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  “I don’t eat brussel sprouts or green beans,” he stated in no uncertain terms.

  “Gotchya.” Martin grinned down at Peg.

  “And I like Minute Maid Tropical juice.”

  “Noted.” Martin nodded sagely.

  “Can I pick the color of my new room when we move in?”

  Little extortionist!

  “Of course. You like pink don’t you?” Martin teased.

  Peg rolled his eyes. “Don’t be silly, Martin. I like blue! Girls like pink.”

  “Blue it is then.” Martin squatted down and looked Peg square in the eyes. “We’ll paint it together.”

  “Okay. Are we goin’ to the movies today?” And that was the end of the conversation.

  Here I was worried to the point of giving myself an ulcer and Peg had surprised me yet again. I was sure he’d be totally against moving out of his Grandma’s house, yet he’d taken the idea in his stride. Of course, we had to do the actually moving part. I figured we had some rough days ahead, because change was hard for kids. Peg and I were going from just the two of us, to Martin, him and me and it probably wasn’t going to be all sunshine and roses. The pecking order of things had to be straightened out and Peg would have to mind what Martin said. Martin and I had to go over how we were going to approach co-parenting, to make sure we were on similar pages. Thus far we were pretty much on the same wave length, but seven-year-olds were a capricious lot and master manipulators. God help Martin and I when Peg and Poppy became teenagers, I could see a lot of sleepless nights and arguments ahead.

  “Yes, we’re still goin’ to the movies and we’re havin’ lunch at Steak and Shake first,” Martin replied and Peg’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.

  “Cool, can I have a chocolate shake?” Peg’s eyes widened and I gasped. I know that face! I was stunned. He was using the cutesy, adorable face on Martin.

  “As long as you eat your meal first,” Martin warned and Peg grinned. “Okay, bud. Your stuffs is in the bathroom. Why don’t you go take a shower and start gettin’ ready.”

  Peg nodded and raced from the room. I sagged back into the sofa and Martin sat next to me.

  “That went better than I thought.” I exhaled my relief, foofing a lock of hair from my face.

  “He’s a smart kid,” Martin conceded and scooted over next to me.

  “Smarter than his ole man.”

  “This is true.” Martin deadpanned.

  I arched a brow at him and pounced. Pinning him under me, I ran my fingers along his flanks and he squealed, begging me to stop. I didn’t until he was breathless and then I kissed him. I’d never get tired of doing that.

  *

  My work week blew past me and all I could focus on was spending the weekend with Martin. Boone had arranged to meet me for lunch so we could talk about Cotton. We’d both heard from him only sporadically over the last few weeks and our lunch was to compare notes and then call him. I missed him something fierce and so did Boone. We hadn’t been separated for more than a few days our entire lives. It was like part of me had been cut off and Boone echoed the sentiment.

  I was busy out the back of the shop, taking down a large side of wild boar. The only way I could do that was without distractions, so I hid in the back for some peace and quiet. The cleaver in my hand slammed down on the shank of a piece of boar with a resounding thud. I loved being a butcher and I loved cooking, but it had been when we began to break down various animals in the second semester at culinary school that I found my true passion. I had a natural skill for butchering and I could break down a whole pig in less than two hours. I was also a good judge of meat, and chefs would come to ask my opinion on what vendors sold the best products.

  Here at the shop, I had my regular customers. There were also three restaurant chefs who came to me for their steaks and chops. The shop kept me busy and I loved it, but I was bone tired by the time I got home at the end of each day and I knew I wanted something more. Mainly because I knew, deep down, that I couldn’t be a butcher for the rest of my life. The profession was back breaking labor. But where my life was going to go was still up in the air and I wasn’t sure what to do next.

  I finished prepping and packaging the boar to send to one of the local restaurants. After I’d cleaned up and shucked my apron in the laundry basket in the back of the store, I washed my hands just as Pamela, Piper’s sister, who managed the front, called for me over the speaker.

  “Avery, you have a visitor.”

  I quickly dried my hands. Pulling off my hair net, I tossed it in the trash then smoothed my fingers over my hair. I’d put it up in a twisted ponytail today to keep it off my neck and sometimes the net disturbed it. Satisfied it looked okay; I removed my beard net and ruffled my beard. I strode out of the back and pushed the door to the main room open.

