B01MUG7DJX EBOK

by Mathew Ortiz

  “You play with Lego?” This amused me no end.

  He put down the box and folded his arms over his chest. “Yes, I do. I have several Star Wars sets.”

  Oops, never bash on a man’s hobbies. “You like Star Wars?”

  “No.” His tone was so serious, I wondered if I had offended him. “I love Star Wars!”

  He peered at me intently and I grew uncomfortable. Without thinking, I blurted out, “I love Doctor Who.”

  A smile replaced his frown and he laughed out loud. “Nice save and I know you do.”

  He breezed past and I trailed behind him to the register. He handed the box to the cashier and she rang him up.

  “How do you know I like Doctor Who?” I queried. He handed his card to the girl and turned to me, studying me for a moment before he spoke.

  “I guess I’ve always been the observer of the three of us. I was definitely the quieter of the three of us. Lord knows with Boone around, gettin’ a word in edgewise was hard enough. Avery led us, Boone’s the talker and me, I watched. I got really good at reading people. First off, when you’re nervous, you clasp your hands in front of yourself and twiddle your thumbs.” Which I promptly stopped. “You dress nice, but I don’t see obvious labels, so you’re not a snob. You dress for yourself, not for others. You don’t feel the need to impress people. Your breath smells of mint and coffee, so I know you’re a coffee lover. You scan a room and take a good look around before enterin’. Which means you’re cautious because somethin’ bad has happened in your past to make you skittish of the unknown, so you keep your guard up. And lastly, I know you like Doctor Who, because your key chain fob is hangin’ out and it has a miniature TARDIS on it.”

  Bloody hell! How? What? The nerve! I… damn, he’s right.

  I’d never had anyone pick up on so many of my quirks so fast. I do twiddle my fingers when nervous, a habit held over from childhood. I do drink way too much coffee. The Organic Monkey staff know me by name and know my order without me saying. I’m a double espresso, skim milk with a healthy dash of caramel. Tons of calories and caffeine, and I blame Cheska for getting me hooked on it. And yes, I do love Doctor Who. I watched all the new ones, but the John Pertwee and Tom Baker era were my favorites. I loved them and Sara Jane Smith was, in my humble opinion, the best companion. Although Donna Noble came a close second. Damn, Donna could make me cry at the drop of a hat.

  The only thing that bothered me about his evaluation was how I entered a room. That habit had evolved from my time with Robert. I never knew when I’d done something to make him angry. His temper was unpredictable, flashed hot and, after being jumped several times, I tended to enter rooms expecting the worse. I’d hoped my learned behavior would have faded over the months, but it hadn’t. Damn Robert. Will I never be free of him?

  I shook away the thought. Here I am on a second date with a guy who knew more about me than any man had ever known. In a few short minutes, Cotton endeared himself to me a thousand times over. If he knew this much about me in such a short time, how well would he know me in days, weeks or months? Would he know I liked to sing Adele in the shower or that I had a massive Daddy crush on Paul Hollywood? That I loved snuggling under a thick feather duvet during snow storms? Or that I liked to eat my Skittles in groups separated into colors?

  “Caleb?” Cotton’s soft drawl startled me.

  “Sorry. Wool gathering, and I have to say, spot on, Cotton,” I confessed and he relaxed visibly. Never in my wildest dreams would I have expected such astute observational skills from him. He gave off that lone wolf bad boy vibe, and a hot vibe it was, but it would appear Mr. Myer had many layers.

  “’M sorry if I offended you.” He rubbed his neck and took his purchase from the cashier. He headed to the door and I fell in step behind him. “I hadn’t planned on this being our second date but I needed a gift. Iffen your hungry there are quite a few food trucks nearby.”

  “Sounds like fun.” I peered around the plaza we had walked into and spotted two trucks. One was Asian/Mexican fusion and the other Indian. “Do you like Indian food?”

  He thought about it and shrugged. “Indian sounds good.” He bumped my shoulder with his and we trouped over to the truck. As we approached the window, a fresh faced young Indian girl popped her head out of the window and gave us a dazzlingly wide, white smile. Her skin shone like warm coco and merry black eyes regarded us as we perused the options. Tilting her head, her chic bob bounced.

  “What would you gentlemen like?”

  “Um, not sure. Any recommendations?” I responded and Cotton nodded in kind.

