by Andi Van
“I’ll probably need to take a nap in a few hours,” Marcus warned us. “I don’t usually stay up as late as you guys do.”
“We’ll let you sleep when you need it,” I promised. “When we’re done at the courthouse, we can come back and crash.”
“In that case, take your ibuprofen and eat your dinner,” Marcus told me. “You can sit back and watch while I kick Jordan’s ass.”
“Oh, it’s on,” Jordan challenged.
I chuckled, swallowed the pills, and grabbed my bag of food. “I vote that we make sure the rest of the evening is less interesting than it started out.”
“Amen to that,” Marcus agreed.
CHAPTER 6
AFTER A morning spent at the less-than-exciting courthouse with a worried Jordan in tow, we came back to the house and Jordan and I made certain Marcus had enough pillows and blankets to curl up with on our couch and headed into our respective rooms. I didn’t feel too bad about making him sleep out there, as it wasn’t an exaggeration to say that the couch was one of the most comfortable pieces of furniture I’d ever had the pleasure of napping on.
So after I said a quick good night, I took another round of painkillers and went to my own bed. I was pretty sure I’d still wake up with a headache, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to try. Weirder things have happened, right?
Unfortunately I was absolutely right about the headache being there when I woke. I groaned a little, and it took me a minute to realize something was different about my bed. I had my arm draped over something warm that hadn’t been there when I went to sleep. Something warm that was breathing. I tried to open my eyes and managed to only get one to cooperate thanks to the swelling in the one Davis had smacked. When I was finally able to focus, I was greeted by the sight of Marcus’s back. Thank God I’d slept in my sweatpants. I wasn’t sure I would have survived being naked in bed with him, even if I’d been the only naked one.
I carefully scooted a little closer, trying not to move my head. I angled myself so I could use my upper body to cuddle up to his back without grinding my dick against his ass. Not that I didn’t want to, but it wouldn’t have been polite. I mean, the guy was still sleeping.
My wiggling must have woken him, because he patted my arm and gave me a sleepy “You okay?”
“Somebody has been lying in my bed,” I mumbled and gave him a fond squeeze. “And here he is.”
Marcus gave a snort as he turned to face me. “You’re no bear.”
“And you’re no Goldilocks, but it was still funny,” I said. “Good morning.”
“Good evening,” Marcus corrected with a smile. “How are you feeling?”
“Like someone tried to give me a lobotomy with a baseball bat.” No point in trying to hide how much pain I was in, considering Marcus would probably know I was lying anyway. “I’d offer to give you my firstborn if you bring me the ibuprofen, but since I don’t really want kids, that wouldn’t work.”
“Yeah, thanks anyway,” Marcus said. He gave me a look like I’d offered him a week-long vacation in a sewage processing plant. “No kids. I’d be a really bad parent. If you wanted to bribe me, you should have offered me something that actually interested me. You know, like really good cheesecake or a hand job or something.”
“Or both,” I said. “At the same time.” I frowned, then shook my head before I could remember that moving my head would be a really bad idea. “No, that would just be messy. It would probably work better if it was cheesecake and a blowjob.”
Marcus groaned and rolled away from me, dragging himself to a sitting position. “I don’t suppose you’d be amenable to the whole friends with benefits concept, would you?”
“I’d roll my eyes at you, but it would hurt,” I sighed. “Painkillers? Please?”
He climbed out of bed and shivered a little as he abandoned the warm blankets for me. He planted a kiss on my forehead and shuffled out of the room, leaving me behind as a melted puddle of Zach. It was kind of funny, considering he’d only kissed my forehead.
He took longer than I expected. At first, I figured the bottle had migrated again, but after several minutes, I gave serious thought to trying to get out of bed to find him. When I’d just about reached the point where I was gathering the courage to lift my head, he came back, the bottle in one hand and a mug in the other.
