Summary:
After trading the barracks for a fixer-upper rental, navy SEAL Zack Nelson wants peace, not a roommate—especially not Pike, who sees things about Zack he most wants to hide. Pike's flirting puts virgin Zack on edge. And the questions Pike's arrival would spark from Zack's teammates about his own sexuality? Nope. Not going there. But Zack can't refuse.
Pike Reynolds knows there won't be a warm welcome in his new home. What can he say? He's an acquired taste. But he needs this chance to get his life together. Also, teasing the uptight SEAL will be hella fun. Still, Pike has to tread carefully; he's had his fill of tourists in the past, and he can't risk his heart on another, not even one as hot, as built—and, okay, yeah, as adorable—as Zack.
Living with Pike crumbles Zack's restraint and fuels his curiosity. He discovers how well they fit together in bed…in the shower…in the hallway… He needs Pike more than he could have imagined, yet he doesn't know how to be the man Pike deserves.
Summary:
Lieutenant Apollo Floros can ace tactical training missions, but being a single dad to his twin daughters is more than he can handle. He needs live-in help, and he's lucky a friend's younger brother needs a place to stay. He's surprised to see Dylan all grown up with a college degree…and a college athlete's body. Apollo's widowed heart may still be broken, but Dylan has his blood heating up.
It's been eight years since the teenage Dylan followed Apollo around like a lovesick puppy, and it's time he showed Lieutenant Hard-to-Please that he's all man now—an adult who's fully capable of choosing responsibility over lust. He can handle Apollo's muscular sex appeal, but Apollo the caring father? Dylan can't afford to fall for that guy. He's determined to hold out for someone who's able to love him back, not someone who only sees him as a kid brother.
Apollo is shocked by the intensity of his attraction to Dylan. Maybe some no-strings summer fun will bring this former SEAL back to life. But the combination of scorching desire and warm affection is more than he'd expected, and the emotion between them scares him senseless. No fling lasts forever, and Apollo will need to decide what's more important—his past or his future—if he wants to keep Dylan in his life.
Never fall for your best friend…
Pushing thirty, with his reenlistment looming, decorated navy sniper Maddox Horvat is taking a long look at what he really wants in life. And what he wants is Ben Tovey. It isn’t smart, falling for his best friend and fellow SEAL, but ten years with Ben has forged a bond so intimate Maddox can’t ignore it. He needs Ben by his side forever—heart and soul.
Ben admits he likes what he’s seen—his friend’s full lower lip and the perfect muscles of his ass have proved distracting more than once. But Ben's still reeling from a relationship gone to hell, and he's not about to screw up his friendship with Maddox, too.
Until their next mission throws Ben and Maddox closer together than ever before, with only each other to depend on.
Now, in the lonely, desperate hours awaiting rescue, the real challenge—confronting themselves, their future and their desires—begins. Man to man, friend to friend, lover to lover.
Off Base #1
Chapter One
June
“What do you mean they’re not coming?” Zack tried hard to sound like the badass navy SEAL he was now. He’d passed all sorts of interrogation training—there was no reason he couldn’t hide that he didn’t particularly like this guy. Or this fancy bar where he and his nontrendy clothes and military haircut were out of place. He’d agreed to go out for drinks with a group. His friend Ryan had promised him a drink for finishing his SEAL qualification training and getting his trident, and Zack had figured dealing with the rest of Ryan’s crowd wouldn’t be horrible. But tolerable was a far cry from being stranded alone with Pike freaking Reynolds without Ryan as a buffer.
“They blew two tires getting out of Santa Monica and are waiting on a repair truck now. Ryan said to have fun without them.” Pike looked harmless enough—shorter than Zack with a lean build and bright red hair and freckles that made him look too young to drink—but Zack knew from experience he was anything but benign. Pike was the type of guy who would flirt with wallpaper, but he seemed to have singled Zack out for special attention ever since their first meeting at a LAN party.
Which was all well and good, but unlike a lot of Ryan’s crowd, Zack wasn’t openly gay. And what Zack hated was that Pike seemed to see through all his “no, really I’m straight” protests and see things Zack refused to even think about. And a whole night with Pike? Torture. And that was coming from someone who’d been tossed into frigid water with his arms and legs bound. Repeatedly.
But he’d happily endure another round of drownproof training if it meant an easy out of this situation.
