Anna Martin's Single Dads Box Set: Summer Son - Helix - The Color of Summer

by Anna Martin

  “James,” he said, and his ass clamped down on James’s cock as he shuddered as he came.

  James watched, entranced, and let himself follow.

  His elbows gave out under the intensity of his second orgasm and he pressed his face against Dylan’s neck, loving how Dylan kept his arms around James’s back, holding him close.

  For a long moment, James lost all sense of time. Then Dylan shuddered, and James realized he needed to move.

  “Hang on,” he muttered, grabbing hold of the condom as he gingerly pulled out.

  “Holy shit,” Dylan said with a laugh.

  James laughed too as he tied off the condom and tossed it in the general direction of Dylan’s trash can. He was barely done before Dylan was pulling him back on top and kicking at sheets to cover them both.

  James settled his head on Dylan’s shoulder and sighed.

  “You’re amazing,” Dylan murmured, his face pressed to the top of James’s head.

  “That was okay?”

  “It was incredible.”

  “Okay. Good. For me too,” he added in a rush.

  He felt Dylan smile.

  “I don’t want to go to sleep,” James said, already yawning, already knowing there was no use in protesting. It was definitely going to happen.

  “Don’t worry.” Dylan yawned too. “I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

  Chapter 14

  “Hey, Steve.”

  Steve looked up from his computer and waved his colleague into his office. Jeremy was one of the lawyers Steve worked with most often on cases, meaning they’d grown to be good friends over the years.

  “Give me two seconds to finish this email,” Steve said, holding up a hand. If he didn’t get the thought finished, it would take him forever to find it again.

  Jeremy smiled and took Steve’s guest chair. “Sure.”

  It really did only take a few seconds for Steve to finish typing and send the message to one of their shared clients. They’d got a good result in her case, and Steve was anxious to give her the news before the weekend.

  “What can I do for you?” he asked, minimizing his email window so he wouldn’t be distracted.

  “Actually, I have something for you.”

  Steve grinned at his friend. “Sounds interesting.”

  “I had tickets tonight for a basketball game, but according to my wife, we have plans”—Jeremy gave him a pointed look—“which cannot be changed. Are you interested? I know Dylan’s into basketball. It’s the Roadrunners,” he added, referring to their local college basketball team.

  “That sounds awesome. I’ll text him and make sure he’s free. How much do I owe you?”

  Jeremy shook his head. “My brother got them for me. If you can go, they’re yours.”

  “Thanks, man,” Steve said.

  “No problem. I’ll be here until about six tonight. Just swing by and pick them up if you can go.”

  “I’ll text Dylan now.”

  Dylan responded almost immediately, saying he had vague plans to go out with the guys from the garage for a beer, but he could do that anytime. Two rival college teams were playing, which was going to be interesting, especially as they neared the end of the season.

  Steve got home a half hour or so after Dylan. They had time to get changed and get over to Bakersfield for the game, though there wasn’t time for dinner. Not that Dylan would mind; he’d grab something when they arrived.

  “I’ll drive if you like,” Dylan said as they headed out.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. I don’t want to drink anyway. Then you can have a beer.”

  “Okay.” Steve nodded. “Thanks. You can drive the Jeep if you want.”

  Dylan grinned. “Great.”

  Steve thought that might have been Dylan’s plan all along. As a general rule, Dylan didn’t drive Steve’s Jeep. Not because Steve didn’t trust him; he just didn’t like anyone else driving it. He’d bought the Cherokee new less than a year ago, and even though Dylan was a good driver, he didn’t want the damn thing scratched. Steve didn’t claim to be either reasonable or rational. There were just some things that were sacred.

  His Jeep was one of them.

  With Dylan driving, it only took an hour to get into the city, giving them enough time to park and grab some nachos before the game started.

  This was totally one of those dad things Steve accepted as part of his life. He hadn’t been forced to go to awful school plays or dance recitals or—God forbid—violin performances. He’d gone to some baseball games with Dylan, but that wasn’t exactly a hardship.

