by K-lee Klein
What the heck was JT supposed to say to that? He flicked his gaze to Brett, who appeared to be concentrating. His eyes shifted to JT’s, a nod that said, I got this, Darlin’, before he leaned closer to the phone.
“Hey, Bet—ma’am. How ’bout I make you a promise?”
“Brett—” JT began. Brett twisted their fingers together.
“I’m pretty good at researching things.” JT palmed the chuckle that tried to sneak between his lips. “And I have connections all over the place—”
Elizabeth cooed into the phone. “Like one of those secret agent types?”
“Just like that, but he sings while he does it.” Brett slung an arm around him to ruffle his hair. His grandma oohed and aahed a little.
“Was Johan always this sassy?”
“Got it from his grams,” she said.
“Well, thank you for that,” Brett said using that oh so obviously Southern Southern charm. “I was gonna say I’d look into some options for you. I might be able to pull a few favors and find somewhere spectacular that’s deserving of you.”
“JT. This man is a keeper with a capital K.”
“He definitely is.” Little bursts of sun popped inside JT’s heart. His grandma had always been his biggest cheerleader, but having her approve of—even like—Brett from a single conversation lit something otherwise darkened inside him. “We shouldn’t keep you. Don’t want some mean nurse giving you a sponge bath as punishment. You’ve got my number. Call me anytime. Okay? I love you, Grandma.”
“Goodbye, dear. I love you too.”
Quiet filled the space where love had just glowed, and maybe a little regret. Of course, when Brett wrapped JT in his arms, it returned full force. “You all right?” he murmured, sweet and warm against JT’s neck. “That’s one hell of a lady you got in your corner, Darlin’.”
“She is, right? And what you said, you don’t have to go all Mission Impossible.”
“More like James Bond,” Brett said with a chuckle. “But come on, kid. Nobody should live where they don’t want to. I understand she needs more support because she’s getting on, but there are always better options. Places that don’t feel like a hospital or like she’s been forced to live some place she’ll hate.”
JT eased away, looked Brett square in the eyes, stroked a hand over his messy hair. “I wish everyone could see your heart.”
“Guess I’m just selective. You made the cut pretty quickly though. You know I’m gonna offer to pay for a place she’ll be happy, right?”
“She’d appreciate that. I appreciate it, cowboy, but she’s good. My grandfather worked his whole life to give her and my mom everything, even after she moved on to Julie.”
Brett wrinkled his nose, trailed a hand over JT’s back, scratching lightly over his spine. “Then what’s the problem?”
“My mother. She’s not exactly compassionate… to anyone.”
“Does she got some official say in Elizabeth’s affairs?”
“Not yet.”
“Then as far as I know, I can look into whatever I want.” Brett offered JT a kiss before he continued. JT chased the fuck out of it. “With your permission, of course.”
“Perfect, Brett Taylor. You’re just damn perfect.”
“Just a simple cowboy, kid.”
“There’s nothing simple about you.”
Brett popped out his bottom lip, twisted his mouth. “Don’t know about that. Take away my Brett Blakk persona, and I’m pretty run-of-the-mill, Texas trash.”
“Even if you were, I’d never think that.”
“Love you too sweetheart. Now, unfortunately, we’ve still got some chores to do before we hit the Halloween trail.”
“Bastard.”
“Good! My reputation remains intact.”
Chapter 9
THEY WERE at Millie’s by four o’clock in the afternoon on October thirty-first. And Brett had no idea why he was there so early.
“Kids start going out at dinnertime,” JT explained when Brett’s pondering went further than inside his own head. “The little ones. It’s the older ones you have to watch out for.”
“Why’s that?” Brett asked when they pulled up outside Millie’s house, now known as the house that Halloween threw up on. “Talking about yourself, kid?”
“My parents didn’t believe—”
“Oh, fuck me. Didn’t believe in Halloween? Didn’t believe in Valentine’s Day either, right? Was that all some kind of religious thing? ’Cause you never said anything at Christmas.”
