Behind Iron Lace

Mercy Celeste

Copyright

Behind Iron Lace and Lagniappe is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Behind Iron Lace

Copyright © 2011 by Mercy Celeste

Lagniappe

Copyright © 2015 by Mercy Celeste

All rights reserved.

Published in the United States by Mercy Celeste

Warning: All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any many without written permission, except for brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Contact the publisher for further information:

mercyceleste@gmail.com

Acknowledgements

Cover art provided by

Reece Notley

Author’s Note: I published Behind Iron Lace almost four years ago with a publisher who was less than honest. I call this book ‘the cursed book’. In all these years, I’ve been asked if I will ever revisit Caleb and Darcy. Now that the rights for this story have once again reverted me, I am happy to say that I did revisit the story that started it all for me. I am taking back this book. I made it mine again.

In my part of the world we have a saying, a little something extra, a gift, a thank you for all that you’ve done…we have lagniappe, pronounced lan yap. After nearly four years, I am giving you a bit of lagniappe as a thank you for everything. Lagniappe in the form of a thirty thousand word addition to Behind Iron Lace. Thank you for buying the original, stay after the end for the new.

And now, for the rest of the story….

Mercy

One

The offices of Y not ask Y! were like an oven. Strike that—the temperature was unbearably close to sauna level, if said sauna just happened to be located in hell. What a day for the damned air-conditioning unit to die. Wiping sweat from his forehead before it could drip into his eyes, Darcy Butler glanced up towards the ceiling fans almost in supplication. He prayed for a hint of cool air. Just a hint. One slight breeze, was it too much to ask?

One hundred degrees in the shade, with a heat index of nearly one-ten, according to the radio. God, how do people live like this? he wondered, and not for the first time since moving to New Orleans last winter. It was too hot to do anything but lie naked in a tub of ice. Shit, it was only June, early June at that—still spring. Summer was still to come and, if spring were any indication, he was not going to survive to see the fall.

“I absolutely cannot do this today,” he said to the two people sitting across from his desk. He couldn’t focus on the budget or any other trivial little detail. Irritated, he tossed a pencil on his blotter and peeled his sodden shirt away from his body. “I’m afraid someone might die of heat exhaustion if we don’t get out of here.”

“Why don’t we call it a day then, Dar? The repair crew can’t get here until tomorrow anyway.” His partner Bailey flashed him a suggestive smile that he studiously ignored. “I, for one, wouldn’t mind finding a nice cool pool to slip into.”

He and Bailey went all the way back to freshman year at college when they had been dreaming of setting the world on fire. Now it looked as if they would spontaneously combust before they ever got the chance. Or, worse, melt clean away. “I will gladly settle for an air-conditioned bar and a cold beer. Okay, yeah, send everyone home—we’re not going to get anything done today. Tomorrow either…” He paused for a moment. There was something he had to do today, he just couldn’t remember. Then it dawned on him. “Oh crap, I have an appointment with a new graphic artist in an hour.”

“What’s the name?” Bailey spun his phone around and, with a few deft finger jabs, she paged through his appointments. “Caleb Mitchell?” She raised a questioning brow, to which Darcy nodded, and she shot off a text in seconds flat. “I told him to meet you at O’Doul’s down the street instead of here.”

“Thanks, Bailey.” Darcy hated the damned phone, hated text messaging, hated technology. Sometimes he wondered how he’d ended up in a technology-based field at all, publisher of his very own e-magazine that—thanks largely to Bailey and Chester, her secretary—they’d somehow managed to take international, even in a tanking economy.

Moving to New Orleans last Christmas had been a money-saver, he reluctantly admitted, though he still wasn’t entirely happy about the move. The building was in the heart of the French Quarter and, because of the damage to the lower floor, it had been a steal. With a little time and a little more money, Darcy had managed to find a talented group of contractors who’d made quick work of bringing the building back to life.

During the winter and the gorgeous spring, Darcy had been quite happy with his new home… Then June and this ridiculous heat wave had hit. Now he just wanted to go back to Oregon and the tranquility of a mild, heat-free summer. He tried not to panic whenever some well-meaning local assured him this was nothing, that he should wait until summer really got here in August. He wasn’t going to make it to August.

“Aw, shucks, boss, ’tweren’t nuthin’.” She laughed, not really at him as much as because he was a hopeless technophobe. Darcy just took the teasing in stride, mostly because it was funny as hell. He’d long ago decided Bailey could have the gadgets all to herself. He’d stick with words and content, thank you very much.

Glancing over to the man sitting beside her, Darcy caught Chester smirking. Chester seemed to smirk a great deal, Darcy thought briefly before wondering for the millionth or so time what sort of pseudo-symbiotic relationship the two of them had.

His long-time best friend and sometimes lover, Bailey was taller than him, taller than Chester too—nearly six-foot one in her bare feet—and slender as the proverbial reed. She kept her straight hair short, in one of those weird Japanese comic book styles, very short in back with longish bangs framing her face. She dressed like a supermodel, preferring anything couture she could get for bottom basement prices off the Internet. Today was no exception, except she was dressed for the weather, while he wasn’t.

Chester… Did the man even have a last name? Chester was prime-grade emo kid, all grown up and graduated to hipster. He was so thin Darcy wondered if he actually ate at all. His hair stood in chopped spikes, the tips blond and whatever color he liked for the day—today the tips were turquoise to match his surfer tee. He was younger than either of them, maybe twenty-three, probably even younger. He’d started out as an intern from U of O last fall and had followed them down to be Bailey’s secretary.

To Darcy, Chester was just a glorified gopher groupie and a major pain in his ass. However, Bailey loved him, swore she couldn’t get along without him. Darcy wasn’t quite so enamored. When he was especially homesick, like now, his imagination liked to run amok. Sometimes he imagined Chester was plotting his demise behind those huge emo eyes of his. The smirk he wore so often seemed to lend credence to the suspicion.

Despite the heat and the sweat, Darcy shivered when Chester’s gaze cut through him, almost dismissively, to land on Bailey.

“Okay, I guess that’s a day then, gang. Free the horde and let’s all go find someplace cool before we stroke out.” He shook off the momentary miasma of paranoia and shooed them out of his office. Remembering something, he shouted, “Oh and don’t forget, bright and early Thursday morning, air conditioning willing, we are going to put up the galleys for next week’s mag. So be here with bells on.”

“Okay boss.” Bailey stuck her head in through the doorway. Waving a quick little pinkie in the air, she disappeared. A couple of minutes later, Darcy heard a mass, almost hysterical chorus of relieved cheers as the sweaty employees were told to take the party elsewhere.

Darcy went about closing his office down. He transferred data to his phone from his computer, the task taking him longer than it would have Bailey—or anyone else in the office, for that matter. While he worked, the outer office began to grow quiet as people put their own workstations to sleep and left for cooler atmospheres and an unscheduled vacation.

“Hey, do you want me to come with you to O’Doul’s? Afterward we can go hang out somewhere.” Bailey, sans Chester, poked her head into his office, startling him. Her cornflower-blue eyes looked hopeful but wary, turning almost morose when he shook his head no. “Aw, come on, Dar, you never have time to just hang out anymore.”

“I’m just tired, Bai. It’s this heat. When the weather cools down…” He let the promise trail off. He couldn’t explain why to her. Hell, he didn’t know why he didn’t want to hang out anymore. That he just didn’t feel like it wasn’t enough of an excuse, at least not one she would let pass without wanting to dissect it. And Darcy sure as hell didn’t want to be dissected right now.

“Okay, we’re all going over to Megan’s place for drinks around her pool. If you change your mind, you know where to find us.” She masked her disappointment behind a smile, but he could hear it in her voice.

“Sure, and hey, you know I love you, right?” He wanted to see her smile again—really smile, instead of the plastered-on, social smile that seemed to be part of her uniform where he was concerned.

“I love you too. I’ll see you Thursday.” She smiled wanly and in a flurry of loose flowing skirt she was gone, leaving him alone to lock up.

It was Chester. Of course, it was Chester. She called him ‘Chess’, which irritated him, much like ‘Dar’ irritated him, only worse. Bailey and her preference for nicknames had always baffled him. Darcy knew one thing—Bailey only gave nicknames to people she had some use for. He couldn’t call this thing between them love. He’d never really thought she loved him.

Chester had come between them long before they’d left Oregon behind for the Big Easy. Darcy had suspected that as early as last September, when she had dropped the last syllable of his name. Of course, he wasn’t going to blame anything on the appearance of a nickname. There were other indications that they were sleeping together. She would take Chester’s call when they were together. Darcy lost track of the number of conversations in which Chester was the only topic. He was young, fresh, idealistic, not burdened down by his own mortality.

Sex had become infrequent, but that was Darcy’s fault more than hers. He just didn’t like thinking there was a third person in bed with them. As a result, they’d drifted apart before the move—the last time he’d slept at her place was long before Christmas, and then, not much had happened. He’d shrugged it off. Blamed the magazine, blamed her for letting Chester come between them, for losing interest.

Darcy didn’t delude himself, he knew it was him. He’d lost interest long before Chester came along. The friends-with-benefits relationship they’d shared since college didn’t excite him anymore. He wanted something else. But damned if he knew what that something else was.

Shaking off the unwanted thoughts, Darcy loped down the three flights of stairs and locked up. The very second he hit the street, heat engulfed him, heavy, damp heat that seemed to seep into his very bones. He inhaled deeply, hoping to clear his head, but the stench made him gag. The assorted odors of New Orleans had never grown on him. The river, the lake, the aging city all combined to create an odd smell that he couldn’t get used to. Today was one of those days. The oppressive heat, the swamp-like humidity, the bum pissing in the alley… Shit, he wanted to go home.

O’Doul’s Pub, just up the street, was a welcome relief from the heat. It was open, filled with light and music at all times of the day or night, and, most importantly, the bar was blessed with a working air conditioner.

“Hey, Ducky, you want the usual?” the bartender called to him the second he stepped inside, a smile on his face. The taunting nickname Darcy could live with. He was proud to be a Duck.

“Anything, as long as it’s cold. God, it feels like heaven in here.”

“I heard about your AC problems. Damned copper thieves most likely got to it. They stripped mine clean last year. Not once, but twice. Cost me a fortune to replace, but what you gonna do? You gotta have it.” The bartender talked while he reached into a barrel filled with ice and pulled out a bottle of the imported beer Darcy loved, popped the top and handed it to him.

“Start a tab for me, will ya? I’m meeting someone, an artist for the magazine. I want to impress him. He’s gifted, just what we need to class up the joint.” Darcy found a booth with the best possible vantage point, beneath one of the industrial-sized air vents, so he could watch the front window and get as much of the blasting air as he possibly could.

“Sure thing, Ducky. You want some lunch or should I just call the paramedics now?” The bartender hitched his eyebrows as he looked him up and down.

“I look that bad, huh? I can’t get used to this heat.” He tried to make his voice light.

“This ain’t hot, cher, not by a long shot. Just wait till August, then we’ll talk about heat.” And there it was—the mocking grin, the familiar yet oh so hated litany that made Darcy physically fear the coming of August.

“Yeah, yeah, so you keep telling me. Send me out a sandwich or something, but after I stop sweating.” He held the bottle in a salute and caved into the wonderfully cool leatherette booth with a sigh.

Two beers later, Darcy felt humanoid again. His button-down shirt was rumpled, but at least it was dry now. He’d long ago done away with his tie and loosened his collar. Hell, he’d even rolled up his sleeves to his elbows. He felt like a slob, but he was cool and that was all that mattered.

Caleb Mitchell’s file lay out on the table before him. Just the basics, no formal schooling. He’d done time trotting around the globe, photographing war and unrest. His paintings had been displayed in New York, London and France. Impressive. Why he wanted to freelance for Darcy’s little e-mag was beyond him, but he wasn’t about to turn up his nose at talent.

He heard the rumble of an engine before the motorcycle pulled up outside and parked in front of the bar. The rider, dressed in faded blue jeans and a plain white T-shirt covered with an unbuttoned brown leather vest, pulled the helmet off and brushed his hair back from his face.

Fascinated, Darcy watched him climb off the bike and saunter into the bar. He stopped to talk to the bartender and, while Darcy watched, they both looked at him. The biker’s gaze seemed to caress him as he walked in his direction. He had an easy, infectious smile, his gait long and rolling. Jesus, this was Caleb Mitchell?

“You’re Darcy Butler?” He didn’t wait for Darcy to say a word. He just fell into the seat across from him, laying his long, tan arms on the table. Smooth, muscular arms adorned with silver chain bracelets of varying sizes that moved fluidly as he did. “I was expecting a woman… Sorry, that was rude.”

“I get that a lot, the curse of a romance-loving mother. She named me after her favorite heroes and didn’t seem to think I’d get my ass kicked for it. You must be Caleb Mitchell. It’s nice to meet you, Mr Mitchell. I must say, I’m a fan of your work.” Darcy didn’t know why he was babbling like a fish. He hadn’t expected the man to look like a movie star version of a Hell’s Angel biker. Or that he’d have such piercing eyes. Green eyes. Damn. He cleared his throat.

“Mr Mitchell was my father, just Caleb is fine.” He pulled his file over without even asking. “I see you’ve done your homework. I look pretty good on paper.”

In real life too.

Jesus, why in the hell did he just think that? He cleared his throat again. “What is it about my magazine that interests you? Certainly not the pay. A talent like yours, you could go anywhere. Not that I’m not flattered, and we could certainly use you. I’m just curious.”

“I’m bored. You’re here,” Caleb stated simply, his smile growing wider as his gaze went to the bottle Darcy tipped to his lips.

“Pardon me, where are my manners? Can I get you a drink, some lunch? I’m sorry to have changed the meeting place but the air conditioning quit at the office and the heat was just unbearable.” Babbling again, shit.

“Probably copper thieves. Little pricks can strip a unit faster than you can sneeze.” Caleb had a wonderful accent, not really regional, more like you’d hear in old movies—a long, slow drawl, very southern. “I’ll have one of those, thanks.”

Darcy raised his bottle and stuck up two fingers. The bartender smiled and nodded. “Sure thing, Ducky. You want that sandwich now or later?”

“Now would be great. Whatever you got up there, O’Doul,” Caleb shouted before Darcy had a chance.

“Sure thing, Caleb.” The bartender grinned and sent back a shout to his kitchen staff.

“I come here a lot when I’m in town. Only the locals know this place, it’s off the main tourist drag and I like the sandwiches. Why’d O’Doul call you Ducky?” Caleb looked him over, his intelligent eyes filled with a curiosity that had Darcy to the point of blushing.

“I graduated from the University of Oregon. Made the mistake of telling him, been stuck with the name ever since.” What was it about this man that made him want to talk?

“Them Ducks nearly beat Auburn last year in the BCS Championship, nothing to be ashamed of there. We judge people by the quality of their football program down here, if you haven’t figured it out yet.” Caleb’s laughter rumbled across the table, making Darcy smile.

“Yeah, well, I did notice, about a week after I moved here.” He picked at the label on his empty bottle under the unwavering green gaze.

“What part of Oregon are you from?” Caleb pushed his hair back from his face with a practiced move, the chains gliding from his wrist to his forearm. His hair was all one length. Pushed back, it fell to his collar, brown with blond highlights he hadn’t got from a bottle.

Darcy cleared his throat before he spoke. “Astoria, on the Oregon coast.”

“Yeah? It’s a gorgeous town. I went whale watching up there a couple of years ago and stayed in Astoria.”

“Where are you from originally, if you don’t mind me asking? You don’t exactly have the native accent.” Curiosity finally got the better of him.

“Oh, cher, you have no idea how long it took to get rid of my accent.” His voice changed, growing more melodic, his accent thicker even than O’Doul’s. “But no, I’m not born down here, you are right about that. My mama, she came from here. I spent most of my life on the bayou, seems like, here and in South Carolina. I speak low-country tidal and Cajun as a first language. You have no idea how messed up that is.” He shifted back to his original accent with ease as O’Doul brought out their sandwich baskets.

“Don’t mess with the boy’s head, cher, he’s new around here.” O’Doul smiled at the two of them, then winked at Darcy before he left them alone.

“Hey, O’Doul, you think I ought to go work at this here boy’s magazine?” Caleb said suddenly, seeming to catch himself off guard if the look in his eyes was any indication, the Cajun accent infusing his speech almost as if it were unintentional.

“It’s a pretty good rag, cher. You want to kill it before it can do any good?” The bartender laughed, his eyes sparkling with good humor.

“I don’t aim to class it up none, no. Thought it would class me up a tad,” Caleb shot back in the same accent. Darcy just sat and watched them banter.

“Not gonna happen. You need the dough?”

“No, cher, I got too much of that.”

“Then, if Ducky there is willing to take your bullshit on, go for it. Can’t hurt none, and might keep you out of trouble.”

“You willing to take my bullshit on, Ducky? And believe me, I come with some heavy shit. You might regret it before it’s said and done.” Caleb turned serious, his eyes losing some of the sparkle.

Darcy took a bite of the sandwich, hot beef juices searing the back of his throat while he wondered how he’d gone from being the interviewer to the interviewee. He swallowed, watching Caleb watch him.

“I believe we can come to some arrangement.”

* * * *

Darcy Butler sure as fuck wasn’t what Caleb had expected. Beyond the obvious button-down oxford, khaki slacks, penny loafers and rimless glasses was a prep-school do-gooder who had never extended his style past the basic uniform. Behind those glasses was a pair of brilliant blue eyes that had caught Caleb’s attention before he’d even known the man was the person he was there to meet.

Dark hair and blue eyes always did it for him. Man, woman, it didn’t matter—he was a sucker for the combo. A blatant curiosity filled those eyes. Caleb had noticed it the moment he stepped inside, and he’d tried to pretend not to see him staring. He tried not to let the caress of those eyes get to him. But they did, tricking him into letting the flirt loose. So there he sat, laying on the charm just to see Darcy’s boy-next-door face blush a rosy red.

Caleb watched as he bit into the oversized roast beef sandwich, licking at the trickle of beef juice that eased down his chin. Caleb had to turn his head before the urge to help him lick it clean became a compulsion he couldn’t control. Damn, shit, fuck.

“I believe we can come to more than an arrangement.” Damn, he hoped that didn’t sound like a come-on. This was supposed to be a job interview. He’d discovered the offices a few weeks ago just down the street, stopped in and asked what sort of magazine they were. The receptionist had handed him a brochure with their basic information.

Started in Oregon by a bunch of fed-up, unemployed college graduates, the magazine sought to tell the truth—as they saw it, at least. But it wasn’t a political magazine, which was what he had expected when he’d logged on. Or a celebrity tattler either. They did product reviews, covered some social stuff, vacation destinations, aimed at Gen Y. Y not ask Y! Stupid name, but catchy. Lately they’d been instrumental in helping the generation get back on its feet after the recession had hit them hard.

Y not ask Y! had grown out of that movement. Information for the next decade, information that was practical and timely. He liked what he saw. Mostly.

“I like your magazine, Darcy. I’ve been on the edge of self-employed for the last fifteen years. I can get behind a company that not only promotes self-starters, but also are self-starters. But, frankly, your art department is lacking, sorry to be the one to tell you.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s true. We had a genius art director before we left Oregon. She didn’t want to come with us, and, unfortunately, doing business via the Internet and fax machine became tiresome. Since then, we’ve muddled through. I’m not much of an artist, I’m the editor. Bailey, my partner, runs the IT department, and handles advertising and sales. Somehow, we muck something together every week. It could look cleaner, I admit.” Darcy gave up trying to manhandle the messy sandwich, going for a fork instead to shovel it into his mouth.

“Your photographers aren’t so great either. Hate to say it.” Caleb liked watching him eat. His bottom lip was full, his top not as much, straight white teeth. His hands were long, slender, his arms smooth as a baby’s bottom. So smooth, he wanted to slide his fingers under Darcy’s sleeve and just caress… Christ. Now was not the time.

“Sure, they’re just kids with cheap digital cameras, after all. Listen, Caleb, really, I know what you can do for me—your art, photography and otherwise, has been shown in galleries around the world. You won a Pulitzer, for crying out loud. I have to ask, for real, what is it I can do for you?” He wiped his mouth with a paper napkin, his eyes sparkling with curiosity, his lips tilted into a smile.

Oh, Lord, why didn’t the man know what that one statement did to him?

“Like I said before, I’m bored. I can’t travel for a while, I need something to keep my mind occupied or I will get into trouble, and you’re local. What else is there? I don’t need the money, but it would be nice to make some to appease the IRS if nothing else. I have something you need, you have something I need—win, win.”