  Steve had never really been super into sports, not like Dylan was. Sitting through a college basketball game was only something he tolerated because he got to do it with Dylan, and spending time with his kid was one of Steve’s main priorities in life.

  He never let it be said that he didn’t throw himself into these dad-things, though, and by the time the second half got underway, Steve found himself invested in the game and had almost lost his voice screaming at the Roadrunners, who were clinging to a two-point lead. He was never going to be the biggest sports fan out there, but he knew when to get behind a good game.

  “I think I lost my voice,” Steve said as they walked out of the stadium. The home team was celebrating a narrowly won victory, and they were being carried to the parking lot by a delighted crowd.

  Dylan just laughed at him.

  They got home late, close to midnight, and even though Steve was so tired his eyes ached, he joined Dylan on the couch with a bottle of water. Sometimes, when he was younger, it had taken Dylan a while to decompress from high-energy situations. Those days were behind them now, but Steve knew Dylan still took his time to come down and relax. It was always easier for Dylan when Steve was around, so he forced himself to watch ESPN while Dylan texted someone.

  “Do you have plans for Sunday?” Steve asked.

  “Yeah.” Dylan didn’t look up from his phone. “Going to hang out with some guys. I think there’s gonna be food, so don’t worry about cooking anything for me.”

  “Okay. I’m going to see that guy I’m dating. You know, the one I told you about?” Steve tried to act casual. Dylan saw right through him.

  “The one you pointedly haven’t told me anything about, you mean?” Dylan said, smirking. “Sure.”

  “I can tell you stuff about him if you want,” Steve said, feeling a little defensive. “What do you want to know?”

  “Honestly, Dad, I really don’t need to know about your sex life.”

  Steve snorted. “Thanks. And same goes for you, for what it’s worth.”

  “Great. Glad we sorted that out.”

  “I am actually dating him, though,” Steve added. He felt like he needed to make that distinction. “Like, actually dating dating.”

  “Right. I thought you were giving ‘dating dating’ a break, though.”

  Steve winced. “I was. But this guy is different. He’s not like Jason.”

  “Not a psycho, you mean?”

  “Jason wasn’t a psycho,” Steve said automatically, though he didn’t believe the words as they came out of his mouth. Not anymore. “And you know we don’t use words like that.”

  Dylan shot him an amused look. “Sure. Okay.”

  “So if you want to meet him and stuff, I can make that happen.”

  “You’re at the ‘introducing him to your kid’ stage of things?”

  “Sure,” Steve said with a shrug.

  “Uh-huh,” Dylan drawled, clearly not believing him.

  “We could be. Maybe I’ll ask him if he wants to meet you, and if he does, we can make that happen. He’s got kids too.”

  “Oh great, one big happy family.”

  “Hey, don’t be like that.” Steve stretched his neck from side to side and decided he was going to bed really, really soon. “I’m not going to do anything dramatic or life changing. There would have to be a lot of conversation between everyone before that even bec
ame a possibility. I just….” He sighed. “I don’t want to hide it from you that there’s someone who I… care for.”

  “Okay.” Dylan put his phone down and actually looked over at Steve. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “Since when do you call me ‘Dad’ all the time, huh?” Steve threw his arm around Dylan’s shoulder and gave him a noogie. Dylan, predictably, protested.

  “Fuck off,” he said, laughing. “Is that not okay anymore?”

  “Of course it is. You know that.”

  He turned their roughhousing into a hug, pulling Dylan against his side for a moment. Dylan had once resisted this most of all, not wanting any kind of physical comfort. He still didn’t, most of the time.

  After a second, Dylan slapped him on the shoulder and pulled away. Steve didn’t mind. Even this was progress from where they’d been a few years before.

  “Dad?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I’m dating someone too.”

  “Okay,” Steve said, hoping his response was as achingly cool as he wanted it to be. “Cool.”

  Dylan rolled his eyes. “He’s really sweet.”

