by Rhys Ford
“I want you to help decorate our Christmas tree and have a stocking with your name on it hanging on the mantle. It sounds stupid and kitschy, but that’s kind of how we are sometimes. That’s a part of my life, and I want you to be there. Through all of that. Because I think you need it, need to experience it, and when the time comes for us to maybe find someplace for ourselves, we can take that with us,” he murmured, taking a deep breath. “I love you. And whatever you want… living at your place or here… I’m going to be okay with that. Because you’re a hell of a lot more important to me than where I sleep at night. But I want to share my family with you, Ruan, so you know what it’s like to live in the middle of a bunch of crazy people who love you. Because they do. All of them. Even the dog.”
For a long moment, Ruan said nothing, and just when Ivo’s stomach knotted itself for the tenth time, turning into an origami disaster beneath his rapidly beating heart, Ruan nodded. Sighing, he bit his lip, then swallowed, obviously searching for something to say.
“Look, if it—” Ivo closed his mouth when Ruan shook his head.
“Nope. My turn. Because I didn’t have time to come up with a speech or pretty words, so after a long day at work, it’s going to take me a bit to get my thoughts together.”
The yard game was breaking up, and Chris galloped up the stairs, shaking the deck as he went by. A second later the back door creaked, then closed slowly before Gus and Luke could get inside. Gus dumped the rug and bean bags into the bins holding the volleyball net and other sports equipment they periodically dragged out. He gave Ivo a questioning look behind Ruan’s back.
“You guys okay?” His brother jerked his head toward the house and where Luke was holding the door open. “Bear’s going to call dinner in a bit. Want me to tell him to wait?”
“Tell Bear to hang on for a minute,” Ivo shouted. “We’re talking some stuff out.”
“Okay, if you guys need more time, let us know,” Gus replied, stepping toward the back door and edging around Luke, who stood in the way. “Keep walking, Luke, and go make sure my kid washes his hands really well. He gets any of that pepper oil in his eye because the two of you are eating them like freaking cherries, I’m going to make you explain to Jules why her son’s screaming his head off.”
“Are they gone?” Ruan asked after the door creaked shut. “Because yeah, this is something I want you to listen to. Very closely. Without anyone else.”
“They’re gone. No one’s at the window. I can’t even see Bear in the kitchen.” Ivo squinted over Ruan’s shoulder. “Looks like the oven’s on, though. I can see the light through the glass, so I guess he put the rolls in. We’ve probably got about fifteen minutes before someone comes to grab us.”
“I only need a few, because I want to tell you I’ll be happy to be here with you. In this house. For however long we need to be,” Ruan whispered, resting his forehead against Ivo’s until their noses touched and their lips brushed together when he spoke. “I love coming here. I love coming home to this place with its messy, loud people invading the space, and finding you in the quiet spots of the house. I’ve never had this before. And it’s scary how much I need this. Need you. So yeah, babe, I’m here. With you. With my cat. With your crazy family. Because I can’t think of anywhere else I want to be.”
“You sure? Because—” The kiss was expected, but not its ferocity. Ivo felt Ruan fill him, stretching into the darkest places of his soul and bringing a velveteen lightness to the broken parts he’d stitched together. Sighing, he let himself fall, sipping from Ruan’s mouth until he felt drunk from the heady rush of affection wrapping around them. Pulling back, he laughed softly and whispered, “I love you. Probably have since I saw you that night when you came to check up on me. It’s stupid and silly, but it’s like I knew who you were, and I’ve been looking for someone like you since then. I’m glad it was you I found. Because no one makes me happy like you do.”
“Hey, I’m glad we found each other,” Ruan murmured as a roaring caterwaul broke through the drowsy city noises wafting through the backyard. Someone inside hushed Spot, then loudly promised the cat dinner, pulling him away from the back door. “And how about if you answer a question for me? Because if I’m going to be a part of your family, you’ve got to become a part of mine. How do you feel about being a cop’s husband? Or is that too traditional for you?”