“All right, I guess the gig is yours. Bailey and I will get you set up tomorrow… Shit, I forgot, we’re not opening tomorrow because of the air-conditioning situation, damn. Thursday, the new galleys need to be edited for Friday morning publication. I’d hoped you could look this week’s over, tweak it some before we put it to bed, but the building is like an oven, the fans are just pushing around hot air.”

“Not a problem. Why don’t you come out to the house tomorrow, bring what you have. I have everything I need in my studio.” Caleb reached for his wallet, pulled out his business card, and wrote his home address on the back. “Just plug the address in your GPS. It’s about an hour outside the city. And, between you and me, you might want to dress for the heat.”

Darcy blushed and cleared his throat again. Did he have no clue how attractive he was? Caleb resisted the urge to reach across the table and wipe the tiny dot of mayonnaise off his chin. “Bring your partner—Bailey, was it? Bring Bailey and anyone else you like. We’ll have lunch, get to know each other.”

It had been such a long time since he had felt the need to flirt. Hell, the urge to flip the man on his back and taste those luscious lips was nearly overpowering. Christ, the man already had a partner. Easy, Boudreaux, rein it in, he told himself. But damn, it didn’t work. Hot, bothered, and horny as hell, Caleb sat there picking at the roast beef sandwich and drinking beer, as if he had nothing better to do.

“I’ll call Bailey, see if she has plans for tomorrow already, and Chester. You’ll meet Chester—he’s Bailey’s boy Friday.”

Bailey was a she… Well that put a different spin on things entirely. Caleb perked up at the news. There was a hint of distaste when Darcy spoke of Chester.

“I take it you don’t have a boy Friday then?” Caleb weighed his words carefully, not that it was any of his business, really, if Darcy had a boy or girl Friday. It had been so long since he had worked in an office, maybe he shouldn’t initiate an office romance, especially with the boss. When had he ever done anything he was supposed to do anyway?

“Ah, no, I prefer to run my own errands and answer my own phone. Of course, Bailey does more of the actual legwork than I do, so it’s a perk she enjoys. Chester made himself indispensable. He excels at making schedules and keeping things on track.”

“But you don’t like him.” There was a hint of something elusive in Darcy’s voice, a jealous glint in his eyes.

“I didn’t say that. I don’t think about him much. He’s there, he’s gone—not something I worry about.” He pushed his food away, drained the last of his beer, looking everywhere but directly at Caleb. “Okay, so I have your address and phone. I’ll call you tonight, let you know when to expect us and how many. I think this is going to work out great, Caleb. Nice to…ah…have you…on my team.” Darcy took his hand, his face startled from the spark of electricity that passed between them. That he had stumbled on the last few words made Caleb smile.

Distracted, Caleb watched him walk away before calling out to him, “I’ll be ready, and hey, Darcy, it was nice meeting you.” Damn, the man had a fine ass.

After he left, Caleb sat for a while, wondering exactly why he’d wanted to take on this new job. Really and truly he had no idea. He’d been drawn to the idea the day he had passed the office. There was no specific reason he could see, just something to do while he waited for death to show its head. It would be something to keep him from going crazy with the waiting.

“You know, Caleb, I’ve known you most of your life.” O’Doul slid into the booth in front of him, his jaw stern.

“So you know when to butt out of my business, old man. You might be my uncle, but that doesn’t mean a damn thing to me.” The pleasant feeling of the new attraction drained from him just that fast.

“That boy is trouble, best left alone. Your mama doesn’t need that kind of drama right now.”

“My mama is lying in her own crap up at the house. When did you stop in to see her last? You’re her damned brother and you won’t even come see her. When she’s gone, the two of us will be all that’s left of your family, but that don’t mean I want you in my business. Besides, he’s straight. He ain’t gonna look twice at a coonass like me even if he weren’t.”

“You ain’t no damned coonass. Punk-ass, yeah, but you were born up there in hoity-toity land, something my daddy made sure of. Still wild as hell, though. How old are you now, thirty-five or six? You need to stop chasing every piece of ass that comes your way.”

Caleb leaned back in the booth, propped one booted foot in the seat beside his uncle. “When you do, Uncle Jeb, when you do. That Duck ain’t got a thing to worry about from me. The question is why are you looking to protect him? You got a notion to taste sweet young man meat after all these years?”

“Believe it or not, I don’t give a jar of fig preserves about that boy. I’m worried about you. You haven’t been right since you came back home. Watching the cancer eat your mama alive is not helping any. Sex is your poison, always has been. Drowning in it won’t help kill what’s eating you, son.”

“I’m not your son. I’m barely your nephew. Your family turned its back on me, in case you’ve forgotten. Because I sure as fuck haven’t. Come see your damned sister while she still knows who you are. And stay the hell out of my business.” He leaned over the table, trying to keep his hands still, but the thought of reaching out and throttling his uncle frolicked across his mind.

His uncle just sat there watching him, his eyes gone sad. He shook his head.

“Fine, I’ll tell her you dropped into the Mississippi and drowned. At least it will be kinder than knowing you’re too damned afraid to see what death is doing to her.”

He left his uncle sitting at the table, trading the cool dark interior of the pub for the blazing heat of midday, yet somehow he was still cold inside. He was halfway home before he let himself think about Darcy Butler and his pretty eyes and fine ass. The man was a temptation he sure as hell did not want. And, fool that he was, he’d invited him out to his place, for what was sure to be the worst mistake of his life.

Two

The drive out of the city was breath taking. The antebellum mansions, largely untouched by the flooding of a few years back, stood like great ghosts of the past. Darcy couldn’t help feeling like a tourist—no, an alien from a different planet altogether—as he drove slowly past.

The air outside his car seemed to breathe of its own accord. Something he’d forgotten living in the city, the feel of clean air on his face was irresistible. He opened the sunroof and the windows and just drove, enjoying the feeling of freedom while it lasted. The GPS on his dash interrupted his reverie with a harsh, electronic, “Your destination is ahead, turn right…”

He slowed to a crawl on the asphalt road, bleached white from the sun. A line of oaks, majestic, low and sweeping, stood alongside a weathered wrought-iron fence, which ran as far back as he could see in the rear-view mirror. A couple of brick columns stood sentry over a winding asphalt drive, the fence following it through the trees.

Darcy checked the address again. There was no mistake—he was at the right place. The driveway was longer than he’d expected. Horses peeked out through the fence on one side, as if they were waiting for him. He could hear their whickering cries of alarm, or welcome, he wasn’t sure which. Without warning, the tree-lined drive gave way to a manicured green lawn. Sitting in the middle of all that green was a birthday cake of a house.

It was a mansion, really, and an old one at that, with two stories, possibly three. The house was perfectly square, with tall columns wrapping all around it, and wrought-iron laced verandas intersecting the columns on both levels. Tall windows, encased with deep black shutters, were everywhere. The front door, massive in size, opened just as he pulled in front of the house. He half expected a liveried butler or a phantom in grey uniform to appear. Instead, a long-haired man in shorts and a fitted T-shirt stepped out, followed by a dark brown and white springer spaniel.

Caleb stooped to fondle the dog’s head. His smile grew wide when Darcy stepped out of the car alone. “I see you found the place.”

Darcy couldn’t help smiling back. He ignored the strange fluttery sensation in his stomach, which nearly overwhelmed him. “This is gorgeous. Like something out of a movie.”

“There’s been a couple filmed here over the years. Before we bought it, my dad would never allow Hollywood trash inside his house.” He slipped into a different accent from the two Darcy had heard. Long, low, flowing words, lazy and clipped at the same time. “Where’s your entourage?”

“They deserted me for the beach. Of course, if they’d known what they would miss out on, maybe they would have reconsidered.” He went around to the trunk of the little car and hauled out a large leather portfolio.

“Sit, Buster—stay.” Caleb held a finger in front of the dog’s face before coming to meet Darcy on the walkway. He was barefoot, and taller than Darcy by a fraction of an inch, Darcy noticed the second he got close enough. “Buster’s our watch dog. He’s about a hundred and fifty years old and mostly toothless, but he’s still a great dog. Just hold your hand under his nose, he can’t see that far,” he told Darcy when they reached the porch. “Buster, this is Darcy. He’s from out west, where the dogs run free and bones are as big as tree trunks.”

Buster seemed to take Caleb’s words to heart. He sniffed and licked Darcy’s hand. His gentle eyes were cloudy as he looked up at Darcy. “Hey there, Buster, you have a beautiful home.” Buster let out a rumbling yip, before he turned tail and ambled inside.

“He agreed with you. Come on in. How was your drive?” Caleb took the strap from him and slung the portfolio over his shoulder as he led him into the semi-dark interior of the house.

“It was good, nice to be out of the city for a change.” A hushed feel settled upon him, almost as if the house were mourning something. A white-clad woman shuffled through the hall. She was barefoot as well. “Should I take my shoes off?”

“Only if you want,” Caleb said, looking pointedly at Darcy’s worn-out loafers. “We’re pretty casual around here nowadays. Come on out to the sun porch. We’ll have some lunch and then get to work.”

The woman in white swept out of a room with sliding double pocket doors. Her look when she met his eyes was stern. “Mr Caleb.” She nodded and went off down a shadowed hallway. Caleb didn’t offer a greeting in return.

He walked quickly through the rooms decorated with antiques from the last two or three centuries as if he didn’t see them. He probably didn’t anymore, Darcy reasoned. They stepped out into the bright light of the afternoon sun.

“Oh wow,” Darcy breathed. Flowers were everywhere—all types of flowers, in colors he’d never known existed. Exotic flowers filling pots and planters wherever he looked. Out past the glass walls of the sunroom was a pool, complete with an ornate fountain in the middle that looked more like something he’d seen in photos of European palaces.

“Would you like a beer? Or something stronger? I’ve got just about everything.” Caleb set the portfolio on a long table in the shade. Without looking Darcy’s way—he hadn’t met his eyes once since he’d arrived, Darcy realized—Caleb walked over to a buffet loaded with food. “Help yourself,” he said, plucking a bottle of beer from an ice bucket. He went to sit at a white wrought-iron table, propping his long legs up on a matching bench.

“I can’t help but wonder if this is the right time for this. You seem…distracted.” He had no idea why he’d said those particular words, but Caleb looked at him finally. The intensity in his eyes startled him for a second and then it passed as if it were never there. He smiled, the simple motion seeming to relax his entire body.

“It’s been a bad morning, nothing personal, Darcy, I assure you. Go ahead and eat, I’ll get something later. We can talk about the magazine or the beach, if you want. Hell, I’ll even talk football, though I’d rather not.”

An older woman, dressed in khaki walking shorts and a soft yellow striped cardigan sweater, joined them from a set of French doors a little farther along the porch. “You have no manners anymore, Caleb. Maybe your friend would like to freshen up before you challenge him to an arm-wrestling match.”

“That’s southern for ‘use the john’, in case you didn’t know already.” Caleb scowled at the woman. “Martha, this is my friend Darcy—he runs a magazine in the city, and I’m doing some freelance work for him. Darcy, this is, ah… What exactly are you to me anyway? I’d say my housekeeper, but you’d probably smack me upside the head.”

“And you would probably be right.” She smiled, a sad but patient smile, before she turned back to Darcy. “Nice meeting you, Mr Darcy.”

Darcy couldn’t help but wince when she said that. It wasn’t something he heard often, but, lately, once was too often. Caleb snorted, and ducked when she tossed him a withering gaze.

“What’s funny?”

“It’s just Darcy, please, Darcy Butler. My mother thought it was funny to name me after a character in her favorite book. I have yet to live it down. And thank you, but I’m fine right now. Thirsty and overwhelmed with all of this stunning architecture, but fine.” He tried to answer all of her questions, but it just made Caleb laugh harder.

“I understand now, Darcy, and don’t mind him—he’s nothing but a spoiled snot. A good kick in the pants would cure what ails him, but he scares everyone to death so no one has tried. Just let me know if you need anything while you’re here.” She winked at him and went back inside, leaving Darcy alone and slightly bewildered, with a man who might actually be on the crazy side.

“Grab some grub, Darcy, and don’t worry about things so much. Like I said, it’s been a bad morning. We’re all pretty much on edge, and all up in each other’s business. It’ll pass. So tell me about your Ducks.” Caleb swigged his beer, the silver linked chains he wore around his wrist slipping to his forearm, making a slight jingling sound Darcy found soothing.

“Honestly, I don’t know much about football.” He picked through the selection of food, opting for a sandwich and coleslaw. After taking a beer, he joined Caleb at the table. He tried not to wonder how Caleb knew what he was thinking.

“That’s good because it’s never been a particular favorite of mine either. I prefer horseracing to football, or just about any other sport.”

“Really?” He didn’t look like the type—car or motorcycle racing yes, horses not so much. “Do you ride?”

“If by ride you mean I’m pretty good on a horse, yes. Do I race? No, I’m too big. I did dressage as a kid—you know, jumping fences in fancy gear. I think I was nine and then puberty happened. Life happened. I don’t ride so much anymore.” He sat facing him, just like the day before. His eyes seemed to caress him, just like the day before. His gaze followed Darcy’s hands as he ate, the attention made him shiver. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

Darcy choked on his sandwich. “Well, that was blunt.” Coughing, he tried to play it off. “No, why would you?”

“You keep staring at my bracelets. I was wondering.” His smile was slightly cocked to one side, his eyes guarded.

“Do I? Well, they are shiny, and I’m nothing if not easily distracted. Besides, I might come from a New Age hippie Mecca, but I’m pretty uptight. New takes time for me to get used to.” What was it about Caleb Mitchell, Darcy wondered, that turned him into a blithering idiot?

Caleb smiled then, his eyes alive with glee. “Bet you had some serious culture shock when you first came to N’Awlins. We are loaded with nuts down here, chocolate-covered nuts rolled in nuts. It’s the heat and the humidity, it makes us peculiar.”

Darcy found himself relaxing under the man’s gaze enough to agree. “And let’s not forget the bugs. I think it’s the bugs I can’t get used to most of all. Tiny flying things I can’t see or great big black cockroaches.” He shuddered just thinking about the hairy spider he’d found in his shower the first night.

“You’re all right, Darcy, you know that?” Caleb laughed again, and this time the sound was natural and smooth. The timbre rolled over him like a feather and Darcy shivered.

“And this is good barbeque. One thing I do like is the food. Lord, I could live on pulled pork, or fried chicken, and never get tired of it.” He changed the subject, hoping to shake off the unfamiliar sensation pitting in his stomach.

“What about gumbo?”

Darcy nodded. “And those square doughnut things with the powdered sugar.”

“Beignets. Remind me next time you come out and I’ll have Martha whip up a batch. The woman is a tremendous cook. I’m going to miss that about her.” His voice turned wistful, then, almost as if he’d never said a thing, he perked up. “Anyway, it’s cooler out here than in the city at least. Not much, but some, and it smells better.”

“That’s for sure.” Darcy finished his coleslaw, and the last of his sandwich. “I don’t know what I was expecting when we first moved here, but New Orleans isn’t exactly how I pictured it.”

“Why did you move here, if you don’t mind me asking? Seems your magazine was better suited to the more progressive-minded twenty or early thirty-something college graduates that populate the Pacific Northwest,” Caleb stated bluntly.

“Money. It’s that simple. The high cost of doing business—the high rents, high cost of contracting out, high salaries—it was all combining to drag us under. Bailey came down for vacation last summer, she fell in love with the city, and somehow I let her talk me into buying a building and moving everything down, lock, stock, and barrel.” He tipped his beer up, draining the last of it.

“And you regret that decision.” Caleb went over to the buffet and grabbed two more beers, handing one to him before he sat down again.

Darcy sighed, “I don’t regret moving here from a business perspective. I’m just…” He didn’t know how to explain the feeling in his stomach.

“Homesick.” Caleb finished for him. “I can tell. Why don’t you go back? Your relationship with Bailey?”

“How’d you know?” Darcy gave up on trying to figure out Caleb and his uncanny ability to know what he was feeling. Caleb looked at him expectantly with eerie green eyes that seemed to look right through to Darcy’s soul. Again, Darcy felt the peculiar fluttering in the pit of his stomach. “Bailey and I are…were… Shit, I don’t know what we are anymore. Friends, colleagues—she might be the best friend I ever had, but lately something has changed. I can’t really say more than that.”

“She took another lover?”

How would he know that? “I don’t know. I suspect so. We never had an arrangement.”

“Friends with benefits, I got ya. You know those relationships never work out, right?”

The smile Caleb gave him softened the truth of the words, but Darcy still felt them, keenly. He knew. He’d always known nothing good would ever come from sex with Bailey just for the sake of having someone to fuck.

“Would you like anything else, or to freshen up, before we go into my studio?”

Glad the too-personal questions were out of the way, Darcy shook his head. “I’m good.”

“Good.” There was that easy smile again, Caleb’s gaze slowly sliding over him, making him shiver. “Martha!” he shouted out, waiting for the housekeeper to stick her head out. “I’m going to take Darcy down to my studio, probably for the rest of the afternoon. I’ve got my phone if you need me.”

“Sure thing, Caleb,” she called out and disappeared back into the house.

“Hey, come on. Oh, grab a couple more beers, will you?” Caleb retrieved the portfolio as Darcy grabbed two more bottles, thought better of a third for himself and grabbed a bottle of water instead. He then followed Caleb through a glass door and into the heat of the afternoon. “Do you feel like walking or would you rather take the golf cart? It’s about a mile.”

“I could use the exercise.” Darcy fell into step beside the taller man, matching his long-legged gait.

“You might regret that decision in a minute, city boy. Just try and keep up.” Almost as if stepping out into the fresh air and sunshine had washed something dark from him, Caleb’s eyes began to dance with laughter and his voice changed again, allowing a slightly heavy accent in, but not one Darcy had ever heard before. Again, Darcy wondered if something about the man wasn’t a tad bit off.

The smell of death slowly ebbed from Caleb’s memory. The sun felt so good on his shoulders. The man beside him smelled nice, even from a distance, like fabric softener and shampoo. Caleb liked the combination—it was strangely erotic to him.

Speaking of erotic, watching Darcy Butler eat had been an exercise in torture. Stupid conversation to keep his mind from wandering to what his guest would taste like had only distracted him for so long.

Darcy was an observant man. He knew something wasn’t right in the house. Caleb had seen how he had shivered when he had stepped inside. He liked how he had blushed and didn’t even know it when he’d caught Caleb staring at him. It wasn’t that Caleb had set out to embarrass him during lunch—he couldn’t seem to help it. His crystal-blue gaze, blunt in its appraisal of him, had had Caleb off balance almost from the second he drove up. Alone. Oh God, he’d expected at least two of his colleagues. He hadn’t been prepared to deal with Darcy—dressed in long cargo shorts and a short-sleeved oxford shirt and beat-up loafers—alone. Damn, the man had nice legs. Legs that were white as snow from lack of exposure to the sun, with a fine sprinkling of dark hair. The muscles in his calves flexed as he walked, or sat or stretched… Jesus Christ.

For a city boy, Darcy could move. He matched his pace across the back lawn, but when grass turned to underbrush and finally to woods, his steps dragged some. Caleb stopped to let him catch up, only to find him staring up into the trees as if he’d never seen them up close before. “There’s a hawk or something up there,” he said, shading his eyes as he looked up.

“Looks like a hawk. It’s probably fishing, or waiting for a rabbit to dart out of the underbrush.” The bird was pretty high up. It didn’t move. Instead it cocked its head to one side and looked down at them. “Come on, Darcy, before the hawk thinks you’re what’s for dinner.”

“It’s probably got a nest up there,” he said when he finally caught up. “Why are we in the woods anyway? I thought we were going to your studio.”

“We are. Just wait a minute and you’ll see.” Caleb didn’t want to spoil it for him. In a few seconds, the scraggly patch of woods gave way to a clearing on the bank of the lake. His house, high up above the water, gave him chills every time he saw it.

“Wow. This is fabulous.” Darcy stopped to take in the sight. Caleb looked at it from his perspective. He’d built a round contemporary building set atop steel and concrete pilings, with windows for walls and a sloped roof for wind resistance. “It’s not gorgeous, mind you. It’s too stark, and, after the grace of the house, it is shocking to see something so modern just sitting above the water like that.”

“Which is more or less what I was going for. Of course, the hurricane sort of dictated its shape. I sure as fuck didn’t want to lose another place, but I couldn’t give up being over the water.” Caleb led him up the wide concrete steps, to the landing nearly two stories above.

“You live out here? I thought the mansion…” His voice trailed off when he stepped inside the circular room, light from all sides illuminating the furniture and the art.

