Heartsville 04 - Clique (Jayden Brooks) (7 page)

But where to start?

With one last lingering glance at my monitor, I let myself out of the studio, locking the door behind me. Critical thinking required coffee. I sent a quick text to Brandon to see if he was nearby and free. Maybe we could grab something to eat as well. The reply was near instantaneous. And verbal. Huh? I cocked my head in confusion.

“Perfect timing. I was on my way to liberate you,” said his amused voice from behind me.

I spun around, a wide smile claiming my face. It took everything in me to suppress the urge to sigh and swoon. He was perfectly disheveled, wearing aged jeans, a hoodie with a frayed Henley peeking out from the waist, and a pair of chucks.

“As long as it includes coffee, I’m game for whatever you have in mind.”

His eyes lit up and his smile grew. With a glance at the darkened studio, he asked, “Are you calling it a night with the edits?”

“Yeah, I need to step away for a while.” I met his gaze. “And I want to hang out with you.”

“I’m glad.” I felt his hand grip mine and looked down in time to watch as he threaded his fingers with mine. I bit my lip. The sight did funny things to my chest. Shaking it off, I began asking about his day. Before I knew it, we were walking into the crowded Riverside Diner. The dinner rush was in full swing, so I was surprised when Brandon bypassed the hostess station and led me to a table already occupied—by his parents.

I gulped and darted a frantic glance around the diner, seeking a friendly face, someone to rescue me. There was no one. Brandon snorted and squeezed my hand. “Relax, this’ll be fun.”

I gasped, shot him a scowl, and hissed, “Will you be saying that each time I meet your parents?”

He smirked. “Maybe.” But I could tell he was pleased by my reaction.

After the greetings were out of the way, we settled at the table. I used the time to scrutinize the menu, the same menu I knew by heart, and let their conversation wash over me. It wasn’t hiding. Not really. It was more like acclimating. I had the distinct impression Karen was underwhelmed by my presence in her son’s life.

I surveyed the table to gauge the mood of both parents. Walter appeared relaxed and absorbed in sharing a tale about their most recent trip abroad. They’d just returned from two weeks in Greece. When I glanced Karen’s way, I was startled to find her watching me with a worrisome intensity. Her gaze was hard to hold, and after a while I swear I could practically feel her rooting around my brain to unearth my darkest, dirtiest secret. The idea struck me as funny. Hilarious, actually. The grin that overtook my face was instantaneous and unstoppable. Which, based on how fast her expression lightened, confounded her. But my blinding smile wasn’t up to the task of diverting Brandon’s protective mom. Maybe I should take lessons from Milo. She’d like Milo. The thought was enough to get my back up.
Tough shit, Karen. I’m not going anywhere.

Her lips pinched, and her eyes narrowed.

My, my, my. We were locked in a silent skirmish. I sat straighter and wiggled my bottom into the seat, mentally loosening up like a boxer about to climb into the ring.

A glint of challenge entered her eyes. “I understand you have no pets. Why’s that? Don’t they like you?”

The father-and-son conversation came to an abrupt stop. Walter turned to his wife with a vaguely horrified expression. Like even he couldn’t believe his darling wife could open with such a gambit.

My gut instinct was to sass and snark back. Meet like with like. And while it might be fun to start, it’d get old quick. That didn't mean I was ready to belly up. I kept my gaze steady and answered in an even tone, “It wouldn’t be fair with the amount of hours I work.”

“You don’t have time for a dog or even a cat? Oh, then I guess I don’t have to worry about you trying to date my son.”

Brandon’s swift inhale alerted me of his intent to intervene, but it wasn’t necessary. I halted him with a hand on his arm.

“You’re right. There’s nothing for you to worry about.” Brandon tensed beside me, but I continued, “Since I have a great new boyfriend and an in with the best dog walker in Heartsville, I’m getting a dog.”

Karen’s eyes narrowed. “Breeder or adoption?”

“Adoption, of course.”

