by Tara Lain
“I can’t claim they’re wildly brave souls, and neither Mr. Karl nor Dr. Willamette are tenured as yet, but I’m hoping your defense will be so powerful, they won’t sway in their positive opinion. I also expect to get a strong result from your reader.”
“I sure hope so.” The reader, always an outside expert in the field, stayed anonymous until after the defense.
“One thing you can do, aside from being your usual brilliant and hardworking self, is volunteer to assist at Dr. Ashworth’s pet project, the alumni literature festival. It’s next week.”
“Uh, okay. I’ll need to find a sitter, but I can do that.”
“Excellent.” He stood. “Don’t worry too much. I’ll leave you to the madness of undergraduate tests.”
“Thanks.” He said it with appropriate irony, and Dr. T. laughed. As the professor left, Theodore noted he’d said not to worry too much. Different from not worrying at all.
After another hour of test grading, he finally raised his head, stood, and went to get a glass of water before his ass fused to the chair. And such a happy ass it is. He’d been so busy since Friday, he’d barely dreamed over the sheer amazing fantasy of sex with Snake. Yes, Theodore loved to bottom, and second only to big intellects, he loved big dicks. Oddly, Snake seemed to have both. Books and covers, man. Snake was not what his persona suggested—a brawny, tattooed alpha male who only wanted to get Theodore in the sack. Quite the contrary. Snake had been a model of restraint. The guy seemed more interested in a real relationship than anybody he’d met in recent memory. Of course, that didn’t include a lot of competition.
Theodore refilled his cup a second time at the water dispenser and started back to the office. The phone rang in his pocket, and his heart slammed against his ribs. Snake? Juggling the water cup, he grabbed the cell and looked at the screen. Shit. Hanson.
He plastered a smile on his face, hoping it would translate to his voice. “Hi, Hanson.”
“Theodore. We’re wondering if we can have Andy this weekend. Our church is having a big picnic on Saturday, and we’d love it if he could come Friday night for the picnic, which starts early Saturday, and then stay Saturday night and we’ll all go to church on Sunday.”
He’d be murdered in his bed by his seven-year-old on Sunday night. “Wow. Sounds like fun. I don’t think Saturday night will work since he has plans, but I could bring him Friday and he could enjoy the picnic. Then I’ll pick him up late Saturday afternoon.” Man, Andy would hate this. Plus, Theodore still needed to talk to Hanson about the pool party discussions, but hell, a picnic could be fun, and Andy wouldn’t be stuck with just a couple of nasty kids.
“Plans? A seven-year-old has plans?”
“Oh yes, life is all about playdates and sleepovers.”
“Very well.”
“Uh, Hanson, I need to speak to you about some kids who are bullying Andy and some other issues.”
“Oh? Well, of course, we can’t have that. We’ll talk soon. Meanwhile, we’ll plan for his arrival Friday evening.” He hung up. How is it that no one is entirely happy with me today? He dragged himself back to the test papers.
An hour of disappointments and happy surprises later, Theodore’s phone buzzed again and he shuddered. Come on, Hanson, just leave it alone. He grabbed the phone and answered, “Theodore Walters.”
“Well, hello, Theodore Walters, this is Crystal Streams Erasmo.”
He laughed and let his cheek caress the phone. “Hi.”
Snake gave that deep sexy chuckle that made Theodore’s pants too tight and his chest too warm. “So I’m almost done with the dissertation. When would you like to practice?”
He hated to take advantage of Andy’s misery but—“Uh, Friday?”
“Sure? Where?”
“Your place?”
“Sounds perfect. You and Andy?”
“Uh, no. Poor Andy doesn’t know it yet, but he has to spend Friday night with his grandparents and all day Saturday at a picnic given by their church.”
“Have you considered he may come live with me?”
Theodore frowned but still laughed. “Yeah, I won’t give him the car keys.”
“I’ve got a better idea. How about you and Andy come to my house tomorrow or Wednesday, and I’ll feed you. He can play video games or watch movies while you and I practice. Then maybe he won’t be so upset about Friday. You know, the night I’m going to fuck your brains out for about twelve hours.”