“My mother’s house. This is mine, when I’m here. The living area down here, my equipment is everywhere… When I feel like painting, I have everything. My computer and drafting equipment is state of the art. I keep my cameras upstairs, in the darkroom next to my bedroom. The only thing I can’t do here is cook. Of course, I can’t cook so that makes sense, right? And I have Martha to spoil me.” He went inside past the white leather furniture and the blood-red carpet to his desk.

Darcy paused for a moment, the look of uncertainty on his face passing quickly, before kicking his shoes off and striding across the room to stand next to him as he pulled out the magazine galleys and lined them up on his drafting table.

Caleb moved the mock-up pages around, looking them over with a practiced eye. “Do you have an electronic version with you?” he asked after a few moments of study.

“Yeah, sure.” Darcy pulled his keys out of his pocket and handed him the flash drive fob. “It’s labelled by tomorrow’s date. What do you think?”

“Serviceable, stark—the information is all there, nothing you need to change there, but you can play with layout and color. Color will do more than you think. Make a story warm or cold. Right now it’s cold.” He plugged the device into his computer, pulling the pages up on the large screen side by side, so Darcy could see them.

A story about a couple who had both been laid off from bank jobs in San Francisco who had moved to Louisiana to raise sheep. They now had a thriving e-business, featuring handmade wool products. He pulled up a program and started playing with the background color, settling on a rough-hewn mustard, fabric-looking background. He then changed the photos around, shopping some images out and layering them over and around the text, until he’d changed the entire page from a stark white background to something resembling a scrapbook page. “You can put advertising in where you need it, and still keep the country feeling for this article. The photos in this one are pretty good. Did one of your crew take them?”

“Yeah, we go visit our subjects, interview them personally, take photos—it’s all hands on. Amber Gaines is the author of this piece.”

Caleb looked over the photographs. There was promise there, and she had a good eye. “Give her to me—I’ll turn her into a pro. And open up your budget for camera equipment. Digital is fine. I prefer film, but times, they are a-changing.”

He went through the other stories and did the same with each one—took the major theme and created a stylized background suited for each story. “And your computers might be outdated. But I can work with just about anything, even going back to the Dark Ages, though I’d rather not.”

Darcy leaned over him, listening. Caleb could feel his eyes on him as he snapped through the program using the touchscreen to highlight and move the text around. “Bailey would kill for one of these. She’s going to love this. Love you.” Darcy’s breath caressed his neck. Caleb had to fight back a moan, and he had to force his brain to continue to function. Oh, God, he really had no idea at all how to deal with this…this want.

Ignore it, just ignore it.

“What about you? What do you think?” He hit print after he finished the last article. Holding his breath, Caleb waited for the man to offer praise. He hadn’t realized how much it would mean to him, to know Darcy Butler liked what he could do for him. “Do I get the job?”

“As far as I’m concerned, you’re an effin’ genius. I love these.” He held the pages, printed on glossy paper. “These look like a magazine, whereas before it was just a newsletter.”

“I take it, then, you like what you see?”

“I love what I see. Damn, Caleb, these are beautiful.”

Caleb felt the praise to his toes. For an egomaniac like himself to be so worried about what some small-time editor thought about his work was a statement in itself. Maybe his uncle was right, maybe something was very wrong with him.

“Okay then, I’m going to save this as a separate file and you’re all set for tomorrow.” He saved the data to the flash drive and disconnected the device, handing it back to Darcy. “So, that took all of thirty minutes. Are you in a hurry to get back to the city?”

“Not particularly. Everyone I know has gone to an island for the day. I can go talk to O’Doul but after a while he gets to be a little tiresome, you know?” Darcy tucked the prints into the portfolio with the originals and laid his keys on top of the bag.

“I know all too well. I’ve known O’Doul a long time, and sometimes he can be a bit abrasive. But it goes with the territory.” Caleb grabbed a digital camera from the top of his desk. “Come on outside. I’ve been stuck inside all day, I’m feeling a bit cooped up. Let’s show you the bayou, up close and personal, while you’re out here.”

“Sure.” Darcy shrugged, his shoulders rolling with the gesture. Caleb liked that about him, that he was easy-going and ready for any challenge. That he had nice shoulders didn’t hurt any. Darcy ran his hand through his hair then, making Caleb’s mouth water. “I could use some sun, I guess.”

“You are kind of pasty,” Caleb said with a wink. The blush creeping across Darcy’s face made him shiver. The timid, almost shy smile lighting his eyes pushed all of Caleb’s buttons. Unsure of himself for the first time in years, Caleb stripped off his shirt and tossed it on the sofa. His gut was telling him this was right. Darcy was right. God, he hoped he wasn’t making a fool of himself.

He knew to the instant when Darcy spotted his tattoos. He could feel Darcy’s eyes on him, watching him in his quiet, reserved way. Darcy didn’t say anything, though, but slowly unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged out of it. Caleb had to look away. Damn, he hadn’t expected the sexy, hot editor to have a hard body under those clothes.

“I know, I don’t get outside much anymore. Seems like all I do is sit in the office or move from air-conditioned building to air-conditioned building lately. It’s nice having a day in which I’m not dealing with some major catastrophe.” Hiding the blush, Darcy moved past him through the door out onto the deck overlooking the muddy water. “Wow, this is beautiful.”

“Yes it is.”

A large grey bird with a blue crest stood just offshore under a cypress tree, fish jumped in the shallows below, and gulls bellowed overhead. Caleb heard the splash of something large hitting the water nearby, most likely a gator. None of that mattered. He raised his camera and pointed it at the only subject he found fascinating. Zooming in, he framed Darcy’s face as he watched the heron aim for a fish and miss. He snapped shot after shot. The whisper-quiet shutter assured him purely candid shots until Darcy turned to face him, his face growing embarrassed, then stern.

“You have a great face.” He zoomed in, focusing on his eyes. The bright blue seemed alive against the backdrop of dark green foliage. The heron gave up fishing the shallows and flew into the shot just as Caleb clicked. He laughed. “The heron thinks so too. He’s in your profile photo.”

“What profile photo? What are you doing?” There was an edge to Darcy’s voice, one Caleb hadn’t heard before. He looked embarrassed and not in a good way.

Caleb sighed and laid the camera on the table, “I’m busted. Thought I’d take candid photos of you and the rest of your crew and build you a profile page. You’ve done stories on just about everyone out there except yourselves. Young twenty-somethings who started their own magazine in a time of recession and made a success out of it.”

“But wouldn’t that just jinx what we do? Come on, Caleb, it’s not as if we set out to become the guiding voice of a generation. It can end tomorrow. Okay, not tomorrow—tomorrow’s edition is going to knock people for a loop. But this is a fast-changing world, our readers could abandon us in an instant. The advertisers will follow.”

“And what would you do if that happens? It’s not going to be any time soon, but just supposing…” Caleb went to stand at the railing, looking away from the water. He leaned on his elbows, watching Darcy, his inner struggle clear on his face.

“I’ve been offered an associate professorship back home.” He sighed and looked out at the water, his jaw rigid. “I have until July first to decide if I want it.”

“Do you want it?” Caleb didn’t expect him to open up. He wasn’t even sure why he had asked. Curiosity, maybe, or something else, something he wasn’t ready to think about just yet.

Darcy drummed his fingers on the railing, the muscles in his neck working as he swallowed. “I don’t know. It’s what I went to school for. I have a Master’s degree in English. I thought to spend my life teaching kids to love words as much as I do. However, teaching jobs are so hard to come by now. I applied two years ago, but the recession hit and they actually let people go. I never expected they would hang on to the application this long.”

“Are you happy doing what you’re doing? Or are you just doing something to tide you over? Will you be happy if you don’t take the job? Or are you just trying to make someone else happy by staying?” Caleb played devil’s advocate. All were valid questions. Darcy seemed the type to mull things over too long. Caleb, on the other hand, made snap decisions. But then, he was a selfish bastard, and the possibility of Darcy leaving had his gut clenching.

“Those are hard questions. On the one hand, I do enjoy having creative control over so many people. I won’t have that if I take a teaching job. But, you know, I feel like this isn’t permanent. It’s just money, and a title to put on a résumé. However, I’m not in danger of budget cuts in what I’m doing now, so if the recession should worsen, I can’t be laid off. Of course, I get the feeling Chester is plotting a coup so who the hell knows?”

“And Bailey?” Where did the mysterious sometimes-girlfriend fit in his life, in his decision process?

“Bailey chose him over me. Her loyalties are to him now. I think she’d look the other way while he tossed me under a bus, if that’s what you mean.”

Touched by Darcy’s disquiet, Caleb wanted to soothe him somehow. He wanted to let him know everything would be fine. He didn’t stop to think, he acted. Stepping close, he gently touched his lips to Darcy’s, tasted the sweetness of his tongue when Darcy returned the kiss. His soft gasp unfurled a heatwave of longing in Caleb’s soul that he hadn’t expected…

He didn’t expect to hit the deck either, but there he was sitting on his ass on overly warm concrete, while Darcy glared down at him, his hands still clenched in fists. He swiped one across his mouth. His chest heaved with suppressed rage…at least Caleb assumed it was rage. The slight bulge in his shorts belied that idea.

“Son of a bitch, what the hell are you doing?”

Caleb slowly climbed to his feet. His shoulder stung like fuck where Darcy had shoved him. “I’m sorry, I misread the signals. My fault. It won’t happen again.”

“I don’t give off signals. What kind of signals? Oh hell no, I’m not… I’m not…interested.” He somehow managed to control the anger burning in his eyes, but the trust Caleb had worked so hard to build was now gone. Embarrassed, Caleb stepped inside and struggled back into his shirt.

“My mistake. I’ll take you back to the house and—” His phone rang in his pocket, startling him into silence. He’d forgotten about it. He answered, listening as Martha yelled at him to get up to the house before she hung up. Without another word to Darcy, he raced through the house and out of the front door, leaving the man to make his way back on his own.

He burst into the house out of breath. “How bad is it?”

“We’ve called an ambulance,” Martha said from her perch beside the kitchen sink. Her eyes were red from crying, her hands shook, but she pretended she was fine. She was good at pretending she was fine, Caleb realized then. “She’s struggling for breath.”

“It’s all right, Martha.” He laid his hand on her shoulder before rushing through the house to the library that now served as a hospital room.

“It’s all right, Miss Clara, Caleb is here.” Hilda, the hospice nurse he’d hired to care for his mother, stood at the bedside. Her words were low and soothing for his mother’s benefit, but everyone knew his mother didn’t hear her.

“It’s getting worse,” Hilda said to Caleb. “The pain medicine isn’t working anymore. She’s struggling to breathe. I called for an ambulance.”

“What are they going to do for her at the hospital? Nothing. Give her something stronger. I know you have something. Just do it.”

“I can’t. It could kill her.”

“Well, at least she won’t be in pain anymore, will she?” He moved to the bedside, taking his mother’s frail hand in his own. “I’m here, Maman.”

“My little cherie. My cherub.” She gasped the words. Her once-bright green eyes were cloudy with pain.

“Don’t talk, Maman, you hear? You gonna get better, you hear me? I’m not gonna let you die, not today.” He looked up just as Darcy stepped into the doorway. He met his surprised eyes, but he didn’t have time to explain. “Give her something. I will protect you even if I have to smuggle you out of the country, just give her some relief.”

“All right, Caleb. But you have to let her go to the hospital. She needs more than I can do for her now. Promise me you’ll let her go this time.”

“She doesn’t want to die in a hospital. She wants to be here.”

“Can’t you see she’s suffering? You need to do what’s best for her today. She needs some peace.”

“Okay, just give her something. We’ll do it your way.” He patted her hand. “I’m sorry, Maman. I’m so sorry.”

She smiled a weak smile. Her eyes closed as the drug acted on her quickly. He leaned against the bed for a few minutes, watching her sleep, the man in the hallway all but forgotten in his grief.

Caleb pretended he didn’t notice Death as he sat behind him, laughing.

Three

Long, slender fingers stroked his skin, drawing circles on his back. He loved the feel of smooth skin against his, skin that smelled of sun and something earthy.

He let his fingers twine in long fine hair. Pressing his lips to heated skin, he moved to capture moist lips with his, lips that sucked at his soul with each kiss, each touch of tongue. Warm, sweet breath caressed his cheek. Soft words of encouragement inflamed him to the point he ached from the pleasure. He wanted more, so much more. Pain, pleasure, heat, sticky release… God, it felt so good.

Eyes so green that it was almost like living in spring forever gazed up at him, pleasure swirling inside the clear depths. Hands and tongue and throbbing need washed over him, slinging him along on the crest of a wave the very color of those eyes. He needed, needed, needed—

Darcy bolted out of the dream. Cold air from the air conditioner blasted over his body, chilling the sweat that drenched him. Shivering, he threw off the sheet and sat on the side of his bed. He leaned on his elbows, scrubbing his face with trembling hands, trying to shake off the vivid vision. Christ, he was so goddamn hard he couldn’t think straight. He needed relief, but he’d be damned if he sought it.

It was a fucking nightmare. He knew who he’d been dreaming about. The kiss on the deck yesterday afternoon had started this. All because he knew what the man tasted like. He hated knowing the touch of Caleb’s tongue had stirred something inside him. Something disquieting crawled under his skin, clawing at him, making him crave something he shouldn’t.

Anger had propelled him after Caleb, through the woods, following the trail into the house. Anger and bitter disillusionment had driven him to the library, shame coming quickly on the heels as he’d watched the scene play out before him almost as if he were watching some strange drama in which he was one of the actors.

He had stayed until the ambulance had left, taking Caleb’s mother away. He would have stayed longer but Caleb had told him to go. He’d changed before his eyes. His gaze had turned cold, his accent had become clipped, short. “Go on home, Darcy. Back to Oregon. Just go.”

Darcy had gone. Following the GPS back to the city, he couldn’t help wondering if he would see him again. He had needed perspective and a way to purge the afternoon from his mind.

O’Doul’s was crowded when he’d arrived. The bartender wasn’t one he knew, which was fine. He hadn’t wanted company. Reeking of sweat, beer and bitter disappointment, he’d stumbled home and fallen into bed, but oblivion hadn’t been waiting for him.

With the dream still vivid in his mind, he glanced at the clock on the side table. It was five in the morning, nearly time to get up anyway. If he tried to go back to sleep, he’d risk falling back into the dream. His body craved the dream, erotic tendrils of it flashed through his mind. Caleb’s hands on him, the taste of Caleb’s mouth. The feel of his hands in his long hair, hair he’d wanted desperately to run his fingers through yesterday. He had kissed the tattoos on the man’s chest, longing to go lower…

Darcy groaned. Shit, stop it. Stop thinking about it. It didn’t happen. It won’t happen.

Why had Caleb kissed him? Darcy wondered for the hundredth time.

Why?

Okay, no, this wasn’t happening. He’d get up, shower, shave, breakfast… He’d skip the workout this morning. No, he needed the workout he’d skipped yesterday.

Don’t think about yesterday.

He turned on the radio, went to the bathroom and climbed into the stall shower. He turned the water on cold and let it wash over him. It didn’t help, it just made him shiver, so he inched it up to warm. The shower jets felt nice on his back, pounding the ache in his shoulders almost like fingers massaging him. He leaned his forearm against the wall, resting his forehead against it as the water worked its magic. He turned the heat up, sighing as the scalding hot water sluiced down his skin.

So good. Almost like insistent fingers, caressing his back, his chest… Oh, God. He couldn’t resist the urge—the pain in his cock demanded satisfaction, ached from it. He tried to think of calming things. Snow in winter, the rocky beach he’d grown up playing on, hockey. He thought of Bailey, her soft, pale skin, her eyes were blue like his, her lips were…

He stroked himself. He couldn’t remember the feel of Bailey’s lips. He couldn’t remember her scent or the sound of her laughter. Green eyes stared into his, the rough feel of stubble against his neck as he called Darcy cher in the accent he didn’t have all the time. That liquid voice did things to him, things that made him gasp. He begged for more. He gave himself more, sliding strong fingers along his cock, pulling him into the dream again. He wanted the heat—the pleasure… It spiraled inside him, sending him past the point of no return. He arched into the dizzying desire, helping it along, crying out when ecstasy turned to pain and the water ran cold again.

He could taste the name he’d cried out. It tasted like shame.

* * * *

At noon he sat behind his desk. The day was cloudy, showers came and went as a front moved in from the gulf. He stared out of the windows, feeling as grey and grim as the clouds looked. Guilt danced under his skin, guilt and shame and regret. He didn’t know what he regretted, the kiss that had opened up the floodgate of inappropriate need or giving into the inappropriate need. God, he’d never fantasized about a man before.

Bailey sat across from him wearing a short dress and a pair of canvas shoes. He couldn’t meet her eye as she ran down the weekly expenses. Not that it mattered. He wasn’t really listening anyway. “It was a great edition, Dar. It’s what we need.”

“Yeah, I know.” He didn’t like the concern in her voice. It was almost as if she cared, almost as if everything between them was the same as it had been before the move. Before she’d slept with Chester.

“Then why are you so morose today? You did a great job. We have air conditioning again. Yesterday was fabulous. We never get a day off in the middle of the week.”

“It’s the weather. Either too hot or too rainy. I didn’t sleep well last night. I don’t know, Bai, I’m just tired.” But he wasn’t tired. He felt as if he’d drunk six cups of coffee in a ten-minute time period. He was buzzing with useless energy. “I’m thinking about going home for a while.”

“Oh, yeah? A vacation would be nice, but right now isn’t really a good time. We need to hire a couple more writers, and— Darcy, are you listening to me at all?”

“Sure, Bailey, I hear everything you’re saying. I agree we need to hire more people—an assistant editor would be great. I could use the help. Yes, I think a week at home will be just the thing.”

“Would you consider Chester for the assistant editor job? You know how much he looks up to you.”

Darcy tuned out at the name, listening instead to the outer office, which was unusually quiet. There should be phones buzzing, machines making noise, people talking. Instead there were the minute sounds of something not quite right. A collective hush, an indrawn breath, a twitter of nervous laughter.

“I’ll get back to you on that.” Curious, he went to the door to see what was going on, Bailey on his heels.

Caleb was there in the main office, looking much the same as he had the first time they’d met in the bar, the biker bad-boy look that made Darcy swallow hard. He’d forgotten Bailey was behind him. He heard her fast intake of breath as if it had come from him.

“Oh, my,” she said, but Darcy was already across the room, his gaze locked with Caleb’s.

Caleb whipped his hand through his hair, the silver bracelets dancing on his arm as he did. But Darcy could see exhaustion in the slope of his shoulders, and his eyes. He came to a halt beside him, shaking his hand as if nothing had happened between them. “I didn’t expect you today.”

“I didn’t expect me at all.” He cocked a lazy half-grin, aimed at Darcy.

“How is your mother?” He’d said it to be polite. He didn’t expect the flashing of emotion in the man’s eyes to be so painful.

“They say she’s resting comfortably. I say she’s heavily sedated and suffering inside.”

“I’m so sorry. You don’t have to do this now. You should go be with her.”

“If I don’t find something to keep me occupied, I’ll just end up in jail.”

Darcy seriously wanted to believe he was joking, but the set of his jaw told him Caleb was dead serious.

“Besides I made a promise. I don’t go back on my promises—at least the ones I can control.”

“All right then, if you’re sure, I’ll introduce you around. We’ll get you an office and just pretend like nothing happened.” He hadn’t meant to say those words. Caleb just lifted an eyebrow, amusement finally entering his eyes.

“Whatever gets you through the day, Ducky.” His smile became a sneer and as if a veil had lifted, he fell into character, the same character from two days before, with all the charm and charisma of a street performer.

Darcy turned to face his crew, only to find a rapt audience hovering uncomfortably close by. Most of the women wore identical expressions of interest, Bailey no exception. The scowl on Chester’s face was priceless. “Everyone, this is Caleb Mitchell, renowned artist and photographer. He’s going to be working with us to set up a new art department and, with any luck, help us take this thing we call a magazine to the next level. Caleb… Well, I’ll just let them introduce themselves,” Darcy said, leaving him to make his way into the crowd, his hand out, his smile so wide no one would know his mother lay dying in a hospital across town.

“Why didn’t you tell me he was gorgeous, Dar?” Bailey was at his side, her voice low as she waited her turn to meet the new rock star on staff. “I would have gone with you yesterday.”

“How am I supposed to tell you something like that, Bailey? He’s just a guy. If you were interested in anything except your boy toy over there, you would have been professional enough to go even if he were a decrepit geezer.” The idea of going home came on full force. He wanted out of here so badly he could taste it. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some work to do in my office.”

