Love Finds a Home: Sweet with heat gay romance (Home in Hollyridge Book 3)

by Elle Keaton

Elliot didn’t sound horrified.

  “Wyatt Reeser, he’s from Hollyridge.”

  There, he’d said it. Bennett may have come out at eighteen, but he’d never been with someone he considered introducing to his family. Wyatt was different, he was a spark that couldn’t be muted.

  “I don’t recognize the name.”

  “He’s from the south side of town.” A nice way of saying Wyatt hadn’t gone to the newer high school, but instead had attended the older, run-down high school on the “wrong side of the tracks.”

  Bennett knew it was kind of cheating. Wyatt probably hadn’t meant for Bennett to bring him along to this mini reunion with his brother but, Bennett admitted to himself, he needed the support. He had no idea what to expect from this meetup with Elliot, and Wyatt made even the bad things better.

  “Where do you want to meet?”

  “The Stone Hut?” It was kind of a test; the Stone Hut was absolutely in the wrong part of town. Not a wine bar or an upscale brewery, the Stone Hut was exactly that, a beat-up old bar located in an old building with river rock walls that kept it cool in the hot Hollyridge summers. They had pull tabs, Bud and Blue Ribbon on tap, a hot nut bar, and sticky tables. During state fair time, which happened right across the street, rodeo cowboys had been known to ride horses into the bar and order cold drinks.

  The owner, Wallace Kenton, was one of the toughest men Bennett knew. He was also gay and out, and tolerated no shenanigans. Bennett thought it was kind of funny how even the big talkers left their attitude at the door when they arrived. No one wanted to get eighty-sixed from the Stone Hut. Wallace Kenton had a one-strike policy and he was very unforgiving about it.

  “Okay, around four? I’m kind of busy until then.”

  Bennett clicked off and shoved his phone into the back pocket of his Levi’s. He wasn’t sure if seeing Elliot would be good or bad, but he guessed he’d know soon enough.

  The parking lot for the Stone Hut was about a third full. The sun was shining but the day was chilly, cold enough that he’d had to scrape a thick layer of frost off his windshield that morning. Bennett eased his Chevy into one of the open spots and heard gravel pop under his tires. It had been a few months since he’d been here, and he noticed Wallace had added some outdoor seating with a couple propane heaters so drinkers wouldn’t freeze to death. Bennett scanned the parking lot but didn’t see a car he recognized as Elliot’s, not that he had any clue what Elliot drove.

  Wyatt was quiet—which frankly scared the hell out of Bennett. He climbed out of the passenger side and came around to meet Bennett at the back of the truck.

  Bennett took a deep breath; the icy air rasped his lungs.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  Wyatt glanced at him, his dark brown eyes somber. “I am nervous as shit.”

  “Why? You’re fast-talking Wyatt Reeser, what do you have to be worried about?”

  “Fast-talking, huh?” Wyatt finally cracked a grin.

  “Fast talking got you in my bed.”

  “Well, I’ve never met parents or family before. I’m nervous, I want your brother to like me—I want to like your brother.” Grasping Bennett’s bicep so he would stop walking, Wyatt continued, “Family is really important to me, I’ve always been taught that it’s the most important thing. I don’t want to be the cause of more problems with your family.”

  Bennett wanted to kiss Wyatt right there in the parking lot of the Stone Hut but that was going a bit far, even as much as Hollyridge had changed over the years.

  “Wyatt, you are my family. You are the family I want,” he said. “I didn’t get to choose my parents or my brother, but I choose you. No matter what happens, remember that.”

  “Jesus Christ, Bennett, why do you say this stuff when I can’t jump your bones?”

  “Anticipation, Wyatt. Anticipation.”

  The interior of the bar was dim. Bennett glanced around but didn’t see Elliot right away. “The corner booth?” he asked. Wyatt nodded.

  Bennett moved to claim the spot, his favorite because it sat against two windows which allowed some light inside---he liked to be able to see his food and drink. Wyatt headed over to the bar to order drinks and Bennett couldn’t help but notice how pleasantly his Wranglers fit across his ass and hugged his thighs. Wyatt lived to wind him up, constantly giving him crap about his Levi’s and the Chevy, claiming real country boys drove Ford trucks and wore Wranglers. Bennett just preferred them both to be naked. He shifted in his seat; probably best not to think about that right now.

