Safe House

by Charley Descoteaux

  “Oooh, conspiring. I like the sound of that. Who are we conspiring to surprise?”

  “Kyle. He took me to the courthouse before my appointment today, and—”

  “Oh my God, you’re married?” Paulie’s voice seemed to echo, and Bran wondered where he was. He shouted, hopefully to the whole Buchanan House crew, “Kyle and Bran got married!”

  Bran put a little more distance between the cheers coming through his phone and his sleeping husband. By the time Paulie got back on the line, Bran’s face had started to hurt from smiling.

  “That is so romantic! And don’t you worry, we’ll have a party all ready for you tomorrow. Is that okay? We could try to get everyone here today if—”

  “No. Thanks, tomorrow will be great. Thank you, Paulie. I don’t… I don’t have the right words to—”

  “My pleasure! Oh, this is delightful! Leave it to me. Your wedding reception, as impromptu as it is, will be lovely.”

  “That’s not—”

  “We know, darling.” Nathan’s voice sounded a little echoey as well. Speakerphone. “You’re so very welcome. Now go back to your hubs, and we’ll see you tomorrow. Kiss-kiss.”

  Bran’s phone went dark. He took a moment to think about how lucky he was, but only a short one. He grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge and returned to the bedroom. Kyle was still sleeping, stretched out on his stomach. The view of his lovely ass kept Bran in the doorway—he didn’t want to disturb the picture. While he watched his husband sleep, a cloud moved away from the sun, allowing the light to slant in through the white sheers covering the window. A ray of sunshine hit the back of Kyle’s head, illuminating his hair and giving it a reddish halo. Bran went closer, but it wasn’t an illusion or a trick of light—the red was there. He placed the bottles on the bedside table and sat on the bed. He didn’t want to wake Kyle, but he couldn’t keep from touching his hair. The long, silky strands that had always appeared to be glossy black had been hiding this extraordinary secret the whole time.

  After a while, Bran realized Kyle was awake. He didn’t move, only smiled.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  Kyle’s sigh stirred Bran’s dick, but he knew it would be a while before he could even think about more lovemaking. Kyle didn’t sound like being awake bothered him at all. He sounded content. Happy. Another cloud drifted in front of the sun, and his hair returned to black.

  “Your hair… it’s beautiful. Stunning. I never saw the red in it before.”

  “My mother was a strawberry blonde. I thought the red had disappeared a long time ago.” Kyle rolled onto his side and smiled sleepily up at Bran. “I’m glad it didn’t.”

  “Speaking of mothers…. Mine has requested our presence for dinner.”

  Kyle’s smile stretched into a grin and then fell from his face. “Is she upset? I didn’t think. I should have—”

  “It’s okay.” Bran held Kyle’s shoulder and kissed him gently. “She’ll be fine. Once we tell her the whole romantic story.”

  And she was fine, which had Bran watching for the other shoe to drop all through dinner. When it didn’t, he knew she was up to something. He guessed he would find out what it was at the party, so put it out of his mind. His exquisite, dirty-talking husband helped with that.

  Chapter Nineteen

  KYLE KNEW to expect a celebration at Buchanan House. Even if he hadn’t known his friends so well, Bran hadn’t been able to quash his own excitement, which seemed to have started before he even woke up that morning.

  Eleven thirty is technically still morning.

  However, he honestly didn’t expect to find a full parking lot, a house full of people already in full-on party mode at one in the afternoon, or his father striding down the steps to greet them. Ken looked angry, but Kyle knew he was only working to contain himself. He’d relaxed considerably over the past few months, but he still hadn’t become comfortable with the idea of showing his deepest, strongest emotions. Probably not even with the idea that he had any to begin with.

  When Ken got within reach, Bran took a step backward, and Kyle laughed out loud. He suspected if they hadn’t been holding hands, Bran would have taken more than one step.

  “What did you two do? Do you know how much you’ve disappointed your mother, Brandon? How—”

  “Dad.”

  Ken surged forward and hugged them both together. He’d always been stronger than he looked, and Bran’s surprised grunt made Kyle laugh again. When Ken finally released them, he stepped back and couldn’t keep the grin off his face.