Marriage. Certainly not something Ivo ever thought about. Even dreamed of happening. It was an ivy-covered-cottage dream, a blurry idea of white picket fences and tree-lined streets where kids played in the backyard while Dad grilled up burgers on a summer afternoon. Not something he’d ever expected to find, but a life he’d already begun building with his brothers.
And now Ruan wanted to continue to build that life with him, taking on all of the weirdness and perplexities Ivo carried with him, knowing his white picket fences probably were going to be glitter and leather covered within a week of going up. And at the end of it all, Ruan not only didn’t care, but encouraged him to stretch himself as far as he could go, because he’d be there to catch Ivo should he fail.
“Yeah, I think I can manage that. A lifetime with you sounds awesome.” Ivo broke into a hearty laugh. “And so long as I can wear heels at the Policeman’s Ball if I want to. Deal?”
“Babe, I’ll even buy them for you,” Ruan said, drawing him in for another kiss. “Just don’t break your damned ankle. Going to be hard having our first dance with you on crutches, and let’s not even talk about how that’s going to screw up our honeymoon. Remind me to grab a ring or something.”
“Sure you don’t want to get inked?” The look on Ruan’s face was priceless—a bit of recoil and fascination. “Okay, rings it is.”
“Sure about this? Because it’s going to be for the long haul.” Ruan grew serious, rocking Ivo in his arms. “I love you. A lot. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you making me crazy and chasing after every dream you have. You okay with that?”
“Yeah, more than okay. Can’t think of a better way to spend my life than being with you,” Ivo murmured, resting his arms on Ruan’s shoulders. “Shit, can’t think of a better way of spending forever even.”
He would carry the softness of Ruan’s lips in his heart for as long as he lived, embedding the moment in his memories. The rasp of Ruan’s day-old beard tickled Ivo’s chin when he leaned in, his mouth slowly moving over Ruan’s, tasting the day on the cop who’d taken him into his life and had given him room to breathe. They teased and wove, tongues flicking and playing through their kiss, and Ivo murmured with pleasure when Ruan’s hands lifted the hem of his T-shirt to roam over his ribs. His lover’s fingers splayed over where his lion danced with fire and gunpowder, his hellion soul rising up from his depths to blaze over his skin. A familiar tightness formed along his groin, and Ivo pressed into Ruan, wishing they could skip the chicken and roasted vegetables and go straight upstairs to the attic suite they’d made their own.
The first hit of water was an icy reminder of his family’s base dickish nature, and the mocking laughter that followed was enough to make Ivo pull away, spitting and furious, but at the same time, snorting at the sheer absurdity of being hosed down by his brothers as he got engaged. He heard Gus for sure and possibly Mace, but Chris was there as well, a maniacal gremlin manning the hose and shaking its end, probably willing more water to come out despite someone thankfully turning off the faucet.
Shaking the water from his hair, Ruan removed one of his hands from under Ivo’s shirt to wipe the drips from his face, then sighed. “Remind me why I want to move in here?”
“Because you love us,” Ivo replied, kissing Ruan again—a sloppy, slippery smash of his lips against Ruan’s damp mouth. “And we’re your family.”
THE SHADOW in his office made Luke pause at the door. He wasn’t expecting anyone, and since the front office wasn’t open for another half an hour, there shouldn’t have been anyone else in the building. Or at least, no one in his area. He’d heard some ch
atter coming from the lounge area, the shrill laughter of one of the day nurses coming to man the vaccine clinic they’d be running later that morning, and the deep chuckle of Morris, the security guard who often played hopscotch with the kids, his massive former-football-player body blocking the sun from the painted lines on the cement pad in the main yard.
It was way too early in the morning for any intakes or even a social worker coming to plead with him to review a case for the courts. He’d grown tired of showing up in front of a judge, begging for a child’s adoption or transfer to another family member, only to have everything fall apart when he left. There’d been too many instances in the past few weeks of betrayed trusts and devastated children.
