by Pandora Pine
The little girl’s voice snapped him out of his own head. “Yes, Zoe?”
“What happens on the next page?” Zoe’s blue eyes looked eager.
“Yeah!” Max said. “You were reading and just stopped.”
“Did you forgetted the words?” Aubrey asked, inching closer on the rug.
Nash shook his head. “Sorry guys. I was just thinking about how fun it would be if we were having tacos for lunch today.” It was the best he could do on short notice. It wasn’t like him to get lost in his own head in front of his class. This thing with Bronson and Tucker really had him rattled.
Bronson said he’d talk things over with his parents and then figure out where to go from there. They’d spent a little time researching custody lawyers online, but as the evening went on, Nash had seen his friend start to crash.
The night had ended with him tucking Bronson into bed. He’d sat on the edge of the bed watching as Bronson settled himself for the night. More than anything, Nash had wanted to crawl into bed with him and wrap his arms around him. What he did instead, was kiss Bronson’s forehead and wish him sweet dreams.
“I don’t like tacos,” Caden half-whispered.
“Why not?” Tucker asked, looking stunned.
“My mommy burns them.” Caden giggled.
The whole class started laughing.
XX
Bronson had been so rattled by what happened last night with Alicia that he’d called in sick to work. The library was usually slow during a workday Tuesday, so he didn’t feel too bad at the thought of his coworkers having to cover for him.
What he did feel bad about was the way he’d treated Nash last night. What the hell was he thinking calling his friend over to talk and then trying to kiss him? At first he’d been hurt that Nash pushed him away, but after he’d sobered up a bit, he’d realized Nash had done the right thing.
If they ever came to a place where they did kiss each other, Bronson wanted it to be because it was what they both needed, not because one or both of them had been drinking.
Speaking of drinking, Bronson made a silent vow never to drink Malibu straight again. He’d woken up this morning feeling like his mouth was stuffed with cotton. His head had been pounding so hard, he’d had trouble seeing straight enough to call work to tell them he wouldn’t be in today.
It hadn’t been easy, but he’d gone over to see his parents around lunchtime and explained the situation to them. They’d both listened quietly to the entire story before telling Bronson that they were both willing to do whatever it took to keep Alicia from taking Tucker to Connecticut.
Knowing his parents were on his side made Bronson feel miles better, but the fact that they were willing to risk a second mortgage on their house to pay for a top notch lawyer made him sick to his stomach.
Twisting his feet into his sneakers, Bronson grabbed his keys from the peg board and headed out the door. His parents usually picked Tucker up from school, but he figured since he was home, he’d surprise Tucker. Maybe they could go do something special together.
When Bronson got to Little Wonders, Nash’s classroom was filled with parents and grandparents picking their kids up. One little girl, Zoe, he thought her name was, was showing her mother the classroom reptiles. The mother was cooing at the lizards.
Looking around the classroom, Bronson spotted Tucker sitting on the reading rug with a book on his lap. Bronson smiled fondly at his son. Tucker aside, books were his life and it seemed like Tucker was poised to follow in his footsteps.
"He's been sitting with that book since I let them have some free activity time, half an hour ago."
Bronson turned to see Nash standing two steps behind him. A chill went through his body being this close to his crush. "What book is it?"
Nash laughed. "Dragons Love Tacos."
"Of course it is." Bronson shook his head. Thanks to Nash, Tucker was now head over heels in love with dragons. "You've been a good influence on him."
"Not as good as you've been." Nash pointed toward where Tucker was sitting.
Two little girls were sitting on either side of Tucker, who appeared to be reading to them. Grinning, Bronson fished his phone out of his pocket and started taking pictures of the kids together.
"Excuse me, are you Mr. McKinnon?" A woman asked as she approached Bronson and Nash.
"I am,” Bronson said, curiosity lighting his voice.
"I'm Sandy, Gabby's mom. She does nothing but gush about your son and what a good friend he is to her." Sandy took a shuddering breath. "When Gabby was in pre-k at her old school, all of the reports I got about her said that she was anti-social and didn't make friends well or easily, but with Tucker..."