JT cocked his head as he unbuckled his seat belt. His smile was slow and sad. “No. Christmas was fine, to an extent. The others were just too common for our upstanding, societal family. I used to sneak out with my friends when I could swing it, though.”
“Common, huh? I hope they don’t know how common your new guy is.”
“What guy?”
Brett flicked him on the end of the nose, immediately kissing it better. “Very funny.”
“Well, maybe instead of giving out candy, I should take you out trick-or-treating myself.” Brett chuckled when JT gave him a shove. Mission accomplished. He didn’t like it when JT got melancholy over his dysfunctional and downright rude family. Not that Brett blamed him, but as far as he was concerned, anything that made JT sad needed to get the fuck out of their lives. “I’m sure as hell going to find that sassy grandmother of yours a perfect place to live. That family of yours—you know I’d give you the Halloween moon if I could, Darlin’.”
JT furrowed his brows, reaching for his hand with an amused pout. “I don’t think that’s a real thing, not even a redneck Texas thing. But thanks.”
Brett’s mama was dressed to the nines when they walked into the house: a flowy green dress made of some kind of satiny material just brushing the tips of her matching high heels, shiny baubles glittering around her neck and hanging from her ears, and hair as big as the sun topped by a sparkly tiara. Honest to goodness, she was glitzed to the max.
After gracing them with a very queenly smile, she pointed some kind of golden scepter before fashioning them with a majestic curtsy. He and JT bowed in her royal presence, all with a straight face, too. Mostly.
Ray’s truck was in the driveway but the man himself was nowhere to be found. “Where’d you hide old Ray, Mama?” Brett asked when all the bowing and weirdness was over. “I’m assuming you’re a princess, probably a queen, so have you got him dressed up like a big old toad? ’Cause I’d really like to see that.”
“You better watch your back.” Ray strode out of the kitchen, and Brett nearly swallowed his tongue. “You’re catching damn flies, kid.”
“Jesus Christ. What you wearing, old man? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so cleaned up, but that purple coat… that sparkly purple coat—” Brett cut off with a loud cackle. He figured Ray must be the prince to his mama’s princess or the king to the queen, but hell if it wasn’t funnier than shit. That’s when it dawned on him that all of JT’s hints, that were really more, “Brett, you’re being an idiot—they’re not just stepping out for coffee,” might be true. Mama was seriously dating Ray Durant. Deep inside, Brett was damn unsure how he felt about that.
JT’s lips stretched a mile wide when he elbowed Brett in the ribs. “You guys look great. I think even the horses would approve, Ray. Maybe you could wear that into work tomorrow so we can find out.”
Ray grunted and turned away. “Didn’t I tell you, Millie? They’ve been spending so much time together that the new kid’s getting as disrespectful as the old one.”
“First of all, I wouldn’t say he’s the new kid anymore. Second, you two hush up. Always causing a fuss.” Millie waved her scepter at Brett and Ray, coming too darn close to whacking them on the noggins. “I had these costumes specially made. I’ve got an extra one in the bedroom if you have anything else to say about it, Brett Taylor.”
Brett backpedaled quickly. “Ah, come on. You look prettier than a picture, Mama. The old guy don’t look so bad e
ither, though I still can’t understand why you insist on dumbing yourself down by keeping him around.” Brett stepped closer, dragging JT right along for the ride. He kissed Millie’s beaming cheek, then feigned the same with Ray. Instead, he took an audible sniff. “Well how ’bout that? He even smells pretty.”
“Didn’t I tell you to shut it, boy? And for your information, I always smell as pretty as a damn rose.”
“If you’re finished your bickering, we should be leaving. Unless you plan on marking your territory in this pissing contest.”
“Mama.” Brett blushed to his toes.
“There’s soup on the stove and fresh bread on the counter.” Millie took Ray’s arm and waggled majestic purple nails over his shoulder. “Make sure you save some candy for the little ones. I know what kind of sweet tooth you both have.”
“Don’t worry, Millie. I’ll wrangle this one while you’re gone.” JT was a freaking hoot—not to Brett, but maybe in his own damn mind.
