“Nah, I’ve learned my lesson. Pictures don’t talk.”
“Pictures don’t do blow jobs either, though I have to tell you your chances of getting one aren’t looking too good right now.”
“Maybe I’ll blow you instead.”
“Now that’s how you say thank-you for helping you move.” Ethan led the way out of 1208.
Wyatt shut the door behind them. He couldn’t wait to turn over the key. It almost reminded him of getting out of lockup. “How do you say, ‘Thanks for not getting back with your asshole ex-boyfriend’?” And picking me, but Wyatt hoped Ethan understood that part without him saying it.
Ethan lit up with that smile. The one that made Wyatt want to believe that things could really work out, just because you wanted them to.
“Easy.” Ethan pressed the button for the elevator. “You say ‘Yes, Ethan, I’d love to come home for Thanksgiving with you.’”
Wyatt felt the floor drop away from him and they weren’t in the elevator car yet. An Ethan with friends was one thing, but parents?
“What’s wrong?” Ethan put his hand on Wyatt’s shoulder. “Shit. I was doing that selfish thing again. You already have plans.”
A spectacular feast from Food Lion takeout in the old trailer home, assuming his mother hadn’t moved without telling him. Agreeing would have been an easy out, but Wyatt didn’t want to lie to Ethan.
“No. No plans.”
“Awesome. So, it’s all settled. You can come home with me.”
Settled. Yeah. I should have offered him a kidney.
* * * * *
Don’t miss the follow-up book to Wyatt and Ethan’s story, coming from K.A. Mitchell and Carina Press in 2016.
Author’s Note
Ethan and Wyatt will be back to share all the meet-the-family drama. I hope you had as much fun with them as I did.
Acknowledgments
Mandy, thanks for the Humans vs. Zombies tip!
Read on for an excerpt of
WISH LIST,
an erotic male/male novella from Carina Press and K.A. Mitchell
Available Now in eBook!
Chapter One
Tape. Where was the goddamned tape?
Jonah dug through a couple of drawers in the kitchen. He could have texted Evan, but beside the lie Jonah had told about already having wrapped the stupid action figure for Evan’s cousin, he knew what Evan’s answer would be. Same place it always is, babe.
It wouldn’t be such a crisis if Jonah wasn’t already late. Hadn’t promised he’d be ready to go at six? But he’d gotten home late, then he couldn’t find where he’d stuffed the present. Then he’d had to find wrapping paper. Hell, he hadn’t even packed yet.
Jonah’s gaze lit on Evan’s desk, a desk with paper and pens and neatly organized bills, since Evan insisted on quaintly paying stuff like the mortgage and his car with paper checks instead of online. Lately, Jonah had been wondering if someone had taken the sexy, fun guy he’d fallen for and replaced him with a staid sixty-year-old.
Digging through the top drawer, Jonah found a computer printout receipt. That wasn’t like Evan, to get something online that he’d need to hang onto a receipt for, especially not something that looked like it had a bar code on it, like an advance movie ticket. As Jonah got a better look at it he realized it was for a train ticket. Two train tickets. To New York, on December 30. Under that was the printout of a hotel reservation, the Marriott in Times Square. For the thirtieth through the first—New Year’s Day which meant—
Evan was taking Jonah to New York for New Year’s Eve.
Every bit of irritation vanished on a giant wave of excitement. Evan had been hinting about a big surprise for Jonah’s birthday. But this—this was something he’d been dreaming about most of his life. Ever since he made the paper as the first local New Year’s Baby, he’d been telling everyone that the big party was for him. Growing up less than three hours from New York put the biggest New Year’s party in the world tantalizingly close, but somehow Jonah had never made it.
How could Evan have managed to get a reservation? Jonah had heard the rooms were wildly expensive and booked years in advance.
Shit, he hoped he wouldn’t blow the surprise. It wasn’t like he’d been snooping. Once, his mom had taken back the Transformers set that was all he’d wanted for Christmas because Jonah had “accidentally” found it in the closet. This really had been a mistake. Yeah, that excuse hadn’t worked with his mom. Evan wouldn’t be a jerk like that, but Jonah hated the idea of ruining this for him. Evan got such a kick out of the whole present-giving thing, had given him something small every month for the first year they were together.
