Lord of a Thousand Steps: An Age-gap, Sexy Babysitter, Single-dad MM Romance (Love in Laguna Book 4)

by Tara Lain

  “That’s all great, kid, but there’s no separation for sex, and you know it.”

  He frowned. Banging his head against the wall—clearly an option. “Shit! If I’d come home last night, you never would have known. You two spooked Braden with your appraising looks.”

  Ken shook his head. “Ian, the fact is that he’s a grown man with children, and you’re just starting your adult life. You can have sex, but there’s no basis for a long-term partnership there. You’re at different places in your lives, and you want and need different things. The day will come when one of you enters a real relationship, and then what happens? Do you think nobody gets hurt?”

  Jim raised his eyebrow. “And do you think you don’t lose your job? Get out now and you can probably salvage a friendship. Later? Nothing.”

  “Double shit.” Suddenly, everything piled on—Rico, the lies, the disappointment and disintegration of hopes and expectations. And now, not just the loss of Braden, but Jo-Jo, Mireille, the family. Pressure built behind his eyes. He swallowed. No go. A drip sneaked out of the corner of his eye. He swiped, but it turned into a stream. Every cell in his chest hurt. Maybe exploding. Maybe never whole again.

  Ian leaped to his feet and ran. He started for his bedroom. No. They’d find him. He veered to the front door, ripped it open, broke free into the sun, and raced down the street.

  “Ian! Stop.” Jim’s voice.

  He didn’t. All downhill, he tore toward the highway, didn’t bother with the stoplight, glanced, and ran across, narrowly missing a motorcycle racing around the bend. The driver leaned on his horn, and Ian dove for the sidewalk. With a slam of his shoulder into concrete, he rolled and wound up on the grass beyond. Gasping, he jumped to his feet and powered to the steps, then down to the beach. A thousand steps. Every one a bad fucking decision.

  When he hit the sand, he stopped and pulled off his deck shoes, threw them beside the steps, and trotted toward the sea tunnel. Just get through and hide. No one will find me. No one.

  The tide ran low and the tunnel rocks looked almost dry. He plunged in and rushed out the other side. A few beachcombers had found their way to the small cove—a handsome young guy and his girlfriend holding hands as they walked, and an older man, jogging on the damp sand at the surf line. Ian headed for the rocky outcropping that would hide him. He rounded it and flopped down on the sand. Just breathe. He dropped his head onto his bent knees and stared down at the grainy surface below him.

  The grains of sand. Well, shit. He could practically see the cum sticking the grains together. Cum from Braden Lord’s beautiful, perfect, too-old-for-Ian cock. A teardrop fell from the end of his nose and disappeared. Just adding to the salt water. How could he screw over his life so badly at only twenty-one?

  Chapter Seventeen

  Look busy. Just look busy. Braden stared at his computer screen and tried to keep his face neutral. If he seemed engrossed, maybe no one would fucking mess with him. Of course, the worst was he had so much work to do, he could start now and stop when he was sixty and still not get it done.

  I want Ian.

  Fuck off. You want Ian on too many levels.

  Oh God. Ian’s face when Braden gathered the kids and practically ran out of his house? Like he’d been kicked in the balls. Of course, both his kids wanted to kick Braden in the balls. Mireille had pouted and whined about missing Anderson and Ian all evening, while Jo-Jo descended into adolescent hell and never came out of his room. Kill a few fucking birds with your stones, idiot.

  His brain felt like somebody was filming The Wizard of Oz inside it.

  Did I only want to get in Ian’s pants?

  Shit, man, that’s the definition of a fuck buddy, and that was his idea.

  Did I only want one fuck?

  That isn’t just a no, it’s a hell no!

  So what’s wrong? Easy. Thirty-six-year-old men shouldn’t be the fuck buddies of twenty-one-year-olds. Just that simple. No matter how much you both wanted it. He might be sexy and sophisticated and experienced and mouthwatering, but he’d also been hurt and damaged by more than one person. By agreeing to be Ian’s fuck buddy, Braden implied that Ian didn’t deserve more. That he wasn’t worth more. I’ve got to be the grown-up. Fuck!

  “Bray?”

