by Eden Winters
“Why now?”
“Well, with Todd in college, and Ty planning on joining the Navy when he graduates, I reckon I need something else to focus on when my babies are gone.”
“How will you handle Todd being so far from you?”
“I’m not sure. But I’m a Lucklighter. I’ll manage somehow.” Charlotte winked.
Lucklighter-speak for I’ll find someone else’s life to meddle in.
Oh hell.
***
Lucky laid his head back on the passenger seat headrest and closed his eyes, unwilling to watch his old home growing smaller in the side mirror. Easier to ignore his mother standing on the front porch, in the exact spot where she’d watched him leave over twelve years ago.
“Hey, you okay?” Bo said, resting his hand on Lucky’s knee. Brown eyes, full of concern, wrinkles etched between his brows.
“Have I ever been?”
For one moment, The Dimple appeared in Bo’s cheek, gone in a heartbeat. “Okay enough for me.”
Lucky’s tired laugh came out more of a chuckle. “Dude, you need to raise your standards.”
“They’re high enough, thank you very much. Now, take a nap. I’ll wake you up when we get back to Richmond.”
“What about you?” Bo had to be running on fumes too.
“If I get too tired, I’ll pull over and take a nap.”
“We both need some rest.”
“Oh yeah?” Bo’s high-wattage smile belied the weariness in his eyes and dark circles underneath.
“Yeah. You’re here. I’m here. The most annoying agent on the face of the earth isn’t.”
“You mean Keith? Why would he be here?”
“As hard as this is to believe, Jimmy is worse. Keith’s an asshole, Jimmy’s more like an overly friendly puppy who won’t give us five minutes alone together.” The man took cock blocking to new heights, always calling or showing up whenever they wrangled some time alone.
“I’ll tell you what. Let's go test the mattress in my rental. It's been lonely sleeping there without you.” Bo leered and waggled his brows. “Nap first, bounce test second?”
Oh, God, yes! Lucky’s cock began to stiffen despite his exhaustion. “Sounds fine to me.” He closed his eyes, a smile on his face. Finally! He’d get Bo naked. The things they’d do.
He woke to Jimmy peering through his window. “Sorry, Lucky. I’m afraid we need your partner. And Walter Smith has asked you to return to Atlanta.”
Fuck! He’d never wanted to kick the shit out of someone so badly.
Lucky glanced over at Bo. They both heaved a sigh. Someone forgot to mention sexual deprivation in their job descriptions.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Lucky rubbed his fingers over his bleary eyes and sank down in his usual chair in front of the boss’s desk. One hell of a long ride home, Jimmy chattering nonstop all the way, and an entire day of fitful sleep hadn’t restored his mood.
At least he’d had a relatively good night. Until his phone rang.
And rang. About every five minutes. He loved his family, welcomed the lot of them back into his life with open arms, but damn! Did they really have to know his whereabouts all the time?
“And you’re sure you’re okay?” Walter leaned forward in his chair, resting his clasped hands on the desk.
“I have it on good authority that I’m not any nicer.”
The boss chuckled. “If you were, I’d worry.” The humor fled his face. “I mean it, Lucky. You’ve been through a lot. Despite any animosity between you, you lost a close family member.”
“I’ll spill my guts to my counselor later.” He’d rather talk to Bo. “Is that why you sent for me?”
“That and the need to get things back to normal here. I’ve been missing my two best agents, and I want them back.” Walter stared at something over Lucky’s head. “The Virginia office has been hinting at keeping you both. I needed to put my foot down.”
Put his foot right up their collective asses, more than likely. Nobody messed with Walter’s team.
“Jameson’s latest class ends tomorrow, but I’d like you to drop by the session this morning and allow him to make introductions. After Fourth of July weekend, they’re all yours, though I’ve asked Loretta Johnson to assist.”
“I work alone.”
Walter didn’t have to smile so indulgently. “Of course you do. So much so that I assume you have no interest at all in Agent Schollenberger’s recall to this office.”