Without waiting for her to respond, or, worse, call him on his momentary lapse of decorum, Darcy simply walked away. Slipping into his office, he closed the door then sank into the chair behind his desk. Turning his back on the office, he went back to staring out of the window at the gloomy rain that had settled over the city. He pretended the anxious sensation in the pit of his stomach was just a symptom of homesickness and not something else entirely.

“Hey, can I come in?” The voice wrapped around him like a warm wet blanket, nearly suffocating him.

“Yeah, sure, Caleb, my door is always open. Even when it’s shut.” Oh yeah, that sounded brilliant. Caleb smiled a genuine smile, which put Darcy at ease. “What’s on your mind?”

“I’ve been thinking about what my role here should be. And after yesterday, I feel taking on your entire art department is probably not something I can handle right now.” He closed the door behind him, coming to sit in one of the armless easy chairs in front of Darcy’s desk. He propped a booted foot on his knee, the strings from the worn-out hem of his jeans hanging down the back of the leather.

“How can you stand those boots in this heat? You look so hot.” Darcy didn’t know why his mouth had a mind of its own around Caleb. He didn’t understand the gleam in Caleb’s eyes either.

“I bet you didn’t know you blush a pretty rosy red, did you? I like that about you, Darcy. And the way you say what you think. And how much you look like a naughty librarian. There’s that blush again,” Caleb said, his voice low and seductive. He raked Darcy with his eyes.

“I’m not interested, Caleb. I can’t say that any other way. I just don’t lean that way.” Then why couldn’t he look the man in the eye? Why were those incredible green eyes in his dreams, Caleb’s name on his lips when he came this morning, he asked himself. There was no answer. “Okay so, back to the topic. What sort of role do you see yourself in around here?”

Pure fire roared through Caleb’s eyes as Darcy watched. His smile turned dangerous, and the combination was nearly enough to have Darcy on his knees. Caleb seemed to know what he was thinking, and that scared him. Somehow, he knew about the dream, about—

“I think you need someone to organize and train your existing staff. Which I can do. I can turn a bunch of amateur photographers into professionals and any idiot with a good photo enhancement program can do what I did yesterday, there’s no real talent to that. I can teach everyone here how to manipulate the media at their disposal and you won’t need an actual art department.” The heat never left his eyes, but the words weren’t what Darcy was expecting. Business instead of seduction.

“You’re not going to be here long, are you?” He heard the message between the words.

“Don’t sound so disappointed. I might take that as a sign you want more than just a working relationship from me,” Caleb said in the same tone, but if anything the heat in his eyes intensified. “But to answer your question, no, the doctors say it’s just a matter of days. So yes, when my mother is gone, I plan to be somewhere else.”

“Where will you go?” His heart revving into overdrive startled him. It wasn’t his business where the man went.

“Back to work. I’ve been asked to go to Afghanistan to cover the war in the new decade. One of my publishers wants me to do a retrospective of the Korean War. He’s working on getting me permission to go into North Korea. There’s so much out there to do. My life was never here, it’s always been out there somewhere.”

“You would put yourself in danger just for the sake of a few pictures?” Somehow, Darcy knew the photos of the war in Iraq weren’t taken from a safe distance. The gritty realism of exploding ordinance and the soldiers lying injured seemed like something out of a bad dream, yet Caleb had taken those photos. He’d been there when the bomb had ripped through a military transport as if it was a tin can.

“I eat danger for breakfast—what movie did that come from? I can’t remember. Hell, Darcy, it’s what I do. I’m a fucking thrill junkie. I get off on adrenaline racing through my body. I live fast and hard. I will die fast and hard.”

“Sounds like a suicide mission to me.”

“That’s because you play safe too close to the vest. You probably came from a middle-class family—a couple of siblings, parents, braces, music lessons, college, marry your sweetheart, settle down and raise a bunch of kids inside a white picket fence. Safe, boring, predictable. Hell, you even dress like an old man. You have a nice body under your casual Friday office uniform, but no one knows it because you are too safe.”

“Listen, Caleb, I appreciate the attempt to psychoanalyze me, but really, what my life is or isn’t, is none of your business.” Darcy leaned forward in his chair, heat radiating up his neck as he stared the man down.

Caleb just smiled a smug smile, dripping with satisfaction. “I was wondering if you had a temper stashed somewhere under this mild-mannered Clark Kent façade. I guess you do. Anyway, I have a list of equipment I require. I’ll pick most of it up and bill you for it. I do suggest you invest in a large touchscreen computer. It doesn’t have to be fancy, just something to make page design easier. And I want to meet with your field reporters in the morning to go over some photography basics before they go off on assignments.”

“Anything else, Mr Mitchell?” He hated how he could bully him so easily, and then, as if nothing ever happened, change the subject on him.

“Yeah, I’m not sorry for yesterday, just so you know. And now that I’ve had a taste of you, all I can think about is tasting you again.” The bold statement sent Darcy spinning. Caleb’s smirk told him he knew. “Okay, then, I guess that’s about it. I’m going to get with your girl Bailey. She’s a beauty, by the way. I can see why you keep her around. Smart and tall. I like that in a woman.”

“I didn’t think you liked women.” Darcy aimed low.

“Best time I ever had was with a couple of Asian beauties while I was in Japan. Those little schoolgirl dresses they wear over there are just this shy of illegal. And there was the time I went skiing with a few lovelies from the Swedish women’s Olympic team. Just me and ten blondes. I could have died a happy man right then.” He grinned, pushing his hair back with a flick of his wrist. Darcy decided he knew what kind of reaction that move stirred in people and did it on purpose. “Let’s just say I am very in touch with my sexuality and leave it at that.”

Darcy didn’t know what to say. He just watched in uncomfortable silence as Caleb left his office, and for the first time since he’d met him, Darcy wondered if having him on his staff wasn’t the biggest mistake he would ever make.

* * * *

The girl Bailey really was a stunner. So was her boyfriend. Caleb could see why Darcy didn’t trust the little prick. He was a brown-noser to the nth degree. One thing about Darcy that Caleb found fascinating was his understated talent for seeing through people, yet he was clueless how to process what he saw. Chester was going to be a problem for him in the future, but how, Caleb wasn’t going to hazard a guess.

Chester had looked him up and down the moment he had walked into the office, his hazel eyes greedy and calculating. Bailey, on the other hand, only had eyes for Darcy. Caleb could tell they’d been arguing by the tension between them. Then all he could see was Darcy. It was almost as if they were the only two people in the room. Caleb did not like that at all.

He didn’t like being attracted to the man. Darcy’s Clark Kent good looks sent him for a loop every time he saw him. His polite manner and the innate curiosity about him made him weak. That he had no idea how attractive he really was killed him. No, this thing with Darcy scared him. The attraction was too strong, too powerful. Hell, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been attracted to a man. Kissing him had been too large of a temptation and a mistake.

As the afternoon wore on, Caleb came to regret sparring with Darcy in his office. He’d only wanted to spend a moment alone with him, but just like the day before, he had pushed him too far. Darcy didn’t emerge from his cave of solitude. Bailey came and went, but she never looked pleased when she left him.

Caleb did like to watch her walk, though. Her long legs would feel nice wrapped around his hips, but she just wasn’t what he had a taste for, not this time. And frankly, Chester’s possessive glares when he caught him looking bothered him just a little too much.

The group of kids—and yes, they seemed like kids to him—were more than enthusiastic about having him on board. His basic tinkering with their work left an impression that astounded Caleb. For a bunch of techno-geeks, he expected at least one of them to have some working knowledge of photographic enhancing programs. All of them seemed to be more like Darcy, interested in the power of the written word, so much so that they couldn’t see what a little color could do to enhance their words.

Caleb didn’t really care how words worked. He’d never needed to know where a comma went, or the difference between who and whom, in order to create an image so powerful no words were needed. He guessed they were even on that score at least.

At four the office began to shut down, a shiver of anticipation filling the air as the crew twittered amongst themselves about the midnight launch of this week’s edition. Caleb stood with the one reporter with any real photographic promise, Amber—at least that was what he thought her name was. Amber could barely look at him as he showed her how to work his digital camera—the sensitive shutter, how to select the correct speed, to focus in on a shot until she had the subject perfectly framed. Then he showed her some tricks with the cheap ten-megapixel model she had at her disposal to get the best possible photos.

At the end of the session, she seemed to grasp most of what he had told her, though she was still unable to look at him directly without giggling. He suddenly felt old.

Other than him, Bailey and Darcy seemed to be the oldest of the lot. Maybe thirty if he guessed right. The rest were early and mid-twenties, straight out of college. Hell, they were all so young. They still thought they could save the world. Far be it from him to dispel that notion. He had thought that way once upon a time too, he just couldn’t remember when exactly. Maybe eighteen years ago when he was still an art major at LSU, maybe a couple of years after, when he had dropped out to chase rock bands around the world. Could have been when he was an embedded photographer in the first year of the Iraq war. Whenever it had been, he hadn’t noticed that innocence was missing until today.

“So how’s it going, Caleb?” Bailey slipped up beside him and latched her arm around his. She looked him straight in the eye, which was something of a shock. Not many women were his height or as aggressive as Bailey.

“Pretty good. Amber and I are going over some basics. She has a good eye. With some decent equipment I think I can turn her into a regular Jimmy Olsen.” He smiled, letting her caress his arm. “What can I do for you, Bailey? It is Bailey, isn’t it?”

“Right on the nose.” She laughed a husky, seductive laugh he was sure she thought was sexy. “We are just so happy to have you here. Darcy was so excited when you contacted him the other day. He was actually giddy, if you believe that. And I must say, after spending the morning looking over your credentials, I am so happy you found us. Anyway, on Thursday nights we usually meet at a club or some place and have a little celebration, sort of our version of a wrap party if you will, and we would be so happy if you joined us.”

Amber seemed to get a kick out of something Bailey had said, but she hastily concealed her snort behind a neutral smile. Ah, trouble in paradise. Who was the snake and who was the apple? “Sounds like a good deal. Any place specific? I have something to do later but I can certainly meet you there.”

“No place special, really, we try to go someplace new as often as we can. Darcy likes O’Doul’s down the street. He’d go there every week if it were up to him. He’s such a stick. So I was hoping you might suggest some place, being a local and all, something off the tourist route maybe.” She was laying it on thick, letting a bit of mimicked southern charm slip into her voice.

“I know a place, it’s a blues bar out in Storyville. The area can be kind of rough but they have the best music and the best oysters in town.”

“Ooh, sounds delicious. Will there be dancing? I love to dance.”

“I can tell, darlin’, you have the natural grace of a dancer. Sure there’s dancing, pool, mixed drinks, and real N’Awlins cuisine.” He scrawled the address on a notepad and handed it to her. “Just make sure to keep an eye on each other and everything will be fine. I’ll call the doorman, so he’ll know to expect you. Just tell him Caleb called him a dirty whore and he’ll know who you are.”

“Are you teasing me? I really have to say that?”

“Sure, it’s my special password. He made it up himself.” He didn’t—Caleb just wanted to see if she was as gullible as she looked. She stared, horrified, at him for a moment before she smiled.

“You had me going there for a minute. I’ll tell him what you said, just to see what he calls you. I bet he has a good name for you. See you tonight then, Caleb, around seven.” She patted his hand and flitted away, waving the note as if it were something special.

When she was out of earshot, he turned his attention back to Amber. “So why don’t you like Miss Bailey?”

Amber had the good sense to turn red, her adorable freckles standing out against the rosy hue, making him smile. “You weren’t supposed to notice that.”

“I notice everything. I could tell you where everything is in this room after one minute inside. It’s a curse really. But it’s made me famous. Now spill, what’s up with Bailey?”

“She broke Darcy’s heart when she started sleeping with Chester. Nobody likes Chester. He’s a nasty little guinea pig, but then that’s just cruel to guinea pigs, isn’t it? She used to be nice. Now she’s just catty.” Amber fiddled with the telescopic lens to Caleb’s camera. Her voice was so low he had to strain to hear her.

“And you are loyal to Darcy?”

“We all are. This magazine is his brainchild. It might not seem like it, but he puts a lot of energy into keeping it running. Bailey runs around as if she’s a queen, with Chester the Jester on her heels. But we know Darcy is in his office working the phones, following leads until he knows what stories he wants to feature and then he sends us where we need to go. Bailey just does PR, and she can work a computer like nobody’s business, but she doesn’t often. She likes to network. She looks like one of those models in magazines, skinny and tall. I hate her.”

“For what she did to Darcy?”

“Because he’s not happy. He doesn’t like it here. We wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for her. Actually, now that I think about it, today, when you first came in, was the first time I’ve seen him really smile in weeks. You must be something special to get Darcy to smile like that.” She looked at him then, really looked at him, her shrewd eyes taking in every detail until Caleb wanted to squirm.

“Me? I’m nothing, just a bum who knows a thing or two about art and that’s what impressed him. Right now, I’m Cinderella at the ball. He’ll find out soon enough I’m really an ugly stepsister.”

“You know, Caleb, I was set to dislike you just because you remind me of Bailey, too beautiful for your own good. But I see now that you have the heart of a poet.”

“Now that, Amber, my friend, is going way too far. I’m just a shit kicker at loose ends. Don’t let the face or the glib tongue fool you. I’m nothing but a petty little man who needs entertainment, and right now, for better or worse, the Bailey-Darcy-Chester circle is too interesting to pass up.”

“Just so long as Darcy doesn’t get hurt,” she said softly, meeting his gaze with a forceful glare. “I’ll have your back. Hurt Darcy and I’ll do my best to ruin you.”

“And you could do it too, couldn’t you?” He smiled when she nodded. “Amber, I can see you and I are going to get along just fine.”

“You might want to give me the address. Bailey sometimes forgets to pass along meet-ups to those of us she doesn’t like. And I for one would love to see the seamier side of New Orleans.”

“You got it.” He wrote the address down again just as his phone buzzed in his pocket. He checked the text and returned it. “Well, there’s the Bat-Signal. I’m needed downtown. It was nice meeting you, Amber. And remember what I told you and you’ll do fine.”

“I’ll do that, Caleb. See you tonight.” Still engrossed with his camera, she waved him away. “And I’ll get this back to you Tuesday.”

“No hurry, I have ten more at home.”

He found himself standing in front of Darcy’s office once again. This time he didn’t knock—he walked in unannounced. Darcy, with phone to his ear, looked up at him but continued his conversation. He jotted down flight information on a notepad and hung up. He took off his glasses and tossed them on the desk to rub his eyes. He looked tired. “Sorry about that, last-minute change in one of the assignments for next week. Are you heading out then?”

“Yeah. Listen, about all that shit earlier… I’m not exactly myself lately. I usually don’t go around antagonizing people.” He liked Darcy without the glasses. The electric blue of his eyes was startling without them.

“I hear you invited the gang out for drinks later. That was nice of you.” He didn’t acknowledge the apology but he seemed to relax.

“I don’t know how giving an address to a blues bar became an invitation to drinks, but okay. Are you going to be there?” Because if he wasn’t going to show up, Caleb had tons of better stuff to do.

“I’m sure Bailey will have my hide if I don’t. Oh hey, before I forget—about tomorrow, we pretty much don’t do anything around here on Fridays. The magazine is set to launch at midnight. Most of us just sleep in and if we feel like dragging in, we just shoot pool or play cards, stuff like that. We’re closed on Saturday and Sunday, but those with assignments travel on Sunday. Monday, the office staff starts setting up for next week’s edition. So really, unless you just want to hang out, then we’ll see you Monday.” He yawned, moving his fingers to his temples.

“You look exhausted.” Caleb wanted to walk behind the desk and run his hands over his shoulders, ease the stress of the day away. He worked on his impulse control. Must not freak the pretty man out, must not give in to the urge to nibble his ears.

Merde.

“I didn’t sleep well last night. Too much beer, I think, makes me have nightmares.” Darcy cleared his throat. A blush crept up his cheeks and he wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“You keep telling yourself that, cher. Meanwhile, I’m needed at the hospital. If I make it to your little party, I’ll see you there.” He left Darcy staring after him, his face gone suddenly pale as if he’d been caught doing something very, very naughty. Caleb wondered just how naughty Darcy’s dreams really were. Enough to keep him awake. But was it enough to push him out of his comfort zone? God, Caleb hoped so.

Four

Strange music blasted from the stage—happy, dancy music that set Darcy’s teeth on edge. Not that the music was bad, it wasn’t, he was just tired. He wanted to go home, watch a movie, read a book—do something quietly. Anything quietly. He didn’t care what as long as the tension in his neck would just stop throbbing long enough for him to relax.

It wasn’t late—sometime after ten, probably closer to eleven—and he’d been awake for more hours than he could count. He leaned back in the leather seat, stretching his legs out under the table as far as he could. He draped his arms across the back and let his head loll back against the wall. The ache in his neck eased somewhat, enough to let him drift a bit as the music began to weave slowly around him. Never mind that he was alone in an unfamiliar bar, he let sleep creep up on him.

“Look at this, cher, you ever see anything so lazy in you life?”

Darcy cracked an eye open. He knew that voice, the long, lazy drawl, not quite right, not quite wrong either.

“He sho’ is easy on the eyes, beb. I been watching him since he came in. I got me an envie for dat one.” The waitress smiled down at him, open appreciation on her face. She winked at him just as Caleb slid into the booth with him. “You want the usual, beb? Or something to go?”

“Mais, no, bring us out a couple dozen oysters and—what you drinking, cher? Whatever my new friend is drinking, and a pitcher of beer. Oh, hey, Teela, bring a basket of beignets out too. I need something sweet tonight.”

“Oh, yeah, and how’s your mama? We heard about her—you uncle was in here looking for you this afternoon. He’s not looking so good.” She gathered up the discarded glasses.

“My uncle can beck moi tchew, cher, you tell him to get his sorry ass over to the hospital nex’ time he come in here. I ain’t got nothin to say to him till he show his face dere.”

“Sure thing, Caleb. I go fetch those oysters then.” She looked at the man sitting next to Darcy strangely, as if he’d fallen from some weird planet where they spoke some messed-up language, but she spoke it too, so none of that made the slightest bit of sense to him.

“Would you mind translating some of that? I’m rusty on my French, did you say your uncle should bite your ass? And why does she envy me? Christ, I need a dictionary.”

“Won’t do you no good, beb, most of what we say isn’t in one anyway.” Placing his knee in the seat next to Darcy’s leg, Caleb leaned his elbow on the back of the seat. His voice was light with laughter. “She said she has a craving for you—envie, not envy—pronounced sort of like awning. You are mighty fetching lying there, can’t say as I blame her.”

“Do you do that on purpose? Change accents like that, I mean? It’s disconcerting.”

“Gives you frissons when I talk like dis, goosebumps. Admit it, cher, you like my voice, it makes you tremble.” Darcy tried not to flinch when Caleb lightly ran his fingers along the back of his arm. “More frissons. You have smooth skin, I like that.”

“Cut it out, Caleb. I told you I’m not interested. And stop playing Cajun.” Darcy ignored the goosebumps coursing down his arm. What was it he’d said? Freezons?

“I am Cajun, coonass bayou bait, cher, until my daddy moved us all up to Charleston. I had to learn to talk like his people, so my daddy wouldn’t be disinherited for marrying a piece of swamp trash. Never mind my grand-pere had more money than God and owned half this town at the time. And besides, cher, your lips say no, but your eyes are saying something else entirely. Teela ain’t the only one with an envie for you.”

“Are you drunk?” Darcy said, low, when the waitress returned carrying a tray loaded with platters and glasses.

“Not yet, cher, but soon. Hey, Teela, bring me more of this, will you? It’s been a horrible day.” He sniffed the clear liquor Teela set down in front of him. “Gin and tonic. Bring more of this, should do the trick.”

“You want another one too, cher?” She looked at Darcy, her eyes showing concern for the man sitting next to him.

“No, ma’am, I’m good. I’m going to have a couple of those beignets and hit the road.” He smiled at her and she smiled back, winking. Damn but she was pretty, long, glossy, black hair pulled up in a ponytail, nice breasts, green eyes.

“She has a husband, beb, a big one,” Caleb said when she left them.

“What does beb mean? I told you my French is rusty.”

“Darling, baby, love, something to that effect.” Caleb shrugged, taking a sip of drink, wincing as the liquor burned his throat.

“Like cher?” His question was met with more laughter.

“No, draw the word out like yeah and drop the r. Cher is the singer. And that means dear one, but we use it lightly, and because you tourists expect to hear it. Same as you expect to hear ‘how y’all are’. You ever had oysters, Darcy?”

His eyes seemed to sparkle with some sort of inner fire, or demon, Darcy couldn’t decide which. Either way his skin reacted, pulling into—what had he called them? Freezons? Shit. “No, thank you, I’m having a hard time understanding the reason anyone would put that in their mouth.”