  “It’s a ‘he.’ Good to know.”

  Dylan punched Steve in the arm. “This is why I don’t tell you things! You get all weird and embarrassing.”

  “I’m sorry.” Steve laughed. “I’m sorry. Tell me about him.”

  “He’s really nice. He makes an effort to make me feel good about myself, and I don’t even know if he’s doing it on purpose. I think it’s just a side effect of us being around each other.”

  “He sounds like a special guy. Maybe if you meet the guy I’m dating, I can meet the guy you’re dating.”

  “I don’t know. That sounds pretty serious to me,” Dylan said, but he was smiling. “I’ll talk to him.”

  “Okay. I’m happy for you, Dylan. You deserve to have someone nice.”

  “Yeah, all right.”

  “You do!”

  “I know.” Dylan laughed. “I know. Thanks, Dad.”

  “Any time, kid.”

  Steve rolled to his feet, stretching to pop his spine. He was pretty sure Dylan was going to be watching TV for a while yet, but he seemed relaxed. Steve didn’t feel guilty about abandoning him.

  “Say, what’s his name?” Steve asked.

  “My boyfriend?”

  “Yeah.”

  Dylan hesitated for a second. “Jay.”

  “Jay.” Steve smiled. “That’s a nice name.”

  Chapter 15

  James had spent most of the morning pacing around the house, feeling supremely nervous and like his world was possibly about to come to an end. A dramatic, fiery end.

  Usually he left the drama queen moments to Frankie, since she was much better at them than James had ever been. Today, though, he thought he might be allowed to have a moment.

  “Did you clean your room?” Frankie asked, leaning against the doorframe between James’s room and their bathroom.

  “What? No.”

  He kicked a book under his bed, trying not to make the move look obvious.

  “You totally did, oh my God.”

  “You’re a dirty stinking liar, Frances Leigh Henderson.”

  Full naming her only made Frankie laugh. “I wasn’t judging, you know.”

  “I know.”

  “You’re nervous.”

  “No, I’m not,” James said automatically.

  Frankie came into the room and bounced on the bed. James had changed the sheets, even though he knew there was no way in hell Dylan would be staying over. They needed to be changed anyway. And the pile of clothes he’d shoved into the washer needed to be washed. He could justify all of this… whatever he was doing.

  Cleaning.

  “Is Luis still coming over?” James asked.

  “Yeah, but not until later. He has to watch his brothers until his mom gets off work.”

  James nodded. “Okay. He knows, right? About… about me and Dylan? I won’t be mad at you if you told him.”

  “I mentioned that you have a boyfriend, yeah,” she said. “He doesn’t have a problem with it, in case you were wondering.”

  “Okay. Good.”

  Frankie smiled. She had spent most of the morning making the few dishes that were always her thing when they had a cookout—an awesome potato salad, prepping corn, and a big bowl of dirty rice that James always demolished. Now that things were almost ready to go, she’d changed into a pretty summer dress, blue with white birds on it, and twisted her hair up.

  “You look nice, by the way,” James said.

  “Thanks.” She seemed genuinely pleased.

  James’s phone buzzed with a message, and he almost tripped over his feet as he lunged to grab it from his desk.

  I’m outside.

  He glanced out the window, and sure enough, Dylan’s car was parked just down the street.

  I’m home. Come on in.

  “Dylan’s here.”

  “Great, I want to meet him,” Frankie said with a grin. She hopped off James’s bed and wandered back through to her own room. James took a deep breath, checked his reflection in the mirror on the back of the bathroom door, then headed downstairs.

  He managed to get the front door open before Dylan knocked.

  “Hey,” James said, grabbing Dylan’s wrist and pulling him in for a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  Dylan was dressed nice, in a henley and dark jeans. Nothing too fancy for a backyard cookout, but still nice. He had the sleeves of the shirt pushed up to his elbows, showing off his forearms. James wasn’t entirely sure when he started finding forearms attractive. Probably around the time he met Dylan.