“Sorry,” he apologized as he returned to the bed and placed the cup and bottle on the nightstand. He helped me sit up just enough that I’d be able to get some pills in me, his hands gentle. When he was sure I was comfortable where I was, he handed me the tea. “Jordan told me how you take it.”
I nearly snorted the tea I’d started to sip. “Now that’s a loaded statement,” I teased weakly.
“I was talking about your tea, you perv,” he said fondly, shook a couple pills into his hand, and offered them to me. “Want some ibuprofen?”
“God yes,” I croaked. The pain was getting worse the longer I was awake. I popped the pills into my mouth and washed them down with another swallow of tea.
“If that doesn’t help, I’m taking you to the hospital,” Marcus informed me. “I don’t give a shit about how much you don’t want to or about the fact that your brother said you were fine.”
“I’ve had migraines worse than this,” I told him. It was an effort to reassure him, but I could tell it hadn’t worked when his frown deepened. “I don’t get them often,” I promised. “I’m just saying I’ve dealt with worse. I’ll be fine.”
“I’m glad I’m not working tonight,” he said, and he very carefully sat down next to me. “Someone needs to be able to keep an eye on you. You should probably go back to sleep once you’ve finished your tea, if you can. Maybe the ibuprofen will have kicked in by the time you wake back up.”
“I’ll need your help first,” I told him. “If you don’t mind, that is.”
“Of course I don’t mind,” Marcus said firmly, his brow wrinkling. “What do you need?”
I looked at him over the edge of my mug and smirked. “I need help getting to the bathroom. My bladder’s telling me good morning.”
“What? Don’t want to sleep in a wet bed?” Marcus asked.
“Hey. I have no issues sleeping in the wet spot, but not when my bladder’s involved,” I said.
He barked a short laugh, obviously surprised. “I’ll remember that when I bring over the cheesecake.”
“You do that,” I said, my smirk turning into a real grin as I handed the empty mug back to him. “Now help me up before I explode.”
Not only did he help me to the bathroom and back, but he climbed back under the covers with me, made sure the quilt was pulled up over our shoulders, and rested his arm over me. It was an echo of the position we’d been in earlier, and I sighed happily as I fell back to sleep.
WHEN I woke up again a couple of hours later, I was overjoyed to discover that my headache was reduced to a minor and much more tolerable throb. Marcus was still in bed with me, but we’d shifted in our sleep, and I was the big spoon again.
“Are you awake?” he whispered.
“No,” I answered just as softly. “I’m talking in my sleep.”
Marcus giggled. The happy chirp carried an edge of grogginess as it bubbled up. God, I loved the sounds he made. “You sound like you’re feeling better.”
“Much,” I admitted. I carefully moved my head a fraction to judge how much pain I was in. “The headache’s still there, but it’s nowhere near as bad.” Without thinking, I leaned in and kissed his shoulder. “So, not that I’m complaining, but weren’t you planning on sleeping on the couch?”
“I was,” Marcus admitted in a small voice. “But then I started dreaming. I’m sorry, I just couldn’t….”
“Don’t apologize,” I told him and hugged him close. “I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to come in here if you were having nightmares. Besides, it was nice to wake up to you in my bed.”
“I….” His words trailed off before Marcus rolled around to face me, his exp
ression serious. “Look. I get why you wanted to wait, but I’m pretty sure it’s obvious that I’m not crying over Davis. Not anymore.”
I nodded. What he was saying was true. It had become obvious over the weeks he’d spent hanging out with Jordan and me that he wasn’t missing his ex at all. “So what are you asking, then?”
Marcus took a deep breath and bit his bottom lip. When he finally answered, he spoke so fast that eight words became one. “Willyougoonadatewithme?”
I grinned. “I think you just broke the speed of sound. Did you ask me on a date, or were you speaking in tongues?”
“Will you go on a date with me?” Marcus repeated, slower this time, as a flush crawled onto his cheeks.
He was adorable like that, all nervous and shy and brave at the same time. This time, I gave in to the urges I’d been fighting since the day I met him instead of letting my inner voice groan about how he was going to kill me. I leaned in and kissed him, and I swear to God, his shocked intake of breath sounded more like an angel singing than I thought possible.