"They're like peas and carrots," Nash supplied.
Bronson laughed."They sure are."
"Maybe we could get them together for a play date?" Sandy sounded hopeful.
"I'd love that,” Bronson agreed easily. It wasn’t good for Tucker to spend all of his free time with adults.
Sandy dug a card out of her purse. "My cell phone number and email address are all on it. I can never thank you enough for raising a son that is kind and loving." She patted his shoulder and headed toward the kids.
"That's quite the testimonial." Nash waved at Sandy and Gabby as they left the classroom.
It sure was. Aside from his parents and lately Nash, no one ever complimented him on his parenting skills. His main goal with Tucker had been to raise a child who was compassionate and loving. It looked like he was succeeding."Thanks, Nash." Bronson turned back to face his crush. "I want to apologize to you for the way I acted last night."
Nash nodded. "There's nothing to apologize for."
"I was wasted and raving about my life and I tried to..." He'd tried to kiss Nash. Where the hell had his head been?
Nash laughed. "Who am I to complain when a gorgeous man tries to kiss me?"
Gorgeous? Nash thought he was gorgeous? "I was thinking of doing something special with Tucker tonight. I'd love it if you joined us."
Nash nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. "What's Tucker's favorite way to spend a school night?"
"He loves to buy fresh pizza dough at the supermarket and make his own pizza. You interested?" Bronson crossed his fingers behind his back.
"That all depends on the toppings." Nash smirked, licking his bottom lip with his tongue.
Bronson snorted. "Tucker loves pepperoni, but I like mushrooms."
Nash wrinkled his nose. "Mushrooms?"
"Don't knock it 'til you try it."
"In a casserole yes, on a pizza, no way." Nash took half a step closer. "You think Tucker would share his pepperoni with me?"
"I think he'd share his liver with you. He's nuts about you." Tucker wasn't the only one who was nuts about Nash.
"I'd love to make pizza with you both." Nash smiled, looking over at Tucker who was now sitting alone with his favorite book.
Bronson followed Nash’s line of sight. He smiled fondly at the way Nash was watching Tucker read with his index finger running over the printed words. The most important quality in a potential husband was for the other man to love his son like Tucker was his own. He’d hazard a guess that Nash was just the man for the job, which of course was putting the cart way before the horse, but what did it hurt to dream? "We usually read books after dinner and then he goes to bed. Maybe we could talk after he’s tucked in?"
"Maybe we could do other things..." Nash waggled his eyebrows and slapped a hand on Bronson's shoulder before heading toward Tucker on the reading rug.
A full body shiver tore through Bronson who broke out in goose bumps. He had no idea what Nash's "other things" were, but he couldn't wait to find out.
7
While Bronson unpacked the groceries and got the kitchen ready to make the pizza, Tucker showed Nash around their apartment. Even though he’d been there just last night, the apartment felt different, more alive, with Tucker there.
“And this is my room, Mr. Spencer.” Tu
cker flipped on the light and ran inside to jump on his bed.
Where the rest of the house was neat as a pin, Tucker’s room looked like a tornado hit it. Dinosaur and dragon figurines were strewn all over the floor, along with tiny Lego bricks, a dangerous-looking gauntlet for a bare-footed adult to run in the middle of the night. “This is a great room, Tucker.”
The little boy nodded and bounced off the bed. “Daddy says when we buy our own house I can paint my room any color I want.”
Nash looked around at the boring white-washed brick walls. Tucker more than made up for not being able to paint his room by hanging colorful posters. There were a couple of T-Rex posters along with a poster of a basket filled with different colored lab puppies. Nash would hazard to guess that Tucker would be getting a puppy of his own when the time came for the McKinnons to buy a house.
His heart pinched in his chest while he offered a silent prayer that all of Bronson’s dreams for his future with his son would come true. One of the things he wanted to talk to Bronson about when Tucker went to bed was where things stood with the custody situation. He knew Bronson was supposed to go see his parents today to explain the situation to them.
