For a Good Time, Call

by Anne Tenino

Seth waggled his palm back and forth. “Depends on how sincere you are, I reckon. The bartender’s guide doesn’t list an equivalent ingredient for regret.“ As he leaned forward and propped his forearms on the bar, batting the Aperol cap between his hands, Nate realized he’d taken off his jacket. At least he’s not planning to walk out immediately. “Keep going. I love watching your face when you eat and drink.”

  Well, in that case . . . Keeping his gaze locked with Seth’s, Nate took a sip. “I hope that means you’ll be dining here with me.”

  “Of course I will.” He made a shooing motion with his hands. “Two drinks this time—one because that was technically a question even if you didn’t phrase it like one, and a penalty shot for trying to cheat.”

  Nate complied, uncertain whether the way his head was spinning was from the liquor or because the mischievous glint in Seth’s eyes gave him hope. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

  Seth drummed his fingers on the counter and raised an eyebrow. “Another question. Another drink.”

  Nate took a gulp this time, for courage. Showtime. Heart beating like a metronome, he extended his hand across the counter, palm up. Seth studied it, head tilted, but didn’t take it. Damn it. “I’m so, so sorry for making it sound like I don’t value you just as you are. That you need to do or be anything but what makes you happy. You’re good at so many things—”

  “Hold it right there.” He nodded at the glass, and Nate quickly took another sip. “Say one word about my potential and I swear I’ll—”

  “No. God no. I’ve learned my lesson about that.” He held up the glass in an air toast, then took a swig.

  “All right, then.” Seth laid his hand in Nate’s. Thank God.

  With their fingers interlaced—touch, finally—Nate tried to keep the desperation out of his tone. “Forget the P-word—you’ve already got a whole résumé of skills: boating, construction, bartending, logging, for Chrissake—”

  “We’re not going back to that whole tree-climbing thing again, are we?”

  Nate smiled and tightened his grip. “Well, that was pretty impressive. And I believe that was a question, sir.” He held out the glass. “Seems only fair that you pay the price.”

  Seth smirked, but took a tiny sip before handing it back, his fingers brushing Nate’s. “You better make your point soon, because you’re nearly done and I’m not making you another.”

  “My point is this: what bonehead would ever imagine all of that wasn’t enough—that you’d need to do more? To be more?” He drank, ice chinking in the glass as he got near the dregs.

  “So you admit you were wrong?” Seth let go of Nate’s hand, but circled the bar to stand next to him. “You have one more tiny sip, then you can speak freely.”

  Nate put as much intent into that last swallow as he could, and by the time he was finished, Seth’s pupils were huge and he’d leaned forward into near-kissing distance.

  But Nate wasn’t done with his confessions. “I meant it when I said that I’m in this for the long haul. I love you.” Seth’s eyes widened, his lips parting on a soundless oh. “Yeah, kinda forgot to mention that before, didn’t I? But yes, I love you—you, whose anchors are all right here in Bluewater Bay.”

  “I love you too.” Seth’s voice was rough, as if his throat was tight. “And damn. We are never going out to dinner—or breakfast, lunch, or high fucking tea—because I don’t want anyone else to see how hot you are when you eat.”

  “And once the show’s canceled and I don’t have a local job anymore? You’ve got a shitload of transferrable skills, but mine are pretty specialized. When it comes right down to it, I’m the one with the employment liability in this partnership.”

  “‘Partnership’?” Seth’s voice rose on the last syllable.

  “Absolutely.” He stood up and held out his arms, letting Seth decide when—please when, not if—to take the final step. “That is, if you’ll have me.”

  Have him? Hell yeah, he would. And he should tell Nate immediately because he’d made the guy suffer a little too long. He hadn’t been able to resist, though, once he’d seen the lost-puppy look on Nate’s face as he’d opened the door. Like Tarkus knowing he’d done wrong and hoping you’d forgive him with a minimum of punishment.

