by Ally Blue
“That’s what I thought you said.” Sam watched, stunned, while Bo stirred spaghetti sauce as calmly as if he hadn’t just ruined their vacation. “Would you mind explaining why the hell you did that?”
“It made sense. They’re going to be investigating Fort Medina, and it’s just a few miles down the road from us.” Bo spooned up some sauce, took a tiny sip, and added a sprinkling of oregano from the arsenal of spices lined up beside the stove.
“They could’ve stayed in a hotel.”
“If they found a vacancy within twenty miles at this time of year, it would be a minor miracle. Besides, even the cheapest places would run us at least one hundred and fifty dollars a night for two rooms, and they’re going to be investigating several nights. BCPI can’t afford it right now.”
“This is supposed to be our vacation.” Leaning his back against the counter, Sam crossed his arms and fixed Bo with a look he refused to call a pout. “It was supposed to be just us. Two weeks, alone, with no work or anything. We’ve only been here four days, and you’re already inviting the whole fucking office over.”
Bo shot a barbed glance at Sam. “Come on, Sam, be reasonable. Why should they drive back and forth from Mobile every night when we’re so close to the site? There’s plenty of room here for everyone to stay without us being crowded.”
He was right. Dammit. Sam wrinkled his nose. “I was looking forward to having you to myself for a while, that’s all. Half your mind’s always on either work or—”
Sam bit off the rest of the sentence, but it was too late. Bo threw the spoon on the counter, splattering the green and white tiles with sauce, and whirled to face Sam. “Or what? What were you going to say?”
Sam shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Like hell.” Bo stalked up to Sam, dark eyes full of a dangerous glitter. “You were about to say, ‘the kids’, weren’t you?”
Hanging his head, Sam studied a scuff mark on the white linoleum under his bare feet. He didn’t say anything, but his silence was answer enough, and he knew it.
Sighing, Bo turned to lean against the counter beside Sam. “Christ, Sam. I can’t believe you’re still jealous of my kids. That is so fucking immature.”
Sam didn’t answer. As much as he hated to admit it, Bo was right. When Bo’s divorce from Janine was finalized and she received full custody of their sons, leaving Bo with only twice-a-month weekend visits, a dark part of Sam had been relieved that he and Bo would be able to spend most of their time together without the kids around. He knew how important Bo’s children were to him, and he tried his best to be supportive, but the selfish little boy in him burned with jealousy every time he had to share Bo’s attention with Sean and Adrian. Being forced to share Bo with work during a time which was supposed to be theirs alone was just too much for him to stand.
When Bo pushed away from the counter and went to put the spaghetti noodles on to boil, Sam finally dared to speak. “I’m sorry, Bo. I don’t like feeling that way, and I’m trying to get past it. It’s just, we never have any time to ourselves. Not really. And Sean and Adrian aren’t even the biggest part of that. The business is, and I know that once the rest of the crew gets here and starts working on the case, you won’t be able to resist getting involved.”
Bo laughed, but the sound held no humor. “Andre said the same thing. I promised him I’d stay out of it.”
“You won’t, though.”
“You don’t think I can keep a promise?”
“Not this one, no.” Walking over to Bo, Sam stroked a hand down his naked back, where the muscles stood out hard and tense. “You mean well. You’ll intend to keep your promise. But you won’t be able to. Work’s too important to you.”
More important than me, said the black, bitter corner of Sam’s heart. He kept that thought to himself.
Bo was silent for a long time, swirling the softening noodles through the boiling water. Just when Sam was starting to get seriously nervous, Bo spoke in a soft, sad voice that made Sam’s heart ache.
“I love you, Sam. I want to be with you for the rest of my life. Why isn’t that good enough? Will you not be happy until I give up everything else I care about?”
God, he’s reading my mind. Torn between irritation and contrition, Sam rubbed both hands over his face. “I’m not asking you to give up anything. I wouldn’t do that.”
“I know.” Putting down the spoon, more gently this time, Bo turned to meet Sam’s gaze. “But you want me to anyway.”
It was partly true, but not entirely. Sam wished he could make Bo see that.
