by Elle Keaton
They flopped around until they were both in the correct position. Miguel lay his left arm across Nate’s chest, its weight both comforting and frightening because Nate was reminded how close they had come to never having this moment.
As far as Nate knew, they were both asleep in minutes. He only remembered shutting his eyes. Waking up with Miguel in his arms was something he had dreamed of over the past couple of weeks. The reality—even if it was only one arm—was even better, Miguel’s warmth solid and real. They’d only woken up together twice before, and Nate, however foolishly, wanted it never to stop. This was perfect.
Nate had been lying there for a few minutes, watching the ceiling fan turn in lazy circles, when he felt Miguel stir against him. He tried to roll away, but Nate squeezed him more firmly against his side and kissed the top of his head.
He’d never kissed anyone on the top of the head before. Miguel’s curly hair was soft against his lips and tickled his nose, the slight sweat from sleeping in the late afternoon a welcome scent. A bouquet of texture, taste and smell—one Nate wanted over and over again.
“You’re thinking awfully hard,” Miguel muttered.
“Maybe.”
“Anything I should know about?”
“I’ve already said it all. I meant it before, and I still mean it.” He might as well put it all out there again. Maybe if he started now and said it enough times, Miguel would begin to believe Nate was for real.
“And people call me reckless.” Miguel spoke into Nate’s chest, not looking at him. “I bring a stalker to town who nearly brains you with a shovel, and the first thing you do when you see me again is take me home and invite me into your bed.”
“It’s where I want you. Well, not all the time. In this house for certain, though. I guess I am a little reckless, but I’ve always trusted myself. When something feels right to me, it’s right. I don’t fight it. I had the same feeling when I decided to accept the FBI’s recruitment offer. I knew it was right, that I was right for the job.
“The first time we were together, I knew it was right. I think I knew before that, but I knew for sure after that night.”
“So…” Miguel peeked up at Nate through his lashes, “you’re just planning on keeping me?”
“Well, not like Justin tried to do. Not keeping keeping. But I can be that anchor Buck was talking about. I want to be that person. I’m hoping,” he felt his cheeks heat up as he tried to find the right words, “that you’ll let me.”
Miguel struggled onto his elbow. “That I’ll let you? I don’t get it—what can you possibly see in me? I mean, yeah, the sex is good.”
Good god, this man was frustrating. “It’s not about the sex,” Nate ground out. “It’s about everything.” Stupid words. “Look, I know you don’t see it the way I do. That’s because you don’t have the right perspective.”
“You mean the ‘Nate’ perspective?”
“Exactly. The way I see it, it’s a gift that you might want to be with me. At least you’re not running away screaming. I’m a boring, plain guy. Yeah, I’m smart enough and good at my job, but I’m boring. When I’m with you, I don’t feel boring. I feel a mile high, I feel like a galaxy of stars or something. When you fly, I get to fly with you. You give me wings.”
“Huh. That’s a lot of responsibility.”
“I’m pretty sure that between us we can handle it. I’ll anchor, you fly.”
Chapter Twenty-Five: Nate
“We’ll look ridiculous. A couple of guys with only two hands between them shopping at an adult toy store,” Nate muttered, mostly under his breath. He wasn’t certain how he had agreed to Miguel’s suggestion that they stop in at Otto’s.
They’d been holed up at Nate’s for the past week continuing to recover. Sleeping, eating, and watching bad TV. Natalia had been by several times with grocery deliveries, and Joey James had shown up on one of his days off and spent a couple hours making a mess in Nate’s kitchen, but the results were delicious. This morning Miguel had woken up with a mission. One that was going to have Nate bursting into flame from embarrassment.
“Otto’s carries good stuff. We’ll find something. It will be fun, grasshopper.”
“Again with the grasshopper.”
“Your New Jersey is showing.” Miguel shot him an amused grin.
Nate supposed it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to go inside the “adult entertainment store” with his lover/partner, the world-changing, undefinable Miguel Ramirez.
“Fine.”
