Jose's Surrender

by Remmy Duchene

  "Laird?" he called, stopping to glance at himself in the mirror. His hair was damp but otherwise it looked fine.

  He hated the dim way his green eyes stared back at him.

  They were his father's eyes. "Laird? You here?"

  "In the den," Laird hollered.

  José took one final look at himself then walked through the foyer, down a hall and emerged into the den.

  He placed his portfolio on the desk before one of his best friends, flopped into a leather seat, and groaned dramatically.

  "What's wrong with you?" Laird asked, laughter in

  his voice.

  José lifted his head and inhaled deeply. "Oh the horror," he joked. "I went to get a new pair of shoes since the bottom of the only black pair I own fell off the other night. I couldn't find any that fit right."

  Laird chuckled. "You just need to go shopping somewhere other than Century for once."

  "And that's not even the worst part. The painter I had on staff decided, out of the blue, he wanted to move to Africa for a year to work with some kind of charity organization—what am I supposed to do now?"

  "Oh please, that guy was always more than a little off. I don't know how you kept him around as long as you did."

  "He was good."

  "I guess that's something to make up for his random tantrums and weird-ass outbursts."

  "Now I have to find a new one."

  "I met a guy last night at Anatolis who's a painter.

  Race has him doing some pieces for the vacation house."

  "So you two finally know what to do with Race's house, huh?"

  Laird nodded. "Yup. We're going to rent it out as a vacation property for tourists who want a nice place on the beach for their accommodations. Race likes the idea and

  he's going through all the paperwork now. It would help to have some nice art pieces on the walls. Anyways, this guy I'm telling you about—he just moved into town. Maybe you can talk to him about freelancing for you when you need him. That way you don't have to pay him a salary, only when he does work for you."

  José leaned forward, elbows on his knees and fingers laced, and arched a brow at Laird. "Really? What a coincidence."

  "He lives out by the Kenzie place so I guess you could pay him a visit."

  "Great. Me going out to talk to a strange man out by the Kenzie place. That's not weird at all."

  Laird laughed. "Would you stop being such a drama queen? He looked harmless enough."

  José made a face. "What if he tries to have his way with me? Are you going to defend my honor?"

  "Defend… um… defend your what, now?"

  "My honor… virtue…"

  Laird stared at him with a blank expression before bursting into laughter. Laird laughed so hard he doubled over, forehead pressed against his desk with a large fist hitting the mahogany surface repeatedly.

  "Well, fine. If you're going to be a jerk about it."

  José rose and exited the room to Laird's laughter echoing

  through the large house after him. He walked into the kitchen and pulled open the fridge. There wasn't much in the way of cooked food in there but he managed to snag a Jamaican Patty from the freezer and stuck it into the toaster oven to thaw and heat. Since Laird's brother Savaro had married a Jamaican descendant, they had all kinds of yummy Caribbean food lying around. While it warmed he took a bottle of chocolate milk from the fridge and twisted the cap off. The seal snapped and the cover fell into his hand. By then he heard footsteps coming toward him.

  "I'm sorry," Laird chuckled. "You know I always have your back. What's wrong?"

  "Nothing. I'm grumpy today is all."

  "You? Grumpy? Why?"

  José smiled softly and took a breath before taking a drink from the bottle. "I don't know. I guess I need to go out tonight… cheer myself up."

  "Oh you'd cheer yourself up all right," Laird said, eyeing him with suspicion and leaning his back against the counter. "Just stay away from Jamaica."

  José wanted to bang his head on a desk. "I'm never going to live that down, am I?"

  Laird grinned impishly and shook his head.

  José grinned. "So, changing the subject. Did you get the place for your new offices yet?"

  "Yes. I found some offices in Century. I just want you to make the place look welcoming and ready for clients in four months."

  "Four months? How many floors are we talking here?"

  "Eight. This is a small office since I won't be there to run it."

  "Average rooms per floor?"

  "Twelve. The first floor is the lobby. I don't want much down there. I had them knock out all the offices but two. One is for the security system and the other is for the security office. All you really need is a desk, some potted plants and all that good stuff so it can be done last. But the offices upstairs need a little more work. I want to put seven new agents in there, plus the marketing department and maybe the internship department."

  José sighed. He wasn't really paying close attention to Laird. Instead he was doing the math inside his head; he and his team would have to do a whole eight floors, twelve offices per floor. "Well I may have to bring in some freelancers but I think we can do it. And about this guy you met last night. I think I might pay him a visit after I leave here. The sooner I can find a replacement the better. It'll be one less worry on my plate."

  "Leroy is still looking for a place to volunteer. His

  school has this volunteer certificate thing he wants."

  "Oh right, he was saying he needs to do forty hours of community service. Why doesn't he do it with you?"

  Laird shrugged. "Jamal offered to help him out too but he said he wanted to do something in your line of work so if you have a place for him…"

  "Well of course I have a place for him," José said with an arched brow. "That's my favorite godson!"

  Laird laughed. "He's your only godson."

  "Technicalities." José smirked and batted a wrist at him.