  Instead he thought about how his life had changed for the better in the past few months. He was perfectly aware that Wyatt had used Wicket as a way to invade his heart, but it had worked. Bennett hadn’t known how to break his own barriers down; he’d been stuck in a permanent loop of self-protection. He still didn’t think he was worthy of Wyatt, but his lover ignored his claims or, better, hushed him with blow jobs whenever Bennett tried to explain how Wyatt could do so much better than a half-literate vineyard laborer.

  “Bennett?’

  He looked up to see his brother Elliot standing at the end of the table and looking like he felt awkward and out of place. Bennett hadn’t seen him for almost a year; his “little” brother had grown more and if Bennett wasn’t wrong, Elliot was even taller than he was. Elliot wasn’t as muscly as Bennett yet, and his hair was darker and longer, but it was his brother and Bennett felt a swell of unnamed emotion rise in his chest.

  He half stood from the bench seat and offered his hand for Elliot to shake.

  “Oh, for crying out loud, this is your brother, give him a damn hug.” Wyatt stood behind them with a pint in each hand, watching the brothers with amusement sparkling in his eyes.

  Bennett met his brother’s gaze, rolled his eyes, and folded his arms around Elliot, squeezing him tightly. Elliot squeezed him back, not letting go for a long moment, until finally he released Bennett before stepping away and glancing over at Wyatt.

  “What can we buy you to drink? I’m Wyatt, by the way.” Setting the beers on their table, Wyatt moved as if to head back to the bar. Catching Bennett’s gaze and winking at him, Elliot intercepted Wyatt and engulfed him in a hug of epic proportions. Wyatt squeaked and his eyes were as big as saucers.

  Grinning, Elliot let him go.

  “What was that for?” Wyatt exclaimed.

  “That was for getting my brother to call me.”

  “Oh, that.” Wyatt flipped one hand towards Elliot. “How do you know it was me?”

  Elliot raised one eyebrow. “Trust me, I know.”

  Shaking his head, Wyatt walked back over to the bar to order another beer and a basket of peanuts before returning to claim his spot next to Bennett.

  If someone had told Bennett a few months ago—hell, a couple days ago—that he would spend the afternoon with his boyfriend and his younger brother talking about anything and everything, he would’ve told that person they were several cards short of a full deck.

  “You should bring Wyatt to dinner on Sunday,” Elliot said.

  “What? Hell no, I don’t want to expose him to their crap.”

  It had become clear that their parents had been telling each brother the same thing— “he’s too busy to talk on the phone, come to dinner, spend time with…”—until both of them had given up. Bennett was the first to admit he didn’t always communicate the best and it had seemed easier to just let Elliot go.

  “I’m not the best at that stuff,” he allowed.

  “Like blood from a stone,” Wyatt muttered under his breath.

  Elliot snickered into his pint glass, and Bennett shot him a look that should’ve scorched his ears.

  “Anyway, quit hiding from Mom and Dad. Bring Wyatt to dinner, lay your cards on the table, and see what happens. I’ll be there to support you. Frankly, I think it’s time one of us calls them on their behavior.”

  A hand, Wyatt’s of course, landed on his thigh and squeezed. Trust Wyatt to know Bennett was scared.

&nbs
p; He looked at Bennett. “I’ll go if you want. If you don’t, I’ll hang out with my mom for the evening. Maybe I can bring her to—”

  Wyatt stuttered to a stop. Bennett knew he’d been about to say “our place” but caught himself. Because as much as Wyatt was living there, Bennett hadn’t said anything to make sure Wyatt understood it was permanent.

  “To our place,” he finished for him, “and that way Wicket won’t be left alone for hours.”

  Ignorant of the momentous event that had just occurred, Elliot asked, “Who’s Wicket?”

  Bennett thought Wyatt would answer Elliot’s question, but he continued to stare at Bennett.

  “Wicket is our puppy. What kind of dog he is, I have no idea. Wyatt rescued him from the side of the road a few months back. He’s a wiggling, tireless, love-machine. Want to see some pictures?”

  Bennett whipped out his phone and began to show his brother pictures of Wicket, chuckling because he’d managed to stun Wyatt into silence.