Miguel had driven, because while his left arm was still in a sling, he could steer with his right as long as they were driving an automatic. Nate’s right shoulder was still wrapped, and while he’d graduated to a soft cast on his arm, everything was still a pain in the butt. The physical therapist and the doctor both said he was healing as fast as could be expected.
Not. Fast. Enough.
Note to self: do not get ambushed by a steroid freak with a shovel. He was lucky not to have permanent damage; as far as they could tell he would make a complete recovery. The initial headaches were gone, as was the lack of equilibrium. At his last appointment, his doctor had declared him healthy but recommended no more blows to the head. Miguel was expected back at work in the next few days mentoring Kevin—thank goodness, because a bored Miguel was dangerous. Buck had laughed when Nate complained about his antics at home, commenting that he had brought it on himself, insisting that Miguel stay at his house while they both recovered.
Otto’s was tucked amongst a mixed-use area on the north end of town. A few small strip malls lingered out this way, with requisite crumpled asphalt parking lots and long-dead weeds huddled along the edges, alongside grimy gas stations and a random beauty parlor that had to date from the 1960s. The neighborhood had once been residential, but the state had built a highway through this part of town, and the neighborhood had transitioned from residential to small businesses, most of the businesses operating out of old homes. As did Otto’s.
A red neon sign blinked on and off, announcing Otto’s Erotica and Fun Palace to all who drove this stretch of highway. Together, Nate and Miguel climbed the steps to the front door. It was propped open with a wooden chair with a handwritten Help Wanted sign taped to it. A bell jingled as they passed across the threshold.
A man with rakish dark curls popped up from behind the cash register. His cheeks pink from exertion (Nate hoped), he grinned at them and came out from behind the counter to hug Miguel.
“How’re ya doing, my man? I heard there was all sorts of trouble a few weeks ago.”
“Otto,” Miguel stepped out of Otto’s embrace, “this is Nate, my boyfriend.”
Now Otto grinned so wide Nate thought he might pop something.
“No way. Somebody finally pinned you down? And look, you have matching injuries. I think that’s going a bit too far.” He reached for Nate’s good hand, shaking it. “It’s great to meet the person who’s going to make an honest man out of Miguel.”
Nate found himself grinning back at the mischievous man. There was something inviting and fun about him.
“I’m not sure honest is the right term.” Nate waggled his eyebrows.
“What’s with the help wanted?” Miguel asked.
Otto grimaced. “Kira’s moving to Seattle for school. I need to break in someone new. Someone who’s not going to scare my shyer customers away.”
Miguel and Nate looked at each other. He knew they were thinking the same thing. This quiet shop might be just what Angel needed after all he’d been through.
“I may have somebody for you. Let me check, and I’ll let you know.” Miguel said.
Otto grinned again. “That’d be great.” He nodded toward the darker interior of his shop. “Check out the sales; I’m clearing out some inventory.” Now it was Otto who waggled his eyebrow. Nate felt way out of his league.
Miguel grabbed Nate’s good hand and dragged him away from Otto, toward the back of the shop.
“Come on,
Romeo, let’s see what Otto has for us.”
Nate tried to focus on what Miguel was explaining about the various… items he was looking at, but Nate was distracted by the displays of… dildos? Racks full of condoms, all different types, sizes, and materials. He spotted a small selection of leather masks and harnesses.
“What are those for?” he whispered into Miguel’s ear.
Miguel looked behind Nate to see what he was looking at. “Ah, puppy play. Somehow I don’t think that’s something you’d be into. Maybe; you never know.”
The things Nate didn’t know about sex were going to send him to an early grave caused by mortification. He felt his face flame to a temperature close to that measured on the surface of the sun.
“But I think you will like this.” Miguel picked up a length of silk rope and a book, though Nate couldn’t read the title.
“You want to tie me down?” He tried to get his mind around the thought; it didn’t sound terrible, he supposed.
“No, I figure you might want to tie me down.”