  “You look great,” Dylan said. He reached for James’s hand and squeezed it gently.

  “Thanks. So do you. Let me show you around?”

  “Sure,” Dylan nodded.

  James didn’t let go of his hand as he turned and led Dylan up the stairs.

  “Wait, this is you?” Dylan asked, stopping to study the photos.

  “Ugh. Yeah. I was weird-looking up until I was, like, twelve. Then I hit puberty and looked weird up until… well, I guess I still do.”

  “You don’t look weird at all,” Dylan said, laughing. “You were cute. You still are.”

  James wondered if he was blushing. “Thanks. Come on.”

  He led Dylan upstairs, probably talking too much as he gestured around, explaining where some of the pictures on the walls had come from, how his dad had turned the family bathroom into James and Frankie’s shared bathroom when they were four and finally moved into their own rooms.

  “So, yeah, this is my room,” James said, gesturing Dylan inside.

  Dylan looked around for a moment. “It’s nice.”

  “Sure, you have to say that.” James pushed his fingers through his hair, so nervous, for reasons he couldn’t name.

  “I mean it,” Dylan said, glancing back.

  James nudged the door closed, and Dylan pulled him in, then gently turned James around so his back was against Dylan’s chest.

  “You have a nice bed,” Dylan murmured, propping his chin on James’s shoulder and wrapping his arms around his waist. “It seems… sturdy.”

  “Dude.”

  Dylan huffed a laugh. “I like the movie posters.”

  “I got them from work. Sometimes we have a raffle or whatever if there’s a lot of people who want a certain poster.”

  “And you got both Guardians of the Galaxy posters?”

  “I pulled in a favor,” James said, turning his head to grin at Dylan. “I may or may not have a crush on Chris Pratt.”

  “I was wondering if it was him or if you were just a Jurassic Park fan too.”

  “I am that,” James said. “Dinosaurs rock.”

  Dylan tipped his head so he could kiss James’s cheek. “Agreed.”

  “After I saw your room, I thought everything in here was really… I don’t know, babyish.”

  “No.” Dyl
an shook his head. “I don’t have any mementos from when I was growing up. Or not many, anyway. It’s nice that you still have them and keep them out.”

  James had a whole shelf of his bookcase dedicated to little souvenirs he’d collected from family vacations, awards from school, things he’d collated over the years. Knowing that Dylan had never had the chance to collect anything made him quickly and painfully sad.

  James turned in Dylan’s embrace and wrapped his arms around Dylan’s neck. “Thanks for coming over today,” he said softly.

  Dylan grinned. “Thanks for inviting me.”

  His expression held a question that James wanted to answer. He rose up on his toes and pressed his lips to Dylan’s, just gently at first, then Dylan’s arms tightened around his waist and James took this as encouragement to flick his tongue against Dylan’s bottom lip.

  “James!” Frankie yelled.

  James pulled away with a huff, making Dylan grin at him. He gently slipped his hands around to cup Dylan’s jaw, brushing his thumbs over Dylan’s cheeks. Dylan leaned in and kissed him again.

  “Come on,” he said gently and took James’s hand in his own.

  James followed Dylan back down the stairs, wondering what he would have said if Frankie hadn’t interrupted them. The thought bubbled away, stinging at a weird point under his sternum.

  From the kitchen, James could hear people talking, so he headed that way. The man standing next to his dad was vaguely familiar, until James remembered dashing past him on his way out a few weeks back.

  The man stopped talking to James’s dad and looked at Dylan in surprise.

  “Steve?” Dylan said, his hand slipping from James’s.

  “Hey, Dylan. I thought I saw your car outside.” Steve looked confused. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m with James,” he said.

  James felt a growing, gnawing dread start to spread through his stomach.

  “Dylan is…,” James’s dad started.

  “My son,” Steve finished.

  No.

  “Your son.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And Steve is the guy you’re dating,” James said, pointing at Steve.

  No, no, no….

  “Holy shit,” Frankie murmured.