Jonah folded the papers the way he’d found them and was about to slide them back into the drawer when he saw the box. A jewelry box. Heartbeat loud in his ears, because this really was snooping now, he drew the box out. Why would Evan have a jewelry box hidden in his desk?
Maybe it was something for Evan’s mom, but then why wasn’t it wrapped and ready to go? Jonah had never been particularly interested in jewelry. He had both his ears pierced, but wore only small squares of cubic zirconia now that he had a wear-a-tie job, and a leather and silver cuff he sometimes wore when they were going someplace dressy.
Maybe Evan had decided to give him an upgrade to the real thing. The idea gave Jonah an unexpected rush of warmth in his stomach. A big trip, diamond earrings—Evan wasn’t scraping by, but he wasn’t rolling in cash either. His ad work paid a lot more than Jonah’s IT job with the school district though.
Guilt soured Jonah’s stomach. He’d gotten Evan a few fun gifts, an adventuresome lube that was supposed to tingle on contact, but it didn’t amount to much in the face of the trip to New York and diamond earrings. If he knew what was in the box, he could be ready. And maybe pick up something extra for Evan. He had a few days and a little breathing room on one of his credit cards.
He flipped open the lid. It wasn’t earrings. It was a ring. Rings, actually. Everything south of Jonah’s belt got uncomfortably high and tight until he was damned sure his balls were trying to climb into his body to get away from the scary things in that box.
Wedding rings.
Interlocking bands, one white gold with yellow gold accents, the other the reverse. An arrow over lapping at the point with a diamond to make up the circle of the male symbol made it clear they were intended as gay wedding bands.
The grating, grinding sound of the garage door shook Jonah out of his stare. He slid the box back where he’d found it, shut the drawer and bolted out of the room and up the stairs.
At least he could be sort of packed.
Jonah was stuffing an extra pair of jeans in his suitcase when Evan came in, waving the half wrapped package.
“Thought you wrapped this?”
“Yeah. Ran out of tape. Couldn’t find any.”
“It’s in the left bottom drawer of my desk.”
Jonah couldn’t remember what drawer those rings had been in. He shut his eyes for a second. Oh. The top.
“Did you pack a tie for Christmas dinner?”
“Yes, Mom.”
“Just trying to help.”
And Jonah wouldn’t be acting like this if he didn’t feel so guilty and terrified about what those rings meant.
“Sorry. I’m just—traffic—and—I’m sorry I’m not ready yet.” Jonah turned away to zip up the case.
“Babe.” Evan wrapped his hands around Jonah’s neck and pulled him into a kiss, hot enough, wet enough that Jonah forgot what was making him so miserable. “It’s okay. I figured we wouldn’t leave until seven or later. Told the folks not to wait up.”
“Oh.” The fact that Evan wasn’t pissed off, was actually being nice about the fact that Jonah couldn’t get his ass in gear to get anywhere on time, only made Jonah feel worse.
“Yeah. The place was dead so I left early. Figured I’d come home and help you pack.”
“Pack” was what Evan said, but the way he said it sou
nded like something else to Jonah’s dick.
Great. Now he was guilty, nervous and horny.
Jonah sidestepped the hand reaching for his crotch, heading toward the bathroom to scoop up shaving stuff.
“Did you just blow off sex?” Evan followed him.
“I don’t know. Was that actually an offer?”
Would Evan do it now? Here? Was that the plan? Come home early, fuck, then down on one knee for a different reason? Was the box now in Evan’s back pocket? Maybe Evan was hoping to surprise his family with their—Jonah choked on the word—engagement.
Oh sweet fuck. Evan wouldn’t do it in front of his family, would he?
Evan tipped his lips in a half-smile and arched a brow. “It was. A firm offer.”
Jonah had to backtrack to find the source of the dry humor in Evan’s voice. Usually Evan’s smutty puns made Jonah laugh. And want to jump him.