  “Hey, Max.”

  “You too busy to interrupt?”

  “No, come on in.” Max sat in the guest seat, and Braden leaned back in his desk chair and bounced. “What’s up?”

  “I saw Ian Carney come in. Are you two working on the Romign building today?”

  Was this “attract what you don’t fucking want to talk about” day? “Uh, no. I’ve got it handled.”

  Max frowned. “Audrey really likes the idea of Carney working on her building.”

  “Then she should hire him.” Oh shit, not cool. “Sorry, but the woman is a little cracked on the subject of that boy.”

  “I thought you said he came up with a ton of great ideas. Didn’t you tell me the whole atrium theme came from Carney?”

  “Yes, and now I’ve got it under control, Max.”

  Max held up his hands. “Okay, okay. Just asking.”

  Shit, he didn’t need to take this all out on Max. “I apologize. I’m just a bit tired and cranky.”

  “Is Taylor driving you crazy?”

  “Pretty much. She’s looking for any opening to prove I’m not fit. Plus, I know Doug’s freaked out about the divorce, and he’s making other people nervous. I’d say I can’t wait to get it behind me, except I’m scared of the outcome. If I don’t get at least joint custody of those kids—” He took a deep breath. “—I don’t know what I’ll do.”

  “They can’t declare you unfit because you’re gay. That’s illegal.”

  “Yeah, and you know that won’t be the reason they’ll give, but—” He shrugged.

  “If you need character witnesses, call on me and Daisy, okay? Hell, I don’t know any better fathers than you—including me.”

  “Thanks, Max.” He forced a smile. “At least they’re off school after this week, so maybe I’ll get to see them more. I might even bring them in a couple of days.”

  “How do you manage when they aren’t in school? Do you get Elena from Taylor?”

  “Occasionally, but she makes her pretty unavailable if she can. No, I have a very responsible, middle-aged woman who comes in. Regina Ostralitz. Jo-Jo calls her Rat Face, but, of course, he doesn’t think he needs a sitter at all.”

  “I used to babysit at fourteen.”

  “Yeah. But living on the side of a cliff, we don’t know our neighbors very well, and I don’t feel comfortable leaving them until Jo-Jo can drive.”

  “Yeah, Taylor would make a mountain out of that molehill.”

  Braden nodded. “So did you have anything else you wanted to tell me?”

  “Oh right, sorry. Yeah, Mediated Industries needs us in Hong Kong a week from Friday. It might be a few-days trip.”

  “Okay.” Maybe that was good timing. Get out of the office and away from fuck buddy temptation.

  “I’ve got the travel department working on arrangements. Any preferences?”

  “I’d like a bed.”

  He laughed as he rose. “Yeah, I know you’re so picky.”

  Braden’s wave as Max left stopped in midair, and his eyes followed a slim gray cloud floating down the hall. Ian never even looked up.

  Fuck.

  One spacey waycey. Two spacey wayceys. Ian moved the parking spaces left, right, and center, adjusting sizes until the max number of vehicles fit into the space. Back to parking plans. After he’d seen Paree. How many years would it take to return to another moment like when he’d suggested the atrium to Braden for Audrey Romign’s building—and he’d loved it? After he graduated? After he’d paid his dues, whatever that looked like? After he went to work for someone who wasn’t Braden Lord? Man, you blew it, and I mean that literally.

  For a second he let his head drop onto his hands in front of the keyboard. The taste o
f Braden’s amazing cock in his mouth. Hell, the feel of it in his ass. He sighed and looked back at the screen. Sometimes crappy ideas made great memories.

  “Hey, Carney.”

  He looked over at Ted Miller standing in the opening to his cubicle. Medium height, blond, well-built. The guy defined good-looking if you liked slick. “Yeah, hi, Ted.”

  “You okay? I noticed you’ve been looking a little down.”

  When had Ted ever noticed anything about him? “I’m okay. Thanks for asking. Just, a problem with, uh, a friend.”

  He smiled. “A boy—friend?”

  Ian let out a stream of air. “Among other things.” He smiled back.

  “Want to go to lunch and talk about it?”

  What the fuck? Why not? Nobody else stood in line to eat with him. “How about we go to lunch and don’t talk about it?”