She nodded. “I’ll drop an adoption application off at your studio. You’ll go through PAWS.” It wasn’t a question. “I’ll personally see to your home visit.”

“Home visit?” I squeaked.
What just happened?

The desperate look I turned on Brandon was met with a light peck on my lips. My gaze darted nervously to Karen and found her looking on with a tender expression. Weird.

“Hello, Mr. Brandon.” A tiny girl with enormous chocolate eyes and a mass of black curls pulled into a stylishly messy bun stood next to our table. She couldn’t have been more than four or five years old, but her assessing gaze suggested otherwise.

“Hello, Jennifer.” Brandon swiveled in his seat effectively blocking my view. “Are you here with your dad?”

“Well, yeah.” You would have had to be deaf to miss the sass she was serving up. “They don’t exactly let me run around without an adult, ya know.”

In order to get a better look at her, I plastered myself to Brandon’s muscular back and rested my chin on his shoulder.

She was decked out in a Bastille T-shirt, black jeans, and precisely laced red chucks. But it was the attitude dripping off this kid that had my fingers itching for a camera. Arms folded, hip cocked, and foot tapping, she nodded her chin in my direction and asked, “Who’s the new guy?”

Brandon’s dad was doing his best to smother his mirth.

When Brandon took too long to answer, she shrugged and continued, “While I’m visiting my grandma this weekend, my daddy wants you to take care of Mr. Snuggles.” She glanced to a booth near the window.

The man sitting at the booth lifted a hand in greeting and smiled. He was absolutely gorgeous with deeply tanned skin and a powerful build that the booth did little to hide.

I grumbled, “Hell no.”

Eight

“My parents picked up the dogs right before dinner, so there wasn’t time to clean up,” Brandon announced apologetically as we stepped into his house.

I shrugged. I didn’t care about a mess or a little dog fur. I was too busy worrying that little Jennifer’s daddy wanted my guy for more than his dog-walking services.

The fact that Brandon didn’t acknowledged my growl of displeasure bugged me. But it was the part where he had responded, “Tell your dad I’ll give him a call,” that had me doubting myself. And why not? I’m the one who declared us boyfriends—to his mother, no less. Who the hell was I to make that sort of assumption? An idiot. That was who.

Kicking off my shoes, I stared at the room without seeing anything beyond a seething cauldron of frustration. Most of which was directed at myself.

“Adam.”

“Yeah?”

“C’mere, I want to show you something.”

I glanced toward the door and briefly considered heading home, but then I looked to where he sat on the couch. His warm smile beckoned, and I couldn’t refuse. Once I was within reach, he tugged me to sprawl across his lap.

“Ugh. What’re you doing?” I didn’t struggle, but I wasn’t curling into him like I really wanted to either.

“Look.” He handed me his cell phone with a massive St. Bernard filling the screen.

I looked at him in confusion. “What am I looking at?”

“This is Mr. Snuggles,” he answered.

“Yeah?”

“Yep. He’s a handful, and when he doesn’t get enough exercise or attention, he tends to get into trouble.”

I stared at the photo and tried to sort through the unfamiliar feelings of insecurity. I gave myself a mental kick in the ass. I was being stupid. I relaxed into his hold and asked, “What kind of trouble?”

He hummed in appreciation. “Chewing the staircase, the table. Everything. He’s especially destructive after he’s been in his crate for more than a few hours.”

“Wow.” I laid my finger on the screen and wiggled it a smidgeon—the universal sign for I’m about to scroll through your camera roll—and gave Brandon ample time to snatch the device away. When he did nothing, I looked at him with my brows raised in question. I might be nosy, but I wasn’t demanding an all-access pass. Besides, I had already pushed my luck with the boyfriend announcement.

He snorted. “Go ahead.”

There were more pictures of Mr. Snuggles and Jennifer and her dad. Jay’sus. The guy looked ready to compete for the Mr. Universe title.

“I met them when I first came back into town. Rory is a professional bodybuilder and a personal trainer at Pumped. When he has a competition, he sends Jennifer to her grandparents’ house and hires me to look after Mr. Snuggles.”

