush had called. It was out in the country, like his grandmother's place, only in the opposite direction. Despite running late, he drove the little Miata slower than usual, looking for the turnoff Rush had said to take.

Just where he'd said it would be was a large gate with the name of the ranch, the Double T, worked in iron on it. It was open, so Edward turned in, jolted over the wide cattle guard, and down a smooth, gravel-packed road lined with oak trees. They weren't as big as the ones at Olivia's ranch, but of a good size. It would be a spectacular alley of trees in about twenty years.

Ahead he saw a cluster of buildings. A two-story house and two barns. In front of the house, there were two pickup trucks, a Jetta, and a Tahoe. Edward eased the shiny red Miata between the trucks, parked, and got out. Was there a law in Texas that pickup trucks could only be white, silver, or black, because those were the only colors he'd seen around here.

The trucks dwarfed his car, their side steps at almost the same height as the top of his door. His car could fit in the long back bed of the black one on the left.

It was as if the trucks had overdosed on testosterone.

Edward looked at the convertible. Looked back at the mud-splattered trucks.

The Miata screamed “sissy.” He groaned. These were real men, even if they were gay. What was he doing here? He didn't even know how to play poker.

Now, if they needed him to make a kick-ass potato salad, bake a killer crème brûlée, or redecorate the house, he was the gay man for the job. He didn't know a damn thing about ranches, pickup trucks, or cows. Hell and damnation, he couldn't even spit without gagging.

He should get back in the car and go home. He had his hand on the door handle when his nostrils caught a whiff of heaven.

The undeniable aroma of steaks on a grill.

His stomach rumbled and overruled his doubt-filled mind.

Edward headed toward the front steps.

Jack turned away from Rush and leaned against the bar. This wasn't going well at all. He had to do damage control before the night spiraled out of control. Before anyone here talked to anyone in town.

The doorbell rang, and Brian went down the hall to the front door. Voices floated back to them, but Jack couldn't hear the conversation.

“Is someone else coming?” He turned back to ask Rush.

“Yep.” Rush nodded and took a long swig of his beer, finishing it off.

Another gay guy? Who the hell was left? Jack couldn't take any more shocks.

“Everyone, this is Edward,” Brian introduced the new arrival.

Jack's knees turned to Jell-O, and he leaned on the bar for support. “Pour me another whiskey. Make it a double,” he rasped at Rush. No fucking way could he turn around and face Edward, but he couldn't stand here all night. He was so fucked.

“Hello, everyone.” Edward's soft voice washed over Jack, making him hard.

Jack listened as Mitchell, Sammi, and Rush welcomed Edward. Jack could face it like a man or make a run for it, right past Edward, out the door, hood slide across his pickup truck, and sling gravel getting the hell out of there.

Jack turned around. In one heart-stopping moment, he took Edward in. White button-down shirt, undone to expose throat and a hint of smooth chest, dark hair tousled by the wind, and the sexiest pair of faded, torn blue jeans he'd ever seen wrap a body.

Shit
. Jack was a goner.

“Evening, Mr. Beauregard,” he drawled as if he didn't care.

Edward's lips parted as he feasted on Jack. For a moment, he forgot where he was, and the urge to throw himself into Jack's arms and let Jack kiss him like he'd done in his office almost overpowered him. Edward's eyes darted around the room at four pairs of eyes staring at him. Staring at Jack. Hell and damnation.

“Hello, Chief Whittaker.” Edward's voice cracked as if he were going through puberty again.

Jack gave him a curt nod, then turned back to take a drink. It looked like whiskey, amber, rich, and heady. Fortifying. Edward could use some liquid strength.

“Edward, what would you like to drink?” Rush asked. “We have beer, soda— ”

“I'll have what the chief is drinking. A double.” Edward swallowed hard and gave Rush a quick smile.

“Whiskey it is.” Rush poured a tumbler. “Neat?”

“Yes.” Now Edward had to go and get the drink. Right where Jack stood.

Jack snatched up his drink and stalked to the back door. “Gonna see what's happening with the steaks.” Then he was gone, and the screen door slammed behind him.

Edward exhaled. Rush pointed to the drink, and Edward darted forward, picked it up, and tossed it down. He coughed as the warm liquor ate its way down his throat, hit his empty stomach, and warmed his toes.

This was bad.

Edward glanced at Brian. One raised eyebrow met his gaze. Edward walked over and whispered, “Why didn't you tell me Jack was going to be here?”

Brian shrugged. “Didn't think it was important.”

“Why didn't you tell Jack I was going to be here?” It was obvious by Jack's reaction that he hadn't known Edward would be there. And he hadn't liked it. At all.

“Didn't think it was— ”

“Important,” Edward finished. “I get it. Well, you're wasting your time, Cupid. Jack's not gay. He's not even interested in me. In fact, he hates me.”

“Uh-huh.” Rush snorted.

“Can we just forget it?” Edward begged. “Really, let's act like this isn't happening.”

“What isn't happening?” Mitchell joined them.