Cupping Bo’s face in his hands, Sam leaned their foreheads together. “Sometimes I wish things were different, that’s true. Sometimes I wish we could spend every minute together, and not even think of anything but each other. But I know that’s not realistic for either of us, and I sure as hell don’t want you to give up the things that are important to you. I really don’t. I wish you could believe that.”
Bo didn’t say anything, just tipped his face up to capture Sam’s mouth with his. Sam let himself sink into the kiss, ignoring for the moment the fact that nothing had been resolved. He and Bo both wanted to do better, and each wanted to believe in the other’s sincerity. It would have to be enough, for now.
***
The rest of the BCPI team arrived the next evening around sunset. By then, Sam had resigned himself to spending the remainder of their vacation with a houseful of people. At least these particular people were his and Bo’s friends and would respect their privacy.
“Remember, no working,” Sam reminded Bo as they walked out the front door to meet the SUV rolling up the long, shaded drive. “You can ask about the case, but you are not allowed to get involved.”
Bo quirked an eyebrow at him. “Yes, sir.”
They hadn’t spoken of the upcoming investigation since the night before. Sam was half afraid the tension which had dissipated since then would come back when he reminded Bo of his promise to stay out of the current case. He was relieved to see no sign of anger in Bo’s eyes, only a familiar simmering heat.
Growling, he grabbed Bo around the waist and bit his neck. Bo hitched his shoulder up, laughing, and Sam grinned. That was one of Bo’s ticklish spots.
“I think I like you calling me ‘sir’,” Sam murmured, nuzzling behind Bo’s ear.
“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.” He shoved Sam away with a smile. “I get to be the boss again when we go back home.”
“Oh, so I’m the boss now?”
“I wouldn’t mind if you were, sometimes.” Bo shot Sam a smoldering look. “When we’re alone, if you know what I mean.”
Sam thought he did, and the idea went straight to his crotch. He watched with something like panic as the SUV rolled to a stop in front of the house and all four doors flew open at once. If David or Dean noticed the sudden “problem” in his shorts, he’d never hear the end of it.
Orgy at the nursing home, he thought, holding his clasped hands in front of his crotch in what he hoped was a casual manner. Rush Limbaugh in drag. Dick Cheney fucking Martha Bush.
The last mental image did it. Breathing a silent sigh of relief, he strode forward with Bo beside him.
“Hi, guys,” he called. “Y’all are awfully late, aren’t you? We expected you nearly two hours ago.”
“We didn’t get away as early as we wanted to. If it weren’t for Danny I guess we’d still be there tying up loose ends.” Andre wrapped his muscular arms around Sam and Bo and pulled them into a tight hug. “Thanks for letting us stay here. I know we’re getting in the way of your vacation, but damn, it’ll be good not to have to drive back and forth between here and Mobile every night.”
“It’s no problem.” Bo shot a warning glance—entirely unnecessary, Sam thought—in Sam’s direction before letting go of Andre to hug Cecile Langlois. “There’s absolutely no reason not to share this place with y’all, it’s huge.”
“I can’t believe I gave y’all my week here, and ended up stayi
ng here anyway. Must be karma or something.” Grinning, Dean Delapore bounded up, flung himself at Sam and Bo and kissed them each on the cheek. “So. Y’all been having fun? You disturbing the neighbors every night?”
“Come on, the nearest neighbors have to be a quarter mile away,” Bo protested, squirming out of Dean’s grip with a laugh.
“So, what you’re saying is, you’re really loud, huh?” David Broom slapped Sam’s back as he strolled toward the back of the SUV to help Andre get the equipment. “Nice hickey, Sam.”
“He’s lying,” Bo muttered, grabbing Sam’s hand before it could fly up to his neck. “You don’t have any marks there.”
Sam blushed, thinking of the giant purple bruise Bo had left on his inner thigh that morning.
Cecile hooked a hand through Sam’s elbow and smiled up at him. “I know you probably weren’t happy about this. Thank you for letting us stay.”
Like I had a choice.
Sam shoved the uncharitable thought aside. He knew having the team stay here was the best option, and he knew his friends felt bad already about interrupting his and Bo’s vacation. He didn’t want to make them feel worse, when they were just doing their job. Just doing what the boss said.