Oh crap! Hallelujah! “None at all.” Lucky barely reeled in his excitement. Finally! “Say I was to be interested, any idea when he’ll get back? Just so I can clean my empty coffee cups off his desk. He gets irritated about me taking over the whole cube.”
“I believe he said he’d arrive around six thirty this evening.”
“Boss, I’ll attend the training this morning, but I need the afternoon off. Got something I gotta take care of.”
Walter fought a grin and shuffled the ever-present paper pile on his desk. Oh look! If Lucky twisted his neck the right way, he’d catch a glimpse of the wood beneath.
“As long as you’ve completed your reports, I have no problem with you taking a half day.”
“Um… If you see Bo before I do, tell him you had me run an errand or something.”
Walter raised one of his bushy eyebrows. “Are you planning something that might make me regret covering for you?”
“Nah. I promise.” Lucky nearly skipped out of Walter’s office and down the hallway. Oops. Time to paste on a scowl.
Keith stood by Lisa’s desk. “But it’ll only take about a half hour,” he whined.
Lisa shifted her attention from Keith to Lucky, Please help me! in her eyes.
“Oh, Lisa. Great. I caught you when you weren’t busy.” He gave Keith a pointed stare and grinned his most evil. “Do you like green drugs and spam? Are you an asshole, Keith, my man?”
The color drained from Keith’s face. “You!”
“Yup, me. And interfering with another employee’s work is a write-up offense. But I don’t do write-ups.” Oh, how priceless the fear on Keith’s face. “I prefer to settle things in a boxing ring.”
Keith relaxed his rigid stance and gave away his stupidity with a chuckle. “You’re in no shape to box.”
“But I am.” Johnson flexed on up to the desk, short sleeves straining over her biceps. “And as Agent Harrison’s second-in-command, I’ll happily teach you a lesson you won’t soon forget. Just say when.” She led the relieved-looking receptionist away from the desk. “C’mon, Lisa. Let’s go get some coffee.”
Lucky whistled and swaggered away toward his cube, leaving Keith fuming alone.
Now… Forget Charlotte’s shunning of e-mails. Lucky needed her help, and couldn’t write as fast as she talked. Why write, when she’d write for him?
He pecked out an e-mail. “Hey, woman. Bo’s coming home, and I want to make it special. If you don’t help me, I’ll screw it all up, and Bo won’t speak to either one of us for six months.”
There.
Knowing Bo waited at the end of the day made getting through a roomful of rookies—and Jameson O’Donoghue—more tolerable. Lucky tapped his foot, earning more than one scowl from the trainer.
Screw him. Or rather, no. Lucky counted the minutes until noon. At twelve o’clock he marched to his cube, printed his sister’s reply, and trudged down the hall, shoulders slumped, like he’d noticed zombies do on a late-night TV show.
“Oh, you poor man,” Lisa remarked. “You must be exhausted.”
“I am. Gonna go get some rest.” The moment the elevator doors closed, the dead returned to life. So much to do, so little time.
And worth every minute.
With him and Bo away for the better part of the last week, the chores piled up. Johnson swung by the house to feed the animals, but she drew the line at cleaning up. Lucky stopped by the grocery store, the hardware store, a housewares place, and the post office, to claim a package requir
ing his signature.
After unpacking his bags at home, he pulled Charlotte’s list out of his pocket. First things first: let the dog and cat into the backyard to keep them out from underfoot. Next, he loaded the washing machine per his sister’s instructions. Why he couldn’t throw whites in with darks he’d never understand. It’d worked so far in his life.
Vacuuming took too much time, him having to stop repeatedly and wriggle free of the cord. Next, he did what he should’ve done months ago and fixed the garage door once and for all by replacing the motor and all parts even remotely suspected of causing grief.
He’d save painting the bedroom ceiling for the weekend. He washed the sheets, remade the bed, and located Bo’s never-ending candle supply.
Unpacking the new dishes they’d been eyeing for a while took some time, as did running them through the dishwasher. Lucky packed the old stuff up for Goodwill.
One hour left. Not enough time to suddenly become an excellent cook. Takeout would have to do. Bo loved eggplant parmesan. He’d get what he loved. Lucky made the call.
