by K. F. Breene
“What is that?” Cassie stared at the tiny car in front of her.
“What do you mean?” Peter paused as he put the suitcase into the trunk.
“It’s a Prius.”
Marcus, standing in his doorway with his arms crossed, started laughing.
“Yeah, so?” Peter said, looking the car over. “It gets great gas mileage.”
“Why are we driving again? It’s an $80 ticket. Can’t we just fly?” Cassie held onto her bag.
“Trust me, we’re going to want our freedom.” Peter dropped another large bag into the tiny trunk. It would take some finagling to get the trunk latched.
“Right. I’m not spending seven hours in a car that’s smaller than my bathroom. We’ll take mine.”
“That gas gussler?” Peter demanded, leaving his stuff in the trunk.
“Peter honey, I love you, but you are the reason everyone thinks Prius drivers are terrible.” Marcus laughed, leaning against the front door in the early morning light.
The idea was to get on the road before anyone else so they didn’t hit a bunch of traffic. Cassie was all for it, but early mornings did not warrant discussions. That warranted doing what she said.
“It’s a Beemer, not a semi. It doesn’t consume that much more gas, okay? Comfortable, goes fast, get in or get left behind.”
“Uh oh, she’s getting sassy! Now I’d really love to go.” Marcus was trying for a light and fun tone—he missed it somewhat, the hurt just below the surface peeking through.
Heaving a sigh, Cassie lugged her bag back to her car, popped the trunk, and dumped it in. “And I am picking the radio station.”
“Gas fees will be doubled. Tripled!” Peter stayed where he was.
“Yeah. And our feet won’t fall asleep as we hit hour four. So…” Cassie quirked her eyebrow and cocked her hip.
“Cassie, honey, you can’t use straight girl warfare on a gay man and expect it to work.” Marcus’ smile lit up his striking face.
Peter sighed to get his point across, but yanked his bags out of the trunk.
“I stand corrected!” Marcus chortled. “You’re magical.”
“It did not work. But she is doing me a huge favor, so the polite thing to do is give in.” Peter’s scowl said he knew the car was not even remotely green and he was holding it against her.
“God, you are so Californian.” Cassie shook her head.
Fifteen minutes later Cassie gave Marcus a big hug. “Bye.”
“Take care of him,” Marcus whispered. “He’s trying not to show it, but he’s really beat up about all this. He’s really close with his brothers, and he thinks he’s going to lose them if he comes out.”
“How can they not know?” Cassie muttered, just as softly, glancing at Peter standing by her car. He was staring down at a list, tapping each item with his finger and nodding. “There is nothing about him that says straight macho man like you said his brothers are.”
Sadness crept into Marcus’ deep brown eyes. “You’ll see. He’s a completely different person when he Skypes with them. And then he’s depressed for a few days after. He’s just…afraid. They’re really important to him, so he wants to keep in contact, but…you’ll see.”
“Marcus, you’re sending a girl with him who knows nothing about any of this. I’ve never hidden who I am—probably should have, but that’s a different problem—so I can’t even remotely relate to his problem. What am I going to say when he needs support? Plus, I’m a terrible liar. What if he tries to kiss me or something—you know I’m going to hesitate. Oh god, what if I out him without meaning to!”
Marcus lounged against the door. “You’ll be fine. Just be sweet little you. When you’re not punching people and playing horrible jokes, you’re apple pie.”
Cassie grimaced. “Apple pie made with bitter apples, maybe.”
“Exactly. Bitter apples make the best pie.”
Cassie turned as Peter walked up.
Peter smiled at Marcus in a way that had Cassie moving away to the car. She took out her phone and group texted Krista and K-Jaz, what the group called the Kate and Jasmine pair.
Cassie: Ready 2 go
Jaz: Good trip. Text when u get there
Krista: Bring back wine! Sean says stay safe.
Cassie: Luv u guys.
Jaz: luvs
Kate: Ditto
Krista: Luv u back. Sean nodded.
Kate: Turn him str8. He’s hawt.