“No problem.” Sam patted her hand. “I can’t wait to hear about the new case.”
She gave him a stern look as they went to help unload the SUV. “You do know that you and Bo aren’t supposed to be working on this one, right?”
“I know. Believe me, I know. But that doesn’t mean we don’t want to hear about it.” Glancing at Bo, who was deep in conversation with Andre, Sam leaned closer to Cecile. “Besides, you know as well as I do that Bo won’t be able to resist. If he’s in, I’m in.”
Cecile didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. They both knew Sam was right.
Between the six of them, they got all the luggage and equipment unloaded and stowed in the house within a few minutes. Once everyone got settled into their rooms—all on the first floor, Sam was pleased to note—the whole group converged on the back porch in the gathering dusk. Sam lit a couple of citronella candles to provide some light and keep away the mosquitoes.
“Okay,” Bo said, claiming the chair between Sam and Andre. “Tell us all about this case.”
“It’s pretty simple, really.” Leaning forward, Andre grabbed a handful of chips from the big bowl Bo had put in the middle of the round patio table. “Joanne Biggers is the current manager of Fort Medina. She called us the other day asking if we could investigate the fort’s ghosts.”
“The place has been haunted forever,” Dean chimed in, taking a swig from his bottle of Corona. “It was built in the late sixteen hundreds, and it’s been collecting ghost stories ever since. I remember going on a field trip there in eighth grade. It’s a cool place. Really creepy.”
“So it’s just regular ghosts?” Sam asked. “Not…anything else?”
Not portals. Please. He figured it wasn’t a portal case, or Bo would’ve already said something, but he had to ask. Just to put his mind at ease.
“No portals,” David answered, blunt as always. “Just your garden-variety spooks.”
“Mostly residuals, from the sound of it.” Andre popped the last of his chips into his mouth, chewed and swallowed. “Although a couple of the reported sightings sound more like apparitions. Hopefully we’ll find out soon enough.”
Beneath the table, Bo’s hand crept onto Sam’s thigh and gave a gentle squeeze. Sam laid his hand over Bo’s, grateful for that reassuring touch. Bo knew how much Sam dreaded the time when another interdimensional portal case would come along. Sam’s dreams were still haunted by visions of Bo’s near death after the creature from the other side bit him at South Bay High.
Cecile shifted in her seat, tucking one slender leg beneath her long gauze skirt. “We’re meeting Joanne at the ticket office tomorrow night at nine o’clock. The fort’s open to the public during the day. It closes at eight p.m. She’ll give us the tour and show us where the major sightings have been. From that, we can hopefully get a good idea of how many nights the investigation might take.”
Bo nodded, twirling the tail of his braid between his fingers. “Okay. Well, as y’all know, Sam and I are planning to sit this one out. But I’m always available if you need me.”
“Boss-man, this one’s a cakewalk. We can handle it, no problem.” David scooped up a palmful of chips and crammed them into his mouth. “’Ou guys s’ay ou’ o’ th’ case an’ in bed.”
Cecile smacked David on the shoulder while Dean and Sam snickered and Bo glared. “My God, David,” she chastised. “Could you possibly be less refined?”
David shot her a cheerful leer. “You don’t love me for my refinement, baby.”
Chuckling, Andre shook his head. “The point David is so crudely attempting to make is, this is a pretty straightforward case, nothing complicated or dangerous. The folks at the fort are hoping that having us investigate will raise their profile as a tourist attraction and bring in more people, which is the main reason they asked us to come out. There won’t be any reason for you and Sam to be involved.”
Glancing sideways, Sam wondered if he imagined the disappointment on Bo’s face. Probably not.
“They realize we can’t do this if they’ll only accept one answer, right?” Bo turned his palm up, lacing his fingers through Sam’s. “If you find evidence, fine. If not, they need to know we won’t fake it for them.”
Andre made an impatient sound. “Give me some credit, Bo. I told them that, just like we tell everyone. They’re fine with it. They figure this’ll be good publicity whether we find anything or not.”