  “I’ll have you.” His voice thickened so much he barely got it out. Finally he pressed himself against Nate, completely in his arms, his heartbeat thundering. Partly at being this close to him again—yes, they needed to talk but he’d missed him. Physically—but also because he believed him. Nate truly wanted him the way he was. Just a couple more items on the agenda. “But I have to tell you a few things, first. And maybe make some demands.”

  Nate reared back, but he was careful not to pull out of Seth’s hold, or even loosen his own embrace. “Demands? You mean this is conditional?” His voice almost cracked on that one, and Seth had to lower his chin to keep from smiling right in Nate’s distressed face.

  Once he could look serious again, he met his gaze. “Nothing too crazy, I promise.” Nate kind of needed a trim, but that meant Seth could work his fingers into the waves of his hair, playing with it. “You already met one, and you didn’t even know it.”

  “I did? What was that?” Nate’s arms tightened around him, and he tilted his head forward, in that exact way he did when he was about to kiss him. Or wanted to be kissed.

  To keep from jumping the gun, Seth slid his fingers over Nate’s lips. “You admitted you were an idiot.”

  “That was easy,” he murmured. Then he kissed the tips of Seth’s fingers. “What else?”

  He had such a beautiful mouth. Seth got so wrapped up in tracing the outline of it that he nearly forgot to answer. “Oh, um, you know you’re a fixer, right? You fix things—”

  “Yes.” Nate cast his eyes heavenward, but they were sincere when they came back to meet Seth’s. “You’re not the first person to tell me that. In fact, you’re not the first person in the last twelve hours. I’ll ch—”

  Seth pinched Nate’s lips shut. “No. You can’t change. Like, you can be a fixer, but if I tell you I don’t want it fixed, you leave it. That’s the owning-up-to-being-an-idiot part. But don’t change. You’re a good fixer, Nate, you fix things because you love people. But— Hey did I tell you my parents are getting divorced?”

  “This is important now?” Nate’s eyes nearly came out of their sockets.

  “Sorry.” God Nate was fun to tease, but Seth needed to focus. Make sure Nate understood what he was asking, here. “My dad and I talked a lot about it, we went out on the boat together, and he told me that when he married Mom, he thought she’d change. Mellow out. But people don’t do that—they don’t change, even for the people they love.” According to every romantic comedy ever, as well as his dad. “I’ll do the same, I promise.” He dropped his hands from Nate’s face and slid them around his body, bringing Nate’s hard chest tight against his.

  “You won’t change, or you’ll own up to being an idiot?”

  “Both, probably.” Pulling back without letting go, he forced Nate to come with him. Jockeying him toward the couch. Seth couldn’t look where they were going—he was too busy watching Nate’s face. It was true he loved watching him eat or drink something he enjoyed, but this was better. Watching Nate’s face change as he listened to Seth. As he watched him. “One more thing, then we’re done.”

  “Just one? Nothing else in your famous list of demands?” It was a good sign that Nate had relaxed enough to tease.

  “Yeah, then you can kiss me.” Before he realized what he was doing, he pulled his lower lip into his mouth and then let it slide out from under his teeth. “Or I could kiss you.”

  Nate swallowed, and his hands tightened on Seth’s back. “Still waiting for that last condition.”

  Oh, yeah. That. He was having a hard time drawing enough breath to speak, either because Nate’s hold was that tight or his heart was doing that thing, swelling up, and his lungs were getting crowded out.

  �
��Don’t make me wait anymore, Seth. Please,” Nate whispered. His gaze flicked over Seth’s shoulder, where the couch was. At least he hoped it was there, or they were about to land on the floor.

  “About that thing you said the other morning, the good-time guy graffiti thing—”

  “I really was trying to protect you. I don’t care about your past.”

  “I know, I figured out it’s maybe more my issue.” At the confused scrunching of Nate’s brow, Seth went on. “Okay, definitely more my issue. I’m sorry. I just, I was scared that you didn’t really believe me when I said I was committed, because I’ve never been in a serious relationship. When that came up, I freaked out because I was so worried you didn’t believe that you’re the only guy I want to be with. Like . . .” Staring up into Nate’s eyes, he swallowed, his throat so dry it clicked. “I don’t ever want to be with anyone else.”