“Is Landon coming?” Please say it’s not just us. Surely, Pike’s omnipresent sidekick would be there to bail Zack out.
“Nope. He’s doing research at the Hadron Collider for the next few months. Just us, I think.” Pike grinned at him. “Alone at last, right?”
Zack guessed that the Hadron was one of those supersmart things Pike’s crowd just assumed everyone else knew about. He certainly wasn’t about to appear dumb and ask. “You don’t have to stick around on my account,” he said instead.
“Dude.” Pike smacked him on the shoulder. “I’ve had a shit week. Another three interviews for jobs for the fall, another three fuckups on my part. Don’t make me drink alone.”
“I guess I could do a beer.”
“On me, right? We’re all super stoked that you passed SQT.” Pike gave him another of those disarming smiles.
Ba-deep-deep. Zack’s phone chimed. Sure enough, there was a message from Ryan apologizing for bailing. Have fun with Pike, Ryan ended. But whatever you do, don’t let him talk you into shots. He looks scrawny, but he can drink you under the table. Trust me.
Zack shoved his phone away. Nope, no way was he doing shots with Pike. Last thing he needed was to get drunk and forget himself around the guy.
“So what’ll it be? They have a whole selection of craft beers here.” Pike offered him one of the little bar menus artfully strewn around on the huge antique wood bar.
“A Bud’s fine,” Zack said. He’d never developed a taste for the fancy stuff. This whole place was fancier than he was used to, what with the exposed hardwoods everywhere, the prettified bar food emerging from the kitchen, and the painted inspirational quotes behind the bar. Even the name, Mellow, was a far cry from the hole-in-the-wall places he’d drunk at in college or even Big Ted’s, the little sports bar right off base that his fellow SEALs favored.
Pike signaled the burly bartender, who frowned at them after Pike gave their order for a Bud and some fancy-ass beer Zack had never heard of. “Hand stamps, please. Both of you.”
Zack stuck his hand out, showing that the bouncer had indeed checked his ID. Pike put his arm right next to Zack’s—way too close for comfort. “See, look at us, finding things in common.”
“Getting carded is hardly something to be proud of,” Zack mumbled as he pulled his arm away. Back in San Diego, when he went to the bars with his friends, they never got carded anymore. And he liked that—he was twenty-three now, for crying out loud.
“Of course it’s not for you, Muscles.” Pike did that whole standing-too-close thing again, moving over so others could get to the bar.
Zack really shouldn’t like that Pike noticed what the past few months of training had done for his physique. He’d always been lean, but days of log—and boat-carry drills had carved out muscles he hadn’t even been aware he had. Zack accepted his beer from the bartender, then followed Pike to one of the little high-top tables ringing the bar area.
“Seriously, you are jacked now.” Pike winked at him, giving him the sort of once-over Zack’s buddies gave girls in bikinis. “Look at those shoulders. It even makes you look taller.”
Flattery was not going to work on Zack. Not even a bit. Besides, Pike was the short one, probably five seven or so. But Zack was a perfectly respectable five ten. In your boots.
“Truth, man. I just call it like I see it.” Pike shrugged. And that right there was the whole problem with Pike—he had absolutely no filter and a way too keen sense of observation.
Zack had to look away before Pike turned that sense on him again and saw how much he liked all the compliments. He looked around the bar, but instead of that calming him down, his tension ratcheted way the hell back up. Next to them, two guys were snuggled up all cozy, chairs touching, arms around each other’s shoulders. Across the room, two women held hands, and he counted a few more pairings that could be guy-guy or girl-girl couples.
“What kind of bar is this?” he hissed.
Pike gave another casual roll of his slim shoulders. “It’s West Hollywood, man. Very mixed crowd is to be expected, you know?”
No, Zack did not know that, thank you very much. He figured Ryan and his boyfriend wouldn’t drink anywhere too conservative, but he’d also assumed they wouldn’t drag him to a gay bar.
“Dude. You look like you just discovered mouse poop in your fries. I promise no one’s taking away your het cred just because the quilt bag crowd likes to drink here too.”
Zack shook his head partly because he wasn’t sure what all the letters stood for in quilt bag and partly because het cred was seriously the least of his worries. “It’s fine,” he lied.
