Warders, Volume Two

by Mary Calmes

  “Sure.”

  “I’ve seen you out here working like a dog, man,” he said with a chuckle, and the sound soothed me. “And since you seem to be kind of into it and I’m suddenly laid up, I was wondering if I paid you, if you could help me do some stuff around my house.”

  He was a handsome man, older than me—maybe midthirties, early forties—with a nice face: straight nose, full lips, laugh lines in the corners of warm blue eyes, and a daring grin I liked most of all. He was just slightly shorter than my own six four, maybe six two, and leaner than I was but heavily muscled, with broad shoulders and long legs.

  “I promise I’m harmless.” He smiled steadily. “I’m just hurt.”

  “What’d you do?”

  “I work construction, and you know how it goes. There’s always that one fuckin’ idiot that’s gonna get hurt if you don’t step in and save him.”

  I chuckled. “I know that guy.”

  He nodded. “I figured you did.”

  “I’d shake your hand”—I tipped my head at the cast—“but doesn’t look like you can.”

  He nodded.

  “Malic,” I said.

  “Brad.”

  “Pleasure.”

  He stared at me a long minute. “So I’ve got a TV to set up, a garbage disposal to replace, and a tree to pick out and bring home before my family descends on me in three days.”

  It sounded great. I would be very busy. “I’m your man. Count me in.”

  His smile was wide. “What’s it gonna cost me?”

  “Pizza? Beer?”

  “Are you shittin’ me?”

  “Nope.”

  “Oh hell yeah, you’re on.” His eyes gushed warmth.

  “Lemme finish this and I’ll be right there.”

  “Thank you,” he said sincerely.

  “Oh no, thank you.”

  He snorted out a laugh. “Climbing the walls in there?”

  “How’d ya know?”

  “I can see the signs of a wolf caught in a trap.”

  “I look like a wolf, do I?”

  “Ready to bite off his own foot, yeah.”

  I laughed then, and the look I got, like he appreciated the sound, was really nice. No one had been looking at me like I was anything but a nuisance for almost a week, so it was a welcome change.

  I replaced the shears in the tool shed and almost ran into Dylan’s father when I was coming out. “Sorry,” I apologized automatically, stepping around him.

  “You know,” he began, which stopped me. “You don’t have to work around the house to impress me, Malic. The things you’re doing won’t influence me. The way you treat Dylan is all that matters.”

  I nodded.

  “He seems happy to be around friends his own age, and I wonder if he has any out there in San Francisco.”

  “Yes, sir, he has many.”

  He grunted. “I don’t mean to be judgmental, Malic, and you seem like a nice man, but you and Dylan are at different places in your life.”

  “Agreed.”

  He looked surprised.

  “C’mon.” I shrugged, tired of ignoring the elephant in the room. “The fact of the matter is that this will probably be the last you see of me, sir, so I wouldn’t get all racked up about it.”

  “Malic—”

  “Excuse me,” I said, brushing by him on my way toward the back fence. I vaulted over it easily and found myself liking the layout of Brad’s yard. The golden lab that came to greet me, tail wagging even as the barking began, was welcome.

  I went down to one knee, and the dog was all over me.

  “Oh, she likes you.” Brad laughed. “But she’s always had good taste.”

  “What’s her name?” I asked as the dog licked my eye and made circles beside me, wiggling close, wanting as much attention as she could get.

  “Rita.”

  “She’s gorgeous.”

  “She knows.”

  I stood up, and when I did, I saw the rainbow license plate frame on his Lexus SUV. My eyes flicked to his, and I saw him take a breath.

  “You don’t need one of those in San Francisco,” I teased. “It’s redundant.”

  His smile, which had been great before, became dazzling when his eyes joined in. “Jesus, Malic, where ya been all my life?”

  I tipped my head toward his house. “Show me the sink.”

  Brad Darby was a construction manager, and his crew was good except for the new guy, who was trying to kill him.