Once they were alone, Brett pressed his chest to his sassy boyfriend’s back. “Wrangle me, huh? What you got in mind, Darlin’?”
“Making sure you eat before you gorge yourself on chocolate.”
“I resent but don’t deny that accusation.” When Brett’s arms were suddenly JT-less, Brett attempted and failed to nab him back, but his quick reflexes at least managed to let him cop a feel of that delicious backside.
JT turned disappointed eyes to Brett, smacking his hand away at the same time. “Behave. Secondly, I’m not letting you pull me into your wicked ways.”
The conversation was mildly amusing but weird as fuck at the same time. “My wicked what?” Brett forced a snarl. “You just never mind, kid. I’m highly suspecting you’ve already lost what little mind you walked in here with.” Brett dodged JT’s wide-mouthed slap without even trying. The kid was in over his head when it came to the exceptional sassiness skill of one Brett Samuel Weston Taylor.
“That was just mean,” JT growled… and it shouldn’t have been as sexy as it was, but hell, yeah. Sexy.
It took Brett a second to compose himself as JT tilted his hips and crossed his arms over his chest. “You rattled old Ray just as hard as I did.” Brett took full advantage of JT’s huffy stance. He lunged, tugging him back into his arms and smacking a wet one on his cheek. He chuckled when JT tried to lamely pull away. “Now onto more important things. Have I ever told you how comfortable Mama’s couch is? Definitely big enough to stretch out and have a little fun.”
“I’m not making out with you in your mom’s house, Brett.” The offended tone in JT’s voice was a surprise. The kid wiggled from Brett’s grasp, giving him a soft shove, then hustling into the kitchen.
Brett tagged along, even stifled the urge to grab JT’s ass when he reached for bowls in the cupboard. Of course, his intentions must have been certainly clear since JT eyed him with a smug expression.
“What?” Brett asked with his best angelic smile.
“You can bat your baby blues all you want, Taylor. You’re an open book to me. Just sit down and behave.”
And there was that word again, behave, straight from Brett’s mama. They had this way of ganging up on him without even being in the same room. With a dramatic sigh, he threw himself into a kitchen chair, tipped his head back, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. “Ah, woe is damn me. Whatever will become of my misbehaving ass?” He couldn’t hold the pose long as persistent laughter bubbled up his throat and almost choked him.
JT simply shook his head, definitely not taking the bait. Kid knew him too well, but he set a bowl of soup in front of him nonetheless.
As always, Mama’s soup was to die for—hearty vegetable with chicken and rice, perfect for the uncommon chill in the October air. And the bread—melt in your mouth delicious. Brett and JT showed the best form of praise for Millie’s cooking skills by eating three-quarters of the loaf.
At precisely five o’clock, their peace and quiet was interrupted. “Trick-or-treat!” came the squeaky voice at the front door. “Hello! Trick-or-treat!”
Brett looked at JT with panic skittering over his nerves. “You know I’ve never actually—”
“You’re kidding, right?” JT looked at him incredulously, then pushed away from the table. “It’s not rocket science, cowboy.” He jerked Brett out of his chair, but not before Brett realized how much he liked the manhandling.
“I don’t know,” he started. “Maybe all that Jack ate my brain, and I don’t mean the o’lantern kind.” He followed along behind JT, straining to peek out the front window as they passed.
JT swung the door open with a wide grin, and the tiny girl in the yellow princess dress made Brett pause for at least five heartbeats. She was the prettiest little thing he’d ever laid eyes on, and the skirt of her dress was as wide as she was tall. JT opened the screen door, and Brett stepped up closely behind him, even elbowing him out of the way just a little.
“Hi there, sweetheart.” Brett bent low so they were almost nose-to-nose, the last of his ridiculous apprehension bleeding out of him when the little girl wrinkled her nose. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. Are you a princess?” He was fully aware that he was using his Whizzy voice but paid JT’s smothered chuckle no mind.
“I’m Belle!” the adorable creature exclaimed breathlessly. She tried to peer past him. “It’s Halloween, you know. What kind of candy do you have?”
“I’m damn—pretty sure we have any kind you want.”