  “I’m glad you’re here. Now we can get this shindig started!” Ken laughed and then headed for the open front doors, waving them along behind him.

  Kyle leaned close to speak into Bran’s ear. “He thinks he’s funny.”

  “Funny…. Yeah, compared to….” Bran chuckled and kissed Kyle’s cheek. “Maybe compared to an actual heart attack.”

  Ken stopped just inside the lobby and spread his arms wide, laughing. Dramatic enough? “Allow me to present the newest couple in our extended family to have taken the plunge!”

  He continued, but his words were lost under an eruption of cheers and whistles and shouts of “They’re here!” and “You’re blocking my shot.” Before Kyle could think much about what Derek would do with the pictures he was taking, he and Bran were enveloped in a group hug. The hugging and congratulations went on for a long time—everyone wanted to get their moment to share the joy.

  They were hustled into the dining room full of family and food and a very large white cake with two grooms in tuxedos standing on the top. Paulie insisted on getting a few pictures that hinted at traditional reception photos—Kyle and Bran sipping champagne with their arms linked, feeding each other cake, slow dancing. It was a glorious day.

  Kyle was dancing with Minnie when he heard Bran call his name. She smiled and released him, and Kyle sped to Bran’s side. He was holding his phone in one shaking hand.

  “Is that the doctor?”

  “Yes.”

  “Answer it, honey.” Kyle wrapped both arms around Bran and buried his face in his hair.

  “I can’t.”

  Kyle loosened his hold on Bran enough to swipe the screen and accept the call, and Bran brought the phone to his ear and said hello. He listened, and Kyle tried to hear too, but he only caught the sound of a voice and none of the words. Bran trembled in his arms and leaned against him as he thanked the doctor for calling.

  “What did he say?”

  Bran turned his face into Kyle’s chest and embraced him. He mumbled something, but Kyle couldn’t make out the words.

  “Hey.” Kyle moved Bran’s face away from his shirt. “What did he say?”

  “It’s clear. Negative.” Bran turned his face up to Kyle’s, smiling through a smattering of tears. “He said ‘See you in a year.’” Bran looked around until he saw Minnie. “Thank you, Mom.”

  Minnie embraced them together, as much as she could, and kissed Bran’s cheek. “He said he wouldn’t tell you I called to tell him you needed good news for your wedding reception. I should have known. He never could keep a secret, even in the first grade.”

  For the first time in the past two weeks, Kyle relaxed. He led his husband and mother-in-law to a table so he could do so without landing on the floor. Relief didn’t begin to cover what he felt in that moment. He felt like he’d been given the most valuable gift, that the universe had given its blessing. Or something less hokey.

  Kyle still had nine months before he could earn his massage therapy certificate, and he knew they would be dividing their time between Portland and Lincoln City until he had it, but as long as he had Bran, he knew he could handle whatever else life threw at him.

  Exclusive excerpt

  Holiday Weekend

  Buchanan House: Book Five

  By Charley Descoteaux

  Coming Soon to

  www.dreamspinnerpress.com

  Ryan

  I CLIMBED the thre
e steps and found a seat on the train. Inside, it smelled like french fries, wet dog, and despair.

  Maybe I brought that last thing along with me.

  Rainy Monday nights just didn’t have the spark of a Friday, even if I didn’t have to work again until Thursday. I got off the train at my usual stop, far from the apartment in Northeast I’m sharing with another waiter. If we don’t find another roomie soon I’ll have to cut down on my trips to the bar after work.

  Or maybe I need a new job.

  The familiar door opened without a squeak and I found a spot to lean up against the bar. I smiled at the bartender, who I knew a little too well. Kelby swung his hips as he approached. His T-shirt said Honk if You’re Horny in a bubble over the head of a pink goose. His jeans looked painted on.

  “What’ll it be tonight, sailor?”

  The grin that popped onto my face felt good but also like I hadn’t used those muscles enough lately. At least he wasn’t using bad puns to describe the server uniform. “How about a draft?”

  “Budget night tonight?” Kel drew the beer—perfectly as always—as I tried to figure out how to answer without sounding whiny.