  Nine

  Wyatt

  Wyatt wasn’t sure what to expect at the Meyer pre-Thanksgiving family dinner, but he figured it would be awkward at the very least. Bennett was stressed and anxious, even though he tried to hide it from Wyatt. He’d called his parents from the bar Saturday evening and left a message saying he was bringing his boyfriend to dinner. They’d never returned his call and now dinner loomed.

  Scenario after scenario tromped through Wyatt’s head; anything was possible. The thing he knew for sure? Elliot was on Bennett’s side. Wyatt liked Bennett’s younger brother, except it sounded like Elliot was a brainiac. Wyatt didn’t consider himself unintelligent, but he had better things to do than add and subtract all day, while Elliot was, in his own words, “a numbers geek.”

  “Do I look okay? Should I find something different to wear?” He hoped not because they’d need to stop by his mom’s place for that.

  Bennett glanced over at him, taking in Wyatt’s dark-blue plain button down, newer Wranglers, and black Converse. “You’ll do,” he grumbled, stopping what he was doing, and crossing the space between them to straighten Wyatt’s collar and re-tuck in his shirt like he was twelve.

  “You look great too.” Bennett was wearing his signature Levi’s, a white button down still hanging open over a tight white T-shirt, and black leather shoes. This close Wyatt could smell his aftershave, woodsy with a hint of something like cinnamon, and his cock twitched in reaction. Wyatt needed something to loosen him up or he was going to break into pieces. Wyatt snuck a glance at the heavy silver watch on Bennett’s wrist; they had plenty of time.

  Leaning closer, he breathed in Bennett’s scent before rubbing his nose against his neck. Bennett stiffened as Wyatt nibbled at his ear lobe. Over the past eight weeks or so, Wyatt had learned Bennett’s ears were extremely sensitive. He licked where he’d nibbled and slid a hand down the back of Bennett’s jeans, undoing the work Bennett had done getting dressed.

  “Wyatt,” Bennett growled, but he didn’t stop him.

  Wyatt let his fingers do the talking, massaging Bennett’s round ass, feeling the strong muscle under his hand. Moving from his earlobe to his neck and collar bone, Wyatt also shifted his hands to the button on Bennett’s jeans and pulled them open.

  “Wyatt.” Not quite so grumbly.

  Bennett’s cock was half hard already. Wyatt let his fingers rest for a moment against him, loving the feeling of the reaction to his touch. Sneaking a finger under the elastic waistband of his boxers, Wyatt pushed them and the jeans down to mid-thigh and dropped to his knees. Bennett’s cock, heavy, cut, and fully on board now, was right where he needed it.

  “Jesus, Wyatt.”

  The floorboards in the bedroom were cold but Wyatt wasn’t stopping now, Mission Relax Bennett was full speed ahead. Sticking out his tongue, he licked Bennett’s tip, loving his taste too. Slightly bitter with a hint of sweet, a fine cock. Bennett’s hands landed on his head, his fingers running gently through Wyatt’s short hair. Wyatt loved how gentle Bennett was, always aware of his own strength.

  Without any further preamble, Wyatt wrapped his fingers around the base of Bennett’s girth and took him into his mouth, all the way to the back of his throat. He’d had a lot of practice lately and knew exactly what Bennett liked best, how to take him from zero to sixty in sixty seconds. Bennett groaned, the sound of his arousal reverberating against the bedroom walls enough to make Wyatt’s own dick, stuck in his jeans, even harder. Quickly he unfastened them just to give himself some space.

  He loved when Bennett fucked his face and what he wanted tonight was that, every time Bennett looked at him over the dinner table, he’d think about where his cock had been only a few hours earlier. Hopefully, it would counteract the negativity the brothers expected.

  Bennett tried to control the movement of his hips as Wyatt sucked just a bit harder and pulled back to let his tongue taste more of him. Pushing Bennett’s thighs apart as far as the jeans would allow, Wyatt massaged his heavy balls and rubbed his perineum, all while sliding his mouth up and down Bennett’s length, his tongue and lips doing the heavy lifting. The taste of precum bloomed on Wyatt’s tongue. Bennett’s hips began to move a bit faster as he forgot to be careful, letting his impending orgasm force thoughts about his family and the upcoming dinner out of his head.

  Wyatt pushed his finger back just a little further, tracing Bennett’s hole. Bennett moaned and tried to spread his legs apart for more. Wyatt sucked and pushed just the tip of his finger inside Bennett’s body. Bennett liked the feeling of pleasure-pain, of not quite being entered, of feeling full. He hadn’t told Wyatt this; Wyatt had learned it on his own. He was an A student when it came to Bennett.