  Nate clasped Seth’s wrist. “You don’t? Ever?”

  “Never.” Can we start the kissing now? No, because he wasn’t done. He couldn’t stop himself from staring at Nate’s lips, though. “So, can you forgive me?” he whispered, yanking his gaze up to meet Nate’s. “For getting mad at you for trying to protect me?”

  “I forgive you,” Nate said immediately. “Even without a drinking game.”

  Thank God, the kissing could start. Seth tried to pull him down on the couch, but Nate resisted. “But I have demands too.”

  Seth’s frustration over the lack of immediate lip lock must have been obvious, because Nate cupped his jaw and kissed him. Just lips, though, not enough to do anything other than make Seth ache for more.

  “They had better be important demands,” he warned. That wasn’t really fair, though—he’d made Nate wait.

  “They are. Both of them.”

  “Just two, huh? Seems reasonable. Let’s hear them.”

  “Yeah. First, I need you to promise to give me the benefit of the doubt. I can’t worry that you’ll walk out on me because I suggest you might like to try something different—not because I think you need to improve yourself, but because I think you’ll like it. Your curiosity was what attracted me to you in the first place. Don’t make me afraid to spark it again.”

  Seth nodded, keeping his face somber. “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt, I promise. It’s hand in hand with the protecting-me thing—you just want me to be happy. Is that the other demand? Wanna make me happy?” Forget avoiding the innuendoes, this was a perfect time for them. He let his hands creep south, looking for the waistband of Nate’s jeans.

  “In a minute. One more thing.” Hands still cradling Seth’s face, Nate traced Seth’s lips with his thumbs. “Move in here with me.”

  He froze, letting the words sink in. He’d figured that was what Nate was getting at, but he wasn’t prepared to actually hear the words.

  Then he couldn’t respond around the giant lump in his throat.

  “When your grandmother sells the house, you’ll have to go somewhere, right? Come here. You can have the second bedroom, if you, you know, need your space. But what I need—” he kissed Seth softly “—is you.”

  “I want you too,” he croaked. Then they fell on the couch together, Seth unsure exactly who’d started them moving, but it was fine. Exactly what he wanted. And he wanted this too: Nate kissing him and pulling his shirt off while he teased under the waistband of Nate’s jeans.

  What he didn’t want was Nate pulling away, breathless, to ask, “Is that a yes?”

  “Of course it’s a yes!” Jesus, how could that mean no? He needs to hear it. I need to say it. “Yes.” He traced the line of Nate’s cheekbone with his fingertips. “I’ll live with you. Here and wherever else we end up.”

  A wicked grin spread across Nate’s face. “Perfect. I have it on good authority that my liquor cabinet is pathetic. Who better than a professional bartender to save me from the endless shame?”

  Seth laughed. “When you put it like that, it’s a no-brainer.” No more teasing, though. Cupping the back of Nate’s skull, he pulled him closer to start on all the kisses he’d missed out on in the last two days. Plus the other stuff.

  Just before Nate’s lips touched his, he said, “Do I know how to show a guy a good time or what?”

  Starstruck

  L.A. Witt

  There’s Something About Ari

  L.B. Gregg

  Hell on Wheels

  Z.A. Maxfield

  Lone Wolf

  Aleksandr Voinov and L.A. Witt

  The Burnt Toast B&B

  Heidi Belleau and Rachel Haimowitz

  Wedding Favors

  Anne Tenino

  The Deep of the Sound

  Amy Lane

  When to Hold Them

  G.B. Gordon

  Rain Shadow

  L.A. Witt

  Stuck Landing

  Lauren Gallagher

  How the Cookie Crumbles

  Jaime Samms

  Selfie

  Amy Lane

  All the Wrong Places

  Ann Gallagher

  Bluewater Blues

  G.B. Gordon

  No Small Parts

  Ally Blue

  Lights, Camera, Cupid!