“Okay guys! Who’s ready to make pizza?” Bronson called from the kitchen.
“I am!” Tucker yelled and sprinted out of his room.
Nash hauled himself up from the floor and headed toward the kitchen. He could hear the McKinnon men laughing together. When he rounded the corner he saw why. Tucker and Bronson were wearing oversized white chef hats. “Well hey there, Chef Boyardee and Chef Man-ardee!” Nash burst out laughing and reached into his back pocket for his phone to take a couple quick snaps of father and son together.
“Funny!” Bronson laughed along with him. “I wish we had a hat for you, Nash.”
“Next time.” He wished the same thing. Being here with Bronson and Tucker felt right, like this is where he was meant to be.
“Did everyone wash their hands?” Bronson turned on the faucet and grabbed the bottle of hand soap.
“Nope!” Tucker crowed, sticking his hands under the water.
“That would be a no for me too.” Nash wetted his hands, watching as Bronson squirted a dollop of soap into Tucker’s hands, rubbing them over with his own to get them soapy. He held his hands open for Bronson to give him a squirt of the vanilla scented soap.
Bronson grinned at Nash across the sink while he scrubbed Nash’s hands.
A bolt of electricity shot through Nash’s body as Bronson continued to wash his already clean hands. He couldn’t help staring at Bronson’s large hands as they continued to glide over his own. A shiver tore through his already hyper-aroused body. If this is what it felt like to feel Bronson touch him, he never wanted this feeling to stop.
“Boy, you must be really dirty, Mr. Spencer.” Tucker grinned as he wiped his hands on a dish towel.
Bronson snorted and dropped Nash’s hands.
Nash cleared his throat while his brain scrambled for what to say. “Well, I held Spot the leopard gecko and I wanted my hands to be extra clean.” He blushed when Bronson winked at him over Tucker’s head. “How do we start, Tucker?”
“You never made pizza before?” Tucker looked stunned.
“Nope!” Nash laughed, using one of Tucker’s favorite words.
“Well,” Tucker said, sounding confident, “the first step is to stretch the pizza dough.” The little boy made a stretching motion, pulling both hands apart.
“Can you show me how to do it?” Nash grinned at Bronson.
Tucker nodded and Bronson handed him the dough.
Nash’s eyes darted back and forth between Tucker and Bronson who wore a proud look on his face.
“We were watching a kid’s cooking show on the Food Network last year. One of the contestants made pizza and Tucker asked if we could do it too.” Bronson smiled at his son. “After that first night, making pizza together is one of our favorite things to do as a family.”
Nash could see the emotions flashing past in Bronson’s sea-green eyes. He knew exactly what his friend was thinking, that this could very well be one of the last times he and Tucker would ever make pizza together. “I’m honored that you invited me to join you.”
“I’m glad you’re here, Mr. Spencer.” Tucker grinned, handing the dough back to his father who started twirling it around on his finger. “I’ve got lots of questions to ask you.”
Bronson burst out laughing and set the stretched dough down on the pizza pan. “Nash, why don’t you spread the dough out to fit the pan?”
“Really?” Nash’s eyes grew wide. “That sounds like a really important job. Tucker, can you show me what I need to do?” Nash stepped up to the counter and pushed his sleeves up.
“Sure. All you gotta do is spread out the dough so it covers the whole pan, but’cha can’t go over the sides.”
“Okay, that sounds simple enough.” Nash followed Tucker’s instructions, spreading the dough out and rolling the edges over a bit to make a crust. “How did I do?”
“You did awesome!” Tucker held up his hand for a high-five.
Nash smacked their palms together and did the same with Bronson, who wrapped his fingers around Nash’s and gave his hand a brief squeeze before letting him go. He could feel his whole hand tingle from Bronson’s touch.
“Time for the sauce, Daddy?” Tucker bent over the pizza, an eager look on his face.
“Sure is!” Bronson dumped a bit of sauce in the center of the dough and handed Tucker a wide spoon.