  “Little fucker just doesn’t listen,” he told me as he sat on the floor beside me, talking to me while I installed the new garbage disposal.

  I was chuckling as he told story after story. When I was done, he made lunch and told me that now I had to go with him to get the TV.

  “I thought you had it here,” I said, laughing as we walked out to his car.

  He squinted. “How was I getting it in the house?”

  I liked him a lot. He was so easy to talk to; it was like we had been friends for years.

  “You want me to drive?” I asked, smiling. “Since you’ve got a broken wing and all?”

  “I manage,” he assured me with a shrug. “It’s just a little bit of a pain.”

  I held out my hand. “Lemme drive. Please.”

  He handed over the keys. “It’s a mistake. You’re gonna get me used to you.”

  But that was okay. I liked him.

  When we were out, we ran into one of his buddies at Best Buy, and when Randy invited both of us to his private club later to play some poker, I told him it was up to Brad.

  “He might be sick of taking pity on the homeless.”

  “If you’re homeless, you can come stay with me.” Randy gave me a grin.

  “I’ve got first dibs,” Brad said, turning me around and shoving me forward. “We’ll be there around what? Seven?”

  “Seven’s great.”

  As we walked toward the electronics area of the store, I smiled at my new friend.

  “What?”

  But he knew how he’d acted.

  “I just don’t want you to get molested, is all.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Don’t mention it.”

  “Seems like you’ve got friends who would’ve helped you,” I said softly. “You didn’t actually need me.”

  “Most of my friends are busy during the week and have their own crap to get done on the weekends. Believe me,” he said, chuckling, “I need you.”

  At least somebody did.

  Brad picked out a TV he wanted and made arrangements for delivery. In the parking lot, he asked what I wanted for dinner.

  “Shit, I get dinner too?” I teased.

  “You can have whatever you want.”

  But I didn’t take that to heart. I was not the guy everyone wanted. I was the fallback choice.

  I had to run back to the Shaw house to shower and change for dinner. When I got there, Mrs. Shaw informed me that they—all of them, including her—were going out to dinner. She said we, which named everyone except me, so I understood, since I wasn’t stupid, where exactly it was that I stood. They had all worked hard to let me know that I was not welcome, that I was an outsider. I received the message loud and clear. But she didn’t have to worry about it; I completely understood that Dylan’s family did not approve of me. And as I had explained to her husband that morning, I was never coming back. Dylan could visit his family alone; this was the first and only Christmas I would be tagging along. I had people who actually liked me who would be happy to share some eggnog with me for the holidays.

  “I’m going out, ma’am. It’s fine.”

  “Oh,” she said, seeming startled.

  I smiled at her and hurried up to my room. Half an hour later, I came downstairs in black jeans, boots, a heavy gray sweater, and my leather jacket on over that. I was fiddling with my watch strap when I stepped into the living room.

  “Wow.”

  Looking up, I saw Dylan’s bitchy sister staring at me wi
th wide eyes.

  “Wow what?”

  “You, um….” She cleared her throat. “Look nice, Malic.”

  “Thank you,” I said, walking around the couch she was sitting on toward the sliding glass door. It opened out onto the back deck overlooking the newly cleaned yard.

  I slid the door open to look at Dylan, his friends, and his parents.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” I apologized, looking at my hearth. “I’m leaving, so I’ll see ya later. Have a good dinner and enjoy whatever else,” I said, ducking my head back into the house.

  “Malic.”

  I leaned back out, looking at Dylan’s father.

  “Thank you for cleaning up the backyard. It looks like it never does this time of year.”

  “You’re welcome.” I moved to leave.

  “Malic,” Dylan’s mother said.

  “Yes, ma’am?” My eyes flicked to her.

  “You should—” She cleared her throat. “—actually join us for dinner. It would be nice.”

  Since when? “Oh, no thank you, but I appreciate the offer.”

  She nodded fast, looking like she was going to say something else, but she didn’t.

  I went to close the door again.