I could tell when his brain caught up with what was going on, because he wrapped an arm around me and his lips slid along mine in a dance that was all about feeling as fantastic as possible. We were both moaning, and I tried to roll onto my back and pull him on top of me at the same time, but instead, I managed to press the lump on the back of my head against the pillow just wrong, and I let out a pained hiss.
“Are you okay?” Marcus asked, immediately backing off to run his hands over my head. “What hurts?”
“Forgot about the lump on the back of my head,” I admitted with a grunt. “I’m fine, really.”
Marcus dropped his hands and nodded, a mischievous glint shining in his eyes. “So was that a yes?”
I chuckled and grabbed his hands, appreciating how warm they were and how good it felt to have him squeeze mine in return. “Yeah,” I told him. “Yeah, I want to go on a date with you. We might want to wait until after I look less like I’ve been in a brawl, though. Does it look as bad as it feels? I didn’t bother stopping in front of the mirror earlier.”
“Let’s just say it’s a good thing you work in radio and not television,” Marcus said, and winced a little. “It’s pretty bad. On the plus side, the lovely eggplant color brings out the blue of your hair.”
I snickered and let go of one hand to give his shoulder a gentle shove. “You’re a nut.”
“Takes one to know one,” he answered immediately and sighed happily when I snuggled close to him again.
We stayed like that for several minutes, just enjoying each other’s quiet company, until Marcus’s stomach growled loudly.
“Good lord,” I exclaimed. “Your stomach sounds like it’s about to eat its way through.”
“Jordan offered to make me something for breakfast,” Marcus said, sounding more than slightly embarrassed. “But I wanted to be here, in case you needed me.”
“Let’s get us fed, then,” I said, and sat up slowly. Now that the worst of the pain was past, my stomach wouldn’t be far behind his in bitching about how empty it was. “Then we can figure out when and where our first date is happening. I should warn you that Jordan thinks we’ve been in a relationship for weeks, though.”
“Friendships are relationships,” Marcus pointed out, his grin showing off his dimples. “But somehow I don’t think that’s what you meant.”
I snorted and tried to stand up, but immediately landed back on the edge of the bed. Wow, dizzy.
Marcus was around the bed and at my side almost instantly, offering me his hands. “Let me help you up,” he said. “You can lean on me as much as you need to.”
Somehow I got the feeling he wasn’t just referring to getting me to the kitchen, and my hands shook a little when I took his and let him help me to stand. When he was sure I’d stay on my feet, Marcus wrapped his arms around me in a hug, and I leaned into him as I returned the embrace. It felt warm and fantastic and right, and I never wanted to let go.
Of course, that’s when my stomach began to harmonize with his, and we both laughed.
“Come on,” Marcus said. He moved carefully to my side and kept an arm around me. “Let’s get you to the kitchen, so I can see about feeding us.”
Once he had me safely seated at the kitchen table and was examining the contents of the fridge, I broached our earlier topic again. “So what did you have in mind?” I asked him.
“Eggs, I think,” Marcus answered. “How do you feel about omelets?”
I chuckled. “That’s fine, but that’s not what I meant. Sorry. I meant what did you have in mind for our date? I can wake up early on one of our mutual days off, if you want to do dinner.”
Marcus pondered the question as he started to pull stuff out of the fridge. “Well, it might be easier if we went somewhere midday, instead.”
“It might,” I agreed. “Have you been to Jubilation?” The place was fairly new, but I knew from personal experience that the food was fantastic. I’d never actually eaten there, but the chef was Jordan’s and my college roommate.
“The new place on Main?” Marcus asked, looking at me as if I’d taken leave of my senses. “Isn’t it impossible to get a reservation there right now, even for lunch?”
“It would be if the chef hadn’t roomed with us for a while in college,” I admitted. “Christophe’s a really great guy, and he’s been trying to get me to visit the restaurant since it opened.”
