G-Men: The Series (164 page)

I admit, I was damn picky when it came to my Christmas tree decorating. My mother had always left it for me to do, once Trace left home, and I had taken the responsibility quite seriously.

“Much better, Eli,” I praised, after I had instructed him to fill the gap where one string of lights plugged into the next.

“Thank you, Princess Paige,” he teased, with a shake of his head. “Damn, I never knew how inept I was at this until you so graciously pointed out the multiple faux pas I made here.” He gave a waggle of his eyebrows.

Cain came in from the garage just then with another rubber tub marked “X-MAS SHIT.” He set it down next to the tree and took the lid off of it.

“Here it is,” he said, with a big smile. “I knew we hadn’t tossed this stuff out before the move.”

He reached in and pulled out several home-made ornaments. Like maybe from his own childhood. There were snowmen and gingerbread men made out of colored felt, with sequins and buttons glued on, a Christmas angel that looked like it had been made out of a tampon, with a bunch of glitter adorning it and a gold pipe-cleaner shaped as the wings.

“These are precious,” I said, my lips twitching to a smile. I had never seen Cain look like a ‘kid at Christmas’ which was exactly how he looked at this very moment. It was hard to even imagine him being a child, what with his serious nature and the passionate undercurrent I had felt first-hand the night before.

He looked over at me and our eyes met.

Damn, he was fucking complicated—or maybe it was simply that the longer I knew him, the less I seemed to know him. He could still surprise me with his sudden change of emotions, or the occasional peek into his psyche.

“I don’t know why I’ve kept these,” he admitted with a sheepish smile. “I guess it’s the fact that they represent some happy times as a kid.”

“Or because you’re an insufferable packrat,” Eli chimed in, as he started hanging Christmas ornaments. He didn’t catch the one finger salute Cain threw up behind his back, giving me a wink.

I started putting wire hooks into some of Cain’s ornaments, getting ready to hang them. “Where did you grow up, Cain?”

“Chicago,” he replied. “Until my parents divorced when I was thirteen, then I moved with my mother to Baltimore. I didn’t see my father much after that,” he said, shrugging.

I knew Cain well enough by now not to dig any deeper. If he wanted me to know more, he would tell me when he was ready. Compared to Eli and me, just from the bits and pieces that Cain had shared over the past several months, his formative years didn’t sound particularly pleasant.

We were nearly finished trimming the tree when Eli looked at his watch. “Shit, I’m fifteen minutes late picking up Darce.”

“Huh?” I asked, looking over at him as he headed for the closet.

“Shopping. We made plans yesterday.”

“You’re actually going out with all of the crazies on the worst fucking shopping day of the year?” I asked incredulously.

Cain snorted. “You know better than to ask, Paige. Dude doesn’t miss a chance to out-shop Darcy.”

“Yeah, as if,” Eli chuckled, zipping up his jacket. “I’ll stop on the way home for some Chinese take-out. Sound good?”

“Fine by me,” I replied, placing an ornament on the tree. “Be careful out there.”

Cain and I finished the tree, making small talk about our Christmases growing up. I felt a bit uncomfortable, like something was hanging over our heads that we weren’t addressing. I finally had enough nerve to mention it.

“Cain, I know you’re a private person and I totally respect that, but you and I need to talk about yesterday…about the kiss.” I was stumbling over my words, not sure what his reaction would be.

He slowly nodded. “I know,” he said, slowly. “I hope I didn’t totally freak you out. I just couldn’t resist,” he sighed.

I sat up straighter as he appeared to collect his thoughts. I also made sure that there was a decent amount of couch between us this time.

“I’m drawn to you,” he said this like we were just two people talking about the weather. “Sexually…and emotionally.”

When he just tossed that out there, I probably looked like some sort of a fish in shock as I felt my eyes widen…

He continued, “Eli knows it. I told him last night about the kiss,” Cain let out a small laugh. “And he’s not upset; he’s not even surprised.”

“I guess I’m confused,” I murmured. “I don’t want to cause problems between the two of you. You
do
know that I care deeply for both of you, right?”

He nodded, giving me a trace of a smile. “I do know that—we
both
know that. Hey, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable with that, Paige. I just needed to put it out there, because it’s just who I am and it’s how I feel.”

I wasn’t sure how I felt about it now, knowing that he had told Eli and, for whatever reason, Eli had understood. This was all very new ground for me. I opted to change the subject for now.

“You know,” I said, “There’s a guy at work that’s kind of been flirting with me the past couple of months.”

I saw Cain quirk an eyebrow, but he remained silent.

“Anyway,” I continued, “You can rest assured he’s not the…caliber I went for in the past. I’ve learned my lesson on that, thanks to you guys. So, would it be okay if I invited him here for dinner…maybe next week?”

Cain eyed me warily, his eyes narrowing infinitesimally. “This is your home too, Paige. You don’t need our permission to have a guest for dinner.”

I flushed, feeling a bit embarrassed. “I know
that,”
I responded. “What I
meant
was that I’d like you and Eli to be here for dinner as well. So that, you know, you can meet Kenneth? We’re sort of like family, the three of us. Especially since none of mine ever seem to be talking to me much these days,” I finished quietly.