  I shrugged, going for cool and casual. “Starting now, every night is budget night. You’re not hiring here, are you?” The place might have been almost deserted but, as soon as Wednesday night, would be crowded with gay Portlanders out for a good time.

  Kel dropped a napkin on the bar and held on to the glass of beer until I stopped shredding a coaster and looked up into his eyes. I’d been thinking about demolishing every bag of peanuts and pretzels in the place. Sounds like a good start.

  “No, hon. But I know who is.” Kel’s voice started out sympathetic and ended on a singsongy note. He set the glass down and I only kept from chugging the whole thing by reminding myself of my new two-drink limit. I sipped and realized Kel was waiting for me to ask.

  “Who’s hiring?”

  “One of your old friends. Jas Vaughn. His little place in the Pearl has expanded and he’s looking for staff.” Kel raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow and leaned his hip against the counter behind the bar.

  Too bad I resolved never to see older men again. Kel is hot tonight.

  “Puddle Jumper?” My heart did a little jig and then settled down. Way down. Like, into my shoes and through the thick soles made especially for people who spend their day jobs on their feet, and onto the dusty floor. Puddle Jumper had been Paulie’s restaurant. Jas might own it, but Paulie created it, from the menu down to the pictures on the walls in the dining area. But Paulie wasn’t there anymore. Not at Puddle Jumper and not in Portland. He’d moved out to the coast to be with his true love.

  Paulie. Nine months after the dumping, after the end of our short relationship, even thinking his name still hurt.

  “The very same.” Kel yanked a bag of peanuts from the rack and tossed them in front of me. As the bag landed, he backed away a step. “You look hungry, kid.”

  Is he talking himself out of doing anything too? Flattering.

  I pushed the bag back toward Kel and smiled again. It didn’t feel as stiff and unused anymore. “Thanks, but I have a salad waiting at home.”

  “Hmm. You are looking scrumptious lately. Forget I offered.” Kel winked and tossed the peanuts away over his left shoulder.

  Kel kept talking but I wasn’t listening. Too busy thinking about how to fill one of those jobs at Puddle Jumper. Rumors said Jas paid his staff above-market wages, and it could be true. God, I hope it’s true.

  Maybe dropping twenty-five pounds is enough to get his attention too. Jas has a rep for—

  No, bonehead. He’s even older than Kel. And married.

  Kel’s voice startled me out of thinking about seducing a married, older man. Usually Kel sounded like he could burst into song at any moment. When he said hey, he sounded like someone older, rougher, and way more butch.

  “No you don’t. Turn right back around and leave. Come back when you get a real ID.”

  I turned my stool to see who Kel was talking to and almost fell off it. In the doorway stood the hottest guy I’d ever seen. Not very tall, but nobody would ever notice with that face. He wasn’t pretty, but almost—his black hair brushed his shoulders and it was hard to tell in the dim light of the bar, but he was either Latino or Italian. Or maybe something else. Growing up in White Bread, Idaho left me at a disadvantage with people whose ancestors had come from anywhere other than Western Europe. I’d gotten an education in Portland over the past year, but still felt—and probably sounded—like a hick most of the time. Especially while practically leering at the hot young guy who looked like he was trying to decide whether to go, or stay and hope he could talk his way onto a stool. Five’ll get you twenty he really wasn’t old enough to be there, and he wasn’t tall enough or big enough to bluff very long, but he made that pair of jeans and black rainproof jacket look sexy.

  Sometime while I sat there drooling over this kid who wasn’t even old enough to drink, I recognized him as a server at Puddle Jumper. I hadn’t given much thought or attention to any of the servers because I hadn’t been looking for a man. Because I’d been too caught up in the man I’d thought was mine. But a guy would have to be dead not to notice this kid.

  “Yeah, kid. I’m here almost every night. Even Monday.” Kel’s voice had softened a bit, but not enough to let the kid think he had a shot at staying.

  The kid backed out and the door fell closed. When I turned back to the bar Kel was looking at me funny. “Yeah, I know. Fucking gorgeous kid. He’ll need a bodyguard once he turns twenty-one.”