“Can I see the trident pin?” Pike leaned forward. This was part of the…thing about Pike. He loved all things military, knew all the acronyms, and made no secret about finding uniforms hot. It made it so that Zack was never sure if Pike was truly interested in what he had to say or if it was all about feeding his SEAL fantasies. And why Zack cared about that distinction, he couldn’t say.
“I don’t go wearing it out bar hopping.” Zack gave him a hard glare, one that usually convinced others to fall in line, but it didn’t seem to faze Pike.
“So tell me about SQT. Was it as hard as BUD/S?” Pike’s devilish smile said that he’d be happy to venture into more…inappropriate topics if Zack didn’t take this bait.
“Nah. I was so damn glad they didn’t roll me all the way back to Hell Week that SQT was almost a relief.” Zack had broken his leg during the jump training portion of SEAL training that followed BUD/S, and he’d been hella nervous until the review board said he only had to repeat the jump training before joining the next SEAL class at SQT. He’d heard about guys rolled all the way to the start of BUD/S when they got a med drop.
“And now you’ve got your platoon assignment, right? All new guys? When do you get deployed, you think?”
Zack laughed at the stacked questions. Pike played too many warfare games. “Yeah. I’m here for the weekend because I got some leave after finishing SQT, but I’ll be based out of Coronado with my new team. And no, not all new guys. Couple of guys from BUD/S and SQT got assigned to the same platoon.” He kept his voice as casual as he could, trying not to reveal how fucked-up it was that he’d been assigned to the same platoon as Cobb, the guy who’d made his life hell in BUD/S. And to make matters worse, they were only a few rooms apart in the fucking barracks.
“So you guys will be doing real missions soon?” Pike pressed. And fuck, wouldn’t Cobb have a field day with Zack being in this place with Pike? Christ, just the thought had him taking a deep pull from his beer.
Zack groaned. “I wish. We’re looking at another twelve to eighteen months of training before we get into the field.” All the training was intense, but he couldn’t wait to get out there for real—it was what he’d signed up to do, why he’d done the navy SEAL challenge when enlisting, what he’d dreamed about for years.
“Excuse me.” A pretty blonde woman, shorter than Pike, even in teetering heels, rested an arm on their table.
“Yeah?” Zack said warily.
“My friends and I have a bet.” She pointed over her shoulder at a group of young women crowded around one of the tables.
“Oh?” Pike was way more enthusiastic than Zack would have been, giving the woman a friendly grin.
“See, Miriam says you guys are a couple—”
“We’re not.” Zack’s tongue nearly knotted in his hurry to deny that little idea.
“Awesome.” She smiled widely at him. “So who wants to dance?”
“Zack’s the one who plays for your team,” Pike said all casually, jerking his thumb in Zack’s direction, but there was a challenge in his eyes.
“Fabulous.” She looked Zack over in a way that made his stomach cramp. Unlike when Pike scoped you out. He knew her gaze was supposed to make his blood hum, make him start thinking sexy things, but instead it kind of creeped him out.
“Hey—” Zack started to protest, but the woman was already grabbing his wrist.
You’re the one who’s always on about how straight you are, Pike’s eyes said as he didn’t move at all to rescue Zack, instead saying, “Go on now. I’ll keep the table and order some fries for when you get back.”
Nothing to do other than drain his beer in one swallow and follow the woman to the dance floor at the far end of the establishment, separated from the rest of the bar by a low wall.
She was cute in a little silver tank top and smelled liked the wisteria in his mom’s front yard, and Zack supposed he should be thinking how good her chest looked in the tight top or how much he wanted that scent all over him, but…yeah, not happening. Still, though, he’d been down this road enough times to know the drill, and he liked dancing, liked letting music move through him, even if the partner stuff did get tricky. The dance mix pumped out a fast beat, enabling him to keep space between them. And she was good, not stomping his feet or draping herself all over him. One dance and he’d politely send her back to her friends.
Near them, a couple—a guy-guy couple to be exact—danced super close. Fuck. One of them wore some sort of spicy aftershave and had a low chuckle for his partner that went right to Zack’s gut. The two shared a private look and a kiss so dirty that Zack couldn’t look away. He’d seen Ryan cuddle up to his boyfriend a couple of times, but that sort of playfulness was a far cry from this…fireworks show inches from him.
“Hey.” The woman tugged on his arm. “Your friend was wrong, wasn’t he?”
“What?” Zack forced his eyes back to her. “Just…not used to…never mind.”