  “Well, the Chicken Tikka wrap is a customer favorite.” She pointed to the menu. Cotton leaned in, read the ingredients and smiled.

  “I’ll have one of those.”

  I do love Chicken Tikka. “Make that two and a water. Cotton?”

  “Same here.”

  She nodded and scribbled down our orders.

  “Be ready in a few minutes.” She hurried off and joined her cohort in the kitchen area of the truck.

  “So… have you ever been in a long-term relationship?” As soon as I said it, I wanted to crawl under a rock. Luckily for me, Cotton laughed and shook his head.

  “Nope. No guy ever caught my eye, or kept it longer than a night.”

  “Well, that is… I want to say honest, but slutty comes to mind,” I teased but he only grinned back, unashamed.

  “I tend to like my space and haven’t found anyone who could put up with all my baggage,” he admitted with a self-deprecating twitch of his lips.

  “Please. If you made it through your teens and survived your early twenties, you’re in good company. Me, I have enough baggage for the Titanic.” I waved him off, earning me a hearty chuckle.

  “First class or steerage?” Now he was messing with me. I looked down my nose at him and, in my best upper crust voice, replied.

  “First class only. I’m a Jaspers, thank you.” I sniffed and bit my lip to keep from giggling.

  “Steerage here, plain and simple,” he countered and set his body to a swaggerish pose. I lost it. Giggles erupted from me and he joined in with his oh so sinfully, sexy laugh. The girl popped her head back out of the truck window and called to us. We walked over and she handed us our meals. They looked like a burrito, the tortilla was lumpy and charred. It smelled divine and I jerked my chin toward a bench in a secluded area of the plaza. Once we were seated, I brought my Indian burrito to my mouth and took a bite. Wow! It was heavenly. Spices, heat, tomatoes, cilantro, spinach and charred zest chicken exploded across my tongue while simultaneously being cooled by a yogurt sauce, dabbed liberally throughout the wrap. Cotton took a bite of his and his face mirrored my own emotions.

  “Dang, this is good. Hain’t never had Indian food. Thai, yes. French, Italian and German yes. Southern cooking… of course. I can’t rightly say I’ve tasted anythin’ like this. It’s all the flavors I love in one mouthful.” He resumed eating with gusto. I swallowed mine and washed it down with a generous gulp of my bottled water. “I like to think I’m up for anythin’. I’m the one who never checks the temperature of the pool water. I just dive in. I am a touch impulsive. Kinda odd, I’m a watcher but a doer. One extreme to another. I have a safe nine to five job but restore bikes in my spare time.” He took another bite, chewing it slowly.

  “A conundrum at best. Me, I’m freakishly optimistic. Perky. Snobby. You know, totally full of myself!” I chuckled and he grinned. A piece of spinach lay on his beard and without realizing it, I reached over and plucked it off. We both froze. We’d barely even touched and the gesture seemed so intimate. His beard was very soft to the touch and as I pulled my hand away his brown eyes darkened and my own breath hitched.

  “Sorry. Way too improper to touch you without permission,” I chided myself.

  He swallowed and said, all growly, “I don’t mind. Not ’tall.” His smile grew lascivious. “Touch all you want, Caleb.”

  Now I sputtered and my face reddened. This man
kept me guessing and I liked it. “Little full of yourself too, aren’t you?”

  “Rather be full of you,” he replied and I nearly dropped my sandwich. His gaze twinkled. “Too much?”

  “I-you-really-are as bold as balls aren’t you?” I twittered.

  “When I see somethin’ I like, I go for it and I like you, Caleb.” He took a long swig of his water. “And I’m hopin’ the feelin’ is mutual.”

  I leaned in and I could smell eucalyptus wafting around his beard. “Well I would have to be off my rocker to deny it.” I darted my eyes around and we were in a secluded spot. In for a penny, in for a pound, my Grandmother would say and I kissed him. He must not have been expecting me to do it, because he stiffened for a few moments, then relaxed. His lips, warm and supple, parted and his tongue darted out to trace my lower lip. As kisses go it was fairly chaste and that’s why I marveled at how quickly my heart beat sped up and my breathing increased. He pressed forward and cupped my chin, drawing me deeper. I don’t know how long the kiss lasted: minutes, days, eons? All I know is, when our lips separated, I was breathing hard and he had a sheen of sweat along his forehead.

