“You’re wrong.” Dylan’s grin didn’t falter, not even a little bit. That smile was dangerous. All full pink lips and white teeth. And the dimples. God save him from the dimples. Apollo might be dead to romance, but apparently he could still feel a jolt of the worst-timed lust on the planet. Never happening.
“And I’m putting money on your mom and the tycoon.”
“You do that.” It was going to be a long damn summer, convincing Prince Charming here that he was dead wrong about the Floros family needing romance.
Chapter Four
June
“Do you like crispies?”
“Or waffles?”
“Unngh?” Dylan opened one eye to find two small creatures perched on either side of him, one wearing a unicorn costume, the other in a fancy purple party dress.
“Breakfast, silly! We wanna make you breakfast!” Chloe, the one in the unicorn costume, bounced on the side of the bed.
“It’s morning,” Sophia supplied helpfully, yanking away the pillow Dylan was using to shield himself from the glare of the sun. He’d gotten into San Diego late the night before thanks to traffic. He’d broken the fifteen-hour drive into two days, but he was still so wiped that he’d collapsed into bed moments after Apollo had shown him to the small guest room that would be his home the next few months. And clearly, Dylan was going to need to investigate the door lock situation.
“Get up!” Chloe commanded, butting him in the shoulder with the unicorn horn.
“Okay, okay. Give me a second—”
“Girls. What are you doing in here? And where are your school clothes?” Apollo appeared in the doorway, toweling off what looked like a freshly shaved face. He was in jeans and a gray button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showing off his tats. Now there was a tasty breakfast.
“Sorry, Baba.” Sophia scrambled off the bed.
“Didn’t I say ‘leave Dylan alone’ before I went to get dressed?”
“It’s okay.” Dylan sat up, covers pooling in his lap. Apollo’s eyes went wide. Heck. Dylan didn’t have a shirt on. Better start sleeping with more on. He adjusted the covers so that Apollo could see the waistband of his flannel pants, lest he think Dylan was all the way naked.
“You have more hair than Baba,” Chloe announced with a critical eye. Great. Now Dylan was going to spend the rest of the day thinking about Apollo shirtless. “But not—”
“Chloe. That’s enough.” Apollo pointed at the hallway. “Dressed. Now.”
Both girls scampered away amid much giggling.
“I’ll sleep in a shirt tonight,” Dylan said because Apollo was still frowning. And still staring at Dylan’s chest. “Sorry. I know I’m kind of scuzzy. My last boyfriend was a total freak about waxing, so I’ve kind of gone the other direction as a rebellion—”
“Your last boyfriend?”
Dylan stood and stretched, letting Apollo get an eyeful. “Why, yes, Apollo, I have had boyfriends, plural. Sorry to shock you. Two in high school, six—”
“I do not need a rundown of your sexual history.” Apollo’s face was as red as Dylan had ever seen it. Good. “Your door locks. That’s all.” Apollo turned to leave, then stuck his head back in. “Oh and there’s coffee. If you drink it.”
“I’ll be down in a few.” Dylan headed to the bathroom, taking a fast shower amid an explosion of tub toys overflowing from their bin and four different strawberry shampoos lined up on the side of the tub. When he came down to the kitchen, the girls were both wearing blue T-shirts that advertised their preschool with a smiling stick figure logo and were sitting at the table in the eating nook with waffles and milk.
“Here. Creamer’s in the fridge.” Apollo handed Dylan a steaming coffee mug. Truth was, Dylan didn’t often drink the stuff, favoring a morning protein smoothie, but he didn’t want to give Apollo another reason to slot him into the “kid” category.
Dylan doctored it up with a healthy dose of creamer. “So what’s on the agenda for today? Tomorrow I have a staff meeting to make sure everything’s set for Monday, but today I’m all yours. You’re not working?” He gestured at Apollo’s casual clothing.
“Got leave for today and tomorrow. Today is—”
“Preschool graduation!” Chloe squealed. “We get to wear hats!”
