Lazy Sundays (Lazy Days Book 1)

by K-lee Klein

  In one fluid movement, he pressed his lips to Devon’s. It was a simple peck and he made himself hold back all his emotional upheaval, all his want and need; suppressed it and kissed Devon with simple sweetness.

  Afterwards, he cleared his throat and avoided the look of wonder in Devon's eyes. But he carried on. “So besides running around the world making people’s ears bleed, what do you have to offer me?”

  “Lazy Sundays on the porch,” Devon said, with a sneaky curl of his lips. Scott chuckled again. “And I'm not a bad cook. Breakfast is my specialty. I'm also housetrained and still trainable in other aspects.”

  “Sounds like I'm adopting a mutt from the pound.”

  “I'm okay with that,” Devon said with a wide grin. Scott had to kiss it away; a little longer and less sweet.

  When his tongue touched the cut on Devon's lip, he eased away. “And honesty, Dev? Can you offer me that or do you still have things that are off the table?”

  “Promise. Cross my heart.” Devon made a show of doing that.

  “Cute but that's not going to work.” Scott shifted so he was cross-legged across from Devon.

  Following suit, Devon rested his elbows on his knees, chin in cupped in one hand. “Already told you I'm an open book now. I swear.”

  Scott wholeheartedly believed him. But he figured more information was better than less in this particular case. “What about the band? Marshall said you were on hiatus or retired or something? What are you going to do now?”

  “I've got the bike shop and other stuff that always gets put off when I'm touring.” Devon simply shrugged and glanced warmly at Scott. “I’d like to travel to some place I actually get to see more than a hotel. You like to travel, sweetheart?”

  Ignoring the flirt, Scott teased, “Anything else I should know before I decide your fate?” Devon huffed out a laugh. Being playful despite his insecurity was a new thing for Scott. Being in charge was very cool.

  Devon narrowed his eyes in thought. “If you Googled my name you might freak out a little.”

  It wasn't what Scott expected him to say. “More than finding out you’re a rockstar?”

  “Maybe.” One side of Devon's mouth quirked into something not quite real. “Probably.”

  Scott studied him for a moment, tapping his index finger on his bottom lip. “Something nasty or criminal?”

  “No, not quite.”

  “So no jail time or prostitution or porn?”

  Devon’s sharp cackle sounded like a strangled mouse trying to squeak. “Sorry to disappoint you but I don’t even jaywalk.”

  Scott threw up his hands in a dramatic flair. “I give up. Tell me.”

  “Hmm, let’s see. You already know about Bella's Bike Shop.”

  “Named after your mom? Oh, Dev. There's some big points right there.”

  A sheepish smile tugged on one corner of Devon's mouth. “Then you'll like this too. There's a foundation for cancer research in the name of Rosabella DuCaine that might have my name attached to it.”

  “Charitable and loving to family. Nice.”

  “Devastation Caine might have some charity work he does too, especially in children’s hospitals and hospices. Something he does twice a year at least. He has plans to start a charity in one of his best friend's name too.”

  “Beth?” Scott asked and Devon nodded short and tight. “Sounds like Devastation is actually a good guy, too? Big points for that too.”

  “I like to think so,” Devon replied, reaching to flick Scott in the nose. “Possibly a little less nice when his lover accuses him of doing nasty things with bandmates and groupies though.”

  “Hypothetically right?” Scott teased simply because he could. “Lover huh?”

  “You prefer boyfriend?” Devon smirked.

  Scott shifted so one leg extended over top of Devon's. He groaned. Obviously, his body didn't appreciate sitting that way for so long in its old age. “Don't get ahead of yourself, mister. Anything else Devastation Caine might be known for?”

  “He has a moderately large bank account that he has to share with one Devon DuCaine. He has a house in the city, plus one in Maui, a condo in Venice, and a penchant to spoil those he loves.”

  “Now you’re trying to win bonus points.”