  When I rounded the display case, I smiled widely at Pam. Whippet thin, Pamela Thurman was as brassy as they come and, as a mother of two teenagers, she brooked no lip and ran the front like a drill sergeant.

  “What’s up, Pam?” I asked. She leaned against the display counter, staring at the man waiting at the far end of it.

  “Tall, dark and yummy over there asked to speak to you personally.” She made a kissy face at me and I looked him over. She wasn’t wrong, he was yummy. With skin the color of caramel, he had a tight fade of black hair and a perfectly shaped mustache above a trim goatee. His suit hugged his lean form and he wore it effortlessly.

  “If you don’t want him, send him my way,” She murmured slyly and snaked out her tongue to give her lips a lascivious lick.

  “Pam, you know I’m with Martin now,” I reminded her.

  “Pity, ‘cause I think he’s one of yours anyway.” Pam sighed, obviously disappointed. “Too bad.”

  I rolled my eyes. “How can you tell?” I mean, she was right, he was gay. My gaydar had gone off as soon as I saw him.

  “No straight man looks that good.” She plopped her chin on her raised fists. “All the hot ones are gay.”

  “You’re a mess.” I smacked her butt and she chuckled.

  “Damn, that’s the most action I’ve had back there in months.” She batted her eyes at me and I made mock-gagging noises.

  “TMI, Pam. TMI!” She still giggled, as I meandered over to the hot man in question. He was a good looking cuss, I had to admit. I cleared my throat and he turned around. A dazzlingly smile lit up his face and he gave me the once over. “Hi, I’m Avery Myer. How can I help you?” I extended my hand and he shook it with a firm grip.

  “Hello, I’m Valentino Da Costa—”

  “Oh hell! I know you!” I exclaimed. “You own Avanti Blue and Vermillion Crush. I love your places. The food is off the chart!”

  Great Myer, now you’re acting like a fucking fan girl!

  “Guilty, they’re mine.” He laughed good-naturedly at my enthusiasm. “And I would love to sit and chat about them, but I’m here on business. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m opening a new place here in downtown corridor.”

  “Oh, yeah, it’s all the buzz in the foodie community.” He looked surprised and I shoved my hands in my pocket, hoping I hadn’t spoken out of turn. “Word on the street is that you’re going to open a new American fusion place. What was the scuttle on the name? It’s... Whisperer’s…” I wracked my brain for the second half of the name, not wanting to look like an idiot. “Whisperer’s—”

  “Green.” Valentino saved me graciously. “I’m hoping to fuse traditional British and American cuisine with a modern twist. If all goes well, the soft opening will happen in about four weeks. I’ve finalized my staff for out front at the new place, but I’m having trouble finding the right sous chef.”

  I studied him casually as he shifted from one foot to the other and his expensive suit rippled as he moved. His suit probably cost more than I made in two weeks. He rocked back on his heels and waited. He seemed nervous. Seriously? Valentino Da Costa was a success story for the books. He opened his first restaurant, Av
anti Blue, several years ago to rave reviews. It was a Mediterranean fashioned menu and was immensely popular in Decatur.

  Not long after, he opened a little hole in the wall in the Old Fourth Ward. Vermillion Crush was a fusion of various Asian styles of cooking with American sensibilities. It only held fifty people and was located in the breezeway of a large commercial complex. It was modeled after an old time speakeasy. The only way to find it was to know someone who knew where it was in the first place. In the beginning, Vermillion Crush didn’t take reservations but, as word of mouth built up, the lines outside grew so long, they’d had to start making bookings. It was still a hot spot and getting in on a Friday or Saturday was nearly impossible. Da Costa was riding high and his name was splashed all over the Atlanta Food circuit. Successful, out and proud, he and his husband, Shamus O’Malley, were a fixture on the who’s gay list of the Atlanta set.