  “Even better. I’ll get my car keys.”

  “I’ll meet you at your office.”

  He glanced back at the screen to be sure he was in a good stopping place. Do I want to do this? Just how complicated do I want to make my fucking life? Hell, gotta eat.

  Grabbing his wallet, which he hoped he wouldn’t have to overexercise, he walked down the hall to Ted’s office. Oh right, the one catty-corner from Braden’s. Ted stood outside his door, talking with Shirin. Ian slowed his steps. Didn’t want to barge in.

  Ted looked up and extended a hand. “Here he is. Ian, I was just telling Shirin I heard what a great job you did on the Romign project with Braden and thought you might give me a hand with Reading Foods. I know it’s not quite as glamorous.” He grinned.

  Jesus, how did Ted know everything in the office? “Are you kidding? I’d love to help. Anything I can do.”

  Shirin, small, dark-haired, and pretty, on top of smart as hell, smiled. “I think that would be great. Good experience for Ian as well as some extra inspiration for you, Ted. But make sure you don’t use up too much of his time. We still need him on Romign.”

  “You do?” Ian looked up, wide-eyed.

  “Of course.” She patted his arm. “Audrey Romign is your biggest admirer.”

  Ted nudged him. “Hell, man, you could do worse than have one of the biggest clients in the office as the head of your fan club.”

  “Yeah. I guess so.”

  “So let’s go to lunch and talk about Reading.”

  Ian nodded. This lunch was stacking up to be more exciting than he’d thought.

  Ted started down the hall, and Ian fell in behind him, but as he passed the office, Braden’s deep blue eyes flicked from his screen to Ian’s face, and looked—sad.

  Braden gathered the drawings and details he wanted to show Audrey Romign. He glanced across the hall toward Ted’s office. For three fucking days, he’d forced himself not to rush in there, grab Ted by the neck, and force him to describe every detail of his two lunches and three design meetings with Ian.

  Max leaned in. “You ready?”

  “Yep.”

  He left the office, dragging his eyes away from Miller, and followed Max to the small conference room. Audrey didn’t do committees, a fact that made Braden love her more. She’d brought one person with her—a woman named Shirley, who was her chief operating officer—and that was it. She asked probing questions and made fast decisions that she only changed in light of new evidence. If she didn’t outrank him already, he’d hire her to run the company.

  She was already seated, with Shirley beside her, when Braden and Max walked in. She stood and gave them both a hug, then looked around. “Where’s Ian?”

  Max cleared his throat and flashed Braden an I-told-you-so glance. “He’s working on the project behind the scenes.”

  She gave Braden a look full of undefined meaning. “Is he in school?”

  Max shook his head. “No. He’s on break before his summer semester.”

  “Is he in the office?”

  “Yes.” Another glance at Braden.

  She grinned. “Not meaning to be a demanding client, but can I have him in this meeting, please?”

  Max stepped to the door. “Bray, you start with Audrey, and I’ll get Ian.”

  Braden sat and Audrey cocked her head at him. He gave her a tight smile. “I feel like I’ve been replaced by my intern.”

  She sat beside him and put a hand on his forearm. “No, you don’t. You know full well that Ian brings a great, fresh perspective. You loved telling me about his idea for the atrium. I don’t know what kind of bug you’ve got up your butt, but get rid of it. I want to wring every good idea from your brain—and Ian’s.”

  “He’s twenty-one.”

  She flashed him a frown. “I’ve seen some of the buildings you designed at twenty-one. Damn, since when do you believe in ageism?”

  He gazed at her. Yeah, since when? “I don’t. You’re right. It just upsets some of the protocols and pecking order in the office.”

  “Ask me if I give a shit?” Her dimples dented her cheeks.

  The door opened, and the cause of several sleepless, cock-obsessed nights walked in and quietly took a seat opposite Braden.

  Audrey clapped her hands. “Good. Now we can get started.”

  Two hours later, they’d hashed through every detail of the rough design. Audrey pushed back her chair. “We’re on the right track. Now you two put your heads together and solve these last few issues, particularly the collaboration spaces. People like their privacy, and I don’t want to take that away, but I also want them to work together.”