  “He looks sort of familiar.”

  Kel snorted and tried to cover it with a few seconds of laughter. “He should. He’s a server at Puddle Jumper.”

  Maybe I saved myself from being read too closely by downing a few swallows of beer.

  “Maybe you could apply for both jobs? Server and bodyguard?”

  Or maybe not.

  Kel had been ignoring the rest of his customers, but chose then to go and tend to them. After a theatrical wink and grin for me.

  I tried to act like I didn’t care, but the beer almost didn’t fit past the desire clogging my throat. I wouldn’t mind guarding that body. I can be intimidating when I want to be. Six-one isn’t short, and being… burly doesn’t hurt. Maybe.

  My size had been all that kept me from being torn apart by the Neanderthals back home once I reached the relative safety of junior college and made the mistake of poking a toe outside the closet. Even the worst jerks hadn’t been brave enough to say much to my face. Their brothers knew my brothers, and they probably thought I’m more like them than I am. The looks had been enough to turn my guts to liquid a time or two.

  At least I’m not hungry anymore.

  More from Charley Descoteaux

  Buchanan House: Book One

  Eric Allen, thirty-three-year-old line cook, moved in with his grandmother, Jewell, after a disastrous coming-out when he was in middle school. She raised him, and he cared for her when she fell ill. When Jewell died, she left everything to Eric—angering his parents and older brother. The inheritance isn’t much, but Eric and his bestie, Nathan, pool their money and buy an abandoned hotel on an isolated stretch of the Central Oregon Coast. The hotel isn’t far from Lincoln City—a town with its own Pride Festival and named for a president—so they christen it Buchanan House after James Buchanan, the “confirmed bachelor” president with the close male friend.

  Eric and Nathan need a handyman to help them turn Buchanan House into the gay resort of their dreams. Eric finds Tim Tate in the local listings, and over the months leading to opening weekend, Tim reveals himself as a skilled carpenter with many hidden talents. Eric falls hard for Tim, but before he can see a future with the gorgeous handyman, he has to get over twenty years of being bullied and shamed by his birth family. It would be much easier if Eric’s brother Zach wasn’t trying to grab part of the inheritance or ruin opening weekend.

  Buchanan House: Bo
ok Two

  Overworked cubicle jockey Adam Byron wants to attend Oregon Coast Pride in style but the price of a room at Buchanan House, a popular gay retreat on the central coast, is beyond his budget. So he won’t miss out, he advertises online for someone to share expenses. Corporate drone Silas Grant responds to Adam’s ad, and the two get to know each other via texts before meeting at the coast. They agree on a no-pressure roommate arrangement, yet once they meet face-to-face, their attraction is undeniable. Desire might simmer well beyond Pride weekend, no matter how hard Adam and Silas try to live up to their noncommitment pact.

  Buchanan House: Book Three

  Pride weekend is over, but for Nathan Lucas, the summer is just heating up. He appears to have it all. He’s tall and blond, ripped and handsome, and half owner of Buchanan House, a successful gay retreat on Oregon’s beautiful central coast. But his joie de vivre hides a fear of abandonment. When he was twelve his mother had triplets, and instead of the cherished only child, Nathan became a scapegoat for his exhausted parents, and he has never truly dealt with that pain.

  Portland chef Paulie Nesbitt is head over heels in love with Nathan. They’ve been drinking buddies with benefits for years, while Paulie has not-so-secretly yearned for more. Paulie’s extra pounds and self-doubt have kept him from acting on his feelings. Their friends know they would make the perfect couple, but Nathan and Paulie will have to let go of past insecurities if they want a future together.

  Justice “JB” Bishop tells himself he’s satisfied with life in the small town of Upright, Oregon. He was born and raised there, and has settled into a comfortable, if lonely, routine working at his uncle’s bar. JB doesn’t expect anything to change after he turns fifty, until an old friend drops in. She suggests he get out of town for the holidays, and soon JB finds himself on an Amtrak to Canada. JB expected to feel different in Canada, to see things he couldn’t see at home. He never expected to find the one who got away.