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by B00ZADKX4A EBOK

“Can I help you look, Daddy?” Peg chirped from my bed where he’d been watching me and I swung my gaze over to him.

  “Better stay where you’re at, Peg. That last box knocked the stuffin’ outta your old man’s noodle.”

  He must have thought that was hilarious because he chuckled loudly. Mawmaw peeped into the room and huffed.

  “Yah got more shoes than a woman, Avery.” Clucking like a chicken, she left me surrounded by my footwear. Okay, I give, I have a thing for shoes and I think, at last count, I have thirty pairs. I store some under the bed, some in my closet and some in my dresser. Momma complained that I had more shoes than clothes and she was probably right.

  There they are!

  The box my favorite boots had been hiding in was crushed up in the far corner of the closet. I eased down the box, opened it, pulled out my boots and dusted them off. I hopped from foot to foot as I tugged them on then zipped up the sides. I stood up straight and instantly stood a little taller and my chest puffed up.

  “I want shoes like that!” Peg stared at my boots. He more than likely wanted them because I have them. I was going out to do more shoe shopping next week and I decided then and there I would take him with me and get him his first pair of boots. “How about, next Saturday, we go get you a pair of boots and after we’re done we can eat at Panda Express?”

  “Yeah! Panda Express!” Peg cheered.

  He hopped down off my bed and raced to tell his Grandma or Mawmaw or whoever would stop and listen. He loved Panda Express. Only my kid would rather eat Chinese food from Panda Express than a happy meal at McDonalds. I looked at my reflection. Boots—check. Straight leg jeans—check. I liked these jeans, mainly ‘cause I have no ass to speak of and these jeans down played my ass-less-ness. I pulled out a short sleeve black plaid shirt and put it on. Turning around, I looked in the mirror and frowned. Hmm… kinda drab.

  What would Boone wear?

  I poked my head out of my door and yelled down the hall. “Boone! C’mre!”

  He and Cotton were waiting in the living room for mine and Momma’s dates to arrive. The clomping stomp of my brother’s feet echoed down the small hall. He leaned on the door frame and drawled sarcastically.

  “You bellowed, o’ great and powerful one.”

  “I look… plain.” I stripped off the shirt and tossed it on the bed in frustration.

  “The shirt’s good,” he said, shaking his head. “But it needs something. You still got that aqua-blue, sleeveless T-shirt I got you for your birthday?”

  “Sure, ain’t never worn it.”

  “Get it and put it on.” Boone let out a long suffering sigh. He was the fashion plate of the three of us. He dressed sharp and didn’t spend a whole lotta money to get his look. Cotton and I had both asked him what we should wear on more than one occasion. Men and women always complimented Boone on how he dressed, because he had that whole casual, sloppy, sexy, I-don’t-give-a-shit-but-I-know-I-look-hot thing down pat.

  Like tonight for instance, he wore a gray T-shirt with a bold graphic pattern, hip-hugger dark washed jeans and a blue, hand-knitted variegated beanie on his head. Topped off with a pair of bright blue flip flops, which happened to be mine, and he looked incredible.

  Boone was definitely the clothes horse. I was a bearded version of Imelda Marcos and Cotton, well Cotton had a thing for underwear. Jockstrap, boxers, briefs or schlong shots; you name it, Cotton owned it.

  “Put the plaid back on over it and leave the top two buttons undone,” Boone instructed, jerking his chin at the shirt on the bed.

  “Are you sure?” The derisive snort told me to shut it so I obediently put the shirt back on then pivoted on my heels to look in the mirror.

  Damn… he nailed it again.

  The aqua stood out against my skin and enhanced the black plaid shirt. I looked great.

  “You’re welcome,” Boone snarked and I gave him the bird.

  Nabbing my bristle brush from my dresser I brushed out my beard until I was happy. I took a healthy dollop of D-Fi hair paste, rubbed it between my hands and smoothed it through my beard. I inhaled its citrus scent. The D-Fi was originally made for the hair on your head, but I’d found it worked great on beards, too and made mine shine. Brushing my hair back, I pulled it into a loose bun at the back of my head and secured it firmly.