  I sat back, put my food next to me and tucked my hands under me. He kissed better than Robert… oh you stupid wanker… why would I ruin such a wonderful kiss thinking of that shitstick? From our few meetings, Cotton did not resemble or act like Robert in any way. Cotton acted shy and bold at once. Robert had plowed through, pushing you along. I made a mental promise not to compare the two ever again.

  “Wow,” he muttered and I did a jig in my head. He was shaken too, if the evidence of his trembling hand told an accurate tale.

  “Wow, indeed,” I parroted.

  “A solid eight,” he leaned back and waited.

  “An eight? An eight! Are you mental? That was at least a nine!” How dare he? Well Mr. Cotton Myer could stuff it up his ass. The nerve of the man!

  He held his hands up in surrender and I would have believed him, save for the smirk.

  “It’s an eight because you were still wearing clothes.” His voice dripped of sex, dark and dirty, and my pants said ‘Hey!’

  “Do you talk to all of your dates this way?” I accused him and he had the audacity to wink at me.

  “Only when I have them naked, sweaty and crying for more.” Again, he slyly smirked and I flushed hot all over. He wanted me and made no bones about it. No sweet words, only pure animal desire. Lord above, I went from flirty to slutty in five seconds flat. Reign it in there, Caleb. Don’t give your cookies out so freely!

  “We’ll see, Mr. Over Confident.”

  “Not over confident… sure. And you can count on screamin’ my name.” He stood abruptly and deposited our trash in the bin. We leisurely strolled, chatting and laughing as we made our way toward the carpark.

  “I hate to cut this short, but I’m finally back to work tomorrow and need to sort some stuff out.” Cotton paused and studied me intently. “Can I call you tomorrow?”

  “Sure. I—”

  Strong arms swept me to him, plastering his lean hard body to mine and his mouth crushed mine, demanding and gaining entrance. His tongue swept in and toyed with mine. He suckled on my tongue ferociously and I swooned. I literally swooned, going limp in his grasp. Firm hands gripped the back of my neck and tightened around my waist. He consumed me, dominated the kiss and I craved every moment. The hair of his beard both tickled and prickled my face. The pop of our mouths woke me from my stupor and he righted me, my legs unsteady. The smile on his face shouted that he knew I had melted under him. Leaning in quickly, he pecked a kiss to my nose and grinned impishly.

  “Cute as a button,” he whispered, turned on his heel and left me standing there like a fool.

  It took me a full thirty seconds to come to my senses. “A button? A button!” His raucous laughter rang out in the early evening air and I fumed. Well not fumed, more annoyed… annoyed, aroused, hard, throbbing… hell, I don’t know what. What I did know was that he knew and I knew he knew that I liked how he kissed me.

  Chapter 4

  Cotton

  “Hey ya’ll, m’name’s Cotton and I’m an alcoholic. Sixty-four days sober and iffen I told you I didn’t miss drinkin’, I’d be lyin’ like a cheap Wal-Mart rug. I miss it every day. Every. Day. Each morning, I get up and crave it. Crave the brain numbin’ burn of booze. I want to drink, but instead, I grab a cup of coffee and start my day. Not quite the same and my brain and body knows it. It’s getting’ a little bit easier and havin’ my family behind me helps, but damn it… I miss the booze. Fuck.”

  *

  Damnation, shit and hellfire!

  No, this wouldn’t do. I pulled off the hot orange jockstrap and grabbed a pair of fuchsia, high leg briefs with the ass cut out. I had quite a collection of underwear: Sievers, Papi, Nasty Pig, Andrew Christian, SugarBunny, and Calvin Klein were just a few of the labels that graced my ass. Over the years, each of my brothers and I had focused on a particular style item.

  Avery loved shoes. So much so that Martin, his fiancé, had a custom closet company come out and redo their walk-in to accommodate the influx. Despite all the preparation, when Avery moved in, it still wasn’t enough.

  Boone reigned supreme as the clothes horse. He had more T-shirts, shorts, pants, ugh you name it, than Avery and me combined. I had to give my brother props, he had incredible taste and I won’t deny we both we went to him for fashion advice. Not that I needed his help this morning.

