The Broken Triangle (13 page)

Anna appeared in the doorway, taking in the situation at a glance. “You got the whole bottle into her? Wow, thanks. Let me take her. She’s always fussy after she’s fed, ungrateful girl.”

“I think it was leaking out as fast as it was going in,” Riley said, studying his hand and the dark patch spreading over the buttercup-yellow all-in-one sleeper Ella was wearing. “She’s soaking wet.”

“Those damn cheap diapers.” Anna shook her head. “Never again, no matter how much they’re marked down. Here, I’ll take her. You’ll want to wash up.”

“Thanks.” Riley stood and handed the baby over.

Vin, already anxious to flee, stood too. “I’ll show you where the bathroom is.”

He led Riley to the back of the house, past his mother’s sewing room and the smaller room that had once been his dad’s den but was now more of a storage room. The door couldn’t shut anymore because there was so much stuff piled in there.

“Here you go.” Vin flicked the light on and stepped back to make room for Riley.

“I’m only going to wash my hands,” Riley said. “You can come in if you want.”

Vin hesitated, then shrugged and leaned against the door frame. “There isn’t room at the sink for both of us anyway.”

“You all grew up in this house?”

“Yeah, but there’re two more bathrooms upstairs.”

“It must have been crowded but friendly, I guess.” Riley turned on the hot tap and picked up the soap, rubbing it against his hands under the stream of water that never got more than warm. “When I was a kid, Sophia’s age, I had nightmares now and then. I’d wake and yell, but no one ever came. My parents slept way at the other end of the house, and they couldn’t hear me. They got upset in the morning when I told them I’d been crying, but it was too late by then.”

In Vin’s experience, Anna could hear one of her kids when they were hurt or distressed from a mile away. Riley’s parents’ house wasn’t that big, or at least it didn’t look it from the outside, but he didn’t say anything.

“If I’d yelled, someone would’ve come,” Vin said, “but once I cottoned on to what sex sounded like, I would’ve killed for thicker walls. Double that when I got old enough to jerk off.”

Riley pulled a face, wrinkling up his nose and making it look cute. He dried his hands on a white towel, fluffy enough that Vin suspected it’d been put out for Riley’s benefit. “Parents having sex? Isn’t that illegal?”

“Should be,” Vin agreed. He was close enough to Riley that he wanted to kiss him, steal a taste from the mouth Riley had used to wake his body to pleasure so many times now. He would’ve done it, but he needed to know something first. “I don’t mind about you living where you do. Dad’s right about that guy, but it’s not your fault. When you moved in, you didn’t know what he was like.”

Riley hung the towel over the rail, adjusting it with finicky precision, as if making the edges line up mattered, when it didn’t. “Yeah, well, that’s the thing. I kind of did. He’s a family friend. He and my dad do business together, and his wife and my mom are friends. Marco went to a different school, but we hung out together a lot until he found out I was gay and cooled things off.”

He shrugged as if it were no big deal, but Vin didn’t buy the indifference. Riley had pulled in on himself, every muscle taut, his eyes wide, unblinking as he waited for Vin’s reaction.

It was difficult not to start yelling, but Vin forced himself to be fair.

“You didn’t know what they were capable of—”

Riley interrupted him with a laugh as bitter as the lemons Ben made Vin slice every shift to a perfect uniformity, ready to adorn the rim of a glass. “Are you kidding me? Jack Carter’s ruthless as hell. He doesn’t go in for breaking kneecaps or anything like that, but he’ll take over a floundering company and leave a hundred people out of work without feeling a twinge of regret. What Marco did annoyed him because it wasn’t subtle and, worse, Marco got caught, but he didn’t care about you or your bar.” Riley swallowed, his throat working. “If you’d died, he wouldn’t have shed a single fucking tear.”

“Hey.” Vin hesitated, then moved closer, crowding Riley on purpose so he wouldn’t try to get away. “He’s not you. You’re not responsible for him. What does your dad think?”

“That it’s all business.” Riley was keeping his voice quiet now, like he was afraid of being overheard. “If it’s not, he doesn’t talk about it. He’s single-minded. He cares about work and appearances—if the two overlap in a way that would make him look bad, he makes some excuse and gets out of there as fast as he can.”

“What do you think?” That was more important to Vin.

Riley shrugged. “I guess I think he can’t win. If he says he supports his friend, he’s an asshole and a homophobe. If he says he doesn’t, he screws with his standing in the business community. He could lose everything.”