  “Here.” Boone said from my right. He held up my favorite cologne and sprayed the air. I walked into the spray and twirled. Hell, I’m so gay sometimes. My pink flame was on high tonight. “Nice twirl, Johnny Weir.”

  “Fuck you, and thank you.”

  “Always a pleasure. I—”

  “Avery! Your date is here!” Cotton shouted and I jumped. Boone smacked my arm.

  “Chill, bro. He had to meet them sooner or later. I’d get out there if I were you though. You know Cotton can’t shut his yap for long.”

  “Aw shit!” I darted from my room and down the hall. Martin was already in the living-room surrounded by my family. He was smiling and answering all their questions graciously. I had to save him. As I drew closer I got a gander at what he was wearing. His shirt was a pale green button up with white jeans and woven sandals.

  Shoot, even his toes have freckles.

  The pale green of his shirt made his hair even redder and he looked smoking hot. I held out my hand and he gingerly pushed through my family and took it.

  “Glad you didn’t mind pickin’ me up.” I pulled him closer to me and nodded toward my family, who were starting to circle the wagons again. “They wanted to meet you.”

  He laughed and nodded. “I totally understand. Jackie and my clan want to meet you.”

  Cringing inwardly, I wasn’t sure I would look as calm as he did when I met his family. “You know Peg.”

  “Hi, Mr. Gaither.”

  “Hey, Peg. It’s good to see you again, and please call me Martin.” Peg’s dimpled grin made me relax. If my boy liked him that was half the battle won.

  “This is my Mawmaw, Gladys Winston. My Momma, Lynda Myer and my other brother, Cotton.” Momma smiled and shook his hand then Cotton did the same with a grunt. My Mawmaw took him in from top to toe and just cackled.

  “Nice red hair,” she said.

  “Strawberry blond,” I corrected and Martin shot me a look I didn’t quite get.

  “Strawberries are red,” she countered. “So, where are you two love birds going?”

  I cleared my throat loudly and mumbled, “Gonna take Martin to Courage.”

  “Nice choice. Hi, Martin.” Boone offered a hand to Martin which he shook.

  “Hey, Boone nice, to see you again.” Martin leaned into me ever so slightly. “I’ve never been to Courage.”

  Boone smirked. “There’s a reason they call it Courage.”

  Martin looked at me uncertain.

  “It’s experimental cuisine. I prep a lot of their meat and don’t worry, the food’s good,” I reassured him and glowered at Boone. I turned to Cotton and caught him staring at Martin’s ass. He looked up and I snarled soundlessly at him. At least he had the good grace to blush. Cotton was a toppy shit and loved ass… the rounder the better.

  “If ya’ll are done questionin’ Martin and me, I’d like to head out.” I glared at all of them.

  “All done, sweetie.” Momma smiled.

  “Where’s Bruce?” I asked. It dawned on me that her date hadn’t arrived yet to pick her up.

  “He’s runnin’ late.” Momma explained. “Go on your date, Avery. You can meet Bruce another time.”

  I pursed my lips, not happy at all about not meeting this man, but Martin was more important.

  I knelt down, to talk to Peg. “I’ll see you in the mornin’, buddy. You can watch one hour of cartoons after you do your homework. Be good for Mawmaw. I best not hear you givin’ her any grief. Got me, Peg?”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  “Now give me a smurp and a hug.” He did both and I did it back to him. “Love you, Peg.”

  “Love you too, Daddy. ‘Bye, Martin
.” With that he ran back to his room to start his school work.

  “Now that little ears are gone,” Mawmaw said, lowering her voice. “Ya’ll gonna have to get a hotel room iffin you’re gonna fool around. The walls are way too thin in this house.” Boone and Cotton laughed out loud.

  “Mawmaw, who said we were going to fool around?” I was mortified that she would talk like that in front of Martin.

  “I would if I were you, Avery. He’s a handsome cuss.” Her gaze raked over Martin and she smiled wolfishly. She trotted off to the kitchen, only to return a few moments later and hand me a fine-point Sharpie.

  “What’s that for?” I rolled the pen over in my hands, confused.

  “So you can play connect the freckles.”

  Martin blushed bright crimson and I wanted to crawl in a hole, but Mawmaw was unperturbed. “I dated a redhead one time. Best lover I ever had, man could go for hours. Always knew when he was about to finish too - his whole chest turned red.”