“Can Dylan come?” Sophia chimed in. “Please. Please. Please. We’re singing the happy face song.”
“I’d be happy to,” Dylan said right as Apollo said, “Dylan probably doesn’t want—”
“Please.” Both girls did an adorable pout.
“Seriously, I’d be happy to come. Be an extra pair of hands so you can focus on taking pictures or whatever.”
“Chelsea’s gonna do day camp. So’s Andrew.” Chloe shared in between bites of waffles.
“See. I can meet some of the kids who will be there Monday. It’ll be great.”
“Great,” Apollo echoed with none of Dylan’s certainty. “I guess—”
“Yay!” The girls danced in their chairs.
“I suppose it’s a good chance to show you the car. I’d wanted to see you drive it before Monday.”
“Wait. I’m driving your car this summer? I’ve got mine.” Dylan’s Civic hybrid had been his mother’s first and might have passed the decade mark a few years back, but it was a good little car.
“I didn’t get the top safety-rated SUV for the girls for it to sit in the garage. You’ll take that one. I’m used to switching off with Mom. I’ll take her sedan to work.”
Dylan hadn’t planned on some sort of impromptu driving test, but luckily he did have experience with bigger vehicles thanks to driving the Y vans. However, Apollo was totally the sort of control-freak guy who made a terrible passenger, and Dylan’s stomach gave a little flip as he followed Apollo and the girls to the garage after breakfast.
Apollo strapped the girls into booster seats worthy of a shuttle mission to Mars, then handed Dylan the keys. “You’ll need to adjust the seat and mirrors. I was the last one to drive it.”
Great. He totally needed a reminder of how much taller than him Apollo was. This was why he loved soccer—height didn’t matter as much as his quickness and agility. And it wasn’t like he was that short, but most of the SEALs Dylan had met were well over six feet, with Apollo probably clocking in at six three or four. But he managed to adjust the seat with a minimum of fumbling and blushing and followed Apollo’s directions to a cheery little blue building with a fenced-in playground teeming with kids and their parents. As he’d predicted, Apollo had gritted his teeth with each turn and looked almost nauseated when Dylan parked between two other SUVs.
“Did I pass?” Dylan asked as Apollo unloaded the girls, pocketing his sunglasses. Apollo still wore his, which made him look like even more of a badass than usual.
“Sorry.” Apollo set the girls on the pavement. As soon as they reached the sidewalk, the girls ran ahead, straight through the open gate to the playground. “I know I’m a bit overprotective.”
“You don’t say.” Dylan kept his voice teasing.
“It’s nothing against you though. You should have seen how I was when they first came home from the hospital.”
“I bet. Were they preemies? You guys used a surrogate, yeah?”
“Yes.” Apollo didn’t sound all that willing to talk about this, but he slowed up by the fence instead of joining the clump of other parents under the awning. “We had a great surrogate. And the twins weren’t early—they were right on time, so we were able to bring them home from the hospital after a few days. Man, that first drive.” Apollo shook his head, a fond smile on his face.
“Let me guess. You did twenty-five all the way back to the house.”
“Pretty close.” Apollo laughed. “It was all kind of a whirlwind back then—DADT got repealed, we got married,
Dylan laughed even though he didn’t really care for Apollo’s “oh woe is me, so ancient and old” tone. Sure Apollo had some years on him, but he didn’t need to go handing advice out like he was eighty. “I like real,” he said instead. “I’ve never been wild like you and Dustin were.”
“We weren’t wild.” Apollo’s chuckle resonated all the way to Dylan’s feet—there was a certain power in making this guy loosen up and let go.
“Liar.”
“Apollo! How are you?” A woman with wild red hair and a toddler on her hip came over.
“I’m good, Bridget. Tyler all ready for graduation?”
“He was up at six with his T-shirt on.” She laughed and gestured at a small boy with red curls playing with the twins. “And who’s this with you?” Bridget was clearly one of those women who didn’t feel the need to hide her curiosity.