  Valentine’s Day collection, featuring: SE Jakes, Amy Lane, Z.A. Maxfield, Anne Tenino, and L.A. Witt

  For more, visit:

  riptidepublishing.com/titles/universe/bluewater-bay

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for reading Anne Tenino and E.J. Russell’s For a Good Time, Call . . .!

  We know your time is precious and you have many, many entertainment options, so it means a lot that you’ve chosen to spend your time reading. We really hope you enjoyed it.

  We’d be honored if you’d consider posting a review—good or bad—on sites like Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Goodreads, Tumblr, Twitter, Facebook, and your blog or website. We’d also be honored if you told your friends and family about this book. Word of mouth is a book’s lifeblood!

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  Big thanks to the wonderful team at Riptide, including Sarah Lyons, Rachel Haimowitz, Alex Whitehall, L.C. Chase, Amelia Vaughn, and our fantabulous editor, May Peterson.

  From E.J.:

  Thank you, Anne, for inviting me to collaborate on this book and giving me a chance to be a part of the Bluewater Bay universe—even though your first response when I told you “Nate is ace” was “WTF?” Thanks to the other Bluewater Bay authors for creating characters that are such a hoot to riff off of. Also, my endless gratitude to C. Morgan Kennedy for lending me her name (and her hugs) for this story.

  From Anne:

  Special thanks go to E.J. for writing this with me, even when I was horribly slow. I’m also grateful for help from the real Adeline, and my bartender-on-call, Margaret Kranz (and Baby Kranz, who didn’t know much about bartending, but was present and totally worth mentioning). I’ll echo E.J.’s thanks to C. Morgan Kennedy, who’s not only useful for naming characters after, but also makes a great friend and sounding board. Shannon Conley deserves a shout-out for legal information and just being generally fantastic.

  Last, but certainly not least, I want to thank my crazy aunt for teaching me so much in such a short time about trusts, inheritance laws, the degrees of relationship between distant cousins, and, most of all, what constitutes C work.

  Task Force Iota

  18% Gray

  Theta Alpha Gamma

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  Love, Hypothetically

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t Young Thang

  Good Boy

  Poster Boy

  Romancelandia

  Too Stupid to Live

  Billionaire with Benefits

  Helping Hand (in the Bluewater Bay Lights, Camera, Cupid! anthology)

  Wedding Favors (a Bluewater Bay novel)

  Horny (in the My Haunted Blender’s Gay Love Affair anthology)

  Legend Tripping

  Stumptown Spirits

  Wolf’s Clothing

  Geeklandia

  Lost in Geeklandia

  Clickbait

  Northern Light

  Sun, Moon, and Stars (in Magic and Mayhem: Fiction and Essays Celebrating LGBTQA Romance)

  Catalyzed by her discovery of LGBTQ romance, Anne Tenino left the lucrative fields of art history, nonprofit fundraising, and domestic engineering (in that order) to follow her dream of become a starving romance author. For good or ill, her snarky, silly, quasi-British sense of humor came along for the ride.

  Anne applies her particular blend of romance, comedy, and gay protagonists to contemporary, sci-fi, and paranormal tales. Her works have won many awards; her novel, Frat Boy and Toppy, is frequently referred to as a gay romance classic; she’s been featured in RT Book Reviews magazine; she holds the position of VP of Programming at her local RWA chapter; and she’s achieved bestseller status on Amazon’s gay romance list.

  Born and raised in Oregon, Anne now lives in Portland with her family, who have all taken a sacred oath never to read her books. When not crocheting genitalia, growing tomatoes, driving teenagers around, or cooking something obscure, she can be found at her computer, procrastinating. Possibly while also lying on the couch, eating bon-bons.

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  E.J. Russell holds a BA and an MFA in theater, so naturally she’s spent the last three decades as a financial manager, database designer, and business intelligence consultant. Several years ago, she realized Darling Sons A and B would be heading off to college soon and she’d no longer need to spend half her waking hours ferrying them to dance class.