“Because it’s good. Here…” He lifted a half shell off the platter and placed a drop of hot sauce in the center before he tilted his head back and let it slide into his mouth. “See? Nothing to it, goes down smooth. Salty. Your turn.”

He had another oyster loaded and, before he could figure a way out, lifted it to Darcy’s lips. Darcy let it slide over his tongue, gagging as he swallowed the slimy thing down. “Christ, that’s nasty! How can you eat it?” He followed it with a gulp of beer. “Shit.”

Caleb laughed, the sound caressing his skin like velvet. “It wasn’t so bad. Where are your people, Darcy? They left you all alone over here in the dark. I nearly didn’t find you.”

Darcy watched him tilt another mollusk into his mouth and swallow, following it with the gin chaser. “Out there somewhere dancing, having a good time, being young.”

“So why aren’t you out there, dancing and being young? You are young too, you know? Just how young are you, exactly?”

“Twenty-nine.” Darcy shrugged. He sure as hell didn’t feel young. “I don’t dance. What’s your excuse?”

“I’m not interested in that kind of dancing tonight.” His gaze slid over him, lingering on his jaw, moving lower to catch all the points between his neck and where the tablecloth lay across his thighs, lingering there. “You want another oyster?”

“No, thanks, I’ve eaten. And I’d like to keep what I ate in my stomach.” Darcy had to turn away before the smolder in his gaze burned him. He winced when he turned too fast.

“What’s wrong with your neck, beb?” His velvety voice dripped with concern.

“Nothing, just tension,” Darcy said, fighting the urge to flinch when warm fingers slipped under his collar and pressed into the spot as if they knew exactly where he ached. “You shouldn’t do that.”

“But it feels good. Your neck is all stiff. Loosen a button on your shirt.” His voice was so close almost next to his ear. Caleb massaged him, his palm hot against Darcy’s flesh. Darcy wanted to lean into his hand. Caleb pressed harder, forcing a moan from him. “I like the sound of that. Just one button, cher, nothing more. I’ll fix your neck for you, that’s all. Feels so nice, doesn’t it? My hand on your neck.”

He spoke softly, his accent a mix of familiar and foreign words. His voice was husky, almost sensuous. Darcy wanted the ache to disappear. He craved relief. He opened a button then a second. “That feels incredible.” He leaned into Caleb’s hand, letting him work his magic. His hand, so hot on his neck, drifted along his shoulder, massaging the kink out. “Feels so good.”

“I know it does. You have soft skin.” Caleb’s voice was a whisper, but so close Darcy could feel his breath on his neck. “You smell nice, cher.”

Something moist touched his neck, a slight flick of his tongue just below Darcy’s ear. His skin prickled, pulling tight in reaction. Darcy opened his mouth to protest but nothing came out. The pressure of Caleb’s hand increased, his touch lulled him, dulling the alarm ringing in his brain.

“Do that again.” He hadn’t meant to say that. The low rumble of laughter so close to his ear nearly swallowed him whole, the sound washing through him.

“Pretty frissons on your pretty neck. You taste good, Darcy, savory. I could eat you up. I want to eat you up.” He could hear the yearning need in Caleb’s voice. He could feel his desire. It engulfed him, confused him.

Caleb licked him again, the wet heat of his tongue sending chills through Darcy’s body. He couldn’t think. He didn’t want to think. It had been too long since someone had tasted him. He thrilled at the touch, wanting more. Twisting slightly in the seat, he turned to meet Caleb’s mouth. Despite consciously giving in to temptation, Darcy gasped in surprise when lush warm lips touched his. He relaxed into the kiss, allowing Caleb full access to his mouth. Caleb simply tasted him, softly, taking his time before setting out to devour him.

Darcy didn’t remember closing his eyes, but he didn’t dare open them now. Caleb’s hair was as soft as he’d dreamed it was. Not exactly fine, but silky nonetheless. He ran his fingers through the strands as Caleb sucked his tongue into his mouth.

The lush scent of his skin nearly overwhelmed him. Warm, spicy, like sunshine and a ride through the forest after a rain. God, it was enough to drive him mad. Caleb shifted, pulling him closer, nearly against him. He locked his fingers around Darcy’s neck and held him tight as he feasted on him.

Darcy forgot to keep his eyes closed. Green eyes so bright they seemed to burn with some strange light stared into his. There was a desire so powerful there, Darcy thought they would ignite. Caleb slid his fingers along his thigh. He could feel heat through his pants, the touch felt so nice. He cupped him then, laying his palm over his zipper. His mouth turned up in a grin, triumph shining in his eyes as he broke the kiss. “You have a nice big dick, Darcy. I bet you taste so good. I want to taste you there, beb. I want to make you come, drink you down.”

He rubbed him through his pants, and Darcy groaned as his cock grew rigid. It wouldn’t take much to send him over the edge. He could imagine Caleb’s mouth on him. His fingers traced him, sliding along him, touching him, seducing him. Oh, Christ, it felt so good, he needed it so much, he needed Caleb’s mouth. Here now, no one would see. It was so dark in the corner booth, cut off from the rest of the…

Voices slowly penetrated the sexual haze. Sharp piercing voices laughing nearby, sounding so very close.

Caleb’s mouth was so warm, his fingers insistent, like a drug, threatening to drag him back under, but reality intruded in the form of Bailey. She and Chester emerged from the crowd. She was laughing at something Chester had whispered in her ear.

“Shit. Son of a bitch. Get the fuck off me.” Darcy pulled away. Ice seemed to shiver and slither over his skin. Oh, shit, what the hell am I doing? Christ, they’d been seconds away from…

Oh, God.

“No one can see us here.” Disappointment flashed in Caleb’s eyes but he moved away, his breathing as heavy as Darcy’s own. “Come home with me. I want to make love to you so bad my teeth hurt.”

The longing in his voice nearly undid Darcy. The sound caressed him, seduced him, until Darcy wanted to do everything Caleb wanted. He shook himself, fighting off the urge, letting anger replace desire.

“Yeah, well, try that again and I’ll break them all for you.” He grabbed the glass of gin, sloshing it some before he got it to his lips. The familiar sting washed down his throat. The heat spread through his body and his mind, numbing him to what could happen if he didn’t get the hell out of here.

He could still see Bailey on the edge of the crowd. She and Chester weren’t heading this way after all. They pressed together as Darcy became aware of the music. Slow, waltz-like, a French melody over bluesy guitar, seductive, poignant. He had to get out of here before he did something stupid. “Where’s the restroom?”

“Back that way.” Caleb let a slow smile creep into his eyes as he nodded behind them.

“Just, don’t even—this isn’t happening, do you understand me?” Without waiting for an answer, Darcy climbed out of the booth, trying not to touch the man’s body in any way, and headed to the back of the building. The lighted green restroom sign pointed the way down a long corridor and Darcy found himself in the cramped room alone.

He stood at the sink and leaned on it for support. Christ, Christ. Fuck. His heart threatened to race out of his chest. He ached from wanting. He ached so badly he couldn’t walk without wanting. The man in the mirror stared back at him, his face flushed, his eyes wild. He felt as if he were burning alive. Christ. Jesus. The water from the tap was tepid. He took his glasses off and splashed his face. Shit. Shit. Son of a bitch. He had to get out of here. Get home. Find a cab. Something. Whatever. He had to go or he would go nuts.

Son of a bitch kissed like a… Don’t think about it. His hair was so soft… Don’t fucking think about it. Have to go. Home. Now. Shit.

He pushed off the sink and stumbled out into the hall. Caleb leaned against the far wall beside a door marked ‘Private’. Son of a bitch flipped his hair back out of his face. He looked so fucking smug Darcy wanted to punch his face through the wall. He meant to turn left, head out into the bar, pay the bill and head home. He couldn’t stop himself from turning right. The teasing light in Caleb’s eyes shone brightly under the dim, single light bulb swinging over his head.

Those damned eyes ate at his soul, taunting him. Darcy couldn’t control the need coursing through him. He closed the distance between them, grabbed Caleb’s shirt in his fists and slammed him into the wall. “I don’t want to do this.” The words ached in his throat, catching on the anger that drove him.

“You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t. You would have left just now, and taken a cab back to wherever it is you stay. The question I have, Darcy, is, exactly what is it you want to do to me right now?” There was no fear in his eyes. Darcy growled between his teeth. There should be fear, there should be something.

There was something, Darcy could see it swirling like fire in his green eyes. Lust—pure, greedy, consuming lust. Son of a bitch.

“Do something, Darcy, fucking hit me or kiss me. Either way, just do it and get it over with.”

“I can’t. I want to but I can’t.” He let the words slip past his lips but he knew one thing as he said the words—he did not know what the fuck he wanted. Caleb just smiled that lazy smile of his, the light swinging overhead just barely illuminating his face, but Darcy saw the fire in his eyes just the same. “I hate you. That’s all I know right now.”

“Why, cher?” Caleb raised an eyebrow. God, Darcy hated people who could do that, raise one fucking eyebrow just because they could, to taunt, to tease. “Because I turn you on? Admit it, beb, you’re standing there with a boner just for me. All this posturing is making me want you even more. I want to taste your cock, Darcy. I want to make you weak in the knees. I want to make you forget your own fucking name. Tell me what you want, beb, tell me you want me to suck your cock. Tell me—”

“I want you to kiss me. Shut the fuck up and kiss me again, before I come to my senses, before I remember why I hate you.” Darcy surprised himself when he released Caleb’s shirt and let his hands slide along Caleb’s neck to tangle in his hair. The light in the man’s eyes enthralled him, making him ache for something he wasn’t sure he even understood.

“Just so we are clear, when I kiss you, cher, I won’t be able to stop. You better mean what you say. I can’t handle the tease if you don’t.” The gleam turned dangerous, his voice almost harsh.

“No teasing. Jesus Christ, I’m so damned hard from wanting you. Why did you do this to me?” Darcy couldn’t think straight. Caleb’s breath teased his lips as his smile turned sensuous. The first touch of his mouth was soft, like before, so soft Darcy wanted to curl into him and just touch and taste.

“Because you want me, cher, you want my dick in your mouth. You want me to touch you and lick you and make you mine. I’m going to make you mine, Darcy, tonight. I’m going to take you home with me and make you forget everything you know,” he said while placing small teasing kisses along Darcy’s jaw.

Darcy shivered when his mouth finally closed over his. Caleb’s tongue touched his—he suckled him into his mouth while he watched him with those green eyes. Desire and triumph burned so brightly there, Darcy’s knees buckled.

He slumped against Caleb, pressing him hard against the wall, his cock rigid between them. “Now,” he heard himself whisper. “I can’t wait that long. Now, Caleb, please now.”

Caleb’s low husky laugh washed over him, his eyes sparkling with his victory. “You’d let me do you in the hallway, cher? Merde.”

He didn’t know what merde meant. He could barely remember English at this point. “Shit. I don’t know what I’m thinking anymore. You have me so confused.”

Caleb reached between them and pulled his keys from his pocket. Fumbling with them, he found the one he was looking for, and in seconds he had the door marked ‘Private’ open. Darcy let him push him inside and up against the wall in what appeared to be a narrow stairwell. Caleb closed the door with his foot, and, almost as an afterthought, he reached over and twisted a deadbolt, effectively trapping them inside. Another single light bulb lit the narrow room from somewhere near the middle of the stairs. They were in shadows, alone, together, with no prying eyes. This was messed-up wrong. Darcy’s heart beat too fast, but his brain ignored the warning.

“No one can see us. Let me touch you now, cher… Darcy, please.” Despite the words in the hall, Caleb wanted his permission. He leaned over him, forcing him to look up the smallest fraction into his eyes. His voice was pleading, his shadowed eyes seemed almost afraid now.

All Darcy could think to do was kiss him, so he did. Touching his lips to Caleb’s, he absorbed his sigh. In seconds, Caleb’s long, agile fingers had his shirt unbuttoned and were in the process of dragging it down his arms when Darcy’s phone buzzed in his pants. “Cher, your pocket is making me feel nice.” He laughed. “Tell her you left, tell her not to worry.”

Darcy pulled his phone from his pocket and looked at the caller ID. “How did you know it would be Bailey?”

“I didn’t. I just assumed it would be one of them, Bailey most likely. Tell her you caught a cab, cher.” Caleb placed his hands on the wall beside his head and leaned into him, his breath hot against his neck. Darcy forgot the phone ringing silently in his hand. “Answer it, cher, before she worries and comes looking for you.” His tongue slid across Darcy’s neck, making him groan.

“Hello.” He didn’t know how he’d managed to open his phone. Caleb’s mouth on his neck had him spinning so fast he didn’t know which end was up.

“Where are you, Darcy? Why are you breathing so heavily?” He heard Bailey say from somewhere far away, but he didn’t care. Caleb had found the button on his pants and had his hand wrapped around Darcy in a way that had him ready to scream.

“Talk to her, cher, tell her you’re fine,” Caleb whispered next to his ear. “You’re in a cab going home.”

“I don’t know,” Darcy said a moment later when he could breathe again. “In a cab somewhere, going home. I wasn’t feeling well. I had to get out. Sorry, Bailey. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Good, that’s good,” Caleb crooned against his ear, dropping his mouth to kiss his neck while he slowly eased his hand over his cock, stroking him lightly with the tips of his nimble fingers. Darcy let the hand holding the phone drop as he grabbed Caleb’s head. Caleb pushed it back to his ear. “Tell her you’ll see her tomorrow.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Bailey.”

Caleb pinched his nipples. God, that felt so damned good. He could hear Bailey talking but he couldn’t tell what she was saying.

“What? Who? Caleb? No, he’s not with me. He’d ordered oysters when I left. He should be around there somewhere. Shit… Bailey, I’ve got to go… My phone is dying. Talk to you tomorrow.” He wasn’t sure if he disconnected before he dropped the phone to the floor, but the clattering sound it made was soothing to him.

“You lie good, cher. Of course, you sounded like you were getting head, but you lie very good. And you have a nice big cock. I’m going to love sucking you, Darcy. I’ve thought about what you would taste like since I walked in the door at O’Doul’s the other day. Those big blue eyes of yours make me shiver when you look at me, I want you so much.”

Darcy couldn’t do anything more than hold himself flat against the wall as Caleb closed his hand around his dick. He pumped him slowly, lingering at the head until he was slick with pre-cum. He nipped his neck with his teeth, sucked him, licked him, made him tremble as the pressure to come grew so intense, Darcy couldn’t drag in a breath to save his life.

“Slow down, beb, I’m not ready for you to pop just yet.” He felt Caleb smile against his neck, his words muffled by the sound of Darcy’s own heartbeat. Hell, yeah, he was about two seconds away from doing just that but Caleb evidently had other ideas.

“Not here, upstairs where I can see you.”

“Fuck,” Darcy swore when Caleb released him. Jesus, shit, Christ, he was so close.

“Which is exactly what I plan to do to you, but upstairs in my bed. Unless you want your first time to be here in the stairwell? Wouldn’t be my first choice for a romantic liaison.”

“Your bed?” His brain somehow managed to grasp that much. “You live upstairs?”

“When I’m in town. This is my bar, cher, one of a dozen I own with my uncle. O’Doul’s is another one. Think you can climb, baby? I can’t wait to get you naked.”

Without waiting for him to answer, Caleb grabbed a fistful of his shirt and more or less dragged him up the stairs. Darcy somehow managed not to trip on the way up. They emerged into a dimly lit room that filled immediately with light when Caleb hit a switch, making Darcy wince. “On second thought, I don’t think I can wait that long.”

Before Darcy could figure out what he was talking about, he found himself lying on his back in the middle of Caleb’s living room on an oversized square ottoman covered in soft leather, his feet planted firmly on the floor. Caleb leaned over him, one jeans-covered knee beside his hip, the other between his legs. He stared into shining green eyes. Caleb’s hair framed his face, the tips curling towards his chin. Unable to resist, Darcy reached up and curled a lock around his finger. “I love your hair, it’s so soft.”

Caleb laughed, his eyes filled with joy. The sound, husky and sensuous, worked like magic, making him tremble.

“And your laugh. It does things to me.”

“And you don’t hate me, do you, cher? Like you said in the hallway?” Somehow knowing that Darcy didn’t really hate him seemed to be important to him. Caleb’s gaze turned serious, his hands grew still.

“I don’t hate you, Caleb, I’m…scared. You’ve got me tied up in knots and I don’t know why I lashed out. I didn’t know what else to do. I’ve never wanted a man before.” Christ, he sounded pitiful, but those soul-sucking eyes of Caleb’s made him want to tell the truth no matter how pathetic it made him sound.

“How many women you been with, cher?” His accent came back with the tilt of his lips, and the broken English mixed with French stroked his skin. “Besides Bailey.”

“I don’t know. What does it matter?” He didn’t want to think about her or any other woman right now.

“Because you are so…I don’t know, virginal for twenty-nine. And I don’t mean an ass virgin either. You’ve got a sweetness to you. I like that about you. I don’t know many sweet men.”

“Just Bailey,” he said before he could stop himself. He hated the sympathy he saw in Caleb’s eyes. “I thought we were going to fuck. I didn’t come here to talk.”

Caleb smiled, heat filling his eyes once again. “Take my shirt off, cher, I want to feel your hands on me.”

He leaned up while Darcy dragged his T-shirt from his pants and over his head. A silver cross on a long silver chain fell out. Hanging down, it pooled on Darcy’s chest, the metal surprisingly warm from Caleb’s body. He was golden, his skin glowing from time spent in the sun. His arms were lean, muscled and smooth. The hair on his forearms was fine, almost blond, and there was no hair on his chest. The tattoos he’d seen the day before stood out almost as an abomination. As if someone had defaced a marble masterpiece.

Black ink swirled around his navel in a scrolling pattern that made no sense to Darcy. A slim band of what looked like swirling roses ran downward from his navel to disappear beneath the waistband of his jeans. A series of swirled interlocking shapes snaked together to form sort of a grid on his chest just below his collarbone. He knew there were more on his back. Darcy couldn’t help himself—he leaned into him and licked one of the flowers in the grid. He could feel the scars from the needle with his tongue.

“They have no meaning, in case you’re wondering. I was drunk, they were pretty, like something I would paint. I spent a large portion of my twenties drunk, if you haven’t figured that out yet.”

Darcy ran his finger along the swirl around his navel, letting it trail down to his jeans. Caleb’s swift intake of breath gave him the courage to free the button on his jeans. He was nude beneath the denim. His cock strained against his belly, hard and long, the head not as pronounced as he had expected. “I wasn’t circumcised. My mother’s family is strict Catholic, my grandfather wouldn’t allow it.” Caleb answered the question before he could form the words. “Works just the same, though. Touch me. Go ahead. We’re going slow, Darcy, so slow.”

His mouth went dry at the thought. “I’m… I don’t know if I can.”

“It’s okay, beb, when you’re ready.” Caleb just smiled, his eyes filled with heat as he lowered his head to capture Darcy’s lips again. “There’s so much more we can do.”

Caleb angled his body, letting his cock nestle against Darcy’s. He gasped at the heat sizzling through his body, the sound swallowed by Caleb’s mouth. His kiss started out sweet just like before as he rocked his body along Darcy’s, his cock gliding snake-like along his belly. Pleasure swirled painfully within him and Darcy couldn’t stop himself from mimicking Caleb’s movements, rocking with him as the slick heat built between them. He wrapped his arms around Caleb’s back, pulling him closer until there was no room between them for even air to penetrate. “This feels so nice,” he sighed against Caleb’s mouth, while the fire in those green eyes burned through to his soul. This was like making love. “Oh God.” He arched into him, wanting to move faster. God, he was so close… If he could just—

Cool air rushed over him when Caleb pulled away.

“Don’t stop.” He reached for him, hoping to recapture the heat before he lost it.

“I’m not stopping, bebe, I’m just changing positions.”

He’d called him bay-bay. God, he knew what bebe meant. Baby. Shit, fuck. He didn’t want to be this man’s baby.

“I want to taste you. I want your first come to be from my mouth. Merde, I want to suck you so fucking bad. You want that, bebe, me to suck you off?”

His fingers were already wrapped around him, stroking him. With a strangled moan, Darcy arched into his hand, urging him to pump him harder.

“Say it, Darcy, tell me what you want me to do to you. Say what you want.”

“Christ, I want you to suck me, Caleb. Shit, please.” He liked how Caleb squeezed him, it felt so damned good. “I want to pop in your mouth. I don’t believe I just said that.”

His laugh caught Darcy off guard again. Would he ever get used to how the deep rumbling sound made him feel?