  “Malic.”

  I was getting annoyed. “Yes?” I asked Dylan, my voice holding an unintentional edge as he got up and walked over to me.

  He looked me up and down before his big, beautiful chocolate-brown eyes locked on my face. “Where are you going?”

  “I made a friend, and we’re gonna hang out.”

  “Oh, okay.” He nodded. “Who?”

  “Who what?”

  “Who’s your new friend?”

  “Oh, your neighbor Brad.”

  He stared.

  I waited.

  There was coughing. “Brad Darby?” Dylan asked.

  I was guessing there was only one neighbor named Brad, but that was okay. “Yeah.”

  He shook his head, but nothing came out.

  “I’ll probably be late. You have a good time, okay?” I smiled at him before I slid the glass door closed and headed back across the living room.

  Dylan’s call stopped me at the front door.

  I turned and waited for him.

  He ran. “Um.” He swallowed hard, taking hold of my leather jacket. “What’s going on?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Brad Darby?”

  “Yeah?” I squinted at him.

  “He’s, um.” He squeezed my jacket tight. “Kinda hot, huh?”

  “Yeah, but I’m sure all the boys you’ve been hangin’ out with have been plenty hot too,” I said playfully.

  His breath was shaky. “Yeah, but that’s the difference, right? They’re all boys. I mean, I’m just having fun, being here visiting, but I know I get to go home and get back to my real life, the life I love with you, as soon as it’s time.”

  “I know that.” I put my hand around the back of his neck, pulling him close to me, pressing my forehead gently to his, closing my eyes, breathing him in. “I won’t lie and say that this hasn’t been educational, and we should probably talk about that.”

  “Talk about what?” He shivered.

  “Your father had some really valid points earlier today about what you need, and I just wanna make sure that you’re not missing out on anything because you’re not dating someone your own age.”

  “No, Malic,” he told me, his voice cracking. “I’m not missing out on anything, and I’m not dating you. I live with you.”

  “No, I know,” I soothed, leaning back, staring down into the melting brown eyes I adored. They were huge, fringed with long, thick curling lashes. “I just don’t want you to have any regrets about—”

  “Oh God, no,” he whined, now fisting his hand in my sweater. “Malic, are you kidding? Not again.”

  “Just don’t worry about it right now,” I said, raking my fingers through my thick blond hair. “We can talk once we get home. I want you to enjoy your holidays with your family, okay?”

  “Malic—”

  “Your father seemed very relieved earlier when I told him that he wouldn’t ever have to see me again after this.”

  Dylan looked like he was going to throw up. “What are you”—his face went white—“talking about?”

  “I’m gonna skip this scene next year, baby. You can come alone.”

  “Mal—”

  “Have a good time tonight. I’ll see ya tomorrow,” I said, easing out of his grip and going out the front door.

  Brad was already on the street in his SUV. “What the hell? I’m fuckin’ starving. I have reservations at this great steak place that’s also a microbrewery. You’re gonna love it.”

  I whined in the back of my throat.

  “Oh yeah, see?” He laughed. “You’re dying for some good food and better beer. Get in the car, son.”

  I went around to the driver’s side and opened his door so I could trade places with him.

  “I can drive, you know,” he assured me even as he got out.

  “It’ll be easier this way. Just lemme help you.”

  “Whatever you want,” he sighed, getting out, patting my shoulder as he walked around to the passenger side. I got in and waited for him. Once he was buckled up, I pulled away from the curb.

  As I was driving away, I thought I saw Tina waving from the front porch, but since she hated me, it probably wasn’t her. Not that it mattered. Only having a nice night did. I was really looking forward to it.

  II

  THE EVENING was perfect. Dinner was amazing, the restaurant was outstanding, and the two glasses of beer I had were good. I was certain the brandy I was offered afterward, at the club Randy belonged to, would have been even better, but I was driving, so the two beers I’d had hours before was my limit. We played poker, some Texas Hold ’em, and I told Randy how nice the atmosphere in the club was, both relaxed and elegant. He appreciated it, told me he was trying to get Brad to join as well.