Cassie chuckled as Marcus and Peter walked up. “Hot text?” Marcus asked as Peter opened the car door and peered in.
“No. Just Kate, Miss Lover of Gay Males. She thinks Peter’s hot.”
Peter perked up. “Well, obviously.”
“Obviously.” Cassie sagged against the car. “Do you realize this is a classic romantic comedy situation? That I should be Peter’s date as friends, trying to help him out, and then we fall in love and live happily ever after? But noooooo. Instead, he’s gay, with a boyfriend, and has a bunch of brothers who are married.”
“One’s only engaged,” Peter offered.
“And a redneck father,” Marcus added.
“He is not a redneck, Marcus!” Peter raised his eyebrows, daring Marcus to utter another word about it.
“Not helping.” Cassie threw Marcus a wave. “The minutes are wasting. Time to get on the road.”
***
Peter’s head lulled before it snapped up. He glanced around with hazy eyes. “Where are we?”
“Nearly there.” Cassie overtook a slow-poke in the fast lane. “Why do people in this area of the world insist on driving under the speed limit in the fast lane? It is driving me in-freaking-sane!”
“Do you want me to drive?” Peter offered, wiping his eyes.
“Nope. I got it. Thanks.” There was no way Cassie planned to let the worst driver in the world have a crack at her BMW. She loved her car. She didn’t want it totaled.
“Sorry I slept through most the trip. I’ve been…a little stressed.” Peter glanced out the window, eyes unfocused.
“Do you see them often?” Cassie asked as she flipped on her blinker and merged into the right lane. They had to get off the freeway soon. It had been a long, quiet six hours, but she’d driven way faster than she should’ve, so they had saved a little time.
Peter heaved a sigh. “I used to. But when I couldn’t deny…my preferences anymore, I had to move away.”
“And you don’t think they’ll understand? It’s a lot more out in the open now. Being gay, I mean. It’s not so hush-hush anymore...”
Peter stared, giving no signal he’d heard her. His body had bowed in, though, no longer the confident and self-assured guy Cassie had always known. Finally he glanced over at her before refocusing out the windshield. “You’ll want to get off up here.”
Cassie glanced at the navigation on her dash right before the electronic woman repeated what Peter had said.
“Maybe you’re just not giving them enough credit. I mean, I don’t know them,” Cassie hastened to say. “But often our fears take on a life of their own.”
Peter barely nodded. “Maybe for some of my brothers. They’re pretty open. But my dad… And then my mom will probably just do whatever my dad does. She constantly supports him no matter what. Which is good, I guess, if you’re married, but sometimes...” Peter shook his head. “He’s not always someone to be followed blindly.”
Cassie fell silent as she followed the directions of her car. After a while, Peter heaved another huge sigh. “I just don’t want to lose them, you know? They’re my family. My brothers and I were really close. Really close. Jace—Jason—always looked out for me. It was me and him versus the other two—he’s the oldest. We’re each no more than two years apart, so we were always around each other. And my parents aren’t bad people; they’re just set in their ways. I’d hate to lose all that. I’d lose access to most of my life.”
He hung his head and clutched the door handle. “You coming is a patch, and I know that. But I
can’t lead the life they want for me. I can’t pretend to like women, get married, and have a lie for a marriage just to fit into their ideal situation. But…” He bowed in on himself a little more. “What are the options?”
Cassie didn’t know. If it was her, she’d just come out and say something. She’d throw it out there and demand to be judged fairly. But then, Sean was always fair. He’d always listen. When it came to those he loved, he weighed all options, and logically came up with the best situation.
Her parents had sucked, but she’d had Sean. Peter must feel like he had no one.
She reached over and squeezed his hand. “Well, we’ll get through the week, and then assess.”
They could probably keep the secret pretty easily, especially if they could escape to their hotel periodically. The problem, she foresaw, was trying to coach him into acting like a straight guy. The man was more girlie than she was. And if she weren’t such a jock, she’d be pretty irritated by that.