“And here I thought I was supposed to be romancing you,” Marcus said, the grin on his face telling me that he was pretty pleased with my idea, despite his words. “If you can get us in there, I’m not about to say no.”
“You can still romance me,” I promised with a shrug. “To be honest, I’m not horribly good with that sort of thing. My idea of a romantic situation involves being with someone who’ll put up with my icy hands on their back when I’m cold.” Because, seriously, when the rest of me is cold, my hands are chillier than a penguin’s backside. They make Frosty the Snowman seem downright tropical.
“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that,” Marcus said and he started grating a block of cheddar. “If it were the right person, they’d be warming up your hands for you the entire time they were growling about getting revenge for having your frozen appendages on them. How is that not romantic?”
“Would you warm up my hands for me?” I asked, my tone overly flirtatious to hide my nerves.
Marcus stopped what he was doing to look at me. His face was the picture of seriousness. “It would be my pleasure,” he said firmly.
“Oh.” I was suddenly blushing so hard that I felt like I’d spontaneously sunburned, despite the fact that I was indoors in the middle of the night. It was amazing how easily he flustered me, and I stayed silent until he startled me out of my thoughts by setting a plate in front of me.
“Seriously, are you all right with this?” Marcus took a seat next to me with his own plate. “I don’t want to rush you into anything.”
“It’s not that,” I told him quickly, taking up the fork he’d brought me. “I’m just nervous.”
“You?” Marcus asked and raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You’re a public figure who routinely tells outrageous stories about your own life, and you’re nervous because of me?”
“That’s different,” I said. I methodically cut my breakfast into pieces, pleased to see that he’d used an obscene amount of cheese. “Making an idiot of myself on the air is nothing. I laugh at myself all the time because of the situations I get myself into. Making an idiot of myself to you, though? I don’t want to do that.”
“You won’t,” Marcus said and gave me an annoyed look. “I could do without you getting punched again, though.”
“That wasn’t my fault,” I protested. “I mean, I guess it was because I got in between him and your door, but I didn’t even make any smartass comments this time. Out loud, anyway. Calling him El Creepo to his face probably would have gotten me punched much sooner.”
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Marcus nearly spit out the bite of food he’d just taken as he choked back a laugh. “‘El Creepo’?” he asked when he was able to talk again. “Oh my God, that’s hilarious. And perfect. I think we need to call him that from now on.”
“Well, unless we end up in court,” I allowed. “I don’t think it would go over well if we referred to him as El Creepo on the stand.”
Marcus set down his fork and looked so downcast that I mentally chastised myself for bringing it up. “Do you really think it’ll come to that?”
“Me? No,” I said. “I think he’ll get a slap on the wrist and be sent on his merry way. I also think that he’ll completely ignore the restraining order, which makes me want to tell you that you need to move so he can’t find you. I know better than to try to run your life for you, though.”
A grin played at the edges of Marcus’s lips. “Maybe I should just spend more time over here,” he suggested.
“Maybe you should,” I agreed cheerfully. I got a major case of the warm fuzzies. I could totally live with that.
CHAPTER 7
I WAS less than thrilled to have my phone wake me up at five the next evening. I’d only been asleep for a few hours, and I was still hurting. Compound this with the fact that I woke up alone, and it all equaled a grumpy-as-hell Zach. I grabbed at my phone, not bothering to see who it was. When I managed to accept the call, I growled into the damn noisy bit of technology. “What?”
“I see you’re still alive, then.”
Oh hell. It was my mother. Don’t get me wrong. My mom was my best friend, next to Jordan, starting from day one, but I knew that tone. I’d hurt her feelings by not getting in touch with her and letting her worry over me. Wow. Talk about feeling like a bad son. “Mom, I’m sorry. I figured Brandon would have told you I was fine.”
“Zachary Oliver Blaise!”
Oh God, there it was. She’d used my full name, and I was in for a lecture of epic proportions unless I diffused the situation.