“It’s okay.” She gave him a knowing smile. “Thanks for the dance.” And she headed back to her friends with a little flip of her hair. Fuck. Zack had been figuring he’d buy her a drink, get her off the scent of whatever trail she thought she was on, but she’d dismissed him, clear as day.
“Strike out?” Pike asked when Zack made his way back to the table.
“She had to get back to her friends.” Zack tried to sound regretful but doubted he was all that convincing.
“Fry?” Pike passed him a basket of sweet potato fries with some sort of mayo-based dipping sauce that was far spicier than it looked.
“Whoa.” Zack fanned his mouth, then noticed his beer had already been refilled. He took a swig. “Thanks, man.”
“Not into spicy?” Pike managed to make the question sound rather suggestive.
Zack could survive hours of surf torture, but he couldn’t control his blush. “Nah.”
“That’s okay.” Pike swiped a ketchup out of the condiment display on the back edge of their table, passed it to him. “Simple’s good too.”
Zack honestly wasn’t sure whether they were talking about fries anymore, but he nodded. “So…crap week?” he asked partly to avoid a long awkward silence and partly because he figured even Pike couldn’t flirt while bitching.
“Oh man, you have no idea. Defended my dissertation back in the winter. I thought I had a job all lined up with War Elf—”
“That huge role-playing game?”
“Yeah. I did my dissertation on a statistical analysis model of their users’ usage habits over time.”
“Impressive.” Zack blinked. He had a degree himself, but his BA in history didn’t include the wherewithal to decipher all the lingo needed for a math PhD.
“Yeah, anyway, I was told they might have a place for me, but they don’t, so now I’m stuck tossing my hat in the teaching ring. And it sucks.”
“You don’t want to teach?”
“Do I look like professor material?” Pike gestured at himself. Zack let himself do the one thing he tried to avoid and really looked at Pike—faded T-shirt advertising the game Ryan’s boyfriend worked for, ripped jeans. Surprisingly full pink lips. Twinkling green eyes—wait. Clothes. He was supposed to be noticing clothes.
“Not exactly,” Zack mumbled into his napkin.
“I had to wear a suit three times this week,” Pike moaned.
“Dude, until you have to wear the same soggy BDUs for five days running, you don’t get to complain.”
“Okay, okay, you win. I’m just saying that this whole adulting thing bites.”
Zack had seen enough suckage in his life to decide that “adulting” was practically a vacation, but he nodded because a “suck it up, buttercup” wasn’t going to go over well with Pike’s pity party.
“You know what we should do?” Pike brightened, getting a gleam in his eye that frightened Zack more than a live grenade. “Shots. We need to do shots.”
Across the room, the woman from earlier was talking to her friends and as if on cue, the whole table tittered and three blond heads swiveled in his direction before returning to the giggle fest. Fuck.
He knew he’d regret this, probably within the hour, but at that moment he couldn’t stop his head from nodding. “Bring it on.”
At Attention #2
Chapter One
May
Hamburger. Onions. Pickles. Ketchup. Buns. Buns.
Well, hello, there. Possibly the most perfect specimen Apollo had ever seen was bent over in the bakery aisle at Sprouts, looking at a rack of organic cookies. High. Tight. Round. Attached to muscular legs poking out of board shorts, the kind of legs that suggested a serious investment in a sport or fitness. He wasn’t going to do more than look, but even when he’d been with Neal, he hadn’t been blind, and it was nice to know perfection like this guy existed in the world.
It was like swimming by a perfect coral reef on a dive or the blue of a cloudless sky right before a jump—
Wink. Fuck. The guy straightened before Apollo could look away and caught Apollo staring, and instead of blushing or serving him with the angry glare he deserved, he gave Apollo a saucy wink. It was the sort of wink that a decade ago would have had Apollo crossing the shiny linoleum and getting the guy’s number, but those days were long gone.
Instead he grabbed the closest twelve pack of hamburger buns and one of hot dog buns and headed to the next aisle. Those were the only kind of buns he had any business letting himself be distracted by. He was a father for crying out loud, not some single guy out treating the natural grocery store like his own personal pickup joint. Reflexively, he rubbed his ring with the side of his pinky, making it spin on his ring finger. Yeah. No more looking.
“Apollo! How are you?” Bridget from down the street almost ran her cart into his as he navigated the aisles. Her red-haired toddler waved at him from the basket.