The landscape changed the farther they got from the freeway. Rolling hills of gold lumbered by, splashes of green trees dotting the landscapes. Square lots hosting rows of green with bursts of orange, rust, deep red, and yellow lined the hillsides, grape vines ready for picking. The sweet smell of the air flirted with her senses, a tiny whiff of fertilizer dusting by randomly. Strangely, the smell of cow only added to the flare of the area.
“Let’s stop at the store before we get there.” Cassie pulled over to search her phone for the nearest shop.
“Why? My mom will have everything we need.”
Cassie scrunched up her nose as she entered the new coordinates into her car’s navigation. “Can’t show up empty handed!”
“What are you going to bring? Wine? Trust me, we shouldn’t bother. My mom has very exacting standards.”
“Oh my god, you are such a snob.” She grinned as she followed the new set of directions. “Plus, I bet she doesn’t have nearly enough chocolate.”
“I’m sure she has chocolate.” Peter fidgeted with his phone.
“I said, not nearly enough. Some people do coffee in the morning. I do chocolate. Well, and coffee, but chocolate is more important. Just a little kick to get me going.”
Peter’s gaze swung her way, sparkling in merriment despite his mood. His gaze took in her waist. “How is that possible, Miss Lovely? What, do you throw it up afterwards?”
“Yikes!” Cassie grimaced with a grin as she turned right onto a two-lane country road, immediately seeing a large grocery store to her right. She pulled into a parking space, threw the car in park, and looked Peter’s way.
“Let’s assess, shall we? Get our game face on.” Cassie’s eyebrows dipped low as she studied the pressed, salmon-colored collared shirt Peter wore. His khakis were equally perfect, only a few creases, despite the long car ride. Clean white shoes without even a smudge gleamed from the floor, matching the white undershirt. His symmetrical face and strong features showed off a straight and small mouth and large, plump lips. Waxed eyebrows and envy-inspiring skin had her shaking her head. Peter was incredibly handsome—Marcus had probably swooned when he met him. Incredibly put together, too. He had style to outshine Marcus, which was extremely hard to do. Incredibly masculine? Not on his life. Not even close.
Yet he wanted to fit in with his redneck family. How?
“Do you own, like, a tee-shirt? Or flannel or something?”
Peter spread his arms so he could look down at his chest. “This is as toned down as I have. I work at a fashion magazine, lovely. My pajamas are designer.”
“Do you think you should’ve gone shopping then, maybe?” Cassie pushed, taking to her phone again. They might need to hit up a mall, stat.
“Honey, I brought clothes to match your style. You don’t think we took you shopping the other day so I could dress like a pauper, do you? Plus, you look great even in rags. We’re fine, as long as you continue looking fabulous.”
Like a pauper?
All she could do was shake her head and blink. It was the strangest logic, but if he thought that would work...
And maybe it would. It stood to reason, she supposed. If she got dolled up, then he wouldn’t look out of place if he was dressed nice. Except, she’d always have to look good. And what a danged chore that would be.
“All right, well…scuff up your shoes, or something. I’d never date a guy this put together. Too high maintenance.” She flashed him a big smile as she climbed from the car.
“I’m staying here!” he yelled out after her. “Don’t get much.”
She waved him away, happy he was staying put. It’d be much faster if she could zip through the store on her own, something she’d learned the hard way when Peter had dragged her through every high-end clothes store in the whole of L.A. looking for, as he said, “the perfect gear”.
Striding toward the grocery store, she brushed some flyaways out of her face and tried to smooth out her small cotton tee. Had she realized at 4 a.m. she’d be headed for a fashion show, she would’ve donned some better clothes. And if she knew Peter at all, who had unfortunately been trained by an overbearing fashionista named Marcus, she’d come back to a new outfit laid out for her.
She shouldn’t have brought up Peter’s clothes. It just pushed him out of his stupor and gave him an evil purpose. Although, pushing him out of his stupor was good.
She shrugged and entered the large, boxy grocery store. It might be a long week.