Theodore gasped. “Oh hell yes.”
“Good. Which night?”
“Uh, Wednesday.”
“Come early. That’ll give us lots of time.”
“When?”
“Doesn’t matter. Just show up.”
“Okay.”
Quiet.
“Snake?”
“Umm-hmm?”
“I can’t wait.”
There was the chuckle again. “Me too, baby, me too. See you Wednesday.”
The phone clicked off, and Theodore stared at it. Did I really say that? Yeah, I did. He smiled. That’s because it’s true.
“NO, DAD, no, no, no, no.”
Theodore tried to put his arm around Andy, but he pulled away and buried his head in his pillow. “I’m so sorry, Andy. They’re your grandparents. I can’t keep them from seeing you. Please believe me. It could be really bad for us if I tried.”
Andy’s head came up revealing a furious frown. “It can’t be as bad as hanging around with those crap church people.”
“Language, Andy.”
“I don’t care! It’s true. They’re crap, crap, crap!”
Theodore put a hand on Andy’s back. “Listen to me. It’s a picnic. They wanted you to go to church, and I said you were busy, so if they ask, say you have a sleepover on Saturday night, okay?”
“Dad, please don’t make me go.”
“Oh God, Andy, I wouldn’t if I didn’t have to. But guess what? Tomorrow night we’re going over to Snake’s for dinner, and then you can play video games and watch movies while Snake and I work on my dissertation, okay?”
He sat up slowly and gave his father a look. “Snake?”
“Yes. He wanted you to have something fun to look forward to.”
Andy chewed his lip. “I wish you’d marry Snake and we could all move far away from here and I never had to see those people again.”
Theodore’s mouth hung open. If Andy’d hit him, he couldn’t be more stunned. I’ll think about it later. “So get your homework done quickly so you can have fun tomorrow.”
“THIS IS a really good movie. How come we never saw it, Dad?” Andy sat on Snake’s couch and ate ice cream as he watched Home Alone, laughing wildly between bites.
Theodore watched his son rolling at the antics of the kid as he foiled the would-be robbers. “Well, it’s kind of old.” He glanced at Snake, who raised an eyebrow. “Plus I didn’t want to give you any more wild ideas than you already have.”
Andy laughed at that too.
Snake said, “Okay, sport, your dad and I are gonna work for a while, okay?”
“’kay.” His gaze never left the screen.
Theodore watched Snake set up a study hall for them on his table that they’d just cleared from dinner. “Uh, Snake?”
“Yeah?” He looked up with just the green eyes but kept setting out his notes. That fact made Theodore’s palms sweat.
“Aren’t we cutting into your work hours? I mean, shouldn’t you be at the bar now, or soon anyway?”
“Oh, uh, no.” He looked down at the manuscript he pulled from a backpack. “I’ve got flexible time there. I can work different hours on different days.”
Theodore nodded. “Just so we’re not getting you in trouble at work.”
“No problem.” He patted the other chair. “Sit. Want some more coffee?”
“No. It’ll keep me awake.”
“Herbal tea?” He smiled.
“Your mama’s recipe?” Theodore cocked a half smile, and Snake laughed. Theodore shook hi
s head. “No, thanks. I’m fine.” Too nervous.
Theodore sat, and Snake flipped over the top page on a lined note pad. “Mr. Walters, how would you characterize the conclusions of your dissertation?”
Wow. “Well—”
“Don’t say ‘well.’ It sounds unsure.”