“Yay!” She literally jumped for joy, and Brett was so darn enthralled, his face hurt from smiling.
He grabbed a big handful of treats from his mama’s extra-large popcorn bowl and wiggled them in front of her. “How’s this, sweetheart? He dropped the candy into Belle’s cute some-kind-of-cartoon-fish bucket, nodding politely to the smiling dad keeping watch. “Belle is my favorite princess,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Me too!” The tiny girl grinned from ear to ear and waved as she danced down the steps. “Bye! Happy Halloween! Daddy can we get more candy?”
“Say thank you, Emily.”
“Thank you!”
Brett watched her grab her daddy’s hand, tugging harder than such a little body should be able. He stepped back inside, where JT was looking at him with delight sparkling his gaze. “Do you even know who Belle is?”
Brett huffed. “I’m not a damn heathen.” He feigned a scowl before unwrapping a tiny Mars bar and shoving it in his mouth all casual-like. He made a show of enjoying the snack, hoping to distract from the fact he was palming his phone in his front pocket. How hard could it be to search a princess named Belle?
“Liar,” JT accused lightly. He helped himself to a Twix, tossing the wrapper at Brett for good measure. “Actually,” he said after devouring the candy and licking his lips. Damn tease. “You remind me a little bit of Belle’s boyfriend.”
“Yeah? He was some kind of prince, right? Handsome devil, I suppose?”
JT gathered him close with a charming snort. “Beauty and the Beast, babe.” He bared his teeth. “Guess which one you are?”
“That hurts.” Brett didn’t have time to pout or trick any kind of personal, remorseful favors out of JT, though, since they were promptly overtaken by a flurry of little costumed bodies invading Millie’s yard.
He’d never admitted it outright, but little kids twanged and plucked some major heartstrings for Brett. And it wasn’t that he’d never considered being a father before—he had—but he’d always been more based in reality, always been forced to stay in the reality of his career as a gay man in the closet was more like it. Walt had never been particularly interested in kids either, so Brett had kept his fleeting ideas to himself when it came to that.
Truth was, as nervous as children made Brett, he adored them to the moon and back.
The next two hours were filled with tiny-hatted cowboys, caped superheroes, glittery fairies, a few furry dogs and cats. There was even a tiny football player and tutued piglet w
ith wings. The kids were enthusiastic and addicting with all their hollering and trick-or-treating as they formed a line up Millie’s little jack-o’-lantern lighted path to the house. Brett and JT stayed busy, even having to open extra bags of candy to keep up with the demand. Brett would swear to his dying day that he hadn’t played a part in the missing candy bars, though by eight o’clock he might have had a bit of a bellyache.
JT eyed him with suspicion between rushes of children. “What’s that sour look on your face?” Brett batted him away with a scowl. But JT turned his smile upside down in the most pathetic way. “Awww, do you have a tummy ache?”
“You just never mind. Give out some extra to the next bunch so we can get rid of it.” The left corner of his mouth twitched up involuntarily. “The more they get, the less is left for me.”
The bigger kids that JT had mentioned started arriving just after the little ones had petered out. Some of them were damn scary with their screaming masks, fake blood, and vampire fangs. A few seemed a little old for scamming hard-working people out of their treats, but they were all mostly polite. Mostly.
“Hey, you’re that Brett Blakk dude, right?” one of the zombies asked.
“That’s me,” Brett replied, reaching into the bowl again. “You like country music?”
The boy grimaced and shook his head almost violent-like. He twisted toward his zombie counterpart, mouthing something quietly. Unfortunately, Brett caught the offensive statement.
“What was that?” he asked as politely as he could manage with a handful of chocolate gripped between his fingers. The kid squinted up at him, his mouth a flat line of determination, but he didn’t answer. “How old are you, son?”
“Four—fourteen.”
“Fourteen, huh? Fun age, right, JT?”
The warmth of JT’s palm nestled gently, reassuringly, against Brett’s lower back. “Brett?”
The Grim Reaper poked the zombie with the end of his scythe. “Let’s go, man.”