Hell. He knew he should have brought at least one of the girls shopping. Then Bridget could have focused on the kids, and not his least favorite question in the universe.
“Hanging in there.” Apollo gave her a practiced a smile. “Good” would be a lie and no one wanted to hear “same as yesterday,” which was closer to the truth. But what the Bridgets of the world all wanted to hear was that Apollo was moving on—like time was the magic cure for the hole in his heart. “Having some people over for a barbecue later. Apologies if anyone parks in front of your place.”
“Oh, no worries.” Bridget patted his arm. “Having friends is so important.”
“Yeah, it is,” Apollo agreed because Bridget was a nice person, but inwardly his teeth gnashed together. He was so tired of well-meaning people telling him what was good for him when not a damn one of their suggestions would bring Neal back. “I better get on with my list.”
“You do that. And be sure and let us know if you need anything.”
Apollo nodded. Two years. It had been two years of neighbors and friends stopping him like this, making kind offers, but none of them able to do the one thing he wanted more than anything.
Fuck. Snap out of it, Lieutenant. No one wants your mopey ass around on this sunny May weekend. And it was an absolutely gorgeous day, perfect for playing with the girls outside and kicking back a few beers with his friends. He wasn’t on duty and had three consecutive days off for the first time in a long time. No sense dwelling on sad shit. Time to get stuff done.
Find something else to focus on.
Like that perfect ass?
No. Absolutely not that. Like...pickles. Lots and lots of pickles.
He saw Mr. Perfect Butt again in the juice aisle, and it was damn hard to keep his resolution to stick to shopping. The guy was model cute—curly hair falling just so over his forehead, sparkling eyes, chiseled jaw, and a tight T-shirt advertising a British soccer team showing off a defined chest and tight stomach. The guy smiled at him again and looked like he might want to speak, so Apollo grabbed the juice boxes for the girls and got out of there like he’d just launched a flash bang in the guy’s direction.
At the checkout, Mr. Perfect Butt was ahead of him in the only line that seemed to be moving. Apollo very carefully did not look at his butt again and busied himself grabbing some gum and trying to give off “don’t talk to me” vibes.
But those vibes seemed to be an utter failure as the guy turned, offering another movie-star-worthy grin. “You want to go first?” His voice was husky, like every word was a secret.
“I’m good,” Apollo said.
The man nodded, shy smile teasing the edges of his mouth, making his blue eyes dance. “You know—”
“ID please.” The cashier interrupted whatever flirtation the guy had planned as his six pack of beer went across the scanner.
“Oh, yeah.” A faint red flush spread up the guy’s neck. Oh hell. He wasn’t just younger than Apollo. He was a kid. A kid who still got carded, and rightfully so with that baby face. What the hell had Apollo been thinking, admiring his body?
Apollo focused on unloading his own groceries, making neat rows for the cashier, and making sure the buns wouldn’t get squished.
Buns. Nope. Not going there. The kid hung around after paying for his groceries, mouth moving as if he were debating speaking, but Apollo kept his attention squarely on the cashier.
No more looking. Remember who—what—you are now. When he finally looked up, perfect butt guy was gone, and if Apollo felt a twinge of regret for being a bit on the rude side, he squashed it quickly. Wasn’t like he’d ever see the guy again anyway.
* * *
“No way.” Apollo turned away from the grill to face his best friend who looked sane despite the crazy-making words that had just come out of his mouth. “No way is your little brother staying here for the summer. Last thing I need is another kid around here.” He gestured at the kid toys scattered all about the small patio.
“He’s not exactly a kid anymore.” Not dropping the topic, Dustin lowered himself into the chair closest to the grill. Even off duty in sunglasses and cargo shorts, Dustin carried himself like the SEAL lieutenant he was, and his massive muscular frame made the chair groan. He kicked idly at a ball in front of the chair.
“He’s what—eighteen now? That’s still a kid.”
“Wrong. He’s twenty-three. Just graduated from U of O. With honors.” Dustin’s voice was filled with big brother pride. Like Apollo, he might have more than a decade on Dylan, but that had never stopped Dustin from doting on the youngest of his siblings.
“Twenty-three?” Apollo scrubbed at his jaw. “It seems like just yesterday he was fifteen—”
“And following us around with that puppy crush on you. I remember.” Dustin laughed. “But trust me. He’s over that. I mean I’m pretty sure he wept when you got married, but he hasn’t asked me about you in years. Not like he used to.”