“No, I mean— I don’t know what I mean.” Vin sighed and patted Riley’s hip in an apology. “You aren’t responsible for anyone but yourself.”

“Yeah, but the thought that you could have been hurt kills me.” Riley hugged him. “You know I’d never want that.”

“I don’t see how anyone could.” Vin didn’t dream about that night, but he revisited it in his thoughts sometimes, a whiff of smoke from a cigarette, a flash of red, or a voice raised in panic triggering the replay. He found himself exploring what-ifs and if-onlys, sketching out alternatives that stopped the attack and saved the bar and Ben’s car from being gutted by flames.

Pointless, all of it. What was done was done.

“Just don’t hate me for knowing them.”

Vin was the one holding Riley now, comforting him with kisses, gentle and loving. “Hating you is impossible. I can’t go there. Nothing you did could make me stop loving you. Nothing.”

He believed it, but he wasn’t sure Riley did.

Riley clung to him for much longer than it should have taken to wash his hands, making it likely that someone would come looking for them soon. Vin didn’t have the heart to draw away, not when it felt like they were holding each other together. Life was so complicated sometimes. Why couldn’t it be simple?

Finally, Riley pulled back far enough to kiss Vin once, hard, then plastered on a somewhat unconvincing smile. “Okay, come on. They’re going to send a search party for us soon.”

“They might not even notice we’re missing,” Vin said without believing it for a moment. “It’s kind of crazy once we’re all around the table.”

He wasn’t exaggerating the craziness, but he could still see the surprise on Riley’s face when they joined the rest of the family in the dining room. Somehow, when the table was crowded with plates and platters and there were a bunch of them sitting—on a combination of chairs and high chairs and booster seats, these days—their numbers seemed to swell.

Suzie, the youngest of Vin’s sisters, appeared from upstairs with her makeup perfect and what looked like a recently ironed dress. “Hi, Vin,” she said with a bright smile directed at Riley. “New boyfriend?”

“You say
new
like I’ve been bringing a whole parade of them home,” Vin complained.

“He isn’t one you’ve had before, so he’s new.” She raised an eyebrow, a trick she’d spent a summer learning. “See the logic, baby bro?”

His reply was automatic. “Don’t call me that. Ever. Jeez.”

She looked intrigued. “You want me to come up with something worse? Really?”

“You’re not going to win this one, are you?” Riley murmured loudly enough for Suzie to hear.

She grinned. “He never has, but he keeps on trying. Got to love a determined man.”

Riley slid his hand down Vin’s thigh, the tablecloth hiding the caress. “Can’t argue with that.”

“Soup,” Vin’s mother announced, placing a huge tureen on the table, steam rising from it.

Riley’s hand squeezed, moved higher, squeezed again, before he pulled it back.

Vin knew what was in store: three courses, a long period of digesting, followed by a snack for the journey. It would be hours before they could leave gracefully, and now he was counting the seconds.

“My feet are killing me.” Patrick pouted and sat down on the nearest chair. His new shoes were fabulous, but he should have broken them in slowly instead of wearing them for a full shift.

“Don’t even think about taking them off unless you want to look for a new job.”

Vin glanced toward the office, where Ben and Shane had been arguing about how to rearrange furniture last Patrick knew.

“I won’t.” Patrick waited until Vin’s attention was back on his bar polishing, then slipped off a shoe and rubbed his foot. Ooh, that felt good. He put his shoe back on before asking, “How’s the love of your life?”

“Fine.” Vin didn’t look up.

“Well, that was convincing.” Patrick got up and strolled over to sit on one of the bar stools opposite Vin.

“I took him home to meet the folks,” Vin quipped and gave him a quick, strained grin.

“It didn’t go well?” Patrick guessed.

Vin shrugged. “It was fine. Just kind of, you know, awkward.”

“They like me,” Patrick pointed out, knowing he sounded smug, but not caring. He’d never been invited over formally, but he’d met Vin’s family on a few occasions. The first time he’d been heartbroken over a breakup, his eyes red-rimmed, his ass aching from that final farewell fuck. The second, third, and fourth times, he’d been recovering from nights so late they’d become mornings, but he’d looked pretty, and he’d remembered his manners. And a few words of Spanish to greet Vin’s mom with. She was a doll. Looking at her was like seeing the blueprint for Vin, and what was not to love about that?