Bo had the good grace to look sheepish. “Of course. Sorry, Andre.”
“No problem,” Andre answered with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I know how it is. It’s hard to let go of control when you’re used to having it.”
The sentiment resonated in Sam’s brain. As if reading his thoughts, Bo swiveled his head toward Sam. Their gazes locked, and the hunger in Bo’s eyes sent a jolt up Sam’s spine. Heat pooled between his legs. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to drag Bo upstairs, rip his clothes off and make him lose control in the best possible way.
Later, he mouthed, and bumped Bo’s leg with his. A tiny nod and an anticipatory twist of Bo’s lips told Sam he understood.
“Bo? What do you think?”
Startled, Sam turned toward Dean’s voice. Bo leaned forward to look at Dean, who sat on Sam’s other side. “Sorry, what was that?”
Dean grinned. “I was asking what you thought of making the fort a site for the Scooby Tours, but it can wait. I can see y’all have other things to think about right now.”
Thankfully, the increasing dimness hid the blush staining Sam’s cheeks. At least he assumed it did. He knew Bo well enough to know his face was scarlet, but Sam couldn’t see it in the flickering candlelight.
“No, that’s fine.” Bo’s voice was firm, in spite of the faint tremor of his fingers where they gripped Sam’s. “I think that’s a fantastic idea, actually. If the fort checks out, we’ll talk with Joanne about scheduling a tour.”
Excitement fluttered in Sam’s belly. In spite of his resentment of the case for intruding on his private time with Bo, a part of him wanted to be involved in this one. The fort sounded intriguing, not to mention rich in history. Holding one of their biannual investigations for paying amateur ghost hunters at the old fort sounded like fun. They only led the Scooby Tours—as Dean had dubbed them—at sites proven to be both paranormally active and safe, and the fort promised to be both.
“Cool.” Rising to his feet, Dean stretched and let out what Sam was positive was a fake yawn. “Man, I’m wiped. Think I’ll go get some shut-eye.”
David gaped at him. “But if you go to sleep now you’ll be up at the crack of dawn, and we’re gonna have to stay up most of the night tomorrow. Why don’t you stay up now and then you can sleep in in the morning?”
“Naw. I’m gonna just sleep fo
r a few hours, then take a nap tomorrow afternoon. That way I’ll be as well rested as I ever am, and by the time we head to the fort I’ll be wide awake and ready to hunt some ghosts.” Picking up his empty beer bottle, Dean gave Sam’s arm a quick squeeze and headed toward the door. “’Night. See y’all in the morning.”
A chorus of “good nights” followed him inside. Sam smiled at the wink Dean shot him. Dean’s constant determination to create chances for Sam and Bo to be alone was sweet, but he was about as subtle as a wrecking ball.
Cecile watched Dean go with a knowing smile on her face. “He had a good idea there. I think I’ll do the same.”
David let out a long-suffering sigh as Cecile stood and tugged on his arm to make him follow. “All right, all right, we’ll go away and leave the lovebirds alone to get their man-thing on. But I’d better get some s—”
“David,” Cecile murmured, taking his hand.
“S…sugar,” David amended. “Daddy better get some sugar for this, little girl.”
The look he got in return was far from sweet, but it made David hum happily and follow Cecile like a well-trained puppy.
“Those two are like a couple of kids,” Andre said, shaking his head as he watched them disappear inside. He sighed. “I miss Amy.”
The confession shocked Sam with its sheer unexpectedness. Andre rarely mentioned Amy Landry, the lover he’d lost to the otherdimensional monster at Oleander House. He’d grieved for her in his quiet, stoic way, but he hadn’t so much as mentioned her name in months. Seeing the sadness in his face right now made Sam’s heart ache for him.
Bo laid a hand on Andre’s shoulder. “You know you can talk to me—to any of us—any time you need to, right? We’re your friends. We’re here for you.”
The corners of Andre’s mouth lifted in a melancholy smile. “I could say the same for you. You and Amy were friends long before I even met her, but you don’t talk about her any more than I do.”
Bo’s fingers tightened in Sam’s grip. “You’re right. I don’t ever mention her anymore. But I miss her too.”