“This is Dylan. He’s...” Apollo’s jaw muscle jumped. “He’s going to be helping me with the girls this summer.”
“Oh that’s fabulous. I hope your mom has the best time on her trip,” Bridget enthused, bouncing the toddler from side to side as she grinned at Apollo before turning to Dylan. “Let me know if you need any extra hours. My husband and I have been looking to go on a date night. Bet I could borrow you.”
Great. Dylan hadn’t really expected Apollo to introduce him as anything other than the babysitter, although friend might have been nice. Something about how Bridget said it, though, made him feel about fourteen and still earning five bucks an hour on a Friday night.
“I’m also the assistant director of the Presidio day camp, the one over by the park.” Dylan felt the need to assert that he wasn’t some freeloader.
“Oh that’s excellent. Mary’s Andrew will be going there too. Here, let me introduce you.”
And so Dylan found himself introduced to a number of parents as “Apollo’s new babysitter.” He tried to smile and nod and keep up with the names, especially the ones who would be campers with the program he worked for.
Finally, the teachers rounded up the kids for “graduation” and all the parents took seats in the classroom. Rather than take one of the kid-size chairs, Apollo stood near the back of the room, so Dylan joined him. The kids paraded in wearing paper hats, all the parents whipping out cell phones and cameras to record the event. Next to him, Apollo swallowed hard, and Dylan could practically feel Apollo’s tension increasing. Apollo’s cell phone shook as he held it out.
Neal. He’s missing Neal. Dylan’s throat tightened.
“Here, let me do the filming,” Dylan whispered and plucked the phone from his grasp. In front of them, a mom wiped tears from her eyes and several parents kept clearing their throats. Dylan was completely used to sentimental parents at events like this, and he tried to shoot Apollo a reassuring glance.
“Baba!” Chloe called from her place at the front of the room. That made the big guy smile, and he waved at her. And Dylan’s heart might have given a little twinge. No more crushes, remember?
“They look so big,” Apollo whispered to Dylan. It was kinda cute, the way he kept looking away and sighing during the slideshow about the events of the year. He knew Apollo would insist up and down that he wasn’t the least bit emotional, but he so was. Big, tough SEAL was totally in love with his little girls. They bounded up to Apollo and Dylan as soon as the program was done.
“Baba, I sang loud for you,” Chloe announced.
“I heard.” Apollo scooped her up. “Now, should we get home? Get you guys down for your nap—”
“Baba! Naps are for babies.” Sophia shook her hair.
“We want to swim!” Chloe clapped her hands. “Please? Can we show Dylan our pool?”
Dylan nodded, trying not to look too enthusiastic about the possibility of ogling a shirtless Apollo. Then he remembered Apollo’s disturbed reaction to his own chest and resolved to dig a rash guard shirt out of his stuff. If there was any ogling about to happen, it was surely a one-way street. Darn it.
* * *
“Baba? What if Dylan can’t swim?” Sophia asked, all serious as Apollo straightened her goggles. Apollo blinked, trying to keep up—getting the girls suited up to swim, and recovering from the preschool graduation. Not that he was emotional. Not even a little bit. Gonna blame allergies again?
“He can have ducky!” Chloe held out one of the flotation toys kept in a bin by the pool.
“Dylan can swim.” Dylan emerged from the house, crossing the small yard to the pool. He wore purple board shorts and a gray nylon shirt that looked better suited for the surfers at the beach. “But can you guys?”
The girls giggled. “Of course, silly.” Chloe danced around Dylan.
“I’ve been working with them since they were babies. They can swim, but never, ever alone—”
“Apollo. I think you can trust me not to toss them in the deep end and walk away.” Dylan let out a long-suffering sigh.
Maybe he was being a bit hard on Dylan. “Sorry.”
The girls scampered down the steps for the shallow end, toys in tow. Not quite ready to get in the water, Apollo lowered himself to the side of the pool, legs in the water, senses on high-alert for the first sign of trouble. He was used to being in charge of a team of men on dives, but that didn’t make him near as nervous as supervising two active kids. Dylan sat next to him, not close enough to touch, but close enough that Apollo was only too aware of him right there.