  I put on my gray slacks, a white button-up, grabbed an emerald green scarf and matching tie. A quick trip to the kitchen and I retrieved my lunch from the fridge and stowed in my man bag. A brown bag, no less. Slinging the bag over my shoulder, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. I looked like I was headed for my first day of school.

  Mawmaw and Momma sat expectantly at the table when I walked into the kitchen. I refused to get misty. I’m a grown man and it’s not like this was my first job.

  “’Mornin’, Momma. Happy birthday!” I said and wrapped my arms around her, hugging her hard.

  “Thanks, baby.” She squeezed my arms as I pecked her on the cheek. I looked around and didn’t see Bruce. He stayed here more often than not lately. Cain’t say I’m really thrilled but he makes her happy.

  “Where’s Bruce?” I asked.

  “He left early for work. Are you all set son?” Momma got up and brought me a ‘to go’ cup of coffee. I know it was done perfectly.

  “Yeah. Kinda nervous.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “You know with the rehab an’ all.”

  “You don’t pay no mind to any talk, you hear me, Cottonball? You fought your demons. You’re still fightin’ ‘em. Just know we all love and support you,” Mawmaw comforted and I relaxed for a split second before the punch to my arm made my eyes water.

  “Ow! What was that fer?” I rubbed the sting out of my arm.

  “You ever keep secrets from us again, boy, me and your momma will tan your hide from here to Sunday,” she snapped and Momma glowered at me. Damn, they meant business.

  “’M sorry. I felt like such a failure and I-I-” Words stuck in my craw as the emotions threatened to overwhelm me. My breathing grew ragged, then my momma cupped my cheek and made me look up. I durn near lost it. Momma’s gaze held nothing but love and warmth, and I didn’t deserve it.

  “Not a failure. Only a person. We all grow and learn from our mistakes. The key is learning from them.” Momma smiled again, drew up on her tiptoes and kissed my cheek. I loved them so much. These two women are the rock in my life. I’m nothing, if not the sum and hopes of their dreams for me and I am damn determined to make them proud. I hugged Momma hard and then did the same with Mawmaw. Ha, Momma smelled of Chanel and Mawmaw smelled of Aquanet. No two better scents in the world!

  “’Nuff of this mushy stuff. You’re gonna be late. Go on and git!” Momma pushed me toward the door. I smooched her and Mawmaw, grabbed my man bag, helmet and black leather jacket then left the house. I strode over to my bike
and secured my bag in the saddlebag on the back then put on my jacket and helmet. I straddled my bike, gunned it and pulled out of the driveway into morning traffic. I loved riding in the cool early spring weather. Mainly because I didn’t sweat like mad riding into work. I merged with traffic and zipped toward the downtown corridor.

  WTF! Bitch watch the fuck out and yell at your kids on your own time!

  Minivan Marcy and her brood of house varmints nearly clipped me and she had the nerve to give me a dirty look. The only thing stopping me from flipping her off was her kids. Ever since Avery got together with Martin and each of them having a young’un of their own, I’d tried to curb my natural desire to cuss every third word. I roared past her and, ten minutes later, pulled into my building’s parking lot. Securing my bike, I dragged ass going in. Would they judge me? Ignore me? Hate me? Fuck, I had to stop second guessing myself. I held back, right outside the door, when my phone beeped at me. Snorting in annoyance, I fished it out and tapped the message.

  Stop standing outside and go in already, fuckface.

  I laughed out loud. Damn, how did that asshole know? Boone, you bastard, get out of my head. My phone pinged again and, when I read the new message, almost doubled over.

  You still standing there like a derp? Go in, fuzznuts!

  And now Avery had lent his two cents. I collected myself and shot a group message out.

  You two are a pair of nobknockers and thanks!

  Love ya, Cotton. Avery answered and Boone binged back: Nut up, fudge packer!

  Still chucking, I pushed open the door and rode the elevator up to the third floor to my office at Binders Publishing. As the doors opened, I took a deep breath and walked past the receptionist, Cordelia. She spied me and her immediate smile told me I could relax.

  “Cotton. Oh, thank goodness, you’re back! I missed you so much,” she squealed, racing around her desk to hug the stuffing out of me. I hugged her back and, after a minute, she pulled away. “I made sure no one touched anything in your office. Oh, and I was told to tell you that, once you’re settled, you need to go see Mrs. Lim.”