“Ah.” Now that he mentioned it, I vaguely recalled seeing Rory at Pumped. Not that I spent much time in the free weights area of the gym. I prefer jogging or swimming… or neither. Hoping he’d continue talking, I remained silent. When that didn’t work, I shifted and subtly elbowed him in the gut.

“Nice.” Okay, so my subtlety technique needed some fine tuning. “What do you want to know?”

I grumbled, “Why can’t you be like the rest of the world? Normally I can’t get people to shut up long enough to get a word in edgewise. With you, it’s like trying to hack the launch codes.”

His chest shook in silent laughter. “I’m not that bad.”

My expression must have conveyed my disagreement. “Okay, I am that bad. How about you ask a question and I’ll answer it?”

I shook my head. “We tried that.”

“Try again,” he insisted. Before I could speak, he nudged me off his lap and shifted to lie on the couch, then pulled me to spoon against his chest.

Hmm. The position held promise. I wiggled my tush and did a little snuggling of my own.

“None of that now. Ask me.”

“Why’d you leave your job at the Merch?” I held my breath, hoping that I hadn’t jumped the gun.

He sighed. “My lifestyle was crap. Mostly sedentary… horrible diet. Long hours and very little sleep.” He rubbed down my chest and slid his hand under my sweater. “Your skin is so soft.”

I clutched his arm, stilling the movement. “Keep going.”

He huffed. My dick howled. Nobody was happy, but I was determined to learn more about him. “What happened?”

“I had an episode. Well, I had a few of them, actually. But then I woke up in the hospital with my parents frantic in the hallway.” His voice broke. “That started a battery of tests, none of them pleasant. I was working myself toward an acute case of cardiovascular disease.”

The mere idea horrified me. I rolled over, shoved my face under his chin, and hugged him tightly. There was no way he didn’t notice the way I trembled as he explained being told to change his lifestyle or accept the likelihood of dying before he reached forty.

I cleared my throat. “So you moved back home.”

“Yeah. I stayed with my parents until I sold my condo. My mom,” he chuckled, “she had just retired from being a cardiac nurse.”

“Bet that made things interesting.”

Brandon’s voice hushed. “I like how you know that. I mean, you’ve only met her twice.”

I huffed. “She makes a distinct impression.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t let her scare you off.” His raspy voice fairly dripped with praise.

Startled, I pulled back my head to meet this gaze. “Maybe not, but I sure let my mouth run.” I dropped my forehead to rest on his chin. “You must have thought I’d lost my mind.” I groaned.

“About wanting a dog?”

“Um… not that part. The boyfriend part.”

The change in his body was instantaneous—from languid to tension filled.

A thread of apprehension snaked down my spine. Just as I was about to apologize, Brandon rolled and straddled my hips. All I could do was blink up at him. It was all I could do because, regardless of his stern expression and flexing jaw, I couldn’t concentrate beyond my hard cock being deliciously smushed by his firm ass. My eyes sank closed as I hummed in pleasure and flexed my hips to increase the pressure. I could come like this.

A strangled gasp escaped at the brutal pinch of my nipple. I glared at him. “What’s that for?”

“First, we aren’t done with the Q&A session. Second, I liked the boyfriend part. I’m keeping the title.” He leaned forward, rubbing his soft beard across my face. “You weren’t trying to toss me aside, were you?” he cooed softly.

I struggled to formulate words. When I didn’t respond quickly enough, he lifted his butt.

“No, don’t go,” I begged.

He chuckled. “Next question.”

Growling, I clutched his flanks. “You’re mean.” I sagged into the sofa. “Fine. Dog walking, how or why?” I really wanted to know the answer, but I also really wanted to come. I didn’t particularly care how, just that it happened soon.

Before he deemed to answer, he once again rearranged us on the couch. I grumbled, but I secretly loved his strength and size. “Okay, let’s see. Dog walking…. My mom railroaded me into it right along with an entire health regime including nutrition and exercise.” He snorted. “In addition to the personal trainer—”