  “Mawmaw!” Momma, Boone, Cotton and I all wailed at the same time.

  “I’m sorry, Martin,” Momma said, trying desperately to smooth things over. “My momma had a stroke a few years ago and the inhibition centers of her brain were damaged. So she says what’s ever on her mind.”

  “I say the truth,” Mawmaw snapped back. “Have fun, Avery and nice to meet you, Martin.” She winked broadly at him and he chuckled.

  “On that disturbin’ note,” I said, trying to retain some dignity. “We’re outta here.” I put my hand on Martin’s lower back and quickly propelled him out of the front door and down the path.

  We approached his Buick and I grimaced—the mommy mobile. I shouldn’t complain since he’d picked me up, but it looked as though, if you drove it, you were a UFO—an Un-fuckable Object. Resigned to my fate, I got into the passenger side and Martin slid behind the wheel. Slamming his door he turned and gave me the once over.

  He winked and said saucily as he started up the engine, “Keep the pen handy.”

  I durn near swallowed my tongue!

  Chapter 5

  Martin

  Okay… am I a total freak for wanting to smear the sauce from my seared pork chops, on Avery’s neck and lick it off? The sauce was phenomenal but so was his neck! Long and lean, the chords along the sides of his neck begged to be licked and sucked. I squirmed in my chair as my shaft thickened and wormed its way toward the top of my jeans. The zipper dug into me painfully. I scooched backward to give my crotch some breathing room and to try to lessen the pressure.

  Lord, help me.

  I’m a horny, twitty, pile of nerves and the cause of it all sat across from me, blissfully unaware of the effect he was having on me as he ate his seared flank steak wrapped in naan.

  I chugged back some more of my beer, covered a burp and wiped my mouth with my napkin. The food at Courage was excellent, if not an odd pairing of Mexican/Indian. However it was certainly not a bad pairing. The air was filled with the smell of grilled meat and spice that made my mouth water. Avery told me last week’s menu was German/Thai fusions and I wished I’d been able to sample that combination.

  Over all, this was shaping up to be a great evening. Since I’d picked him up at his house, Avery had given me directions. I joined the evening Atlanta traffic and headed downtown to Courage, which was in the Luckie-Marietta District of Downtown Atlanta. Once Avery had given me the general location, I knew exactly where it was.

  The ride wasn’t long but it seemed quicker as Avery and I chattered about our kids and our jobs on the way. I pulled into the parking garage near Courage and we walked the short distance to the restaurant. When we stepped inside I was glad Avery had called ahead and reserved a table. The place was a buzz of activity.

  I stood by him, my arm brushing against his as he spoke to the hostess. She smiled wide when she saw him, so I assumed they knew each other. A small pang of jealousy surged through me as she touched his arm, but I knew I was being silly. Avery supplied and butchered their meat so of course she’d have met him at one point or another. She gave us a wink and we were hustled into a private room in the back, near the kitchen.

  Everyone seemed to know Avery and came over to say hello after we’d been seated. I guess one of the perks of being a butcher to some of the best restaurants in Atlanta was being privy to the private chef’s tables. Our server approached our table and introduced himself. He indicated with a smile that he would be back with some water and to take our time with the menu.

  I settled into the chair across from Avery and was about to pick up the menu when his hand covered mine. I looked up at him and he asked, “Do you trust me and do you have any food allergies?”

  “Yes and no,” I replied.

  “Good.” He waved at our server and the young man came over. “We’ll have two ginger-lime iced teas, lightly sweetened with a shot a vodka in each. For appetizers we’ll have the rice flour and garam masala, fried eggplant wedges with guacamole and, for our entre, the charred skirt steaks with cauliflower, black beans and kale, wrapped in naan for both of us.” Avery closed the menu. “And for desert we’ll have two margarita lassi with spicy salt.” He handed the menus to our server and he hurried away to put our orders in. Avery placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “I’m sorry about my family. They aren’t real subtle,” Avery apologized. A second server brought our drinks and, after we thanked her, he scurried away again.

  “It’s okay. I like your Mawmaw. She’s a hoot.” I chuckled and he visibly relaxed.

  “You’re just being nice. She’s a nut-job,” he deadpanned. “But I love her. She came to our rescue when my dad left us.”