Sammi piped up from the chair he'd curled up in. “That the chief of police and Edward are... ” He paused, gave a ghost of a smile, and let the unspoken words linger in the air.

“Nothing. We're nothing. Please.” Edward didn't care if he was begging. “I admit to being attracted to him, but Jack's
not
gay. End of discussion.”

“Okay. Whatever you say,” Rush replied and winked at Brian as the big cop slipped out the back door after Jack.

Edward knew they didn't believe him. Oh, he was so fucked. If Jack had hated him before, he'd probably find some reason to arrest Edward, then have him killed while in custody. It would look like an accident. He'd be shot escaping or for assaulting an officer.

Who would take care of Winston if he were dead?

Jack paced back and forth across the flagstone patio, sucking down air as if he were a fish out of water.

No no no. This could not be happening to him. What had he done to deserve this? Did everyone in the room think he was gay now? Jack's stomach knotted up so bad he thought he'd busted something.

And what the hell was Edward doing here? And why did Jack's body have to respond to Edward's voice, the sight of him. And oh goddamn, those ripped jeans he wore.

Brian cleared his throat.

“What the fuck is going on?” was all Jack could get out as he spun to face Brian.

“What's the problem, Jack?” Brian looked up as he checked the steaks.

“Edward. What's he doing here?” Jack took another sip of his whiskey.

“Rush invited him. I didn't think it would be a problem. Are you okay?” Brian stared at him.

Jack pulled himself together and got control of his voice. “It's not a problem. I was just surprised, that's all.” He took a deep breath and then exhaled. “Look. I don't have a problem with you or your friends. Being gay and all that.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I just didn't want you thinking... that I was... ” His voice faded out.

“That you were gay?” Brian's eyes widened. “Hell, Jack. In all the time I've know you, I've never thought that.”

“It's just that it felt like a setup, you know.” Jack chuckled, trying to act casual. “Because there were couples. You and Rush. Mitchell and Sammi. Except me. And then Edward showed up, and I thought... ”

“Oh. Like a blind date sort of thing.” Brian's eyes twinkled. “I understand.”

“Yeah, right. A blind date.” Jack laughed again. It sounded strained even to him.

“Nope. Just a bunch of friends getting together for dinner, drinks, and poker.” Brian slapped him on the shoulder, then leaned in. “And for the record, Jack, I wouldn't think any less of you if you were gay.” He winked. “Some of my best friends are gay.”

Jack stared at him. Absolutely nothing came to mind for him to reply to that statement. He was better off keeping his mouth shut, for damn sure.

Brian looked at the steaks. “These look ready. Help me carry them inside. Have dinner; then if you want to leave, go ahead.” Brian had given Jack an out. If he was smart, he'd take it.

Instead, Jack finished his drink, put down the glass, and helped Brian take the steaks off the grill and put them on two huge platters. Each steak was at least an inch thick, and from what Jack could tell, they were cooked to perfection.

“I think I'll hang around. Eat my steak. Give Rush a run for his money.”

Try not to stare at Edward.

Jack and Brian brought the steaks to the table. It had been set for six, and Sammi was pouring iced tea into tall glasses. Through the kitchen door, Jack could see Edward bustling about in the kitchen.

Sammi said, “Edward has worked some magic on the baked potatoes. He showed me his recipe for restuffed potatoes.” Sammi licked his lips. “Delicious.”

Mitchell came to the table. “Sounds like it. Jack, did Sammi mention he's entering culinary school next fall?”

“That's great. I can't boil water.” Jack smiled at the younger man.

“Well, I have to pass my GED first. Then take the SAT.” He looked nervous. “I'll bet you all have been to college.” Jack could see Sammi's vulnerability as he bit his lip.

“A and M,” Brian said.

“Me too.” Mitchell raised his hand. “That's where Brian and I first met.”

“Texas Tech,” Jack added.

“University of Texas, Austin.” Rush chuckled.

Edward entered, carrying six fluffy potatoes on a plate. “Don't mind them, Sammi. I went to Georgia State for one year and dropped out.” He gave Sammi a grin. “College isn't for everyone.”

Sammi blasted him back with a wide grin of thanks. “What do you do, Edward?”

Everyone started to sit down. As hosts, Rush and Brian took the chairs at the head and foot of the table, Mitchell sat across the table and Sammi slipped into the chair next to him.

That left Edward and Jack sitting side by side.

Jack pulled back the chair and sat.

“I've done lots of things.” Edward shrugged as he sat. “Waited tables. Worked in a bank. I even sold aluminum siding over the phone one summer.”

“Wow! That's a lot of different experiences,” Sammi said.

“Yes. But now I'm a licensed masseur.” Edward looked up.

“Massages?” Rush quipped, chewing around a piece of his steak. “If I'd have known that, I'd have had you out here sooner.” He rubbed his shoulder. “I could use a
good
back rub.” Jack saw Rush's eyes sparkle and the slight wink he gave Brian.

“Good back rub? I thought I gave good back rubs.” Brian looked offended.