“Right, well, I was thinking that traffic’s gonna suck the whole way, so we should get it over with as soon as possible.”
“The sex?” Evan’s wry expression didn’t shift at all, but Jonah knew him well enough to read the flash of surprised hurt in his eyes.
“The drive.”
“Fine.” Evan went back into their bedroom and scooped the half wrapped box and Jonah’s suitcase from the bed. “I’ll finish this and load the car.”
Copyright © 2012 by K.A. Mitchell
Also available from K.A. Mitchell
and Carina Press
The Christmas Proposition
Wish List
Coming in 2016
Getting Him Back sequel
About the Author
K.A. Mitchell discovered the magic of writing at an early age when she learned that a carefully crayoned note of apology sent to the kitchen in a toy truck would earn her a reprieve from banishment to her room. Around the same time, she decided that GI Joe and Ken made a much cuter couple than Ken and Barbie and was perplexed when invitations to play Barbie dropped off. She never stopped making stuff up, though, and was pleased to find out that people would pay her to do it. Although the men in her stories usually carry more emotional baggage than even LAX can lose in a year, she guarantees they always find their sexy way to a happy ending.
She loves to talk to readers.
You can find her on Twitter: @ka_mitchell.
And on Facebook: Facebook.com/authorkamitchell.
Sign up for bonus content and contests with her newsletter, available on her homepage at kamitchell.com
Read on for an excerpt of
NOBODY’S HERO,
a contemporary male/male romance from Carina Press and j. leigh bailey
Available Now in eBook!
Wouldn’t his parents freak to see their trust-fund baby now?
Brad had eighty-two dollars on a gas card and seventeen in cash in his wallet, neither of which would get him a room for the night. He had one option left—sleeping in his small pickup truck, parked in the back of a twenty-four-hour truck stop in Northfield, Minnesota. His interview was scheduled for ten the next morning, which left him with eleven hours to kill. He shifted, trying to avoid the poking springs in the old bench seat. The roar of eighteen-wheelers thundering past and the squeal of tires and conversations from the convenience store’s customers kept sleep away.
A car door slammed shut, followed by another loud thunk as someone else closed theirs. “C’mon, baby, don’t be that way.”
The whiny male voice made Brad smile. Someone had pissed off his girlfriend.
“Oh, I will be that way. I told you to keep your damn hands to yourself,” a second voice, a male voice, snapped, hot with irritation.
Brad tucked his hands behind his head, stretching out, ready to enjoy the drama. He couldn’t sleep anyway, so why not eavesdrop?
“I didn’t mean to push, baby. You’re so damn hot, I couldn’t help myself.”
Brad snorted. Only an idiot would buy such a cheesy excuse.
Baby snorted too. Apparently Baby wasn’t an idiot.
“Rob, you’re full of shit. First you pull into the trucker lot at the Flying J—despite my objections, I might add—and then you shove my head at your lap. That’s not romance, that’s rude.”
“Hey, I paid for dinner.”
Brad rolled his eyes. The guy was a walking cliché.
“It takes more than greasy burgers from the Goal Post to put me in the mood. Second, dinner doesn’t guarantee a blow job.”
You tell him, Baby! It was nice to know some people could stick up for themselves.
“I paid good money for tonight. You owe me.”
“I’m not some rent boy you picked up in Minneapolis. I don’t owe you shit.” As he got angrier, Baby’s voice changed, taking on the softer consonants and lyrical cadence of a Spanish accent.
“I should have known you’d be a tease.”
The words, which had only moments ago sounded like a bad movie script, now carried an edge of violence. Asphalt crunched as someone moved closer. Brad tensed, then slowly sat upright.
“Get your fucking hands off me.”
He should stay out of it. It wasn’t his business. He would probably make things worse. Besides, Baby seemed to be holding his own.
“Get your ass into the car. Suck me off. After you’re done, I don’t give a fuck what you do or where you go.” The cold insistence in Rob’s voice made Brad feel sick.
You’re a freakin’ idiot, Greene. He took a deep breath, then pushed his door open and slid out of his truck.