“It’s fine, Paige,” Cain replied softly. “Just let us know when and we’ll make sure to become the Italian mafia where your boyfriend conquest is concerned, okay?”

I smiled, feeling better already. I wanted these men to like any man I brought home for them to meet. I needed their seal of approval, for some strange reason. What they thought about me mattered.

^{chapter 11}

I gazed at the dining room table that was beautifully set. The water glasses were filled, the wine was breathing and my homemade lasagna was baking in the oven.

I returned to the kitchen, chopping up celery for my salad. I popped a piece of it into my mouth, just as I felt strong arms encircle me from behind, causing me to jump and let out a high-pitched shriek.

I heard Eli’s playful laugh. “Sorry, sweetie,” he said, releasing me. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“What the hell, Eli?” I said, trying to swallow the chunk of celery now lodged in my throat.

“You okay?” he asked, smacking me on the back. “Sorry, babe, the smell of your lasagna makes me do impetuous things,” he winked.

“I’m fine,” I said, rolling my eyes. “How about you put some of your energy into making the salad?” I suggested. “Where’s Cain?”

Eli grabbed a paring knife and started peeling a carrot. “He’s just getting out of the shower. Don’t worry; I laid out clothes for him. Wouldn’t want to bring shame to our best girl while she tries to impress Kevin.”

“It’s
Kenneth,
” I told him for about the fifth time this week. “Kenneth,” I annunciated.

“Got it, got it,” he said. “So what’s
Kenneth’s
story?”

I checked the lasagna, and turned the oven down a bit. “Well, he’s older than me, probably thirty-ish—”

“Ah-hah—geezers like us,” he teased.

“Sort of,” I replied with a smile. “Truthfully, Eli, he
is
kind of a serious guy, so maybe you can drop our usual banter down a notch or two? I mean the guy’s an accountant, for Chrissake, so I think the word of the day is conservative.”

“Conservative?” he quipped, “My fucking word of the day is ‘mismatch’.”

“Huh?”

“Why the hell would you pursue a relationship with a dude who you admit is a stuffy bean-counter?”

“I didn’t say stuffy,” I replied.

“It was
implied
, babe.”

Just then, Cain came into the kitchen, dressed in the casual Dockers/Polo ensemble that Eli had selected for him.

“What the fuck smells so good?” he asked, his eyes widening.

“See,” I snapped. “That’s just what I mean.” I tossed my hand up in the air in exasperation.

“Chill, Paige,” Eli replied, and then directed his attention to the befuddled Cain. “It seems as though we need to act like we have couth and manners this evening, Maddox. Paige just described Kenneth as being…well,
boring.
”

I grabbed the wooden salad utensils from the counter and started tossing. “I didn’t say boring; I said conservative. I mean, come on guys, I don’t want him thinking I live with heathens, alright?”

“Hey, this is your gig, babe,” Cain said. “We’ll take our cue from you, how’s that?”

“Perfect,” I replied, taking the salad bowl out to the table.

Well, to say that dinner went well would be…an all-out lie.

Fuck me.

What had I been thinking, inviting Kenneth over? And I won’t say my guys didn’t try to find some topic of interest to draw my date into some masculine conversation. I mean, my God, they had to have been exhausted by the time the meal was blessedly over.

First off, Kenneth has no interest whatsoever in sports—any sports.

He has no interest in music, traveling, the arts, television programs, or even current events—with the exception of the national debt, about which he rambled on non-stop for nearly twenty minutes.

He also had no tolerance for being referred to as “Kenny,” which Eli managed to do several times, much to Kenneth’s obvious chagrin.

Finally, Eli and Cain retired to their room to give Kenneth and me some privacy, which to be honest, I didn’t want. The dude was flat out on my fucking nerves. In fact, he was running neck-and-neck with ol’ Trevor Mulroney at this point.

“Would you like a refill on your wine?” I asked Kenneth as we sat staring at one another at the now-cleared dining room table.

“Certainly, thank you,” he replied, holding his glass up.

I poured myself some as well, thinking maybe this guy would be a tad more tolerable if I were under the influence a bit.

“So, Paige,” he said quietly, leaning in as if he wanted to tell me a secret. “Is it safe for me to presume that your…uh…roommates are queers?”

I nearly spewed my mouthful of merlot onto his crisply-ironed white oxford shirt. I grabbed a napkin, wiping my mouth as I managed to swallow it instead.

“Uh, Kenneth? Exactly
who
uses that word these days?” I asked, looking him dead in the eyes.

“I apologize,” he replied, quickly. “Homos, then?”

Ah, fuck to the no…

“You know,” I started, trying to choose my words carefully, “I guess I don’t understand why the sexual preference of my roommates—who, by the way, are very close to me, would be of any consequence to you.”

He looked a bit taken aback at being called out on his own ignorance and stupidity.

“Well, it’s just that your living arrangement took me a bit by surprise. I mean, I’ve been trying to talk to you for months, but you didn’t seem interested. Then, out of the blue, you invite me to dinner this week and introduce me to your roommates, whom you obviously wanted in attendance for our date. It just makes me wonder whether you don’t feel comfortable being alone with me—or maybe if it’s something else altogether.”