That sent a charge directly to Nate’s libido. A fantasy quickly unfolded where he would have Miguel exactly where he wanted: sweaty, hot, panting and begging. Good god, he hadn’t even considered something like that before, and now he’d already played it out in his head?
“Is that a yes? Of course you’ll need two hands, but I think it could be a lot of fun.” Miguel pressed himself against Nate. Nate had missed this while they were recovering in separate houses, before he’d begged Natalia to drive him to Swanfeldt’s. Not that he’d had much of it before they were both injured, but he’d instantly been addicted to the free way Miguel shared himself with Nate.
The words popped out before he thought them through or even knew they were there waiting to be said. “I’d like to really tie you down.”
“Yeah?” Miguel leaned away from him, looking tousled and sexy. “That’s what these are for.” He jiggled the ropes in his hand.
“I mean with a ring and a ceremony. That kind of tying down. The kind that means I know you will be there at the end of each day. And you know I will be there for you all the time.”
Miguel’s mouth was hanging slightly open, his eyes wide. He shut his mouth. Opened it again. And still didn’t say anything.
Otto materialized out of nowhere, or possibly from the other end of the aisle where he had been eavesdropping. “Did I mishear, or did your boyfriend just propose to you?”
Miguel shut his mouth.
“I did. I think.” Nate nodded.
“Oh. My. God. This is so romantic!” Otto whispered, moisture flooding his eyes. He glanced between the two of them. “I’ll leave you alone. I think Miguel is in shock. I knew it would happen for you someday, baby.” Otto made his way back toward the front of the store, quietly humming the wedding march.
“You don’t have to say anything. I mean, my mouth kind of got away from me. I mean it, though, about the ring and the keeping.”
“It’s usually my mouth that gets me in trouble,” Miguel muttered, looking away to stare at the floor. Nate took the silken rope from Miguel’s hands, hanging it for the moment back on the rack. Gently he grasped Miguel’s chin, tugging upward so Nate could look into his eyes.
Whoever it was that said “Eyes are the window to the soul” had been thinking about someone like Miguel. Here he’d stupidly made a declaration of love in the middle of a sex shop, and Miguel was looking at him like he’d been offered a kingdom but was very much afraid it wasn’t real.
Letting go of Miguel’s chin, Nate got down on one knee. This wasn’t easy with his shoulder and arm all bundled up. Miguel tracked his movement, making a small sound of protest as Nate lurched sideways.
Reaching up, he took Miguel’s hand in his own. “Miguel Ramirez, will you marry me? I’m not a very good catch. I have some issues. But I think between the two of us we could make it pretty damn good. Whaddya think?”
From somewhere behind him, Nate could hear Otto whispering, “Say yes, say yes!” The door chimed, and now he heard Otto rushing over and whispering, “Sorry, we’re closed until Miguel makes up his mind!” The front door shut with a thump.
“My knee is starting to hurt.”
Miguel smiled tenuously, or maybe tentatively was more accurate. He lowered himself down to Nate, touching the side of Nate’s face with his good hand. Nate loved Miguel’s hands, how they were rough from working on cars and yet so very gentle. “You are the best man I have ever met. Maybe the most foolish, but the best.”
“So that’s a yes?”
“Yes, that’s a yes.”
“Whoop!” Otto cheered from the front of the store.
“Can we just go to the courthouse, though? I don’t think I can handle a big thing.”
Otto materialized next to them again, nearly knocking them both over. “Courthouse? Really?” Extending a hand to Nate, Otto helped him get to his feet. Miguel waved him off, standing up on his own.
“Yes, Otto, really. If you want to get married and have a big overdone thing, go out and get your own boyfriend,” Miguel replied. “Or girlfriend.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“I’m better on the sidelines.” Otto looked around at the piles of dildos, condoms, and bejeweled clothing that looked like nothing Nate would ever wear. “It’s safer there.” He smiled weakly. “Congratulations, you two.”
Miguel picked up the rope he’d chosen, handing it to Otto. “Ring this up?” Otto took the small package and headed toward the cash register.