“Lean up on your elbows, cher. I want you to watch me suck you.” Caleb settled on the floor between his legs. He tugged at his pants, hauling them down his legs until he lay there in nothing but his shirt. “You’re nice and thick, I like that. Spread your legs, bebe, like that.”

Darcy moved his legs farther apart as Caleb leaned over him, one hand tangled in the hair between his legs, the other resting on his belly, holding him still while he eased him into his mouth.

“Oh, shit.” He almost came off the ottoman in surprise. Caleb’s mouth was strong, demanding. Caleb took him in deeply, sucking the length of him while he stared at him with those damned eyes of his. He gripped his balls, first one then the other, rolling them between his fingers, setting fire to his dick. Caleb pumped him with his hand, using it as an extension of his tight mouth. His hair grazed Darcy’s groin when he went down on him. The image, he knew, would forever be burned in his head. The incredible sensation of strong hands and stronger mouth had him fighting for control.

“I’m going to come, Caleb… Damn, that feels so fucking good.” He reached out, snaking his hand into the man’s hair. Jesus, shit. He held him lightly, wanting the contact. He buried his hand in the strands, holding him tight, linking himself with Caleb while he went over. “Caleb, oh Christ. Don’t stop, don’t ever fucking stop.” And then there was nothing left and he fell back on the ottoman just hoping he could catch his breath before he died.

At least he would die a happy man. If nothing else, he had that.

Five

Caleb swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. Ignoring the way his heart raced and the ache between his legs, he laid his head on Darcy’s muscled thigh. Darcy quivered at the contact, post-orgasmic sensitive. God, Caleb liked that. He loved how easily Darcy responded to his touch, how eagerly he returned his kisses.

Shit, he didn’t want to feel this way. As if he were floating on air and drowning at the same time. As if he didn’t take everything Darcy had to give and take it now, he’d somehow never get the chance. This need for the man scared him. His body screamed for him, all of him…now. He wasn’t prepared.

“Shit,” he hissed against Darcy’s leg. “I don’t have anything here, cher. I want inside you so badly but I don’t have protection.” He heard him groan. That Darcy wanted more made Caleb’s already soaring heart fly higher.

He didn’t want to spoil the moment but he couldn’t, wouldn’t force anything on Darcy. He wanted there to be no guilt, no worries about repercussions when this night ended. For either of them.

He leaned up on his elbows, hoping to gauge Darcy’s reaction. With a sigh, he let the words tumble from his lips. “I’m clean. I haven’t been with a man in seven years.” Had it really been seven years? He forced the memory away before he could recall the face attached to it. “I’ve been careful with women. I’m clean. I want you, bebe. Did you and Bailey use protection?”

Darcy didn’t say anything immediately. He lay on his back, breathing heavily, his eyes closed behind his glasses. Christ, he still wore his glasses.

Caleb studied the sexy, almost naked librarian on his ottoman. The image was too much. His cock throbbed from wanting him. He dripped with need. Rising on his knees, he pressed the tip of his cock against Darcy’s opening. He teased him, stroking against him until he was slick. “Darcy, Darce, baby, I’ll stop now, there are other—”

The strangled moan that escaped Darcy startled him. It was almost as if he were in pain.

“We used condoms. She slept around. Christ, that feels so nice. Don’t stop.” His voice was like silk—soft, sweet. Caleb loved the way it caressed him when he talked.

“You like this?” Caleb massaged him with the head of his dick, the sound Darcy made urging him to do more. “How about this?” He eased a finger, slick from his mouth, inside him. God, but he was tight. So tight.

With a sharp gasp, Darcy opened his eyes and leaned up on his elbows again to watch him. The leg Caleb leaned against quivered.

“How does this feel, Darce? Me inside you. God, bebe, you are so tight.”

“Caleb…” he said, drawing his name out. Caleb felt him relax, his body almost sighing with pleasure. He slicked a second finger and eased it inside, sliding into him deeper with each gentle thrust. “Feels so… Caleb. Oh, God.” His eyes flew wide and his hips bucked when Caleb found his sweet spot. “Shit. Oh my God.”

Red infused Darcy’s cheeks, pleasure flashed in his eyes as he moved with the rhythm of Caleb’s fingers. Desire sparked through Caleb at the sight of Darcy enjoying what he did to him. Now, it was now. Now. Shit, now.

“Take your glasses off, Darce. I want to see your eyes while I fuck you. Spread your legs, baby. Open for me.” Caleb rose onto his knees, eased his fingers out and positioned himself. Being careful not to hurt him, he shivered as he slipped inside, going slowly. Darcy gasped at the intrusion and his eyes went round with shock. Caleb stopped moving, letting him get used to the feeling.

“I thought you needed lube or something.” His laugh was nervous, a hint of fear flashed in his eyes, but his dick wasn’t as shy. It lengthened, swelling to almost the same size as before his orgasm.

“It would be easier. Sure. But damn, Darce, I’m dripping I’m so hot for you. Natural lubrication. God, Darcy, you feel so good. Open for me, baby, wider so I don’t hurt you.” Caleb didn’t dare move, he didn’t dare even breathe for fear of hurting him or scaring him. He waited as Darcy seemed to think about it for a moment then he slowly took off his glasses.

Without a word, he offered them to Caleb. He took them from him and put them on the couch behind him. “Lift your legs onto the ottoman. Just like that, Darce.” Caleb tugged his hips towards him, easing into him slowly. “How does it feel?”

“Strange, like I might fall,” he said in a soft voice, his eyes unfocused and bright at the same time.

“I won’t let you fall, bebe,” he promised as he slipped his hands behind Darcy’s knees and lifted. Holding him steady, he inched deeper inside. “Christ, Darce, you are so tight. Relax, bebe, I won’t hurt you.”

Darcy hissed between his teeth, his lips pulled tight. He clutched the leather beside him, his knuckles white. “It doesn’t hurt. A little. Feels nice, too.”

“I know it does, baby, feels real nice. I’ve dreamed of fucking you, just like this. Slow and easy. Easy, baby, almost there.” The need to orgasm swirled in his brain, but he fought it off. He wanted more. God, it had been so long since he felt this good. Darcy’s breath caught when he seated himself against his body, and his eyes started to glaze over. “Stay with me, baby. I want you to watch me fuck you.”

“I want to watch you, oh, God… I dreamed about you this morning.” He turned red, embarrassed.

“Yeah, Darce? What was I doing?”

“This. Fucking me, just like this… Caleb, this feels so good.”

“Feels good to me too, Darce. I like that you dreamed about me. Did you come?”

“In the shower. Couldn’t stop myself, I wanted you so much.” The blush infused his face and spread down his neck, onto his chest. It was enough to send Caleb over the edge.

“That makes me so fucking hot, bebe. Bet it felt so good. Stroke yourself like you did this morning. Let me watch you.” He didn’t think he would, but Darcy had surprised him so many times tonight he could hope. Darcy didn’t disappoint him. Blushing like crazy, he grasped his cock and slowly pumped himself. Caleb followed his tempo, easing inside him to the rhythm he set. Darcy didn’t seem to know that he moved with him, almost instinctively, long, slow strokes that had Caleb panting. “That is so wicked, baby. Your cock likes that, doesn’t it, baby? It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“I never knew how good this could feel,” he said, his voice a whisper. “I’m so close, Caleb, I want you so much.”

“I know you do, baby. Oh, Darce, shit, baby, scoot back some, give me room on this thing.” He pushed him gently towards the far edge of the ottoman and slowly climbed on top of him. “Wrap your legs around me, baby. Christ, yeah, just like that.”

Muscular thighs surrounded him, pressed against him, holding him captive as he lowered his body to meet Darcy’s. The heat of his cock pressed into his belly, slick and throbbing. Strong arms embraced him, pulling him closer. Harsh, sweet breath warmed his cheek. Caleb thought he would die when Darcy kissed him, his tongue seeking Caleb’s this time, his lips, at first so soft, turning demanding. “Fuck me, harder, Caleb. Christ, this feels so good. Almost as if we are making love.”

“We are making love, bebe. Sweet, soft love. I could love you forever, Darce, oh bebe, yeah…” He had no idea what he was saying, pleasure swirled in his brain. He rocked into him, faster, harder, feeling Darcy’s dick slide between them, hot and pulsing. “Mon amour doux, you feel so nice, j’aime yous baiser.”

“I love when you speak French,” Darcy said against his mouth, his body trembling beneath him. “I’m—Caleb…shit.”

Caleb winced when he twisted his fingers in his hair, his body going rigid, liquid heat erupting between them. “Mon amour doux, my sweet love. I’m there baby, I can’t stop.”

“Don’t stop, it feels good.” Darcy held him tight, his breath coming in jagged gasps. Caleb let the pleasure swimming in his brain run free. It consumed him, sending him shooting out of control. Darcy cried out as Caleb’s release filled him, his body shaking from the shock.

When he could, Caleb slowly withdrew and rolled to his side, taking Darcy with him. Holding him close while he recovered, he placed soft kisses on his face, his neck. “Merde.”

“What does merde mean?” His voice was barely a whisper.

“Shit or fuck.” Caleb felt him smile against his neck. “It seemed to apply.”

“Merde, I’ll have to remember that for next time.” Darcy’s hand was so hot as he caressed Caleb’s hip. “You’re still wearing jeans.”

“I was in a hurry, didn’t want you to change your mind. Next time I’ll strip first.” He laughed. Little shivers of something sticky and warm seemed to want to grip his chest and squeeze. The last time he’d felt like this… He wouldn’t think about that. Not now. “Will there be a next time?”

Darcy fell still, his body seeming to tense as if he just realized they’d done something monumental…or wrong.

“This wasn’t wrong, cher. Darcy, please don’t—”

“J’aime yous baiser. I know what that means. Funny how you remember the curse words and not much else from high school.” He was finally able to look him in the eyes. “Something about love and fuck.”

“Did I say that? I can’t remember.” He did remember he’d called him his sweet love.

“You did, just before you came. Christ, this can’t be happening. I should go home.” He started to pull away now that reality had reared its ugly head.

“I meant it. I loved fucking you. I want you so much, Darcy. I haven’t wanted anyone like this in so long. Hell, I can’t even remember it’s been so long.” Caleb felt a tug at his neck as Darcy fingered the cross he wore to remind him of something he would rather forget.

“You said it’s been seven years since you’ve been with a man. Why is that?”

He didn’t want to think about that time. He didn’t want to remember. He laid his hand over Darcy’s, over the cross. “I fell in love with a soldier while I was on assignment in Iraq. I’d never been in love before. I got stupid.” He refused to let the memory out, not now. Not after—

“What happened?” It was an innocent question. Caleb swiped at the stinging wetness at the corner of his eye.

“He died in my arms and I won a Pulitzer. I don’t like remembering that day. I haven’t looked at the pictures. I couldn’t. I just turned the film over to my editor and walked away. I spent a lot of time drinking after that. And painting. I sold the paintings to a gallery in New York. I thought I’d purged him.”

“How old were you?”

“Same age as you are now, cher. That was a long time ago. A lifetime ago. I’ve never told anyone about that. Ever.”

“Why did you tell me?” His fingers brushed the tattoo on Caleb’s chest, unaware of the painful memory that lay beneath it.

“Because you asked, and because I haven’t felt like this since then. I don’t want to fall in love with you. I don’t. I don’t want to risk it.”

“I should leave.”

Darcy didn’t understand that it was too late. Leaving wouldn’t do any good now.

“We should go to my bed, this thing is not comfortable.” He laid his hand on Darcy’s shoulder, holding him still. “I want to feel you inside me, Darcy. After that, if you still want to go, I’ll call you a cab and send you home. Please, Darcy, stay, just a little while longer…”

* * * *

Darcy woke up alone in a warm patch of sunlight from a skylight far above him. He stretched, loving the feel of the soft sheets wrapped around him. He was naked, his body still tingling from a night of great sex. Shame settled over him as he remembered the things Caleb had done to him. The things he’d done to Caleb made him ache. Darcy had fucked him, hard and long and nasty right here in this very bed. Held him pinned beneath him while Caleb had begged him for more. It had been rough, and so fucking satisfying. Merde, shit. He laughed, the sound startling him as it echoed off the brick walls.

It was quiet, he realized as he climbed out of bed. The music vibrating the floor had finally stopped sometime after he’d fallen asleep. He found his way to the living room and retrieved his clothes. His glasses were still on the couch where Caleb had left them. His phone wasn’t in his pocket with his wallet and keys. Where…? He’d dropped it at the foot of the stairs.

He buttoned his shirt as he lumbered down, finding his phone where it lay near the open doorway. He retrieved it and winced at the missed messages. Shit, it was after noon. Bailey must be out of her mind by now. He pressed her number and waited.

“Where in the hell are you? You had me scared to death. I came by your apartment but you didn’t answer the door. I thought something had happened to you.” He held the phone away from his ear while she ranted. “Are you all right? Dar, say something.”

“I’m fine, Bailey.” He couldn’t find it in himself to call her anything less than her name. “I just had a bad night, probably food poisoning, I don’t know, and I overslept. How did the launch go?”

“Great, early feedback is wonderful. I’d tell Caleb but he didn’t come in either.”

“I told him not to bother, Monday would be soon enough. Hey, Bailey, I’m not going to try to come in today. I need the break. Tell everyone I’m sorry I’m not there and I’m proud of them.” For some reason, he needed his writers to know this today, now. “And not because of some fancy page layout changes, but because they are a great bunch of people.”

“Are you sure you’re all right, Dar? You sound strange.” Despite everything, Bailey always knew how to read him. What would she say if he told her he’d done something that was going to change everything? Hell, he didn’t know how to process it yet. This feeling that made him want to vomit and dance around on thin air at the same time. How was he going to explain this to her?

“I’m fine, Bailey, really, I—I just need some time to think about things.”

“Remember the vacation you wanted? I have an idea. Why don’t we leave Chester here to take care of things for a week and we go home, just the two of us. You’re right, Dar, the heat is getting to me and—”

“Sounds great, Bailey, we’ll talk about it next week, okay?” Her voice had sounded almost desperate, just like she had sounded every time he’d thought about leaving her. Did she know he’d left with Caleb? Was it just a coincidence that her possessiveness had returned now? How could she know? Did it matter if she knew? “Listen, I’m going to run now. I think I’m just going to go back to sleep. I’ll see you Monday.”

“Sure, Dar. Hey, I haven’t told you in a long time, but I love you, you know that, right?” There it was again, something in her tone he hadn’t heard in a long time. Maybe he’d never heard her like this. Rattled. Bailey was rattled.

“Yeah, Bailey, I know. Oh hey, don’t forget to hand out assignments—I have everything in the calendar—and have a good weekend.”

“Yeah, okay… Sure, you too.” There was disappointment in her voice. He wasn’t imagining it.

He closed his phone. He didn’t have time to think about his messed-up relationship with her. He’d wasted a decade of his life waiting for her to decide what he should do. When she needed him, he was there. Until last summer, he had known he would always be there for her. Now… Well, now things had changed. This wasn’t the life he wanted and Bailey no longer had a say in his decisions.

Loud, angry voices penetrated his reverie. Caleb’s voice, filled with heat, licked at him, drawing him out into the public area of the bar. He stopped at the end of the hallway and leaned against the wall. Caleb, dressed in nothing but a pair of jeans, circled an older man, the muscles in his arms flexing with his irritation. His hair was tousled, his eyes on fire. Darcy’s stomach pitched in an unfamiliar way, nearly bringing him to his knees as he watched him move almost cat-like around the other man.

Their words made no sense, half of them in the broken Cajun English he barely understood. It was about Caleb’s mother. His uncle? Darcy figured out the uncle wouldn’t go see his sister before she died. Caleb was angry. They were all that was left of the Lasseigne family. His uncle was afraid to see her wasted body. His big sister had always been so full of energy.

“I don’t care, Jebadiah. She doesn’t ask for you no more but it hurts her heart that you don’t come.”

“Don’t tell me how to be, Remy. She doesn’t even know the world exists now. She won’t even know I’m there.” There was bitter pain in the man’s voice, Darcy could hear it. Why couldn’t Caleb? And who the hell was Remy?

“Remy is Caleb’s first name, cher. Uncle Jeb calls him that to make him mad, and it’s working.” The waitress from the night before quietly stood beside him. She winked at him. He hadn’t heard her come up, and what was with these Cajuns and the mind-reading? She looked at him with amused, very knowing eyes. “I see what devil got into him last night. Oh, don’t blush, sugar. I’ve known Caleb a long time. He’s a hard man to resist when he wants something.”

Darcy tried to pretend he didn’t know what she was talking about. But because he was here, wearing the same clothes as the night before, he knew there was no denying anything. “Yeah, well. What’s going on there?”

“Caleb’s mama is dying. Breast cancer. She fought a long hard battle. Uncle Jeb won’t go see her and Caleb doesn’t like it.”

Drawn by their voices, the older man turned. His eyes settled on him with a mixture of sadness and anger. It was the bar owner, O’Doul. He was Caleb’s uncle?

“Oh, cher, why you done brought dat Duck into this? I warned you to stay away from him.” The words washed over Darcy like a glacier. Caleb whirled around to face him, and something dark passed over his face.

“Leave it alone, Uncle, it’s none of your concern.”

“You fucking him, boy, it ain’t natural. How long before he end up like the first one?”

Darcy heard Teela gasp. Caleb grew very pale, his eyes becoming brilliant fire as he bared his teeth. “Feet pue tan. Taut t’en grosse buche.”

“Viole merde.” His uncle sneered back at him, launching a flow of French that left Darcy confused. Caleb answered, his voice low, his words clipped but in French.

“What are they saying?” he asked Teela who looked just as confused as he was.

“Well, cher, Caleb called him a son of a bitch and told him to shut his mouth. Uncle Jeb told him to go to shit then I lost them. I don’t speak real French, just Cajun English like most of us do now.” She looked just as pale as Caleb and refused to meet Darcy’s eye.

“But you know what they’re talking about?”

“I know, cher, but it isn’t my place to tell Caleb’s business. His uncle shouldn’t have shamed him like that in front of you. Just because he… Well, let’s just say Uncle Jeb isn’t a happy person and be done with it. I got to go now, cher. Caleb will have me fired if he knows I told you anything. It was nice meeting you, cher. I hope to see you again.”

She left him standing there watching as the two men shouted angry words at each other. O’Doul threw his hands in the air then left. Caleb just stood there, his shoulders slumped as if he carried an incredible burden.

“You hungry, cher?”

It took him a few seconds to realize Caleb was talking to him. “Not really.”

Caleb turned to face him, his shoulders high, his mouth hitched in a half grin, the sorrow in his eyes fading out as Darcy watched. Icy fingers gripped Darcy’s throat. He’d never seen anyone do that before. “That was my uncle, Jebadiah Lasseigne. You know him as O’Doul. He likes to pretend he is someone other than what he is. Don’t pay him no mind.”

“Sure.” The icy grip of fear became a hot tremble that swirled inside Darcy’s belly as Caleb drew near. He moved gracefully across the room, his bare skin golden under the dim lights. His eyes and his mouth did things to him, seduced him without even trying. He was breathless long before Caleb kissed him. Standing there in the middle of the bar with staff watching them, he kissed him, and all Darcy could think was how far it was up to his bed.

“You want me to call you a cab now, cher?” His voice trembled against Darcy’s cheek. “I will if you want me to.”

“Do you want me to go?” Unsure of himself, Darcy swallowed hard.

“Stay with me,” Caleb breathed, his eyes full of pain and doubt.

“Okay,” he said just as softly, letting his hands slide along Caleb’s back. He could feel eyes on them, others watching as Caleb pressed his forehead to Darcy’s. “Upstairs, this is too public.”

Fear entered Caleb’s eyes, real fear that had Darcy sweating. He stepped away quickly, his shoulders stiff.

“It’s just me, cousin,” the waitress, Teela, spoke from the end of the bar. “No one saw anything but me.”

“Yeah. Hey, Teela, when Jerome gets those beignets done, gimme a holler, will ya?” Caleb’s voice shook a little, which he covered by snagging Darcy’s little finger and more or less pulling him down the corridor to the stairs and up before she could reply.

Once the door had closed, Darcy watched him take a deep breath. He walked into the small kitchen at the back of the large, open room. “Want some juice, cher, or milk?”

“Orange juice will be fine.” Darcy wanted to ask more but thought it would be best not to pry.