That shadow did not bode well for the rest of the week. Not based on past experiences, at least.
Pushing the door open, Luke walked into what he considered his private sanctuary, the room where he met with children and sometimes his brothers to work through problems they were having or simply sit and listen as they poured out their hearts and dreams.
What he found was a man he’d hoped he would never see again. The man who’d led him on a roller coaster of heartbreaks and infatuation, only to stab Luke down through his very soul before shutting the door behind him.
James Rockwell looked too damned good for Luke’s liking. His hair was longer, a more casual, carefree looseness to his sun-streaked brown hair, and the golden tan on his pale skin nearly hid the faint freckles on his cheeks, brightening the white of his too-straight teeth. Dressed in a dark green T-shirt, soft blue jeans, and brown hiking boots, he stood silhouetted against the window overlooking the empty play yard, squared off to face the door and his nose in one of Luke’s psych books, thumbing through its pages as if prepping for an overview.
He was still handsome and built like he could take down an army of Mongols, the slight tilt to his aristocratic nose giving his face a bit of humility and imperfection, a tinge of character to endear him to men and women who might want to kiss and make everything better. They would never know he was a snake. Not unless they’d fallen for him like Luke had, and he swallowed the growl building up in his throat, not wanting to give James the satisfaction of knowing he could still affect Luke in any way.
Something drew James’s head up, probably years of being a sneak and a liar honing his senses until he could feel another person entering the room, even when they didn’t make a sound. Instead of the smug, haughty grin he’d been expecting, Luke got a warm, sensual smile, and he was glad he hadn’t taken another step into the room. His knees wouldn’t have held him up if he had.
“God, you still look….” James’s hard rasp trailed off, and he closed the book he was holding, his eyes fixed on Luke. “Amazing. What’s it been? Two? Three years?”
“Not long enough,” Luke ground out. James being in his space stripped everything away, every ounce of professionalism and distance he’d wrapped himself in the moment he stepped onto the property, and Luke felt naked, exposed to the world simply by the presence of the man he’d wanted the world from showing up on his doorstep once again. “Why are you here?”
“I wanted to talk to you before… well, there’s really no way of saying this without just saying it.” Putting the book down on the arm of the couch Luke sat on sometimes to talk with his clients, James said gently, “I’ve left the agency, and I’m doing tattoos full-time now. Your brothers hired me for the shop. For your shop. It’s too good of an opportunity for me not to take it, but I wanted to let you know I’d be there. So you weren’t surprised when you walked in.”
“Do they know?” He raised his chin, trying to get his lungs to work, but Luke couldn’t seem to breathe through the pressure forming in his chest. “About you? About us?”
“I didn’t say anything,” James admitted with a shrug. “Figured you would have told them if you wanted anyone to know. Did you tell them? About… Vegas? Or us?”
“Why the fuck would I tell my brothers about the guy who was paid to fall in love with me? And then tried to get me arrested for trafficking kids for sex?” Luke finally took a step forward, pushing himself closer to James, even though he couldn’t count on not punching the face he’d kissed and held in his hands. “The only thing they know about Vegas is me getting tapped for killing the real criminal in all of this and the fucking mess I was left in once you walked out and left me to rot in that jail cell. That’s all they know about, James. And that’s all they’re ever going to know.”
More from Rhys Ford
415 Ink: Book One
The hardest thing a rebel can do isn’t standing up for something—it’s standing up for himself.
Life takes delight in stabbing Gus Scott in the back when he least expects it. After Gus spends years running from his past, present, and the dismal future every social worker predicted for him, karma delivers the one thing Gus could never—would never—turn his back on: a son from a one-night stand he’d had after a devastating breakup a few years ago.
Returning to San Francisco and to 415 Ink, his family’s tattoo shop, gave him the perfect shelter to battle his personal demons and get himself together… until the firefighter who’d broken him walked back into Gus’s life.