  “How old were you?” I asked. Before Avery could answer, our waiter placed the eggplant wedges with guacamole dipping sauce in front of us. I speared a wedge with my fork, dipped it into the green goo and took a bite. It was cool, hot, spicy and sweet, all in one bite. Avery chewed his wedge slowly before he replied.

  “I barely remember him. We were maybe three, I think. I haven’t seen him since.” He feigned nonchalance, but I saw the tightness around his eyes. He was still angry at his dad.

  “At least yours left you alone. I wish mine had.” Sounding bleaker than I intended, Avery cocked his head at me, his gaze curious. I marshaled my inner strength and told him about my mother and father. By the time I was done, Avery was staring wide-eyed at me, looking like a volcano about to blow.

  “Is your baby brother alright?” he demanded.

  “Yes, he is,” I said with a smile. “And head over heels in love with his partner, Seth.” I sat back, as our main meal was delivered. It smelled so good that we dug in enthusiastically and after a few minutes of blissful foodie enjoyment, I confessed, “I envy them.”

  “How so?” He swigged back some of his tea then put a fist to his chest and burped. “’S’cuse me.”

  “I envy the closeness they have. The in-jokes, little glances, having someone have your back and having someone to curl up to at night. You know, that special person who knows how you like your coffee in the mornin’ and what size your underwear is? It sounds so silly when I say it out loud, but I envy it.”

  He swallowed his mouthful of food. “Well that’s easy,” he drawled. “I don’t wear underwear and I like my coffee black with two sugars.”

  I bit my lip. “Coffee black with two sugars and no underwear. Good to know.”

  “How about you?” I was being teased.

  “Cream, no sugar and brightly colored briefs—size 38,” I replied arching a brow at him. “I have a big butt.” His brown eyes darkened and my pulse shot up.

  “Yes, you do,” he said, lowering his voice. “And what color do you have on tonight?”

  “Turquoise with bright yellow stitching.” I began to breathe harder as his boot brushed against my leg. “Kinda matches your undershirt.”

  “Hmm...” he murmured as he plucked at his beard. A long strand of hair had come loose from his bun and was dangling over the right side of his fac
e. I wanted to tuck it back for him but he beat me to it.

  I wondered how far I could push him—and wanted to find out. Slipping off my sandal, I ran my bare foot up his inner leg and watched him stiffen. Luckily for us the table cloth hid my movements. I inched up and wedged my toes into his crotch. He shuddered and pressed his pelvis into my foot. Emboldened, I massaged his hardening cock through his jeans and, for once, I was thankful for my long monkey toes. They enabled me to grip his shaft and jack it slowly. Avery licked his lips, groaned softly and his hooded gaze smoldered as he humped my foot.

  “You’re playin’ with fire, Martin.” The deep growl emanating from low in his chest sent shivers down my spine.

  “I know what I’m doin’, Avery.” I pinched his cock head lightly with my toes and he nearly jumped out of his skin.

  “Please, stop… you’re gonna make me blow,” Avery pleaded. Sweat had broken out on his forehead.

  “Really?” I was inordinately pleased with myself.

  “Hell yes. I’m horny as hell and all I want to do is strip you down and sink deep into you.” He all but snarled the words, low and hot. I was taken aback by his bluntness and was tongue-tied for an instant. “What?” He suddenly looked concerned. “Did I say too much?”

  “Oh no. You said all the right things,” I replied, suddenly coy. “But, it’s early yet. There’s a club around the corner and I was wonderin’ if we could go dancin’ and then maybe back to my place?” There, I’d thrown it out there and all but presented him my upturned ass!

  “I can’t dance,” he admitted, reluctantly.

  “Can you sway while you hold me close?” I queried.

  “’Course I can.” He puffed up and I smothered a grin. “Let’s eat up and we’ll go.”

  “Shall I stop what I’m doin’?” I knew I was being a tease, but I was having fun making him squirm.

  “No!” Avery snapped and blushed, looking around to make sure no one had heard him then back to me. “Don’t you dare, just slow up a bit. I don’t wanna cream my jeans—yet.” He swallowed hard and I let up. His sigh of relief made me grin even wider. “Thanks.”