  “You should,” I told Brad, accepting the mineral water from the server and thanking him.

  “If you stick around, I can bring you,” he said with a smile.

  It was very flattering.

  Brad’s four friends reminded me of the guys I played cards with at home. I had missed the camaraderie of other men, and it was nice. We smoked cigars, which I never did; they drank like fish, which I sometimes did; and we all laughed and swapped stories. They wanted me to do some shots, but I just shook my head and reminded them again that I was driving. I watched them as I drank another Perrier. Once they found out I owned a strip club, I was the belle of the ball. Three of the guys were straight, and they wanted all the details about my club, Romeo’s Basement.

  The other guy, Tyler, wanted to know more about me. “How long are you gonna be here? Because I’m thinking Brad wants to know.”

  In the SUV hours later, close to one in the morning, I turned my head and smiled over at Brad. “I’m sorry your friend embarrassed you.”

  “He didn’t embarrass me,” he sighed as I parked the car in his driveway. “I had the best day in I don’t know how long. It was completely unplanned. It just happened, and I don’t want it to end. Please come in, Malic,” he said, his hand tracing up my jacket sleeve. “Come in and come upstairs and get in bed with me.”

  I stared into his eyes because I had known all along where this was going, and just like the talk I would have to have with Dylan when I got home, I didn’t want to face it. I enjoyed having friends and had hoped that it was all Brad wanted, even though from his glances, the smiles, the look in his eyes, I had known better. I was not a perfect specimen of manhood, but I was fuckable.

  “I’m thinking top, right?”

  I just stared.

  “I’m good with whatever, so, please.” His voice cracked as he leaned forward.

  “Here’s the thing,” I told him, turning off the car and passing him the keys. “There’s already a man in my life.”

  “Well,
he can’t be all that bright if he’s letting you go out with me.” Brad smiled evilly.

  He hadn’t put it together at all: why I was at the Shaws’ to begin with, what I was doing there, and who I was with.

  “Call whoever it is and tell him you’re getting in bed with me. That will clear everything up really nice.”

  “Would it?” I said with a small smile.

  “Fine, I get it. You’re loyal and honorable and shit.”

  I snorted out a laugh. “Nice.”

  “So how ’bout a kiss to send me off to bed. Can I have that?” he asked, his eyes soaking me in.

  I cleared my throat. “I’m in the market for friends, Brad, nothing else. Can I have that?”

  “I already told you—you can have whatever the fuck you want.”

  It was nice that he was so great about everything and didn’t call me a cocktease. I thanked him and told him I would be over in the morning.

  “I’ll make you breakfast.” He smiled warmly. “And you better tell your guy to look out, Malic. I don’t give up.”

  But it wasn’t about what he would do or even what Dylan would do. Loyalty resided in the individual, and even though Brad Darby was tempting, I wasn’t in love with him. And my body followed my heart, not the other way around.

  I gave him my number, and we decided that whoever rose from his coffin first would call the other. I didn’t linger; I just got out of the car.

  The front door at the Shaw house wasn’t open, but the sliding glass door in back was. Inside, I was surprised to find Dylan’s mother awake in what looked like a warm fuzzy robe and bunny slippers.

  I forced a smile as I slid the door shut. “You look cozy.”

  “Oh Malic, I’m so sorry.”

  I turned to look at her. “Sorry for what?”

  “Sweetheart, I had no idea that this was anything more than a fling that Dylan was having. I mean, he’s been talking about you for a year, of course, but he’s so young that I thought it was just a phase even though you all are roommates and—”

  “He lives with me; we’re not roommates,” I cut her off.

  Her eyes locked on mine.

  “You understand that, right? He moved in with me, I’m his boyfriend, he sleeps in my bed.”

  She looked so uncomfortable even as she nodded.

  “Just so we’re on the same page.”