Nash watched the little boy spread out the sauce. Tucker’s tongue moved across his lips as he moved his arm around in a circular motion, coating the entire surface of the pizza.
“Time for the best part, Mr. Spencer!” Tucker handed the spoon back to his father and clapped his hands.
“Oh, it’s time to go in the oven?” Nash winked at Bronson.
“Noooo!” Tucker whined, putting his little face in his hands. “Toppings!”
Bronson burst out laughing and pulled open the zip-lock top of the cheese bag before he handed it to Tucker who upended the entire bag of cheese into the center of the pizza.
“Why did you do that buddy? I thought you liked to spread the cheese around in a circle.” Bronson looked confused.
“Yeah, but now we all can spread the cheese. Right, Mr. Spencer?” The look on Tucker’s face was pure adoration.
XX
The pizza had been absolutely delicious. Nash had raved over it all through dinner. Bronson couldn’t help smiling when Tucker told him that the reason it tasted so yummy was because he’d made it with his own two hands. He had told Tucker the exact same thing the first time they’d made pizza together.
All through making and then eating the pizza, Bronson hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that the three of them together made a perfect family. He’d allowed his mind to wander over that very topic as Tucker and Nash told him about their day at school.
As usual, Tucker was full of enthusiasm about what Nash had taught the class, but listening to Nash’s bubbly level of excitement was contagious as he told the counter-point to Tucker’s tale of the day.
Instead of feeling jealous when Tucker gushed over his teacher, Bronson’s chest filled with a warm feeling. It was obvious that both Tucker and Nash were crazy about each other. Nash provided Tucker with things Bronson couldn’t give him, just like a parent would, like Alicia should, if she weren’t such a selfish bitch.
Shaking his head, Bronson pulled the covers of Tucker’s bed up to his chin, just like his son loved. He’d bet his bottom dollar that Alicia didn’t know, or worse, didn’t care how Tucker liked to fall asleep. With Nash out in the living room waiting for him, he didn’t want to sour his mood with thoughts of his ex-wife and her plans to take his son two hundred miles away from him.
“What are you and Mr. Spencer gonna do? Play with my dinosaurs?” Tucker asked on a yawn.
Bronson snorted. “No, buddy. We’re gonna make some tea and ta
lk about grown up things for a while.”
“Boring!” Tucker yawned again, looking like a baby lion cub.
“Well, then it’s a good thing it’s your bed time then.” Bronson bent low to press a kiss to Tucker’s forehead. “Love you, little Rex.”
“Love you more, dinosaur,” Tucker said on another yawn, as he snuggled deeper into his covers.
Bronson kissed his son again and stepped carefully around the minefield that was Tucker’s bedroom floor. He closed the door half-way and took a deep breath. Nash was waiting for him and he was anxious to get back to his guest.
He walked down the hall toward the living room and noticed instantly that Nash wasn’t sitting on the sofa where Bronson had left him. Had he snuck out while Bronson was tucking his son into bed?
“Oh, hey,” Nash said, a blush staining his cheeks. He was sitting in Bronson’s reading chair across the living room with an open picture album on his lap. “I should have asked if it was okay to look at this. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snoop.”
Bronson shook his head. He’d never met another man before who was as interested in his son as Nash was. All of the men he’d dated or thought about getting serious about treated Tucker like a nuisance, all of them with the exception of Nash. The album he was holding was the one that covered the first few months of Tucker’s life. “Don’t apologize.”
Nash nodded and went back to looking at the album. “This picture is my favorite so far,” Nash turned the album around to show Bronson.
Bronson crossed his arms over his broad chest and smiled. It was one of his favorite pictures too. He was sitting in the rocking chair in Tucker’s nursery with his infant son tucked into the crook of his arm. In his other hand was a battered copy of Goodnight Moon. “That book was mine from when I was a little boy.” Bronson crossed the room to sit down on the ottoman in front of Nash. “At Alicia’s baby shower, my mother had a gift for me.”