“Teela is my cousin, of a sort. Her mama is one of my grand-pere’s bastards—grand-pere means grandfather by the way. Well, she’s his daughter. Maman always said it’s what killed Grand-mere, his cheating on her. I know of Teela, we have the same eyes. We suspect there are a few more. Grand-pere left them very little but enough to raise questions. Hell, sometimes I swear he would have left me nothing at all if Maman weren’t already sick and Jeb incompetent. He wasn’t a nice man.” Caleb poured two tumblers with orange juice and handed one to Darcy before he seated himself on the counter. Pushing back, he let his feet dangle. “He didn’t approve of my lifestyle. I spent a long time away from home because I wasn’t welcome here. Jeb carries on his bias, but he has no control over me. I try to keep it to myself.”

“But they know.” Darcy hadn’t meant to say it. Caleb’s jaw tightened.

“Everybody knows. I sleep with women to make them forget. It’s New Orleans, nobody cares until it’s in their face, then everyone has an opinion. I’m gay, big deal. When Maman is gone, keeping it quiet won’t matter as much.”

Before Darcy could think of a reply, there was a soft knock at the door. Caleb looked up in alarm as it opened and Teela came in carrying a heavy tray of food. “Damn, them stairs are steep.”

“You didn’t have to haul that up here, cher. I would have come and got it.” Caleb slid over on the counter opening up a spot for her to leave the tray. Darcy helped her steady it as she lowered it to rest beside him.

“I thought I’d save you the trip and the scrutiny. Jerome sent up a bunch of stuff, he’s a good man. The rest are twittering in the corner when they think I’m not looking. It’s been a long time, cuz, a long time.” She bumped his leg with her hip, her eyes on Darcy. “He is a pretty one. Oh lawd, look at him blush. Sugar baby is sweet.”

“Stop embarrassing him, cousin. You’ll make him run and that will make me cranky and guess where one shifty waitress will find herself.” A hint of pink infused Caleb’s face, a small smile stretched his lips. “He is sweet.”

“Remy Caleb Lasseigne Mitchell, Paw-paw just turned in his grave.” She laughed, a high-pitched sound that made Caleb blush even more.

“Yeah, well, he’s just looking for someone to kiss his ass in the afterlife,” Caleb said with a snort. “Okay, get on with you. I’m hungry and you’re supposed to be taking care of my business downstairs instead of minding it upstairs.”

“I’m going. Uppity cousin thinks I’m his fucking slave.” She grinned on her way to the door. Stopping, she blew him a kiss.

“And lock the damned thing this time!” Caleb shouted when she was gone. “Well, cher, I’m embarrassed to my bones right now. You hungry?”

Darcy loved the way he ducked his eyes, the faint blush spreading lower onto his chest. His stomach made a strange little flip but Darcy didn’t think it was hunger. Oh, God. “I could eat.”

Caleb snaked his foot out and tucked it behind Darcy’s thigh. He hooked his knee and dragged him closer until Darcy’s knees hit the cabinet. Caleb smiled and hooked his other foot behind his legs, holding him close. “Then let’s get you fed.”

Darcy bit his tongue on a moan. Caleb’s voice should be declared a lethal weapon. Ripples of want and need that had nothing to do with food reverberated throughout Darcy’s body. “I like the sound of that. What’s on the menu?”

“Besides you?” Caleb nicked the corner of Darcy’s mouth with his tongue, and Darcy trembled. He clamped his hands on Caleb’s thighs to hold himself upright. “Beignets…let’s see…” He leaned over to inspect the tray of food. “Strawberries, ooh, whipped cream, some eggs and bacon. Orange slices. Melon. We got the basics of breakfast.” He plucked a strawberry sliver from the bowl and placed it in his mouth.

Darcy reached for a beignet but Caleb shook his head. His eyes glimmering with mischief, he pulled Darcy in for a kiss. Lips then tongue. Darcy felt the sliver of strawberry slip between his teeth. Sweet nectar. He moaned into Caleb’s mouth, sucking the fruit along with the man’s tongue until Caleb pulled back. “I’m going to feed you, didn’t I tell you?”

“Jesus, Caleb, the things you do to me,” Darcy whispered after he swallowed.

“Oh, bebe, we are just getting started on the list of things I plan to do to you.” He pulled apart a square of the fried bread. Popping one section into his mouth, he held the other out for Darcy. “They’re still hot, and so sweet you just want to lick the sugar off your fingers.”

Darcy clenched his fingers, and hard thigh muscles bunched and relaxed beneath them. With a trembling sigh, he took the piece of bread into his mouth, pulling the fingers in with it. It was Caleb’s turn to moan, his eyelids fluttering as Darcy suckled the sugar from his fingers. “Oh, fuck, Darce… Fuck, baby.”

Darcy eased the pressure and Caleb slid his fingers into his mouth, slowly, in and out. “You like that?” Caleb’s voice was hoarse, breaking as he spoke. Oh, God, Darcy had no answer. Tingles raced along his spine, down his back to cup his balls. Caleb’s fingers in his mouth did things to him he couldn’t explain. “Do you want more?”

Darcy nodded. He wasn’t capable of speech at the moment. Caleb pulled his fingers free and while Darcy swallowed the beignet, he placed another strawberry on his tongue while he trailed his fingers through the bowl of whipped cream. Darcy opened his mouth for the kiss, taking his tongue and holding it tight before letting it go. The whipped cream-covered fingers followed, and this time Darcy grabbed Caleb’s wrist and held him still while he sucked the sweet off him.

“Merde.” Caleb closed his eyes, his voice so low Darcy hardly heard him. “Oh, fuck, this went… Oh, hell this wasn’t a good idea.”

“Why?” Darcy reached behind him and cupped his ass, pulling him to the edge of the counter. Leaning into him, he touched his lips to Caleb’s, licking him until he opened for him. “Isn’t this what you wanted?” He ground his cock into Caleb’s. Caleb gasped, and wrapped his legs tight around him, holding him captive.

“Not quite as quickly, but yes, I was hoping it would lead to something more than just eating.” Caleb leaned back against the wall, his mouth safely out of reach. “I want you, Darcy. I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you.”

Darcy groaned. Chills raced over his body. “Why did you pull away?” It wasn’t exactly what he thought he would say. He mourned the loss of Caleb’s sweet mouth on his.

“Because, baby, your kisses are lethal. I can’t think with your mouth on mine.” His lips quirked in a smile, Darcy noticed the bright color and slight puffiness of his lips and blushed. “I love when you blush.” He traced a finger along Darcy’s jaw line. “Pretty frissons. Darcy, I want…”

He stopped speaking, a pained expression on his face. Caleb bit his lower lip as if he were unsure of himself. “I’ll do whatever you want, Caleb, just ask.” But he knew. He didn’t need to hear the words. He trailed his hand along Caleb’s stomach waiting for him to ask, snagged the denim just below his navel and tugged. “Can I…? I want to taste you.” He popped the top button of Caleb’s jeans, watching him, waiting for confirmation of his suspicion. The ridge trapped beneath the fabric growing larger would have been enough.

“Say it, Darcy, I want to hear you say it,” Caleb whispered. Easing his hands under Darcy’s, he popped the remaining buttons and slid his jeans down his thighs. “I want your mouth on me. I want you to make me fly with that glorious mouth of yours. Say it, Darcy, tell me you want me.”

“Caleb—” Darcy choked on the words, “I want to suck you, your…”

“Cock, baby, or dick,” he supplied the word Darcy had stumbled on. “I want you to suck my cock. Oh, please, Darce, sweet, pretty Darce, I want you so much I shiver with it.”

“Cock. I want to know what you taste like.” Darcy swiped his fingers through the whipped cream and offered them to Caleb. To his surprise, he took them, the pressure of his mouth as he sucked him clean sending sparks of molten need spiraling through his body to his own cock. “Oh, shit, that feels good.” His knees went weak. Withdrawing his fingers from Caleb’s hot mouth, he scooped another huge glob of cream but instead of offering it to Caleb, he slicked his fingers over the head of his cock.

“Merde.” Caleb hissed between his teeth, the sticky sweet fluff was cold. He arched his hips and Darcy took advantage and dragged his jeans the rest of the way down. “Oh, please, baby, just…please.”

Darcy leaned over him and caught his lips for a fast kiss before going lower. Caleb smelled nice, like soap from a hurried shower earlier and whipped cream, sweet vanilla and man. Something primal throbbed through Darcy, sending his heart racing. He touched him carefully, afraid for a moment. He was silky, and hard, and hot. The cream separated, liquid dribbling down his length like a melting ice cream cone, and before Darcy could stop to think, he pressed his tongue to the silky heat and licked the trickle away.

Caleb’s moan of pleasure gave him courage to lick his way to the head and, with one last look at Caleb, he closed his mouth over him and sucked the cream away. Caleb gripped his head, holding him tight in his long fingers. “Darce, feels so good.”

He swallowed the sticky sweet, licking the tip with his tongue. Caleb’s panting breath encouraging him to take more. Sweet turned to salty, salty to hot and… Oh, God, how could this taste so good. He opened his mouth wider taking him deeper, gagged as Caleb touched the back of his throat, relaxed and went lower. Caleb flexed his hips slowly, gently and Darcy held still, letting him slide inside him. He could see his eyes from his position, the green growing darker, murkier as his passion grew. Caleb leaned against the wall, breathing heavily, and that was when Darcy felt it, the tightening of muscles, his fingers going stiff, his cock growing hot and rigid in his mouth.

“I’m going to come, baby. You suck so nice, I can’t stop.” The words were little more than ragged gasps before he went over with a loud cry. Darcy’s name burned in his ears as hot, savory cum shot into his mouth. He gagged again. No matter that he had known it was coming, he wasn’t ready. He gulped, taking him in deeper, drinking him down. He suckled him until he stopped shaking.

“Darcy. I want you inside me.”

It was too much. His dick throbbed painfully inside his pants. This need for Caleb was more than he understood. He wanted to whimper, wanted to curl up and try to figure out exactly how he’d got to this point. Instead, he stood up and, with jerky hands, dragged his shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor with Caleb’s jeans. “Tell me what you want, Caleb?” He turned his words back to him as he stepped out of his pants. “What do you want me to do to you?”

“I want your cock inside me, Darcy, bebe. I want you to pound me into next week, make me fly to the moon. I want you to fuck me hard and fast and fill me full.” Caleb shifted on the counter, pulling his legs back as he dragged Darcy closer. His lips weren’t tender when he kissed him. His hands were demanding, bruising as Caleb tried to wrap himself around him. “Please, bebe. Fuck me, now, here.”

Darcy stepped away, his heart pounding inside his chest so hard he couldn’t breathe. He saw a small glass decanter filled with a pale, yellowish oil beside the stove top not far away. He slicked his hand with it then his cock and with a quick thrust, he was inside Caleb.

It wasn’t gentle, it wasn’t sweet—it was brutal and Caleb sighed, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. “Oh yeah…shit, Darce. More.”

And Darcy gave him more. He slid his hands beneath him and lifted him. Caleb fell back onto his elbows, holding his body rigid as Darcy thrust into him. His legs locked around Darcy’s hips, his cock filled and sweat sheened on his body. He was beautiful, his eyes a deep shade of green, slitted in pleasure. He growled Darcy’s name, begging for more and harder and Darcy gave him both. He braced his feet wide apart and lifted Caleb higher against him, holding his hips he thrust inside him until Caleb cried out. He arched his back, his head thrown back as he howled Darcy’s name, his pleasure shooting in ribbons to coat his belly.

“Oh, God,” Darcy watched him come, fascinated by the raw power in his lithe body. He held him as he came down, stroking into him slower now, Caleb’s inner muscles working with his strokes to push him over the brink. “Caleb.” He couldn’t stop, couldn’t catch his breath. Darcy came hard, pulsing into him, his name the only coherent thought. Caleb. Caleb. His whole world revolved around Caleb.

Minutes passed while Darcy held his hips, their bodies still joined, both slick with sweat and cum. Darcy noticed how still Caleb was. He lay boneless on the counter, his legs slack around Darcy’s waist.

“Caleb?” Darcy lowered his legs to the floor. Withdrawing, he leaned over him. Caleb still didn’t move despite the odd position. “Caleb?” A shot of fear lanced through Darcy then. He gripped his chin. “Damn it, Caleb, look at me.”

His eyes fluttered open, his mouth stretched into a long languid smile. His breathing was shallow.

“You scared me,” Darcy practically barked in relief as he tugged him to his feet.

Caleb fell around him, his arms draped over his shoulders. He buried his face in Darcy’s neck, holding on for dear life. His laugh was low and soft. His first words were in French, incomprehensible French.

“Darcy…” He breathed in and out against his neck, his hands soft against Darcy’s back as he stroked him. “Darce, bebe, I think maybe you done fucked my brains right out. I can’t move, I feel so good.”

Darcy sighed when his lips grazed his neck. He wrapped him in his arms and held him, swaying a little—both under his weight and because he felt like it. Holding him, protecting him…loving him. Oh God.

“Grab the food, cher, and take me to bed before I fall down completely.” Caleb trembled under his hands. “We’ll feed each other and then I’m going to make you feel just like this. How does that sound, bebe?”

“Good, Caleb.” Darcy trembled at his words. Oh God, it sounded so damned good, to be wanted like this, to feel like this. He lifted the platter of food and somehow he managed to get them both into Caleb’s bed before they collapsed.

Six

Sometime later, as he lay hot and sweaty in the middle of Caleb’s bed, his dick still hard, he remembered to ask the question he should have asked before letting Caleb into his pants again. “What happened to your first boyfriend?”

“Are you my boyfriend, Darcy?” He felt Caleb’s mouth stretch into a smile against his chest. “It’s been too long since I had one.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready to go that far. And you avoided the question. What was your uncle talking about, Caleb?”

“Well, cher, despite being wild as the day is long, I was still a virgin when I went away to college, in all ways. I had this art professor. He was older, forty, and he liked me. After the semester ended, I let him seduce me. God, I was so stupid. I didn’t come home for Christmas, I went away with him. I let him do things to me that I never even knew a person could do to another. I fell in love with him. I did everything he wanted me to do.” Darcy could hear the pain in his voice. “They found him murdered in a hotel in Baton Rouge. It was years before I let myself love someone again. I took lovers, men and women between them, but, cher, people I love have a tendency to die.”

“What does that have to do with me?” Darcy felt as if something was squeezing his chest.

“My uncle is a bigot, Darcy, don’t let what he says bother you.”

The pain in his chest grew tighter. He knew Caleb well enough now to know he was putting up a shield. Caleb’s fingers cinched his cock, stroking him to life. Darcy knew he wanted him to forget what he’d heard. He realized that sex this time was a diversion but he didn’t care. He let him take him into his mouth, let him make him forget this wasn’t real. “Make love to me,” Darcy said, because he wanted it, and because he’d already forgotten.

There was no pain this time, just incredible pleasure as Caleb entered him. He lifted his legs just as he’d done the night before, Caleb’s eyes intense as he moved inside him. The silver cross dangled between them, touching him when Caleb dipped low to taste him. “J’aime yous baiser,” Darcy repeated the words from the night before. “I love fucking you. God, that feels so damned good, Caleb.”

His laugh was tight, the look in his eyes guarded as he lost control. “Mon amour doux. J’taime. J’aime vous baiser,” he whispered as Darcy burst apart.

* * * *

When Darcy finally made it home, he found Bailey leaning against the door of his apartment. There was anger in her blue eyes. Jealousy. Shit. Shame spiraled in his stomach. Regret followed. He stepped beside her and opened the door. “Inside, before you open your mouth. Just get inside.”

“You never even made it home last night, Darcy. What the hell are you doing? Was it Amber? That slut disappeared around the same time you did, and she called in sick too. Jesus, look at you, hickeys all over your neck.” She had at least waited until he’d closed the door before she went off on him.

“It was no one you know, and what does it matter to you anyway? You’ve been sleeping with Chester since Christmas.”

“Which is none of your business.”

“And what makes my life or who I sleep with any of your business? Christ, we aren’t married. Sometimes I feel like we are, but we aren’t. I can fuck whomever I please, same as you.”

She looked as if he’d slapped her. There were tears in her eyes. “This isn’t the Darcy I know and love. The Darcy I love wouldn’t—”

“Wouldn’t what, Bailey? I like sex, too. I like having someone make me feel like a man instead of some damned stand-by to be used when there isn’t anyone better. When was the last time you did anything for me? Shit, why in the hell are we having this conversation?”

“Because you come dragging in at five in the afternoon dressed in the same clothes you wore yesterday. You blew off work, just so you could spend the day in some whore’s bed.”

“And you and Chester never take extended lunches? You don’t lock the door to your office ever? Jesus, Bailey, did you think I didn’t know about you and Chester? Do you think I’m an idiot? Do you think I’m going to be there for you when he gets tired of you so you can have someone to fall back on? I followed you down here, but it doesn’t matter to you that I’m not happy here. Did it ever occur to you, even once, that I might have actually loved you before you took another lover?”

“You love me? Dar, why didn’t you ever tell me?”

She sat heavily on the sofa, shock clear on her face. Darcy watched her eyes turn calculating. She had always been a great actress. He realized that now. Maybe he’d known it all along. This thing with Bailey was wrong, he’d always known that, too. There was nothing in his heart when he had said the words she’d wanted to hear. Nothing at all when she looked at him with those big blue eyes filled with tears. No love, no hate. Nothing.

“Would it have mattered? I mean, really mattered? We’ve been together for nearly ten years, and it’s never mattered before now.”

“It’s always mattered to me. I thought you wanted to wait. I thought you were happy with no strings. I thought when we were both at the right place in our career it would all come together, we would get married and have children and everything would be fine. Darcy, I don’t love Chester, not like I love you. We can forget about all this. We can elope. Go home and tell our parents. Oh, Darcy, I want that so much.”

“I don’t.” He felt trapped, as if his world was tilting out of control. This was the way it had always been between them. Everything so fast he didn’t have time to think, just react. He wanted to make her happy so he would agree with everything, he always had. Hell, he was still standing at the door, holding the knob in his hand.

He looked around his small apartment. She lived on the next floor up. She’d picked them out, rented both places so they could be close. Close together, but not together. Close enough to walk to work. Everything was going to be perfect. But it wasn’t perfect.

“What do you mean, you don’t? You just said you did. Darcy, you are confusing me. I love you so much. I’ve always loved you, I just thought you needed time and…”

The devil was riding his back, must have been—the old Darcy would never have done what he was about to do. He crossed the room and sat beside her, right beside her, so close he sat on her skirt.

“I know you fooled around on me, Bailey, I’ve always known. You know I never cheated—always faithful, like a dog. I waited for you to come back time and time again like a fool. I let you use me for anything you wanted because I thought you loved me, deep inside. I waited for you to get it out of your system. I waited. Time and time again, I waited. I thought maybe it was me, I thought I just wasn’t enough for you, that it was all my fault. I wasn’t man enough to keep you happy—or maybe I was just too afraid to be who I really am. I was afraid to look outside the small world I’d built to see if there was anything else. I was content to wait for you, because there was always that niggling doubt in the back of my head that something might be wrong with me. I guess I thought I somehow deserved what you did to me. I was a fool, Bailey. Now my eyes are open.”

“I came back to you, every time. I love you so much, only you. Darcy, please, let’s get married. Everything is perfect right now. The magazine is a success. We won’t ever be at a better place in our lives.” She leaned into him, her eyes brilliant with unshed tears. There was panic in her voice. He let her kiss him. Let her press her breasts to his chest as she deepened the kiss. Her tongue slipped inside his mouth with a soft moan of pleasure.

She hadn’t heard a thing he’d said. Not one word. She was selfish and domineering and she would always be that way. He knew it. Everything was so very clear now.

He twined his fingers in her hair, held her head in his fingers as she went still and stiff. She’d never liked when he played with her hair. “I want you to suck my cock, Bai, suck me, baby. I want to come in your pretty mouth and watch you swallow. Prove you love me, Bai.”

He shivered thinking about Caleb and his strong mouth. He was so hard by the time she had his pants open. Her fingers were cold, stiff when she touched him, not like Caleb at all. The thought of the things Caleb had done to him made him groan.

Bailey froze, her eyes angry, and she moved away quickly. “No. I won’t, and if you love me, Darcy, you won’t ask that of me. Especially after you’ve been inside some slut. Did she suck you off? Did she go down on you? I bet you went down on her too.”

He didn’t know why he laughed. The feel of it bubbled in his chest and just spewed out in a rumbling torrent. “She let me do the most wonderful things, things you would never in a million years let me do. The things she did to me… Oh God, Bailey, I’ve never felt so alive in my life. I had a night and a day of sex so hot and nasty I could die a happy man right now. You have no idea how good I feel.” He closed his pants. “You never made me feel like this, Bailey, never. Quick fucks in the dark, sometimes I don’t think you even came. Sometimes when I’m alone with just my hand for company, I think about you, and how stiff you are in bed, and I go soft. Sometimes, when I’m drunk, I realize the only times you ever came to me were when you knew I was about to leave you. You let me in when I asked for the same reason. Let’s face it, Bailey, there is nothing ahead of us if we run away and get married but a cold, bitter divorce.”