  Devon ignored him with a wink. “Devon Luciano Rosalo DuCaine—”

  “Wait.” Scott held up his index finger in confusion. “Say that again?”

  There was a hint of embarrassment when Devon repeated the words. “Devon Luciano Rosalo DuCaine?”

  “Ro-sa-lo? Is that a real name?” Scott was seriously curious. It only figured that Devon had an even cooler name that he'd originally thought.

  Devon took it in stride though. “Family name. My mom's maiden name was Rosabella Rosalo, and my grandfather was Luciano.”

  “That's actually kind of beautiful. But, man, you have the most dialectical name in the world. Two parts Sicilian and two parts…what nationality is DuCaine?”

  “My dad named me Devon. Mom said he liked the name. DuCaine is an American thing I think. I was born in New Orleans. It's pretty common there.”

  “Interesting. Sorry to interrupt,” Scott apologized. He waved his hand for Devon to continue. “You were extolling the virtues of Devon DuCaine.”

  With a snort Devon continued. “Okay. Not to be confused with Devastation Caine, Devon DuCaine was a total nerd in school. He once won a high school science fair, but come to think of it, it was twice because that's how he rolled. His mom was his best friend and he likes spending Sundays in bed or on sunlit porches, and he thinks nerdy nature shows are awesome. He also hopes one day to learn why list-making is so important and how he can offer his help when the people he loves suffer panic attacks.”

  Scott didn’t know what to say. The word perfect came to mind but hell if he was going to say that to Devon. The man did not need his ego stroked any more than he’d already done himself. Instead, he told the truth. “I’m speechless.”

  “Wonders never cease.” Devon groaned when Scott poked him. “Sorry. I really need an answer before I pass out.”

  “You do look pretty worn out. What was the question?” Scott twisted his fingers with Devon’s on his thigh.

  “Do you believe me? Do you forgive me? Will you take me back?”

  “That's way more than one question.”

  Devon yawned, his jaw cracking in the process. He sounded close to passing out. Scott supposed drinking and getting punched around could make a person a little tired. “You're torturing me on purpose, aren't you?” Devon accused.

  “You want a pre-nup, don’t you?”

  Devon growled. “Scott.”

  “I’m just…it’s just that…” Scott sighed. He ducked his head and picked at a loose thread on his bed covers. “The world can be a really ugly place. Do we even have a chance?”

  “All we can do is try.” Devon’s contented reassurance made Scott want to either smack him upside the head or kiss him until he turned blue. “And I'm all in.”

  He chose cynicism over both. “You sound like you're going to burst into some God-awful Beatles song.”

  Devon faked a gasp, eyes going comically wide before he winced. “Dammit.” He touched the bandages above his eyebrow. “You don't even like the Beatles?”

  Scott finally returned Devon’s smile. “I liked their matching outfits, very OCD.”

  Devon closed his eyes, bringing Scott’s hand to his lips. “I have a lot of work to do, don’t I?”

  He moved closer, rubbing his nose against Devon’s in what was probably the biggest chick-flick move he’d ever made. “I believe you like me. I'm still not sure why. But I do believe you.”

  “Do you forgive me?” Devon asked, his eyes blinking slower than before, heavy with sleep and more than likely tinges of concussion, as well.

  After a brief hesitation, Scott felt his lips curl all on their own. “I do if you'll forgive me for jumping to so many conclusions. I'm quite ashamed at how judgy I became in the
face of heartbreak.”

  “I didn't mean to break your heart, Scott,” Devon offered, sincerely.

  “I know.”

  “You seem to forget that you broke mine too,” he joked. Scott would never have assumed but there was so much sincerity and warmth in Devon's words and expression, how could he not. “So…you still like me?”

  Scott chuckled at the innocence of the question. It was like something from middle school. Not that anyone had ever said it to Scott. At least not back then. But now, now he had the man of his dreams in his bed, all laid out like a sexy buffet, and he liked Scott. He liked Scott enough to grovel and show up when he could have been turned away, could've had the door slammed in his face, or could’ve found someone less difficult to be with.