Double wow. He nodded. “In our culture, academia tends to draw a sharp line between what is considered”—he made quote marks with his fingers—“great literature and that which is believed to be pulp—mere pop culture with no claim to literary significance. Jane Austen falls into the former category, while the most widely read genre of fiction today, romance, is relegated to the pulp bin. And yet even a cursory examination of Austen’s work shows strong precursors and associations with the romance genre. It was this dichotomy that led to my research, collecting data directly from five hundred romance writers and over one thousand romance readers to determine similarities and differences in the works of romance and those of Jane Austen. I also interviewed and studied the writings of fifty scholars on the subject of Austen and collected their joint impressions of modern romances. That research has led to the conclusion that romance fiction is disregarded as having literary worth largely because of its association with women and the supposition that true literature cannot end happily. I hope that this paper may impact the place of romance fiction in the annals of academia and enhance perception of it as worthy of serious review and consideration as literary fiction.” His pulse pounded in his ears.
Snake gazed at him with a glazed-eyed expression.
“Was I boring?”
Snake shook his head. “No, not at all. Good.” He glanced at his notes. “Mr. Walters, what possible impact can such a paper have on the field of literature?”
Shit, he asked good questions. “Among the literally thousands of romance writers in the world today, how many might be incipient Jane Austens—or even fully realized geniuses? Our field could be more vital and relevant with the discovery of literary accomplishment and innovation hiding in genre fiction.”
The questions and answers went on until Snake finally held up a hand and set down his notes. “You sound good to me.”
“Where did you get those questions?” He gazed at Snake in amazement. “I should be so lucky as to have anyone on the committee be that perceptive.”
“Just used common sense.”
“Hell, could you bottle it and let me give it to my students?”
Snake smiled.
“Sadly, at least one of the members of the committee really won’t give a damn about my rationale. He thinks romance fiction is stupid and frivolous, and he’s not likely to change his position.”
“What about the others?”
“Don’t know. The dissenter is head of the department. Only my committee chair is sure to be on my side.”
Snake glanced at Andy, who was still laughing his butt off at the movie. “What will you do if you have to go back to the drawing board?”
“Oh shit.” The words slid out on a column of air, but very quietly. “I don’t know, Snake. Honestly. My in-laws are actually breathing down my neck. They want me to get the doctorate and a tenure-track position right away.”
“Yeah, well, people in hell want ice water too. A PhD isn’t a fast-food job. You might even have to change schools if this chairman dude is too much against you. What do your in-laws have to say about it?”
Theodore blinked fast. “They want it for Andy. They think he needs a better life.”
“Andy has a great life. He’s got a dad who loves him. Not every kid can say that.” The crease popped out between his brows. “They should butt out.”
“It’s complicated.”
“Why?”
Theodore stared into Snake’s deep-sea eyes. I could tell him.
“Hey, Dad, can I have more ice cream?”
Snap. Gone. “No way, José. Your movie’s over, so you need to put your bowl in the sink and thank Snake for being such a great host.”
“Awww. We could stay here.”
“Andy.”
“O-kay.” He dragged himself off the couch with a great show of malaise and put his dish on the counter. Then he crossed to Snake. “Thank you, Uncle Snake.” He stood for a second staring at his shoes, then seemed to reach some surfeit of emotion and threw his arms around Snake’s neck.
Snake looked astonished and totally ecstatic as he wrapped his big tattooed arms around Andy’s slim body. “Hey, man, I’ve got an idea.” Andy stepped back, looking a little embarrassed. Snake managed to appear like it was the most normal thing on earth for Andy to hug him. “How about I give you my phone number? Then you can call or text me anytime.”
“Seriously?” Andy looked wide-eyed.
Theodore wanted to say Yeah, seriously?
“Sure. Why not?”
“I-I could bother you or something.” He glanced at Theodore.
“No bother. If I don’t answer right away, it just means I’m working, okay? And I’ll call you or text back. We can talk about games or movies or anything you want.”
“Man, that’d be rad. I mean, I don’t have my own phone yet, but I can use Dad’s sometimes.”
“Good.” Snake walked over to the kitchen island and grabbed a small pad of paper. He wrote a number on it and handed it to Andy. “This is for you. I’m already in your dad’s phone, but this is in case you’re on a different phone.” He glanced at Theodore. “This is okay, right, Dad?”
“Uh, sure, as long as he doesn’t take advantage.”