Twenty minutes until time to go get dinner, Lucky sat down and opened the mailer he’d signed for.
The picture didn’t compare to the sheer beauty of Bo’s ring. The mountains stood out in dark gray against a lighter background. Inside the ring, Lucky had nearly given in and repeated the words he’d used the first time: “I love you, asshole.” Hey, they’d worked before.
Charlotte never had to know.
In the end, he’d settled for mushy sentiment. “Love always, T-Rex.” The old cheap rings found their way into the Goodwill box.
He picked up dinner and had everything ready when Bo got home.
***
Bo turned around and around in the living room. “Wow! Look at this place. What smells so good?”
“Your favorite.” Without giving him a chance to answer, Lucky cut off any replies the best way possible—mouth to mouth.
Bo came up for air first. “Are you sure you’re Lucky?”
Ouch. But not undeserved. “C’mon. Get cleaned up and eat before dinner gets cold.” He patted Bo’s ass on the way to the kitchen.
“Wow! When did you get the dishes? I’ve been meaning to, but with being up in the Virginia office and all…”
Oh shit. “These were the ones you wanted, right?” Please let Lucky not have screwed up.
“Yeah.” Bo squeezed Lucky’s hand under the dinner table. Wine, candlelight, although the sunlight still pouring in the windows at seven o’clock ruined the effect. May and June had whizzed past in a blur. Time for things to slow down.
All through dinner, Bo kept suspicious eyes trained on Lucky. Who could blame him? Lucky didn’t often go out of his way to please his man.
But tonight wouldn’t be the last time. He even managed to keep his mouth shut and not make innuendo about Bo biting into a baby carrot—a carrot he’d resisted temptation to carve into a penis.
Bo rose and picked up his plate at the end of the meal. “Thanks for an amazing dinner.”
Lucky took the plate from his hand. “Go, sit down. I got this.”
“Are you sure?”
Not really. “Yeah.” Lucky had to rearrange the dishes three times before he could close the dishwasher door. He’d have to get Bo to teach him the correct way to stack dishes. Another time.
Oh! He dashed to the laundry room, removed the clothes from the washer, and put them in the dryer.
Bo sat in the living room, reclined on one end of a couch with his laptop on his knees.
Lucky moved the computer to the coffee table. “Enough with work. You’re home now.” He settled on the floor, removed Bo’s shoes, and rubbed his feet. Oh, how nice to be able to move freely, without his middle threatening to rip open.
Bo moaned. “Not that I’m complaining or anything, but what are you up to?”
“Can’t I do nice things for no particular reason?” The ring might be burning a hole in his pocket, but he’d wait until the right moment. No more getting turned down.
“Yes, but it’s a bit out of character for you, isn’t it?”
Not anymore. Lucky stopped his task long enough to click on the stereo with the remote. Soft music filled the room, some band he’d never heard of. He’d found the disk among Bo’s CDs.
Lucky pressed his thumbs against the arch of Bo’s feet, earning another moan. Bo laid his head back and closed his eyes. “I’ll give you an hour to stop that.”
“Can I take a half-hour and then you come with me somewhere?”
Bo snapped his eyes open, one brow raised. “What do you have in mind?”
“You’ll see.”
***
Late night department stores had their uses. Bo and Lucky didn’t run into many other customers on their way to the yard and garden section.
Bo trudged along after Lucky. “What are we looking for again?”
“I’ll know when I find it.”
“Couldn’t this wait until tomorrow?”
“No!” It couldn’t. No way, no how. This needed doing.
They wound their way around patio furniture, umbrellas… Bo stopped. “This set would look real nice—Ack!”
Lucky dragged Bo by the arm past the furniture. “Later.” After they’d completed their mission.
Finally they arrived at the display he’d sought. Oh shit. Four models to choose from.
“Eenie, meenie, minee, moe,” he muttered under his breath. Metal? Stone? Chimney?
Bo edged closer. “Mind telling what we’re doing here?”
“I think the backyard needs a fire pit, don’t you? Which one do you like? I like that one.” He pointed to the biggest. Bigger had to be better, right?