  Braden walked with her to the front door of their suite. Ian veered right, as if he was returning to his cubicle. Audrey turned to Braden while Shirley stood discreetly away. “Have you and Ian had a fight?”

  “No!”

  She gazed at him without a word. Jesus, that stare contained truth serum. “I was just worried we were getting, uh, too close.”

  “Because of the boyfriend problem?”

  He glanced around. Nobody nearby. “In a way. The boyfriend screwed him over, and he went a little nuts. I just don’t want him doing things he’ll regret.”

  “Sensible.” She grinned.

  “So we’ll have changes for you week after next. I’ll be gone part of next week on a trip.”

  “But you’ll work with Ian on it before you go.”

  “Jesus, you’re stubborn.”

  “Stubborn is one of my credentials. I’m sure it’s hard to be a gay man in a straight man’s world, Braden, but it’s harder to be a woman.”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” He flashed some teeth. “You don’t have to tell your mother you’re female.”

  They both laughed at his takeoff on the old joke.

  “Anyway, I want what I want on this one.”

  “I got it.”

  She hugged him. “You’ll thank me later.”

  Shit, on some level, he’d thank her now. A ready-made reason—actually a command—to work with Ian. Okay, universe, don’t blame it the fuck on me.

  He walked back toward Ian’s cubicle.

  Sit still. Ian kept shifting in his chair. Call it the Braden Dance. Too much electricity under the skin from being close to Braden Lord. His cock wanted to join the performance. Wiggle, bob, wiggle.

  “Ian, we need to get those changes incorporated and come up with an idea for her collaboration program. Are you free now?” Braden never met his eyes.

  Ian’s mouth opened. Nothing came out. Okay, second-best. He nodded, grabbed his tablet, and stood.

  “Good.” Braden took off at speed toward his office. Ian didn’t try to keep up. Need a minute. He walked slower.

  As he got close to Braden’s office, Ted stuck his head out his door across the hall. “Hey, want to work on those plans?”

  Ian swallowed. “Uh, later. I have some stuff to do for Romign.” He pointed toward Braden’s office.

  “Oh. Yeah. Got it.” Did he look impressed or mad?

  Ian took a breath and walked into Braden’s office. Braden sat hunkered over his drawing table. Ther
e was, however, an empty chair pulled up beside him. Ian set his notes on the table and slid into the chair.

  Braden glanced at him and quickly back at the drawings. “Here’s how I worked out the staircase detail she wanted. What do you think?”

  Ian glanced at it. “I think it’s a great solution.”

  “Thanks.”

  Some part of him glowed, and the other part wanted to smack Braden upside the fucking head. What’s with him?

  Braden fiddled with finishing the detail in pencil, then shot him a look from the corner of his eye. “Got anything on the collaboration?”

  “I had a thought.”

  He sat back. “Oh, what?”

  “Furniture designers have tried a lot of ways to create collaboration environments. Mostly they’re stiff, uncomfortable, and kind of boring. I mean, seriously, who wants to sit on a high stool for any reason? People use them begrudgingly.”

  “Yeah, that’s what Audrey doesn’t want.”

  “So what if we give them their private spaces, but all the comfortable furniture is in the collaboration area? Cushy chairs, sofas, footstools. Maybe we add some knitting and crochet supplies? Lots of the employees are women. They multitask really well. So all of a sudden, collaboration looks damned good. Fun, even.”

  Braden’s eyes unfocused. “Don’t they need work surfaces?”

  “Yeah. We’ll use some of those rolling tables that fit across your lap, plus have a bunch of the hard laptop pads. You know, the ones that reduce RF exposure.”

  “No, I’ve never heard of them.”

  “I have to work on my lap a lot, so I have one.”

  “What are you doing with Ted Miller?”

  Ian sucked in his breath. What the—? “Working on Reading Foods parking structure, and beyond that it’s none of your fucking business.” He hissed the words out. Holy shit. Those words just came out of my mouth. “I’m sorry. Inappropriate.”

  “But true.”

  “Yes.”

  Braden whispered, “He’s a player.”

  Ian gritted his teeth. “I don’t have anyone else to play with.”