“He won’t. Call anytime.”
He maneuvered Andy closer to the door. Before he could get him out onto the porch, Andy looked up with eyes full of misery. “Do I have to go Friday, Dad?”
“Yes. It was our agreement, right?” He frowned.
Snake had crossed over to wish them goodbye. “Oh, is this the grandparent visit?”
Andy glanced at Theodore and seemed to realize the better part of valor. “I have to spend the night with my grandparents and go to a picnic all day Saturday.”
“Hey, I got you out of Sunday.” Theodore gave Andy a squeeze on the skinny shoulder.
“Yeah. Thanks.” But he stared at his shoes.
Snake said, “A picnic sounds fun.”
“A church picnic.” Andy spit the words out like poison.
Snake glanced at Theodore but seemed to get this wasn’t his fight. Smart man.
Andy sat with his arms crossed all the way home and never smiled the whole time he got ready for bed. Shit and double shit. Finally he seemed to sleep, and Theodore sat down at his laptop. He’d barely checked his mail all evening, which was a relief.
Now for the return to real life.
Oh man. Is there such a thing as triple shit?
An email from Dr. Thurston suggested Theodore could up his currency with the “department,” secret code for Ashworth, by joining the planning committee on Friday night. Friday. Dear God, the next Tuesday would be torturous enough. Now he had to give up Friday too. Dream day.
So much for his date. So much for a night of sex. He dropped his head to the desk. This is for the best. This relationship made no sense. Andy was already way too attached to Snake. The exact thing Theodore had always feared. Somehow this least likely of all guys had wormed his way into Theodore’s life. Yeah, well, more than my life.
He sat back. Stop thinking with your damned dick. There was an idea in Eastern philosophy that when you declared you wanted something great, the universe tested you by dangling your biggest temptations in front of you. Man, that fit. He said he wanted his PhD, a good teaching position, and a comfortable home and life for Andy. What did he get? A packaged embodiment of every romance alpha hero any gay man could dream of. Snake. The ultimate temptation. The guy who could derail every intention Theodore ever had. Get out now before it’s too late. Oh man, it’s already too late.
He reached for the phone and dialed.
“Hey, Teddy Bear. Sorry I overstepped with Andy.”
&
nbsp; Jesus, the guy even got high marks in perception and sensitivity. He breathed out and Snake heard it.
“That bad?”
“It’s not that. I just found out I have to work Friday night.”
“Well, damn.”
“Yeah. But I guess it will rack up points for me with the department. My committee chair asked me to do it.”
“Command performance, then.”
Weird how he understood that.
“Can we get together on Saturday while Andy’s at the hated picnic?”
“No. I already made about six student advisory appointments. Plus there’s a stack of papers to grade I didn’t get to yet this week.”
“Guess that does that.”
Why do I want to cry? “Yeah.”
“So call me when you have some time. Maybe you and Andy and I can go out to a movie on Sunday?”
His brain screamed Yes! “Maybe.”
Silence. “Okay, baby. Call me and let me know how you feel.”
“Okay.”
“Bye.” The line went dead.
His heart lurched. Never in his ordered life—or at least not since Esther died—had he felt the world swinging so out of control. He’d just reached quadruple shit, and it was up to his neck.
Chapter Eleven
SNAKE SAT at his desk, Saturday morning sun shining in the side window, and hammered on the keyboard. His fingers faltered and he stared into space.
Damn! His deadlines crept up like a line of assassins, and he couldn’t get his brain unfried. No call last night. No date. No—nothing.
Come on. Work. His fingers started their rat-a-tat again, then stalled. Teddy sure sounded discouraging on that last call. He’s rethinking—me. The thought made his stomach turn. I don’t want to care so much. It’s his decision. He dropped his head onto the edge of the desk. I do care—so much.
His cell buzzed and traveled a few inches across his slick desktop. Teddy! He grabbed it. No. He didn’t recognize the number.
“Hello?”
“Uncle Snake?” Andy’s voice was breathy, soft and upset.