  “I’m going to get to the point of my visit,” Valentino said on a rush of breath. “I want to offer you a job. I have a head chef, but what I need is a sous chef with a strong background in butchery. I want to serve fresh beef, locally grown and I want it prepped at the restaurant.” He paused to let his words sink in. “It would be an eleven to seven job and every other weekend for a few hours. You’d prep the meats for service and set up the line. That’s it. I want the best people at my place and you come highly recommended by your own boss and by the head chefs of Immaculate Confections, Alinia and Courage. It has been pointed out to me that you’re a superb chef and a kick-ass butcher.”

  I stood there and stared at him, stunned.

  Piper recommended me for the job?

  This was the opportunity of a lifetime. His restaurants were immensely popular and working for him would be an honor.

  “Listen,” he said. “You don’t have to give me your answer right away, but I’d like to know by next week at the latest.” He fished out his wallet and flipped out a business card. “Here’s my card. Please call me one way or another to let me know. I hope you’ll come on board with us but, if you don’t, I’ll understand. You have a wonderful job here at McArthur’s.” He held out his hand this time and I shook it, still not having managed to utter a word. “Have a good day, Mr. Myer,” he said with a nod goodbye and strode out of the shop, passing Boone who was on his way in. The bell jingled as the doors closed behind him and Boone whistled low as he watched him walk by the shop window.

  “Yow! Nice business meat.” I rolled my eyes. My brother was a walking erection. “Who was he?”

  “My next boss.”

  I said it without thinking and just like that, I’d decided on my next step.

  Chapter 9

  Martin

  Okay, things were going well, a little too well. Peg was cool with his dad and me and he was on board with us all living together, in my house. He had, however, gravely informed me that he wanted a week’s warning before they moved. Avery had nearly fallen off the sofa from laughing his ass off when Peg made his demands known. Peg was going to be a handful, a wonderful handful.

  Tonight we were spending the evening at Avery’s house. His Mom, Mawmaw, Boone and Peg all sat around the living room. Modern Family was on and we all watched in comfortable silence.

  Avery and I sat beside each other on the couch and I couldn’t resist a smile as he pulled my legs up into his lap. I had been stroking his leg in lazy circles, drawing nearer to his crotch, so I think the change in my position was more to cover his growing erection than for my comfort. He squirmed discreetly under my hand and I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing out loud. What can I say? Avery’s got major wood for me and our sex life is incredible. We were only able to be intimate maybe twice a week and it never seemed enough but, damn, when we were, it was explosive.

  In fact the other night…

  “Where do you want to go to dinner tonight, Sweets?” Avery asked. I stopped in the middle of changing my clothes and frowned at him.

  “Sweets?” I pulled a face and he chuckled.

  “Well, you don’t like baby or babe. And I’m pretty sure if I called you Red you’d yank my balls off—”

  “You got that right.”

  “So I’m tryin’ other pet names.” He smiled at me as he flipped through his phone.

  “Martin is perfectly fine,” I countered.

  “How ‘bout Sugahlips?” he drawled.

  “Not in this life.” I warned him. “Or the next.”

  He sat on the edge of my… no… our bed, in just his jeans, as I fussed over what to wear. It was easy for him. His dark looks meant everything looked good on him. However, being a redhead, not all colors looked good on me. Yes, I said it, I’m a redhead. Some shades of red, orange, yellow, pink and purple brought out the worse in my skin. I either looked sallow, flushed, or just plain crappy in the wrong color and, if I wanted to make my freckles stick out, I could wear black. I mean, it’s not as if I’m not pale enough.

  I turned and looked at him. He leaned back on the bed, his bare chest firm, his pecs softly sculpted. The shirt he planned to wear was hanging in my closet. I swallowed a moan as I slid my gaze over his stomach and the delicious happy trail that disappeared below his waistband. His long hair hung loosely around his shoulders and his beard was woolier than usual. He had an appointment with Big Bear’s Barbershop tomorrow and I’d warned him not to cut his hair. He’d laughed and promised he wouldn’t do more than a trim. Same went for his beard. He twirled his feet as he flipped through a restaurant guide he’d picked up off the nightstand.

  One of the best things about dating a popular butcher-come-chef, was that he knew all the best places to eat and which to avoid. In his choice of restaurant I trusted him implicitly.

  Avery had already made reservations for us at Avanti Blue. He wanted to see how Valentino Da Costa ran his restaurant first hand and I was happy to be fed rather than having to cook. He jerked his chin to the right, trying to flip a long lock of hair out of the way that had fallen into his face.