This was hardly reassuring. Apollo remembered all too well the gangly teen with bad skin and crazy hair who had trailed after them the week that he and Dustin had visited Dustin’s hometown of Eugene, Oregon. Nice kid, a little too serious what with his probing questions and all, but he’d also been a surprisingly good listener for fifteen.
“Is it true? Dustin said...you’re...like me?” Dylan looked up from the board game he was setting up, his shy eyes considering Apollo carefully. Man, this kid was something else. Apollo sure wouldn’t have had the balls to ask a near stranger about his sexuality at his age. Hell, he was still figuring himself out back then, not announcing it to the family over pizza like Dylan apparently had.
“You know about ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,’ right?” Apollo straightened the haphazard stacks of cards.
“Yeah. Mom says it’s going to be repealed really soon.”
“Well it’s not yet. So yeah, I’m gay, but I’m also not exactly out. I’m going to trust you not to say anything to Dustin’s other friends, right?”
“Of course. But, man that must suck.” Dylan’s voice held far more empathy than Apollo would have thought possible from a fifteen-year-old. “So Dustin’s the only one who knows?”
“Dustin and a few other close friends, but yeah, mostly I just keep my head down, do my job.”
“What are you going to do when you meet someone?” Dylan sounded way too interested in the answer.
It was something Apollo had thought about a fair amount, but he wasn’t going to admit that. “Hasn’t happened yet.”
Of course, not six months later, it had happened. Wait. Had that really been eight years ago? It didn’t seem possible, but at the same time, it felt like he’d lived a lifetime in the years since that visit. He could still remember the wind whipping around him as they zoomed up 101 on their motorcycles, exploring the California and Oregon coast. God, they’d been so young. As young as that guy in the grocery store. Before Neal. Before the girls. Before...
Apollo shook his head, not willing to get sucked into a spiral of grief and regrets. Lord knew he had enough of that.
“Even if he is more...adult now, that doesn’t mean I need him here.” Apollo turned the gas grill on to preheat before taking a seat in the lounger opposite Dustin. His back gave an unhappy twinge. Damn. He’d forgotten that this chair was too low.
“Sure you do. Your mom is still going to Greece, right?” Dustin tossed the bright pink ball at him.
“Yeah.” Apollo easily caught the ball. “But Neal’s parents are going to help out where they can, and I’ll hire—”
“Your in-laws are what, late sixties now? They’re not up to daily childcare. And I’m offering you a way to not have to interview and vet babysitters.”
“I wasn’t intending on anyone living here.” Apollo threw the ball back. He and the girls and his mother had a routine going. He needed that routine. He did not need someone upsetting all his careful organization. It was bad enough that his mother and two of his aunts were going to be gone two months on the trip of a lifetime. It was hard to begrudge her something that she’d saved and planned years for, but Apollo still hated the coming upheaval.
“It’s the perfect solution. Dylan will help out when you have to work late, and he can take the girls to day camp with him during the day. They’ll love the rec center camp, you’ll see.”
“I’m not sure they’re old enough—”
“They’re going to be in kindergarten in the fall. Trust me, being around other kids instead of just a babysitter will be great for them.”
Like Apollo needed another reminder that time was marching on. How were the babies almost kindergarteners? “And you know this how, bachelor of the decade?”
“My sisters all have kids. And Dylan’s always spouting all that early childhood psychology stuff too.”
Dylan, little Dylan, taking psychology classes was something Apollo still couldn’t wrap his head around. “I don’t think I could have someone around the girls, sight unseen—”
“I knew you’d say that. He’s on his way over.”
“He’s what?” Back be damned, Apollo leaped off the chair. Was he going to have to deal with this today? “Isn’t he in Oregon?”
“Relax. He was in town for the day camp job interview, decided to stay a few extra days. I told him to stop by after I had a chance to work on you.”
“That’s awfully presumptuous of you.” Apollo glared down at Dustin who responded by hefting himself out the chair.
“I know you.” Dustin met him glare for glare, close to two decades of friendship between them. He was the only one in the world Apollo would let get away with crap like this. “And if you let yourself slow down and think about this, you’ll see that it’s the perfect solution for everyone.”