  "Okay then. Let's get some contracts and things out of the way…"

  Three hours later, José finally left Laird's home.

  Business talk was over long before that but he'd stuck around playing some video games with his friend until Laird's husband Race got home. José sped past Anatolis in the center of town and kept on going until he reached the former Kenzie house. He sat in the front seat of the car, eyeing the place for a minute. The front door was new. The last time he'd visited he was a child but he could still remember the old black, beaten-up door it used to have.

  The windows were also new—old man Kenzie had boarded them up something fierce all those years ago. The large tree

  to the left of the yard was still there and looked as out of place from all the others as ever.

  José pushed up from the front seat, stuck his wallet into his pocket, and slipped the keychain over his right index finger. He jogged up the front steps and knocked on the door. While he waited, he turned and looked to his left.

  There used to be a swing there, hanging from a tree. The tree was gone and so was the swing. He wondered fleetingly what happened to it but knowing old man Kenzie, he probably had it hacksawed off because it was blocking his view or something just as idiotic.

  The front door creaked slightly and José spun around. He'd expected some old man with a beer belly.

  Instead, the guy who stepped forward was stunning. He was stacked, maybe about five-nine, and towered over José.

  He had no hair on his head. His facial hair was neatly cut, dark brown. His clear blue eyes shimmered with curiosity as he looked at José.

  "May I help you?"

  José cleared his throat. "I'm sorry to bother you,"

  José said, proud his voice didn't break. "My name is José DeLuz. I am here to speak with you regarding your painting."

  "Er…"

  "I am friends with the Anatolis brothers," José

  clarified.

  "Oh… Laird, Rajan, and Savaro! I'm Ronin McCall.


  Come on in."

  José thanked him and walked by him through the door. His palms were sweating so he kept them pressed to his thighs as he looked around the foyer. The walls were bare.

  "Don't mind the mess. I just moved in and haven't had a chance to unpack much yet," Ronin explained. "This way."

  José followed, staring at the man's ass. It was covered by a tight pair of blue jeans and it was perfect. He licked his lips as he reminded himself he was trying to get this man to work for him, so he couldn't blow this. Still, he couldn't help wondering if the hair on Ronin's body was as dark brown as the beard covering his face. Did he have hair scattered all over his chest with perfectly hard nipples peeking out? José wanted to find out.

  He quickened his steps into the room and found boxes piled in the center. Ronin picked one up, his muscles flexing beneath the dress shirt he wore, and José bit back a moan. Ronin cleared away the boxes before extending his hand to a seat.

  "Would you like a drink?" he asked.

  "No, thanks. I just ate and I'm feeling a little full."

  Ronin laughed softly. "All right. What would you like to talk about?" He sat on the edge of an empty desk.

  His thighs were perfectly visible through the jeans as they pressed against the desk. His legs were spread, giving José the perfect view of what was between them. But José couldn't stare. He fought his lust and kept his gaze locked with Ronin's.

  "I own an interior decorating business. Along with the services I offer my clients, I offer them original paintings to go with their properties. These paintings are one-of-a-kinds. The painter we had on staff decided to go find himself in Africa. I just signed to do a rather big job and I am in desperate need of an artist. When I told Laird, he suggested you."

  "How big of a job?"

  "Eight floors, twelve offices each…"

  "Plus bathrooms and lobby?"

  José nodded. "And small kitchens on each floor except the lobby. There's a small staff room in the lobby for security too. But those shouldn't need more than about two a piece."

  Ronin eased from the desk, to José's joy and disappointment, and walked to a box marked office things.

  He opened it and soon returned to the desk with a pen and a note pad. He scribbled silently for a while then met José's

  eyes.

  "Well, I guess I could help you out. We would need to meet up again to figure out what your color schemes are and how many paintings you would need per office and that sort of thing."

  "Yes. I agree. First I need to go see the place. I haven't gotten to that yet. Then I'll have to meet with my team and my shoppers and then I can tell you. I would get all that done as soon as possible so it wouldn't be last-minute work for you."

  "How long do we have?"

  "Four months."

  "Damn. That's not much time."

  "That's what I said," José said softly. "But he's a friend and I will get it done."

  "A friend?"

  José nodded. "Laird."

  Once more Ronin tackled a couple of boxes then returned with two medium-sized frames. He handed the first over. "I did this a couple of months ago for a record label in Careless, Arizona. What do you think?"

  José stood and took the frame. He walked to the desk and rested it upright against it then stepped back to inspect the painting. He nodded in appreciation.

  "So do you think you would be in?" José asked.

  Ronin shrugged. "Why not? I could use the distraction from unpacking the boxes."

  "I do not envy you."

  "No one does." Ronin chuckled.

  Their conversation continued about some things—

  most were essential to the work ahead but others not so much. Through it all, José couldn't help imagining stripping Ronin naked and licking him from the tip of his chin to the tip of his toes. His body was shivering. He could feel each pinch of pleasure dancing off his spine.