  Never look a gift mouse in the mouth. Or was it gift horse? No matter. Devon was Scott's biggest mouse or horse or whatever and he had no intention of looking away now. He answered in the best way he could think of, by pressing his mouth tenderly to Devon's, hopefully leaving him with no doubt. When Devon gestured him even closer, Scott straddled his hips—his knees could recover later—and settled completely on top of him.

  When he eased out of their next kiss, he rested his forehead to Devon’s. “I really like you, Devon, but if you ever lie to me again I swear you’ll have to work the word de-nutted into your stage name.”

  Devon snorted, his body rumbling with internal laughter. “Wow, vicious. I like,” he snarled.

  But he still looked like he could pass out any minute. Scott thought it was more from exhaustion than concussion, but he silently vowed to look after him during the night. He wound his hand around the back of Devon’s head and kissed his bristly jaw. “Perfect. My plan is working.”

  “Meanie. Don't know why I like you,” Devon slurred. He stretched and rubbed his belly.

  Scott held up a hand. “You're not going to throw-up on me, are you?”

  “That would be a total buzzkill,” Devon answered quietly. “You mind if we lay flat?”

  “Can I ask a favor first?”

  Devon nodded. “If I can accommodate it. I shall.”

  “Take those disgusting clothes off?” Scott suggested with as much lightness as he could. Devon didn't seem offended in the least, only reached out an arm so Scott could tug it out of the sleeve then over his head. There was a fresh bruise blossoming on his shoulder. Scott leaned in to kiss it and was rewarded with a sleepy Devon smirk.

  Together they managed to get Devon's jeans off without him leaving the bed, then tucked themselves under the covers. Scott rested his head over Devon's heart but Devon whispered, “Hey, can you look at me a sec?” Scott lifted up to look Devon in the eyes. “So I said something inappropriate when I was out of it, huh?”

  “Not so much inappropriate,” Scott returned.

  Devon bit his bottom lip, expression turning sheepish. “Did I tell you I loved you? Because if I did, I'm sorry.”

  Scott averted his gaze, lost for words. “Of course. Don't worry about—”

  “I love you, Scott.”

  “Come on, Dev. Stop fooling around and get some sleep.” Scott eased away, still averting his gaze. Devon caught his chin between two fingers though.

  “I mean it. I know it’s not the ideal time to say it, but fuck yeah, I love you. I'm in love with you. That okay?'

  It took a few dozen heartbeats before Scott could even breathe let alone talk. But he screwed his eyes shut, mouth a tight line of anxiety until he finally met Devon's loving gaze. “You said something to me when I called you a narcissist.”

  “I did?”

  Scott nodded, cheeks heating up, voice a little shaky. “You told me to think with my heart.”

  Devon smirked lazily. “Guess I'm a pretty smart guy after all. You, um, considering those words of wisdom?”

  “First, you have to know how hard that is for me. I didn't grow up thinking with my heart or see anyone else do it either.” Scott trailed off with a chuckle. “How about I just say I'm in love with you, and I, you know, love you, too.”

  “You have a great heart, Scott. You should let more people see it,” Devon said drawing Scott forward.

  The kiss that sealed the deal was passionate but tender. And though Scott would've been content to let it go on forever, Devon was still on the mend. “Let's get some sleep, all right?” he said, pressing his mouth to the side of Devon's. “We can talk more tomorrow.”

  Devon grunted happily before laying his head on the pillow, eyes immediately closing.

  “Sleep, honey,” Scott said and tucked hair away from Devon's slack face.

  “…be here when I wake up, schweethard?”

  “Probably.”

  More slurring. “Shcott…”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Scott promised. “Tomorrow’s Sunday. Best day of the week.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Devon tried to smother the goofy grin he'd been wearing all morning, but it grew bigger as he stood at the door to Scott's duplex and knocked three times. He twitched with excitement and hopeful anticipation, anxious to see Scott after almost a week and a half away. Ten days totally counted as two weeks and that was way too long, especially considering they'd barely reconciled before Devon had been forced to leave on his trip.