Apollo didn’t believe in perfect, not anymore. He looked away, trying to find the right words to tell Dustin that his guest room was not a La Quinta for recent grads, even beloved brothers of best friends.
“This would mean a lot to me.” Dustin leaned in. “Look, we both know that my team’s due to go wheels up any time now, and the kid took this job because I’m here. If I knew you were looking out for him—”
“Is the grill ready?” Apollo’s mother bustled out onto the patio with a huge tray of food. “And Dustin, your brother’s here. The girls already claimed him. We might want to rescue him eventually.”
“Excellent.” Dustin shot Apollo a look, one that clearly said, see, your kids like him. And he’d had to go making it out like Apollo would be doing him a favor. Because Apollo couldn’t say no to that, not after all the times Dustin had had his back when it mattered most.
“Help! I’ve been captured!” A husky laugh echoed across the yard as a guy emerged through the sliding glass door, one twin under each arm.
Apollo had to blink, because there, wearing a tiara and a much-too-small cape, was perfect butt guy from the store. Because of course it was. Such was Apollo’s luck lately.
“Dylan?” he managed to ask. Not like there was much doubt, but a stubborn part of him didn’t want to admit how badly he was fucked. He couldn’t say no to Dustin, but he also couldn’t spend a summer contending with that.
“What’s up, Apollo?” Dylan flashed him a grin full of dimples and mischief. Yeah, that was all kinds of trouble, and Apollo had no room for trouble.
On Point #3
Chapter One
Ben was out again. Which wasn’t a surprise, really, and Maddox refused to dwell on it as he rinsed out the bowl. He had a shiny new professional-grade stand mixer and an oven full of muffins. He didn’t need to be worried about his roommate and friend and what he might or might not be getting up to. Chances were high that Ben wouldn’t show up until morning, looking like something their old barn cat back home would have left in Maddox’s shoe. He’d be ravenous to boot and Maddox would have muffins and maybe things wouldn’t be so weird anymore.
He couldn’t blame Ben for needing to blow off steam. After all, their SEAL team was due to ship out any day, and two of their best friends had just gotten engaged, and those were both the sort of things to have Ben on edge and restless and moody as heck, although he’d never cop to it.
Maddox baked and cleaned out the fridge so they wouldn’t come back from their deployment to a science experiment’s worth of yuck. Ben went bar hopping. They each had their ways of coping—
Snick. The sound of a key in the lock made him lose his grip on the bowl, sending it clattering against the stainless-steel sink. Okay. Not out all night. This would be okay too. His stomach went as acidic as lemon zest, but he was okay. No need for the sound of Ben’s husky laugh or an answering low murmur to make his hands clench around the sponge. No need at all.
He kept his back to the living area. The way the U-shaped kitchen was set up, it opened to the dining area, not the foyer and living room, so he wasn’t surprised to hear Ben whispering, “Shh. My roommate’s probably asleep, but we can chill in here.”
“Is he a SEAL like you?” The other guy had the loose drawl and vowel shifts Maddox associated with native southern Californians like Ben, but sounded younger. No surprise there.
“Yup. Let me grab us a couple of beers.” Ben would undoubtedly argue that he didn’t have an accent, but Maddox had studied enough languages to have an ear for little details. Or maybe you’re just hyper-observant of how Ben says cool and caught. You need a new hobby. And a place to hide.
Because of freaking course Ben would pick up someone tonight who needed more seduction than “this is the way to the bedroom.” And it wasn’t like Ben was being rude—in the two years he’d been living here, he’d brought back guys plenty, but he’d asked the first few times if it was okay or if they needed some sort of rules. And back then, Maddox hadn’t needed a rule. Hadn’t wanted rules. They’d been friends well over a decade now, ever since BUD/S training. He’d known exactly what he was getting in Ben, or so he’d thought.
But this was the first time since...
No. Not thinking about that.
And now he was stuck—the muffins still had ten minutes and he’d have to cross through the living room to get to his bedroom anyway.
“Oh, you’re up.” Ben strolled into the kitchen, and Maddox turned around slowly, pasting a smile on his face. Things don’t have to be weird—not if you don’t let them be. “Kitchen smells amazing. Blueberries?”
“Yeah.” Maddox nodded. There really were few scents as wonderful as lemon-blueberry muffins, but Ben’s woodsy out-on-the-town cologne was competing for a close second. The kitchen was too damn tiny for both of them anymore. “Making muffins and stuff to take to Apollo’s for breakfast tomorrow. My goal is an empty fridge by tomorrow night.”