  Who was right on the edge, Wyatt could tell. As Bennett’s big hands tightened in his hair, Wyatt pushed his finger just a little further inside and Bennett’s balls tightened, his come spilling into Wyatt’s mouth. Wyatt swallowed as much as possible and held on until he stopped shaking. When Bennett let out a big sigh, Wyatt let his spent cock slip out from between his lips and leaned back on his calves.

  “Better?” he asked, looking up at Bennett. His own erection was hard and aching, but this was not about him and they were on the borderline of being late.

  “Jesus, Wyatt,” Bennett repeated.

  “You keep saying that, it’s gonna go to my head.”

  Bennett bent and lifted Wyatt to his feet, cupped his face, and claimed his lips with a crushing kiss. Wyatt pressed against him, wanting release regardless of the practical thought he’d just tried to have.

  “What do you need, baby?”

  To call him baby again, that’s all he needed; he’d come, and his life would be complete. He must have made some kind of sound that Bennett interpreted as “my boyfriend is about to die from a hard-on.” Reaching between them, he shoved his big, warm, calloused hand into Wyatt’s oh-so-not-sexy underwear and ran his thumb around Wyatt’s cock head, because Wyatt had his things too. He felt himself pulse, Bennett rubbing the liquid across the top of his cock as he moved his mouth from Wyatt’s lips to his clavicle, where he began to suck as he slowly jacked Wyatt.

  After blowing Bennett it wasn’t going to take Wyatt long. Hell, he was half hard around Bennett all the time anyway. Bennett pumped him, up and a caress along his tip, down with a little twist and flick against his balls. Then he bit down hard onto his neck and the spark Wyatt had been half fighting exploded up his spine, his hips jerked, and he was releasing into Bennett’s hand, his boyfriend murmuring nothing and everything into his ear as Wyatt saw stars.

  They were both breathing hard, smelled like sex, and were going to have to at the very least change their underwear before they left for town. From the look of relaxation and satisfaction on Bennett’s face, it was totally worth it.

  Bennett’s parents lived in the posh neighborhood around Palouse College. Of course they did. The house was a classic 1900s Edwardian, three stories, painted a dark blue Wyatt thought (it was hard to tell in the evening l
ight), and well kept-up. Bennett parked his truck on the street and came around to meet Wyatt as he jumped out of the cab.

  The front door opened as they made their way up the walkway.

  “You’re late,” the older woman Wyatt had seen at Demeter’s said.

  The two men stopped walking and Bennett rested his hand against the small of Wyatt’s back. “We had something to take care of. Mom, this is my boyfriend, Wyatt Reeser. Wyatt, this is my mom, Nancy.”

  She shook her head, the gray bob not budging. “Come inside, we don’t need the neighbors gawking.”

  Elliot appeared behind Nancy’s shoulder. “Mom, nobody cares what we do. For chrissake, Mr. Dietz across the street is gay and has been with his partner for years.”

  Nancy huffed and moved aside to let Bennett and Wyatt in. Elliot grinned and rolled his eyes as he shut the door behind them.

  “I came out to them as bi over breakfast.”

  Nancy’s lips thinned to a tight line; she’d started to move away but heard Elliot’s comment. From the stiffness of her shoulders, Wyatt figured the news hadn’t been well received.

  “Come on,” Elliot said, “dinner is getting cold.”

  A thought struck Wyatt. “If you guys have an annual Sunday dinner, what do you do for Thursday?”

  “Mom orders a full dinner from the Palouse Hotel, turkey and everything.” Elliot slowed his pace and whispered, “She really can’t cook, avoid the carrots.”

  They reached the dining room where Mr. Meyer waited at the table. As they entered the room, he stood and made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “Have a seat, boys.”

  The table was set like something out of a magazine, a white linen tablecloth, white china, and what Wyatt suspected was actual silver silverware. He wondered if Mrs. Meyer worried he might run off with some of it. A candelabra sat on each end of the table and a huge flower arrangement took over the middle, effectively making it impossible to talk to anyone except for the person sitting next to them. Thankfully, he’d been seated next to Bennett, with Elliot on the other side and their parents at either end.