  Dang, he’s handsome, and he’s so comfortable in his skin. I continued to futz about with my clothes. He could throw on a ratty plaid shirt and tattered jeans and honestly… my knees would go weak at the sight of him.

  Sheesh, I have it bad. The green shirt was too clingy, so off it went.

  “Why not, Martin?” I said as I began to get dressed.

  “How about sweetpea?”

  “How about Martin?”

  I settled on a pale lavender seersucker shirt and a pair of soft worn jeans. My favorite deck shoes would complete the outfit.

  “Cuddlychops?”

  “For that, no ass for you tonight,” I pronounced. He jerked upright at that.

  “Wait a minute, wait a minute. I’m buyin’ you an expensive meal. You have to put out.” He pointed to his cock and made the motion like he had my ass in his hands, pumping his cock up into me. I stuck my tongue out at him.

  “Ah, ah, ah,” He waggled a finger at me. “Save that for lickin’ my hole,” Avery quipped and I balked at his ribald comment.

  “Avery!”

  “Avery what?” he said innocently. “You know you like eatin’ me out, just as much as I love havin’ you sit on my face. And one day you may even top my flat ass. However…” He leered at me and licked his lips. “Not tonight. ‘M gonna toss your legs over my shoulders and drill you until you come without touchin’ yourself, screamin’ my name.”

  Home, he’d said it again. He’d called my house, home. It was the silly stuff that made me all gooey inside. “Wow… horny much?” I chuckled.

  “Hell yeah.” As he said it, he popped open the buttons on his jeans and pulled out his half hard cock. He slowly jacked it with one hand and pulled out his balls with the other, massaging them. He cocked his head to one side and teased, “Wanna taste?”

  Darn it, I’m a soft touch for his cock. I dropped my shirt on the chair, padded toward him and knelt down between his legs. His dark gaze was hooded and he parted his lips, sliding out his tongue to run it a
long the lower one. Did he know how sexy that made him?

  I leaned in and buried my face in the spot between his balls and thigh then inhaled. Dear Lord, he smelled so good, like smoke, musk and spice all rolled into one and my mouth actually watered. I opened my mouth and flicked my tongue along the seam. He jerked, moaning low. I flattened my tongue, gripped the base of his cock and licked him slowly from root to tip. I stopped at the frenulum, pointed my tongue and traced it until he began to curse. I rounded the corona and ever so gently took his glans into my mouth. Drawing out the air in my mouth, I increased suction around the head, while my free hand tugged at his balls. I worked on him until the tang of pre-cum lit up my taste buds. I knew I had him going now.

  I loved sucking his cock. It was just the right size. It had a slight downward bend, which made sucking him so much easier. His cock slipped down my throat and fit perfectly. His hands found my face and caressed my cheek.

  “Suck me harder, Martin,” he crooned and I happily obliged. I slid my mouth down his shaft, opened my throat and took him in to his curls. Snuffling into his groin, I hummed my happiness and he moaned in pleasure. My throat gripped him and fluttered around his thickness and I pulled off until only the head was in my mouth. I did this multiple times and he humped up to meet me, his cock leaking copiously.

  I tugged harder on his balls as I suckled him and that got his attention.

  “Fuck, Martin, yank on my boys!” He liked having his balls roughed up, but only in the gentlest way, of course. I let his cock go and fisted his balls. I sucked one into my mouth, slobbering all over it and then did the same to the other. His nuts glistened with my saliva and Avery groaned under my ministrations. I wet my finger and traced lazy circles around his opening. The oh fucks and sonovabitches flew out of his mouth fast and furious, and his cock spurted more pre-cum.

  He was on his elbows again, gaze burning, jaw slack with desire and his hair fell wildly around his face. He was primal, all man and all mine. I used my free hand to pull his cock down, swallowing him to the root. I bobbed my head furiously as I probed his clenching hole and was he in for surprise. I pressed my finger against his guardian muscle and his whole body tensed. I sucked harder on his cock and he relaxed, so I slid my finger up his hole. He howled and bucked down on my finger. I found his prostate, rubbed it once and his cock convulsed in my mouth