“Okay, chocolate, wine—should I get wine?” Her gaze scanned the aisles, skipping the alcohol aisle for a moment to grab her sweets. A little sugar woke her up like nothing else. Flowers were next, something small and simple, emphasizing hospitality and not death, or worse, Valentine’s Day. That done, she quickly perused the produce, debating on bananas.
“Usually people have bananas,” she mumbled, biting her lip. A nod had her moving on. People did usually have bananas. And apples, her backup. Those would probably be at the house—she didn’t need to double up.
Also, bringing fruit was weird.
Wine, wine. Should she buy wine? They were in wine country, after all. And the house certainly had wine, but you could never have too much. Plus, it was classier than beer. But what if the family didn’t drink? Although redneck definitely meant beer.
“But aren’t rednecks keen on a certain type of beer?” she mumbled, still scanning the huge array of wines in front of her. She hadn’t even bothered to tear her eyes away to glance at the plethora of beer to her back.
“Excuse me?” a deep voice rumbled next to her.
Startled, she glanced up with an easy smile, used to people catching her talking to herself. She met beautiful, light brown eyes with a burst of gold at their center, staring at her with intense focus. High cheekbones and lush, shapely lips set off a defined jaw.
The bottom dropped out of her stomach and red bled into her face, the usual reaction to meeting an outstandingly gorgeous man for the first time.
“Oh.” She cleared her throat. “Sorry.” A giggle escaped. “I was just deciding if I should get a bottle of wine or a case of beer. Or both?”
She shrugged, her smile growing broader as she tried to stop her eyes from roaming lower, finding two hugely broad shoulders. His burly chest and muscular legs said he was a man of strength and power.
Another giggle bubbled up—her stupid nervous reaction to clear the rampant butterflies raging through her stomach. His concentrated, beautiful stare wouldn’t release her, though, prompting a sheen of sweat to cover her forehead.
Another giggle tore loose.
I sound like a schoolgirl. Good God, Cassie, get a grip!
She cleared her throat again, her stomach feeling like it was on a roller coaster with his big body so close and his ridiculously handsome face pointed her way.
How many throat clears were too many? Because she really wanted to do it again to stave off the nervous giggles threatening to turn into manic, evil laughter.
“I’m sorry. I’m not usually thi
s stupid.”
She shook her head to clear it and ripped her eyes away from that fabulous chest and back to the rack of wine in front of her.
“Can I help?” he asked, putting two large hands in the pockets of jeans.
Her gaze slipped sideways, unable to help herself. A sleeve of tattoos covered his heavily muscled left arm. His white tee-shirt, stretched over those shoulders and strained with his pecs and broad back fell loose around his waist, hinting at a thin waist to compliment trim hips.
His right arm, so close to her, flexed marginally, a thick cord of muscle dancing.
“Ha ha ha!” She couldn’t help herself. Butterflies were running amok.
A quizzical expression slid over his handsome face, one eyebrow raising above the other, politely asking what was so outstandingly hilarious. In a moment he’d probably scan her wrist for mental ward identification….
“Sorry! I’m an idiot!” She fanned herself, the nervous laughter bubbling up like a clown on laughing gas. “Wine is not funny. Um. Sure? With the help? I’ve never seen so much wine in one place. Well, in a grocery store, anyway. A small grocery store, I mean.”
“Is this for you or…” His deep voice vibrated within her pleasantly.
Another wave of giggles erupted. This was starting to get ridiculous.
“Right, okay.” She wiped away a tear as another chuckle got loose. “Ready to face the decisions.”
“Mind sharing the joke?”
Those beautiful eyes wouldn’t stop staring. It was like he was trying to worry away her defenses and fake outer layer to get a look at the real her underneath. It was disconcerting and exciting and strange all at the same time—especially since he was an incredibly hot stranger with a hot bad boy feel about him.
“Sorry, I’m just tired. Been driving a while.”
He continued to analyze her silently.
“Right. Okay. No, it’s a party. I don’t know anyone.”
His gaze scanned the floor next to her where she’d put down the flowers and chocolate. “Would you like me to get you a basket?”