Highlighted by the dingy neon light from the convenience store side of the truck stop, two guys about his age struggled for possession of the smaller one’s right arm. The bigger dude, presumably Rob, gripped a wiry Latino above the elbow and pulled him toward a gleaming Mustang. Baby dug his heels into the cracking surface of the parking lot, trying to jerk free.
“Hey!” Brad strode forward, using his military school posture to convey a confidence he didn’t feel. It didn’t matter how scared he was on the inside, as long as the outside looked powerful and in control.
Rob stilled, gaze darting to Brad before he turned back to Baby. His voice softened, almost purred, when he spoke. “Come on, babe, get back in the car. What’s the big deal? We’ll have a good time. I’ll take you somewhere better, somewhere nicer, if you want.”
“I want you to let me go and leave me alone.” Baby pulled at his arm again.
Brad reached Baby’s side. “He told you to let him go.”
“This isn’t any of your business. Turn around and walk away.” Rob’s white-blond hair and tall, narrow build gave him the look of a Nordic skier. He was tall but not too bulky. Brad had faced worse at school.
With a disgusted grunt, Baby stomped down on Rob’s foot. When Rob relaxed his hold, Baby jerked away, swung his freed arm back and let it fly, punching the taller man straight in his narrow nose.
Rob yelped and cupped his hands over his nose and mouth, hunching so the blood spilled to the asphalt rather than on his white polo shirt. “Shit, Danny, you broke my fucking nose.”
Baby stood back, arms crossed over his chest. “You’re lucky I didn’t kick you in the balls! Hijo de puta!”
“Ungrateful prick.” Rob lunged forward, reaching for Danny.
“I think you need to leave.” Brad stepped forward, putting himself between them. He tucked his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans, hiding his shaking hands.
Rob swiped his arm under his nose and then poked at the already swollen bridge. “Fine. You can walk home for all I care.”
“Don’t worry about me. I can make it home fine without you.” Danny’s voice made the word you sound more like asshole.
With a last glare, Rob spun in place, a perfect basketball pivot, and stalked the few steps to his car. The Mustang’s engine roared and the car squealed out of the truck stop.
“That’s the last time I let my brother set me up on a date.” Danny tucked his hands into his back pockets. “Thanks for the r
escue, by the way. I could have handled it, but it might have gotten ugly if you hadn’t been here.”
Brad nodded, too surprised to answer. His brother had set him up?
“So,” Danny said, flashing a smile, “can I buy you a cup of coffee? I’ll have to wait a while before my brother can get here.”
“Nah, I’m good.” Brad stepped back and turned toward his truck. “But be more careful, yeah?”
“Oh, come on. Don’t make me hang out in there by myself at this time of night. You wouldn’t want to waste the rescue by letting me get accosted again right away, would you?”
“I’m not responsible for anyone but myself,” Brad snapped. The idea of it, of anyone counting on him, had waves of terror and shame rolling over him.
“I’m not looking for a nanny. I’m looking for company.” Danny raised an eyebrow, clearly not intimidated by Brad’s extreme reaction.
Brad swallowed back the surge of panic and tried to slow his rapidly beating pulse. Things were okay. No one was hurt, and no doubt Danny could take care of himself, but just on the off chance... Besides, it wasn’t like he had anything better to do. He shrugged. “Fine. We can go in.”
“Cool. Let me call my brother to come and get me, and we can head inside.”
Brad opened the door of his truck and pulled the keys from the ignition while Danny fished out his phone. As Brad pressed the little button on the fob to lock his door, Danny said, “I don’t care what you’ve got going, bro. You’re the one who tried to hook me up with the asshole. Now you can come and get me.” He paused for a minute. The attitude Brad had heard in his voice earlier was back when he replied to something his brother said. “Don’t make me call Mamá for the ride.” Pause. “That’s what I thought.” Danny ended the call.
“He’s on the way?” Brad tucked his hands in his pockets while they walked to the diner attached to the truck stop.
“Yeah. He’s not happy about it, but come on, what was he thinking? That dude was a creep.”
Getting Him Back Page 13