For Rey Montenegro, tattoo artist Gus Scott was an elusive brass ring, a glittering prize he hadn’t the strength or flexibility to hold on to. Severing his relationship with the mercurial tattoo artist hurt, but Gus hadn’t wanted the kind of domestic life Rey craved, leaving Rey with an aching chasm in his soul.
When Gus’s life and world starts to unravel, Rey helps him pick up the pieces, and Gus wonders if that forever Rey wants is more than just a dream.
415 Ink: Book Two
A savior lies in the heart of every good man, but sometimes only love can awaken the man inside the savior.
The world’s had it out for San Francisco firefighter Mace Crawford from the moment he was born. Rescued from a horrific home life and dragged through an uncaring foster system, he’s dedicated his life to saving people, including the men he calls his brothers. As second-in-command of their knitted-together clan, Mace guides his younger siblings, helps out at 415 Ink, the family tattoo shop, and most of all, makes sure the brothers don’t discover his darkest secrets.
It’s a lonely life with one big problem—he’s sworn off love, and Rob Claussen, one of 415 Ink’s tattoo artists, has gotten under his skin in the worst way possible.
Mace’s world is too tight, too controlled to let Rob into his life, much less his heart, but the brash Filipino inker is there every time Mace turns around. He can’t let Rob in without shaking the foundations of the life he’s built, but when an evil from his past resurfaces, Mace is forced to choose between protecting his lies and saving the man he’s too scared to love.
Ramen Assassin: Book One
When life gives Kuro Jenkins lemons, he wants to make ponzu to serve at his Los Angeles ramen shop.
Instead he’s dodging bullets and wondering how the hell he ended up back in the Black Ops lifestyle he left behind him. After rescuing former child star Trey Bishop from a pair of thugs in the middle of the night, he knows it’s time to pick up his gun again. But it seems trouble isn’t done with Trey, and Kuro can’t quite let go… of either the gun or Trey Bishop.
Trey Bishop never denied his life’s downward spiral was his own fault. After a few stints in rehab, he’s finally shaken off his Hollywood bad-boy lifestyle but not his reputation. The destruction of his acting career and his relationships goes deep, and no one trusts anything he says, including the LAPD. When two men dragging a dead body spot him on a late-night run and try to murder him, Trey is grateful for the tall, dark, and deadly ramen shop owner he lusts over—not just for rescuing him, but also for believing him.
Now caught in a web of murders and lies, Trey knows someone wants him dead, and the only one on his side is a man with deep, dark secrets. Trey hopes Kuro Jenkins will stick around to see what the future holds for them once the dust settles, but from the l
ooks of things, neither of them may survive to find out.
How do you save a drowning man when that drowning man is you?
Jake Moore’s world fits too tightly around him. Every penny he makes as a welder goes to care for his dying father, an abusive, controlling man who’s the only family Jake has left. Because of a promise to his dead mother, Jake resists his desire for other men, but it leaves him consumed by darkness.
It takes all of Dallas Yates’s imagination to see the possibilities in the fatigued art deco building on WeHo’s outskirts, but what seals the deal is a shy smile from the handsome metal worker across the street. Their friendship deepens while Dallas peels back the hardened layers strangling Jake’s soul. It’s easy to love the sweet, artistic man hidden behind Jake’s shattered exterior, but Dallas knows Jake needs to first learn to love himself.
When Jake’s world crumbles, he reaches for Dallas, the man he’s learned to lean on. It’s only a matter of time before he’s left to drift in a life he never wanted to lead and while he wants more, Jake’s past haunts him, making him doubt he’s worth the love Dallas is so desperate to give him.
Half Moon Bay: Book One
Deacon Reid was born bad to the bone with no intention of changing. A lifetime of law-bending and living on the edge suits him just fine—until his baby sister dies and he finds himself raising her little girl.
Staring down a family history of bad decisions and reaped consequences, Deacon cashes in everything he owns, purchases an auto shop in Half Moon Bay, and takes his niece, Zig, far away from the drug dens and murderous streets they grew up on. Zig deserves a better life than what he had, and Deacon is determined to give it to her.