“Hmmm… while I can’t understand why we have to do this now, I like this one too. Just think, we can sit outside, light a fire…”
“Let’s get it and go.” Choice made. Now to put plans into action. He would have already made arrangements, but he’d learned to let Bo help him pick things out for the house. Yes, he could be taught.
Bo smacked Lucky’s hand and inserted himself between Lucky and the prize. “If you even get a notion about lifting so much weight, I’ll cuff you and haul your ass outta here.” He called a sales clerk over for help.
As long as they didn’t take all night. Next, shopping for accessories, then getting out of the store and loading the truck.
Bo hunched his shoulders and leaned against the loaded Durango. Three young men barely out of high school wrangled their purchase into the vehicle. “I don’t understand why we couldn’t do this tomorrow. What’s so all fired important about tonight?”
“You’ll see.” Fourth of July weekend. Three days of nothing to do.
Yeah, they’d find something to do, all right. Lucky held his hand out for the keys. His mission. He’d do the driving, even though his car’s tiny trunk would have laughed at what he’d bought.
“It’s my SUV. You could let me drive.” Trust Bo to be stubborn.
“Could, yeah. Am I? No.” Bo drove too slow and stopped for yellow lights. Lucky cruised right on through and got them home in five minutes flat. Hey! A new record.
Bo made of show of peeling his fingers away from the dashboard. “Planning a second career as an Indy car driver?”
Oh, the horrors! “Bite your tongue, man. We both know NASCAR is the only race worth watching.” At least in his father’s eyes—the reason he named his kids after NASCAR tracks.
Redneck, through and through.
Bo jumped out of the Durango before Lucky and beat him to the back of the vehicle. “Let me get this. You’re not supposed to lift anything heavy.”
“You can’t carry it alone.” One man couldn’t lift the damned thing by himself, let alone lug the monstrosity to the backyard. Of course, they could try tying the box to Moose and using him for a pack animal.
“Y’all need some help?”
Lucky jumped. How did the guy from next door always know when they needed something? First
thing tomorrow, he’d check the yard for cameras.
Bo gave Lucky a triumphant grin and turned toward the neighbor. “Please, if you don’t mind. Lucky here had surgery recently and can’t lift. Can you help me get this out of the truck?”
Recently? A month and a half. Ancient history.
Lucky tuned out the introductions beyond, “I don’t think I’ve ever properly introduced myself. I’m Stanley Taylor.” Like the guy had to say so. Lucky’d taken his name off the mailbox and planned to run a full background check the moment he found time.
His ears perked when Stanley invited them over for dinner and Bo promised to take him up on the offer. Meet the neighbors? Go into their house? Eat with them?
Bo probably needed two years more therapy after meeting the Lucklighters.
Lucky didn’t exactly run the man off the moment they’d finished their task.
Bo elbowed him all the same. “He’s our neighbor, being neighborly, did you have to scowl at him?”
“I wasn’t scowling.” Actually, he’d been going for more of a glare. Glares got folks’ feet moving quick most times.
Bo stared at Lucky’s gotta-have-it-now fire pit, hands on his hips. “Anyway, it’s here, it’s in the ground, what now?”
“Now we start a fire.” Oh, yeah. Lucky planned to do some burning.
“Now?”
“Got something better to do?”
“A few things, actually.” Bo swayed and ran his hands up and down his body, stripper style.
Oh, hell. Lucky’s cock took notice. “Later.”
Bo’s mouth dropped open. “Later! Later, he says. I’m offering sex, and he says later.”
Lucky hoped his gaze pierced Bo’s soul, like Bo’s so often pierced Lucky’s. He nodded. “Oh yeah.”
Bo’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Oh. Alrighty, then. Let’s get this fire started.”
Using fallen twigs and branches gleaned from the backyard, Lucky fanned the flames of a cheery blaze five minutes later.
“Now.” He looked Bo straight in the eyes. “I want every single damned condom out here in this pit. Now!”
Bo froze. And then grinned. “Yes, sir!” He darted through the backyard and up the steps, doing a gazelle-worthy leap over their couch-sized dog.