  He felt Scott-depleted and that was totally a thing. As he sidled up the steps he envisioned his boyfriend rushing to answer the door before flying through it and assaulting Devon in the best possible way. Kissing Devon to within an inch of his life would be the perfect scenario. Of course, the Scott in his fantasy proclaimed his undying love and devotion, proving how much he'd missed Devon, with words, lips and body. But when that didn't happen right away, Devon's calm, cool and collected manner cracked.

  He twitched in a totally different way, a streak of worry suddenly threading through him. Should he knock again? Maybe Scott was in the bathroom, or shower, or happily enjoying that first cup of coffee Devon knew he needed to start his day. The worst case scenario was still Scott rushing out the door to greet Devon but telling him he'd been wrong taking Devon back, and giving him another chance.

  “Shake it off, idiot,” he whispered into the chill of the morning. When did I turn into Scott?

  He took his own advice, shaking his head and cracking his neck. He squared his shoulders and reached back to finger the messy ponytail he'd secured at the nape of his neck. He gave it a tug, scraped his hand over his face and silenced the rattling of his nerves with a deep breath in and a slow exhale.

  When his brain finally kicked back in, he knocked again, softer. He supposed he could text Scott to make sure he remembered the day and time. He might be indisposed and need Devon to help him out of his indisposedness. He didn't even care if he seemed desperate or needy because he'd missed Scott like a lost limb―so where the hell was he?

  To be fair it was ass o'clock in the morning and Scott had told Devon numerous times that he wasn't a morning guy, unless Devon was there. So, Devon dug deep for patience as he bounced on his toes to abate some energy. He hummed an old tune quietly to pass what seemed like hours of standing on the stoop.

  But as seconds ticked by, turning quickly into minutes with no response, he felt his confidence ebbing away. He stood on the step a while longer, shuffling his feet and wondering when the hell he'd become the insecure one in his and Scott's relationship. He suspected it had something to do with the mutual I love yous they'd confessed during their reconciliation. There was something different—something awesome but also scary—about loving someone and knowing they loved you back. And having the words spoken, brought everything to an all new level.

  Devon had never told anyone he loved them before, other than his bandmates and family, of course, but saying it to Scott had seemed natural. Scott had even questioned how he could say it so easily. But to be fair, Devon had just been punched in the face by his best friend and was likely suffering from a concussion, so the words might have rolled off his tongue a little more freely than they normally would. But
concussed or not, he'd been feeling them in his heart for quite some time.

  Being in love felt good. Devon likened it to that elation at the end of an awesome gig, with the audience screaming and stomping for a first, second and third encore, except one hundred times better. Even his business partners had commented on his perma-grin, though Devon had been trying hard to remain composed and with his mind on the tasks at hand.

  They’d texted a few times a day and talked every night about whatever popped into their heads. There might have been a little phone sex, too, but it was mild compared to what Devon really wanted to do to and with Scott, once they were in the same freaking city again. Although holding him when he slept was pretty far up on the list, too.

  Scott had also sent a scathing email about his mother that Devon had tried his hardest to dissect, but the words had been little more than frustrated, rambling sentences on the page. The fierceness of the words threw passion right off the page and Devon had worried a bit about how Scott was handling things in real time. He brought their conversation around to it once, but Scott had reassured Devon that it had been nothing important and he'd simply overreacted. A slew of apologies and embarrassment had followed with Scott stating he shouldn't have sent the email in the first place.

  Devon's mama hadn't raised any fools though, and Devon liked to think he knew Scott well enough to see through the little lies. But it wasn't his place to push. He could only hope Scott would talk to him if he needed to. Devon could wait Scott out. He was good at waiting. He'd dropped the subject, filed it away for later, and kept up the low-key texting with Scott even though every conversation made his all-consuming need to see Scott—touch, hold, simply be with him—more intense. This love stuff was tough.