“They think you’re…” Vin paused, visibly searching for a tactful way to put it. “Very you.”

“Well, who else could I be?” Patrick sniffed, disappointed Vin couldn’t come up with anything better. “I mean, can you see me ever being mistaken for, well, just anyone? I stand out.”

He made sure of that. When you were his height, you had to do something to avoid being trampled by the giants of the world, especially when giants did things to his libido that made him want to stand close and get friendly. Dyeing his hair every shade of the rainbow except orange—not his color, it really wasn’t, not even at Halloween—and dressing to show off everything he was willing to share usually did the trick.

The door opened, and a fresh wave of customers came in. Patrick eyed them, looking first for potential trouble, then for possible dates. Dismissing the three guys as harmless and boring, he took advantage of the lack of bosses around and took the shortcut back to behind the bar, sitting on the glossy surface and swinging his legs over. His foot hit a glass, but Vin caught it.

Vin always saved his ass. Patrick liked that about him. “Oops and thank you. Now what exactly was awkward—”

“Do that again, and I’ll use your face to clean the bar when we close.”

Shane really did have a nasty habit of popping up unexpectedly. Wiggling his toes inside his shoes to get some circulation going, Patrick turned to face his employer and went for his most winsome smile. “Just wanted to be ready to serve, O Lord and Master.”

Okay, given what he suspected he thought he knew about the way Shane and Ben played, that was a touch on the mean side, but his feet hurt, and jumping down from the bar hadn’t helped.

“Remember who’s master of your paycheck,” Shane said. “You too, Vincent. You’re meant to be assistant managing, and that includes watching over this lazy git.”

“I’m not lazy!” Patrick protested. “Look, I’m working.”

The new customers had settled their jackets at a table and come up to the bar, so he spent the next few minutes checking their IDs, making drinks for them, and putting their cash in the register. He folded up the tip and tucked it into his pocket with some effort. He kept reminding himself to wear less tight-fitting jeans to work, but when it came time to get dressed, he chose whatever he’d look hottest in.

“You can relax now. He’s gone,” Vin said, patting his shoulder.

Patrick glanced around to make sure, but Shane had disappeared again, presumably back to the office. “I do know how to work, you know. I wasn’t just doing it for show.”

“I know.”

“So going back to our previous conversation…” Patrick knew he wasn’t the smartest guy on the planet, or even in the bar, but he tried to make up for it by being determined. And cute, obviously.

“What were we talking about?”

Vin sounded too innocent for Patrick to buy the act.

“You were telling me why taking the amazing Riley home to meet your family was so awkward.”

“I’m pretty sure I wasn’t.”

“Well, you were about to.” Patrick trailed a finger down Vin’s upper arm. “Come on, honey, you’ll feel better once you get it off your chest.”

Vin’s T-shirt—black, as always, which Patrick approved of because it meant the two of them never clashed—was short-sleeved, showcasing all those lovely toned muscles and ink. Touching Vin’s arm felt good enough that Patrick wanted to do it again, using more than a fingertip. His palm itched to stroke, his tongue to lick.

He was a bad boy, no doubt about it. Vin came with a giant TAKEN AND IN LOVE sign around his neck. Patrick respected signs like that. Mostly. Though it was a sin and a shame to cover Vin’s neck with anything but the inked design it already had and maybe a red mark from a hard kiss, which it didn’t.

And why didn’t it? If Patrick had been Riley—and wasn’t that idea enough to send an icy shiver down his back—he would’ve never sent Vin out without some kind of hint to the world that here was a man with a wild and passionate lover waiting for him in bed, naked, hard, lube in hand.

The shiver became one of pure lust. He’d lie there for hours if he knew when the door opened, Vin would walk through it, those dark eyes narrowing as they took in the view. He would’ve been a teensy bit impatient and jerked off already, so his skin was damp with spunk, the sheet under his ass creased from all his squirming. Vin would punish him for that in the most delicious ways, making him wait, making him beg, rubbing that solid, thick cock of his all over Patrick’s face but never sliding it between his lips.

A smack delivered to the back of his head, this time by Ben, ended his fantasy abruptly along with any chance of getting an answer from Vin. And a fantasy was all it was. Vin was a sweet guy, and yeah, hotter than a hot thing, but when it came to sex, well, he was still practically a virgin.