  They exchanged cards and shook hands before Ronin walked him to the door. The moment José could escape, he darted to his car. Ronin probably thought he was crazy at the speed he left. Sitting behind the steering wheel, he panted for air and rubbed a hand over the arousal standing at attention in the front of his pants. How was he going to work with Ronin McCall?

  Chapter Three

  Long after his guest left Ronin could still smell his cologne. He could see the green of José's eyes, the sleekness of his muscular body beneath his dress shirt, and the way his long, black hair fell against his back. Though José was a shorter than he was, Ronin couldn't help thinking José could more than match him in bed. Pressing his eyes closed, he wondered why his mind would go there of all places. But he couldn't help himself. He loved the hardened planes of a man's body and José seemed hard in all the right places.

  A low growl emanated from Ronin's throat and he licked his lips. Curling his fingers, Ronin bit against the back of his knuckles. "This is ridiculous." Still he stood by the window watching the dust fall in the direction José's car had gone. It'd been so long since he'd been aroused simply by staring at a man, by thinking of a man. It'd been a long time since he'd even gone out on a date. It wasn't for a lack of eligible men but Ronin had been knee-deep in the Navy and didn't need the extra drama a developing relationship would bring.

  Now he was out—what was his excuse?

  The day after meeting José, Ronin woke up from a dream. He glanced down his naked body to see his cock

  standing straight up. He bit his lower lip, holding his body still. If he moved and anything brushed his dick he was sure he would explode. Taking a deep breath, Ronin closed his eyes and thought of winter, water, anything he could to make the arousal go away. Nothing worked.

  Gingerly, he climbed out of bed, waddled into the bathroom, and stood beneath a cold shower. Once he was shivering, he stepped out and wrapped a towel around his hips.

  The day slithered by with him working like crazy to unpack everything. He had a few designs he had to get done for his T-shirt business, plus a conference call with a couple of his distributors as well as one with a monster truck division from Ottawa. Standing in the kitchen, he looked at all the boxes with fragile scribbled on the sides in his brother's handwriting.

  "This is going to be a long-ass day," he muttered.

  Two meetings, a few impromptu phone calls to other designers and a couple of T-shirt developers, and unpacking what felt like a million boxes later, Ronin stood back and looked around. The living room was finally done.

  He'd unpacked all the boxes and felt quite proud. He broke down a few more then walked them to the porch and dropped them on top of the others. Though he was tired, he only took a moment to inhale the freshness of the Eros air.

  It was tinged with salt from the ocean blowing across the land. He removed his hat, dragged his hand over his head, and closed the door. The next thing was dinner. He wanted to go back to Anatolis. If José DeLuz was friends with the Anatolis brothers perhaps he would be there.

  Pressing his back to the wall he cleared his throat.

  That thought scared him. He was going to work with the man so there was no way he should want to see him again outside of that. A relationship wasn't the reason for him moving to Eros in the first damn place. Besides, José looked like a high-society type who would freak out if he were ever found in a wonderful, compromising position.

  Ronin shook it off and focused on making dinner. He was in the middle of slicing some onions when the telephone rang.

  "Yeah," Ronin answered, sniffling. He used the back of his hand to wipe the tears away but the burning was still there. His mother always told him to put the onion in the fridge to stop the burning but he didn't have that kind of patience.

  "Ro, it's your brother. How are you settling in?"

  Ronin sniffled. "Hey. I'm pretty good."

  "Are you crying? You never cry!"

  "Mack, I'm not crying. I was cutting up some onions for dinner. What's up? You still coming down to

  visit?"

 
"Didn't you hear what mom said about onions? And of course I'm still coming. I just have to—hang on a sec—"

  Mack McCall must have placed the phone down. There was a bump sound followed by a muffled conversation. "Okay.

  I'm back. So I was thinking in two weeks. I have some time off coming up."

  "You're always welcome here, Mack. You know that."

  Mack chuckled. "I just don't wanna show up and barge in the front door and catch you and some hot young thang in a compromising position. I'd need therapy for life."

  Ronin laughed. "It's sex, bro…"

  "I know that. But you're my brother. Ick."

  Ronin rolled his eyes. "You're dirty, you know that?"

  "I've been told. But seriously—two weeks and then I'll be up there. I'm waiting until you finish all the unpacking."

  "So you don't have to help, huh?"

  "I admit nothing…"

  "Question for you, Mack."

  "Yeah sure."

  "You think it's too soon for me to start dating?"

  Mack chuckled. "You found someone there

  already?"

  "I haven't been out of the house yet to find anyone,"

  Ronin lied. "I did however get a job to do some paintings for an interior decorator. It's going to be huge."

  "Well congrats, baby bro! I'm glad the move is working out for you. I was a tad worried there for a minute.

  Look, about your question. It's not like you just broke up with someone. I can't even remember the last time you dated anyone. So no, I don't think it's too soon."

  The two brothers had always been close, even as adults. A part of Ronin was so thankful for that love and support he tended to go out of his way to show his brother just how loved he was. "Okay, call me when you have your plans set," Ronin told his elder brother. "I'm going to finish dinner and then maybe go out tonight to take some pictures."