“Nice ink. You didn’t have that one before.” Dylan gestured at Apollo’s chest.
“Thanks,” Apollo ground out. He hated this motherfucking tattoo like a bad Alanis Morrisette song. He could still remember Neal’s quiet teasing when he got it after the girls were born.
“You’re a sentimental fool, tough guy.” Neal walked around him, inspecting the still-red skin.
“It’s just ink.” Apollo shrugged. He hadn’t been sure exactly what he was getting until he was at his favorite tattoo artist, browsing designs.
“Putting ‘blessed’ in hundred-point font across your pecs definitely qualifies as sentimental. And a bird for each girl? Sorry to say it, but you’re a secret sap.” Neal’s laugh washed over him, familiar and comforting.
“All for you, babe.”
Three years later, Apollo had roared at the mirror the first time he saw the tattoo after Neal died, coming perilously close to shattering the fucking thing. And in the two years since, he hadn’t mellowed any toward the tattoo. Only thing keeping him from getting it lasered off was the girls—didn’t want them thinking he wasn’t happy to have them. But blessed? That ship had sailed the day Neal died.
“So what’s up next? A back piece? Another sleeve?” Dylan was way too chipper. In the pool, the girls were riding their floating ducks and splashing each other.
“Nothing. I’m done with tattoos for good.”
“For good? But you love—” Dylan’s eyes went wide, and his gaze dipped to Apollo’s chest again. “Oh.”
Damn kid was too fucking perceptive. Apollo slid into the water so that Dylan could stop inspecting him. Yeah, once upon a time he’d loved getting new ink. Then once upon a time blew up, and he couldn’t imagine getting back in that chair, getting something permanent and trusting it wouldn’t haunt him.
“Why don’t you have ink if you like it so much?” Apollo sounded like a cranky bear but couldn’t be bothered to try to moderate his tone. He did with everyone else. All day. Every day. And it was just hard. Somehow he just couldn’t seem to put up the same front with Dylan.
Dylan laughed like he either hadn’t noticed or didn’t care about Apollo’s biting tone. He waited until after he’d lowered himself into the water to answer. “Honestly? I’m scared of needles. Also, not all schools and programs look kindly on ink. I want to wait until I’ve got something permanent jobwise. Then I might take the leap. I’ve got an idea for a War Elf-themed one right here.” Dylan pointed at his forearm.
“The needles aren’t such a big deal. And it’s a hell of an adrenaline rush. You’d like that. If you get up the courage, wait until you come back down to visit Dustin. I’ll take you to my guy. He does quality work.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.” The smile Dylan gave him made Apollo feel even more like a heel for how he’d been acting much of the day. Dylan tugged his shirt down as it ballooned up in the water.
“What’s up with the shirt? It’s not that sunny out.”
“I...uh.” Dylan looked away, a dusky flush creeping up his neck. “You didn’t seem to like me shirtless earlier. Thought I’d cover up until I had a chance to manscape a bit.”
“I didn’t like it?” Apollo blinked. That wasn’t how he remembered it—only that he hadn’t been able to stop staring at Dylan’s sculpted body. Dylan didn’t have a twink’s body like the smooth young things Ben kept bringing around. His was a man’s body, with a surprisingly furry chest and chiseled muscles. And Apollo had been powerless to do anything other than stare, unwelcome heat traveling to some very underused locales in his body.
“Oh.” Dylan gave him another knowing grin and shucked the shirt. “In that case... I hate wearing shirts in the water.”
“Suit yourself.” Apollo tried to sound indifferent.
“You trim though.” Dylan was just not letting this subject drop, damn him.
“Habit.” Apollo shrugged. He just did head, chest, pubes all on the same setting on the trimmer, beard too when he wasn’t on duty and required to be clean shaven. “And I’m kind of a gorilla without it. But you...you’re fine.”
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