Nate felt his face heat and knew he was blushing like mad. He felt Miguel’s lips brush against the shell of his ear. “Hmmm, I wonder what you’re thinking about…” He was thinking if he didn’t die of embarrassment first, he was going to take Miguel home and see what he could do with one hand.
Turning so he could look Miguel in the eyes again, Nate made sure Miguel knew his proposal hadn’t been a joke or spur of the moment. “I mean it, you know. I want to marry you. Not some caveman ‘You are mine’ crap or to keep you from doing the things you want to do, but to offer myself as a safe place. I will be your safe place.”
“I know.”
Chapter Twenty-Six: Miguel
Miguel was basically living at Nate’s. Buck and Joey had collected his belongings from the ill-fated studio and delivered them to Nate’s house, where they were now stacked in the living room waiting to be unpacked. Nate insisted, and then kept insisting, that the house was his place now too, which, frankly, Miguel was having a hard time wrapping his head around. Okay, in truth he was having a hard time with the whole thing. He was confused; a whirlwind was happening in his head, a waking dream. A bit like he had been spinning really fast on a merry-go-round for a few minutes too long. The merry-go-round had always been his downfall; he had the childhood scars to prove it.
It was like… he shook his head, trying to clear a path for his thoughts.
Nate had offered, was offering, Miguel everything he had ever wished for and never thought he could have. Nate claimed to want Miguel as he was, messes and all, and wanted to also give Miguel a place—an actual home. He did it so easily, like it was the most logical thing in the world for Miguel to just… make his life with Nate.
Some kind of pollen or something was in the air; his eyes kept watering this morning, forcing him to swipe at them as he walked along. He’d snuck out, leaving Nate a note about where he was going but wanting to visit Buck on his own—and he had remembered his new cell phone. The night before, after they’d returned from Otto’s, he and Nate had fallen asleep after making each other come at least twice. Nate, Miguel knew now, slept like the dead after sex. Nate was such an intense person, seeing him relaxed in sleep felt like a gift.
He rounded the corner, and Swanfeldt’s came into view. Seeing the sign and thinking about how the business had grown over the past year made Miguel’s heart swell with pride for Buck. He’d had a hand in that, and it was one of the things he was proud of in his life. They were finally going to expand into the
space next door. Buck would be able to take on more restoration projects if he wanted. It was all good.
It was early, but Miguel knew Buck would be there. He always was during the summer and when his husband worked a night shift. If Buck stayed home, Joey would flit around the house instead of getting the sleep he needed. He peered through the small window in the front door, and the light in Buck’s office was lit, as he’d figured it would be. He tapped on the door.
“Hey! What are you doing here? I thought I gave you the day off. I don’t want you reinjuring yourself. Kevin is out today, probably trying to get Angel to invite him to the Booking Room’s summer picnic.” Buck led the way back into his office, where it looked like he had been doing some paperwork. “I’m glad you stopped by, though. I had something I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Last time you wanted to ‘talk,’ it was to inform me I would be your best man.”
Buck laughed. “True, I forgot about that.” He shuffled the papers together and put them to the side of his desk. “Coffee?”
“Is it today’s?” That was an experience Miguel never wanted to repeat.
“One time, one time, I heat up old coffee and I never hear the end of it,” Buck groused.
“Yeah, coffee sounds good.” Miguel glanced at the other chair. The one Buck mostly used for stacking boxes of parts and old mail on. Buck moved the stuff to the floor so Miguel could sit before handing him a cup of coffee. The warm mug was a comfort in his hand.
Buck pulled his chair out from behind the desk, sat down, and put his booted feet up in the space he’d made. “So, you first. What’s up?” Buck was no dummy; he knew something was going on.
Where to start? It was as if Miguel’s mind had turned into a frightened pack of mice. His thoughts fled in all directions, and he wasn’t fast enough to catch a single one.
“Uhh…” His voice cracked, and a weird choking noise escaped his throat.