“You think we’ll go wheels up Monday morning? That’s what my gut says, at least.” Figuring out when they might get the call to deploy was one of Ben’s favorite hobbies.
“Probably.” Maddox didn’t need to speculate—he kept his head down and stayed ready regardless.
Ben grabbed two beers out of the fridge—they still had a six-pack of Stone IPA from their last trip up to Oceanside to see Ben’s family. That had been a nice day—good ale in the brewery’s garden, listening to Ben and his father talk the Galaxy’s chances in this year’s MLS season. Ben set the beers on the white counter that Maddox had just scrubbed, then fished out a third and offered it to him.
“Not now, thanks.” Maddox held up his soapy hands.
“Sure.” Ben didn’t put the beer back in the fridge, though, setting it next to the other two. “You want to come hang out? You’d like this guy. Very chatty.”
“Muffins have another few minutes,” Maddox hedged.
“You can hear the timer in the living room,” Ben pressed. “Pretty sure this guy would be up for getting to know you too. He seems the type up for whatever.”
Whatever was exactly what Maddox was not up for, and even Ben’s wink wasn’t enough to undo his resolve. He shook his head and set the now-spotless mixer bowl back on the stand. Ben let out a sigh and leaned against the counter. The kitchen really was too small for two guys over six feet, and it was definitely too small for Ben’s coaxing grin.
“Come on. You need some fun.” Ben ran a hand through his military-short brown hair. He didn’t really have to advertise that he was a SEAL to get laid—the massive biceps bulging out of the tight T-shirt and muscular legs in black jeans were incentive enough for most guys. And for the truly picky, his movie-star-next-door grin usually did the trick, but it wasn’t working on Maddox. Not tonight.
This was how he and Ben were so freaking different—Ben needed to fuck around and Maddox... Well, he needed to hunker down, pretend like he didn’t care, like he was nothing other than happy for him and excited about shipping out. “You go ahead.”
“I thought maybe...” Ben exhaled before giving him a searching look, one that made Maddox study the sink again, afraid of what Ben might see on his face. He wouldn’t change his mind. Not this night, not any night, not ever again. No more whatevers. “Okay. You’re welcome if you change your mind,” Ben said at last.
Was that disappointment in his voice? What would he see in Ben’s eyes? Maddox wasn’t sure what to hope for anymore, and he continued to study the sink as Ben left for the living room.
He took his time finishing the cleanup, trying to not listen in on the small talk coming from the other room...or get caught up in the long pauses in conversation that undoubtedly meant Ben’s talkative companion’s mouth was otherwise occupied. Maddox caught the timer right before it dinged and set the muffins on the cooling rack.
Nothing really left to do but walk out there. It would be okay. He’d smile, offer the muffins on the cooling rack, grab his tablet and headphones from the coffee table and head off to his room and crank the song he was trying to learn until he couldn’t hear...whatever. But when he got out to the living room it was empty.
A laugh that wasn’t Ben’s came from down the hall followed by a guttural sound that almost certainly was. Why did Maddox have to know that sound? Things would be so much easier if he didn’t. No one’s fault but yours.
Maddox snatched up the tablet and headphones, jamming the earpieces on right there, not waiting to get to his room. And if his heart gave a sad little flutter that Ben’s door was firmly shut, that whatever was off the table, exactly the way he’d wanted, well then that too was his own damn fault, and all he could do was hope that someday, somehow, things would be right between them again.
Annabeth Albert grew up sneaking romance novels under the bed covers. Now, she devours all subgenres of romance out in the open--no flashlights required! When she's not adding to her keeper shelf, she's a multi-published Pacific Northwest romance writer.
Emotionally complex, sexy, and funny stories are her favorites both to read and to write. Annabeth loves finding happy endings for a variety of pairings and is a passionate gay rights supporter. In between searching out dark heroes to redeem, she works a rewarding day job and wrangles two children.
Emotionally complex, sexy, and funny stories are her favorites both to read and to write. Annabeth loves finding happy endings for a variety of pairings and is a passionate gay rights supporter. In between searching out dark heroes to redeem, she works a rewarding day job and wrangles two children.
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EMAIL: Annabeth@annabethalbert.com
Off Base #1
At Attention #2
On Point #3
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