“You disgust me.” She rose from the sofa and walked around the room, her body rigid, her shoulders erect, her movements jerky. “I thought better of you, Darcy. You’re a nice man—”

“I’m a man, Bailey. I have needs that include sex. I don’t want to be a nice man. I’m tired of being nice, I’m tired of doing the right thing, the responsible thing. I’m twenty-nine fucking years old and I’ve never done anything I want to do. I’ve always done what other people expect of me. My parents, teachers, and then you.”

“What do you want to do? I’ve never known because you never had a backbone long enough to tell me what you want. We eat where I want. We see movies I pick. You let me pick your damned apartment.”

“Because I didn’t want to move here in the first place. I don’t like living in this bug-infested hellhole of a city. I don’t like the heat or the smell or the accent.” He was lying—it hit him square in the chest. He loved the accent, Caleb’s accent. The way he spoke turned him to mush. He could tolerate the heat, and the bugs. It was the loneliness he had hated. He’d hated watching his life crumble around him because he’d let some woman string him along with the promise of…what? He couldn’t even remember after all these years. His heart hurt. He was tired of hurting. “And sometimes, when I’m drunk enough, Bailey, I don’t even like you.”

She reacted almost as if Darcy had slapped her. Her head snapped up, her eyes became wild, desperate, and her body shook.

“You don’t mean that! Come on, baby, don’t say that. I’ll go down on you. I’ll do whatever you want me to.” She came back to the sofa and straddled his legs. She rubbed her breasts against his chest as she opened his shirt. Her eyes grew round at the marks she found beneath—the teeth imprints, the bruises. He laughed again and before he could stop himself, he flipped her onto her back on the sofa and ground his cock between her legs.

“You’ll let me fuck you hard and fill you full of cum? You’ll let me bite your tits? You’ll let me fuck you from behind? You’ll let me do all of the things you’ve denied me in the past?” He rocked against her stiff body as she moaned and bucked and said yes to everything. “You’re lying, Bailey. You don’t want me like this. This scares the hell out of you, doesn’t it?”

“I’m not frigid if that’s what you’re implying.” She humped him, moaning prettily. “Fuck me, Darcy, right now. Stick it in me and fill me full, baby, I want you so much.”

“I’m not your baby. I’ve never been your baby. There is nothing left for us, Bailey.” He crawled off her and tugged his shirt off. Caleb’s scent was all over it, driving him crazy. He went to his room and pulled out a clean shirt. When he came back, she was standing in front of the fireplace, her hands on the mantel.

“Marry me anyway. I won’t care if you have sex outside our marriage. I’d always planned to be your wife.” She didn’t turn to look at him. Her voice was calm, too calm, almost dead.

“Whose baby are you carrying, Bailey?” he asked and she ducked her head. Suddenly everything made sense. “Is it Chester’s?”

“I don’t know. It could be Chester’s. It should be yours. The last one was yours.”

He froze to the spot almost as if he were paralyzed. “What did you just say?”

“I miscarried your child last summer. I never told you because I was ashamed of what I’d done.”

“You were pregnant, by me, how? We used condoms and I don’t remember one ever breaking.”

“I pierced the packets with a needle, so I would get pregnant, so we could get married, so you would come with me down here. I’m sorry, Darcy.”

“And that’s what this is all about? You wanted to have sex so you could claim this baby is mine? Do I even know you? Ten years, ten years and I thought I knew you. I didn’t notice you’re a scheming lying little, little… Merde! Jesus, fuck, you need to leave, Bailey. Now, before you regret even coming here.”

“Darcy? Don’t do this. I know you’re angry. Please just let me explain.” The tears she’d been holding back suddenly flowed freely. “I love you. I didn’t plan any of this. Please, sweetheart, just listen to me.”

“Get out, now. I’m close to doing something stupid. And right now, Bailey, I would enjoy the hell out of hurting you. Get out. Go tell Chester you screwed around on him. Go see if he wants to marry you, because I sure as fuck do not ever want to be in the same room with you again.”

With fear in her eyes, she raced to the door and let herself out, slamming it behind her.

When he knew she wasn’t coming back, he sat down and cried.

* * * *

It was late. Caleb sat behind the wheel of his car staring up at the building with longing. He could see him in the window on the third floor. He paced restlessly, coming back and looking out every so often, almost as if he were waiting for someone. Caleb wondered if he could sense him sitting down here, wanting him.

Mon Dieu but he wanted Darcy, like a drug. He couldn’t get Darcy’s scent out of his memory, the feel of his skin so warm and soft against his burned forever in Caleb’s brain. The incredible sounds he made when Caleb made love to him, the way he completely butchered the French language, making Caleb laugh… He couldn’t remember the last time someone had made him laugh so much.

Darcy was funny. Caleb suspected he didn’t know it most of the time—he seemed genuinely surprised when Caleb laughed. He touched him in ways that made him feel precious. And curious, incredibly intelligent with an almost childlike sense of curiosity that drove Caleb nuts. He asked questions he shouldn’t. Caleb had answered him, though he hadn’t meant to either time. It became too personal. The secrets of his past were dark enough to kill him. He didn’t want anyone knowing the things he’d done, especially Darcy.

His stomach grew tight when he thought about him, the goofy way Darcy had looked at him when he had finally got the courage to go down on him. The way his mouth had felt on him. He tingled all over just thinking about him. He wanted him so much. He had been drawn to him, from the very first second he had seen him sitting in his uncle’s bar, wilted from the heat. Caleb had known he had to have him. He wanted to make him his. He wanted to keep him forever.

Love.

This wasn’t love, it was infatuation. If he kept telling himself that, he might actually begin to believe it. It had been years since he had allowed himself to follow his true nature. Too many years of denying the craving had led him to this point—sitting stalker-like outside an apartment building at midnight just to catch a glimpse of the object of his infatuation.

He was out of his mind crazy.

When Darcy came to the window again, he looked down, and this time Caleb opened his door, got down from the car, and just stood there looking up at him.

Darcy saw him and his face relaxed, almost as if he was relieved to see him. He smiled—a shy smile, but still a smile—and waved him to come up. The buzzer sounded as he got to the door, and Caleb vaulted up the stairs to the third floor where he found Darcy waiting in the corridor for him. Out of breath, Caleb just stood there staring at him, drinking him in like water.

Darcy wore a plain white tank shirt and a pair of cotton shorts. His hair was still damp from a shower or a workout or a busted air conditioner, standing out in spikes that made Caleb’s fingers itch. Darcy returned his gaze, his eyes roaming him with the same intensity. Caleb’s knees threatened to go weak. Then they did when Darcy pulled him inside and slammed him against the wall, his mouth and the way he kissed him the only things keeping him upright.

Strong, determined fingers tugged at his shirt, pulling it from his pants. Darcy broke the kiss only long enough to drag it over his head. Caleb threaded his hands in his hair, holding him by the short strands. He took control of Darcy’s mouth, turning the kiss into something primal. He stopped when Darcy snaked his pants down his hips and wrapped his fingers around him. Caleb trembled at the touch. He couldn’t catch his breath, and he bumped his head against the wall when Darcy moved lower.

Soft lips seared his neck. Sharp teeth scraped his shoulder, his nipples. He could find no words. He didn’t need any. Darcy wanted him and that was all that mattered, that and the delicious sensation of being loved. He cried out when the slick heat of Darcy’s mouth closed over him, blue eyes staring up at him as he took him deep inside. God, nothing had ever felt like this, nothing.

Darcy used his hands the way he’d taught him, pumping him with one, using it as an extension of his mouth. He reached between his legs with the other to massage his balls, then he eased a finger inside him, just inside the rim and flexed it. God, he hadn’t taught him that. It caught him off guard, made him quiver as his strong mouth suckled him, and the double sensation pushed him past the point of frenzy. Darcy’s eyes went wide in shock as Caleb came. He gagged then swallowed, drinking him down.

Unable to support himself a second longer, Caleb slid down the wall and collapsed against him. “I missed you so much,” was all he could think to say before he clamped his mouth over Darcy’s.

“Me too,” Darcy said when he pulled back, the look in his eyes shying away now. He sighed, and leaned his forehead against Caleb’s shoulder. “I want to take you to bed, make love to you, and hold you. I want to wake up in your arms. I think I’m going out of mind, I want you so much.”

“I know. I get this swirling sensation in my stomach when I think about you. I’ve never felt like this before.” He wanted to tell him he loved him. After three days, he’d fallen in love with him. But his past stopped him. “Take me to bed, Darce. Please.”

Darcy’s smile was slow, his face beamed a pretty shade of pink, but his eyes were troubled, uncertain. “I think I might be falling in love with you. Crazy, isn’t it?”

All the air in Caleb’s lungs rushed out and came back too quickly. He became lightheaded, almost faint. His heartbeat fluttered wildly, the strange sensation in the pit of his stomach swirled and leapt and did a double flip. “I might be falling with you. It scares me. I didn’t think anything could scare me. Not like this.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“It’s good, I hope. I need some good in my life. I need your cock inside me too. Here or your bed, just soon, cher, before I expire from want.”

“I love the way you talk. It drives the English major in me nuts but it makes me horny. Shit, I don’t think I can make it to the bedroom.” The wet spot on the front of his shorts agreed with him. Caleb snagged the waistband and tugged. After freeing his cock, he stroked it with the tips of his fingers. Darcy held him tight. Leaning back, he bit his lip trying to hold back a moan. “Keep on doing what you are doing and we won’t need to find a bed.”

“I love how you want me.” Caleb watched his face as he fought for control. “You make me tremble.”

“Take your pants off, Caleb, God, now, please… Hurry.” Darcy dragged in a ragged breath and Caleb couldn’t resist—Caleb licked the head of his cock, making him groan. “That works too.”

Caleb laughed, he couldn’t help it. It had been such a long time since he had felt this free. “I stopped at the hospital pharmacy and picked up a couple of items”—he dug in the pocket on the side of his cargo pants leg and dragged out a tube of lubricant and a package of condoms—“in case you are interested.”

“Very interested,” Darcy said as he pushed him onto the floor, straddled him and dragged his pants down. When Darcy had him naked and panting on the floor, he took the lube and before he could blink, Caleb found himself filled and groaning.

“I think I like this side of you, Darcy.” He looked into Darcy’s eyes. The passion he saw there had him sweating. Caleb lifted his legs and propped them on his shoulders. Darcy used the backs of his thighs to brace himself as he rocked into him. “That’s it, baby, just like that, just like that, Darce. God, I love you so much. Mon amour doux. Je t’aime. Jesus, just like that.”

“Caleb, Jesus, you’re so tight, feels so good.” He could hear the orgasm building in Darcy’s voice. He was so hot inside him, so hard, he knew it wouldn’t be long.

“Kiss me, bebe. Come down here and kiss me. I want to hold you when you come. I want to taste my name on your sweet lips.” He lowered his legs only to ease them around Darcy’s hips when he lay over him. There was a softness in Darcy’s eyes when he touched his lips with his tongue. “I love you, Darcy. You make me feel so nice. Fuck me, baby, just like that.”

He rocked his hips into him so slowly, Caleb thought he would swoon from the pleasure. Darcy kissed him just as slowly. Wanting more, Caleb caught his bottom lip between his teeth and tugged gently with each thrust.

“Caleb, Caleb, oh God, it’s too much.”

“Come for me, baby. Shit, you are so fucking hot inside me.” Caleb couldn’t stop the cry from escaping when Darcy slammed into him, filling him with sticky heat. He humped into him, his cries of pain turning to pleasure as he went over a second time.

For a long time after, Caleb lay holding Darcy against his chest as his breathing returned to normal. When he was ready, Caleb rolled him onto his side and braced his head on his arm. “You know, cher, you have a beautiful foyer. How’s the rest of your place in comparison?”

Caleb could feel Darcy’s chest vibrate with laughter. “Considerably smaller than yours, either of yours, but it’s kind of nice. You want to see it?”

“Maybe later. Right now I’m enjoying holding a hot man on a cold floor. Merde, Darcy, I could get used to this. It would be too easy to become addicted to you.”

“Feels like I’m already there. I missed you so much this evening. Shit. That sounds so fucking pathetic.” Agitated now, Darcy sat up. And in one swift motion, he pulled his shirt over his head and wiped them both clean with it. “This has been the strangest day.”

He climbed to his feet and straightened his shorts, his movements jerky, almost frantic. Something had changed, just that quickly, and Caleb had no idea what.

Awkward in his nudity, Caleb found his pants, shaking his shoes free of the legs. He pulled them on and followed Darcy into the small living area. Darcy went to the fireplace and leaned against it. Caleb dropped onto the sectional sofa and stretched out. “Come lay with me, baby, let me hold you.”

Darcy let go of the mantel quickly, too quickly, almost as if he’d been burned, and turned to face him. He didn’t come, instead seeming to retreat into himself.

“What’s wrong?” Caleb felt compelled to ask but he wasn’t sure he really wanted an answer.

“This is happening way too fast. Yesterday I was a happy, functioning heterosexual. Okay, so, I was a dysfunctional heterosexual in some twisted messed-up holding pattern waiting for Bailey to figure out what she wanted from me. And now…” He swept his hand through his hair in a gesture of despair, obviously second-guessing his feelings now that shock was beginning to set in.

“What happened today, Darcy?”

“You mean besides having sex on the floor in my living room with a man I just met?”

“It’s more than that. I could tell something was bothering you before I even got down from the car. I could see you from the street, pacing in front of the window.”

“How long were you down there?”

“A while. I was trying to work up the courage to come up.”

“Why would you need to work up the courage? Look at you, so full of confidence and charm, while I’m a bundle of insecurity and nerves.”

“That’s all on the outside, cher. Inside I’m terrified of how I feel about you. I’m afraid to let myself just feel like this. I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you. I’m afraid to love you because I don’t want to be hurt either. I knew when I kissed you last night that this has the potential for disaster written all over it, but I couldn’t make myself leave you alone.”

Darcy was quiet for a long time, the muscles in his arms flexing along with his jaw, as if he were fighting some inner demon and losing. When he finally spoke, it wasn’t something Caleb expected to hear.

“Bailey was here when I got home. She knew I’d spent the night with someone and she was livid.” Caleb could see there was more, but he didn’t press when Darcy paused. “She tried to seduce me. She wants to elope. She’s pregnant and doesn’t know whose baby it is.”

“Is it yours?” He didn’t know why he held his breath waiting for him to answer. Darcy shook his head but there was still pain in his eyes. Caleb fought to control the rush of relief swelling inside him. “Do you love her enough to marry her?”

Darcy wrapped his long arms around his body, his jaw locked, his eyes shining. And for the second time in as many minutes, Caleb was surprised by his words.

“I can’t stand the sight of her. Christ, I’ve spent the last ten years thinking I loved her, waiting for her to get everything out of her system.”

Caleb watched as his chest rose sharply, his face becoming a mask of sorrow and rage.

“She told me she miscarried my baby last summer. She said she’d doctored the condoms and gotten pregnant but she lost it before she could tell me.” Tears shimmered in his eyes, his face twisted in pain. Shocked, Caleb went to him and wrapped him in his arms. Darcy didn’t cry. He just stood there stiffly and rested his head on Caleb’s shoulder. “I don’t know how to feel about it. I’ve been through every emotion in the book today.”

“I’d be angry, and devastated. I imagine that’s pretty much what you’re feeling right now, isn’t it?” Anger and devastation were old friends of Caleb’s, he knew them well.

“Pretty much, but mostly I don’t believe her. I saw her today for what she is. An actress playing a part. Playing me. I used to believe her, but she’s lied to me so much. I don’t know what to believe anymore. I do know that I’m done at the magazine.”

Caleb felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. Just when he’d found him, he was going to lose him. “You’re going to take the teaching job in Oregon, aren’t you?”

Darcy just stood there for a long time before he wrapped his arms around Caleb and squeezed. “I don’t know anymore. If she’d told me yesterday, before… I don’t want to lose this, Caleb. I don’t know what I’m doing but I don’t want to stop.”

“You could stay with me. I have more money than I know what to do with. I can take care of you the rest of your life.” It was true and tempting, but the pain in his chest told him it was a mistake.

“It won’t work, Caleb. We would probably grow to hate each other. I have to have work. I have to be my own person.” Darcy snagged a strand of his hair and tugged. “Though I wouldn’t mind a weekend with you. Stay with me, Caleb. Tonight, tomorrow, the next day.”

“As long as I can, cher, as long as I can.” He tilted Darcy’s head up for a soft kiss. That was all he could promise him. A weekend or as much of one as he could. “Think we can find your bed this time, or do you want me to bend you over the sofa?”

“Decisions, decisions. What if I want to think about it for a while?” Darcy smiled against his mouth.

“Don’t think on it too long, bebe, or we’ll be on the floor again. And I, for one, would rather have someplace soft under my knees when I slide inside you.”

“Shit, Caleb, you know exactly what to say to get me hard. I think I like that about you.” And before Caleb could think of anything to say, Darcy grabbed his hands and led him down a short hall to a small room that held a very large bed and not much else.

Caleb pushed him inside and kicked the door closed before he stripped him to his skin. “You won’t need those until Sunday,” he said and crawled into the bed on top of him.

Seven

Sunday morning came too soon. The incessant buzzing of the door woke Darcy from a deep sleep in which he was content to be pressed beneath a warm, sweet-smelling body. Not thinking clearly, he eased out from under Caleb’s arm and dragged on a pair of shorts before he stumbled to the door.

The person on the other side gave up on the buzzer and began to hammer on the door. “Come on, Darcy, open the door.”

It was Bailey. Shit. He leaned heavily against the wood and breathed in and out, hoping she would go away. When she didn’t, he opened up enough to get a look at her. “Yeah, I’m up. What’s the emergency?”

He had to blink a couple of times to bring her into focus. When he finally did, she looked incredibly pale and nervous. “Look, I just wanted to talk to you about Friday, can I come in?”

“No.” He was awake enough to remember the man lying in his bed. “Now isn’t a good time. We’ll talk tomorrow at the office.”

“Is there someone with you?” Jealousy raged through her eyes before she collected herself.

“Yeah. Look, Bailey, I’m not interested in defending myself right now. I’m sort of seeing someone and I just think it’s best if we don’t do this now. Tomorrow in a neutral place—”

“Who is she? Come on, Darcy, please tell me you aren’t sleeping with Amber. That would kill me.”

“Fine, I’m not sleeping with Amber or any other woman from the office. I wouldn’t do that,” he said just as he saw Caleb step into the hall. He wasn’t wearing anything but a smile. “I’ll see you in the morning, Bailey, we’ll talk then.”

He didn’t wait for her to say anything before he shut the door and leaned against it, his heart thudding heavily in his chest for reasons he couldn’t even begin to sort out.

“Are you all right?” Caleb’s voice was sleepy, lazy. Darcy knew there would be lust in his eyes. He wasn’t so blind he couldn’t see his body react.

“I’m fine, not awake enough to think right now. Sorry I woke you.”

“I’m not. I’m starving. I either want breakfast or to go back to bed, can’t decide which I want more. Breakfast in bed?” He raised an eyebrow, his lips quirked in a satisfied smirk that sent shivers through Darcy when he remembered the last time they’d had breakfast in bed. Oh holy hell, he couldn’t think about that or he’d go crazy from want.

“You really are lethal, standing there looking all sleepy and sexy, you know?”

“I know. But you don’t, do you?”

“Don’t what?” He wasn’t following. He needed sleep, lots of sleep, but damn if he wanted it right now.

“You have no idea how gorgeous you are. I think that is what I like most about you. Most really pretty men like you are so fucking conceited, like me. I can’t stand them. And you blush… Shit, Darcy, I love making you blush. How is it you don’t know this?”

“I just see a geek in the mirror, a near-sighted word nerd. My nose is crooked, my chin has a dent in it, and one ear is bigger than the other. Stop laughing, it’s not funny.”

“Of course it is. You are prettier than I am. You look like my idea of Clark Kent. Big blue eyes, the dark stubble on your face, the cleft in your chin. Jesus Christ, Darcy! Just looking at you makes me weak in the knees. What the hell do you think you do to the rest of the population when you look at them with those eyes?”

“Get bent.” He could feel the heat flooding his face. No one had ever told him he was pretty before. Ever. “I’m just average-looking but I’m flattered you see me that way.”

“Not just me! Why do you think Bailey is banging on your door at…?” Caleb looked at the clock on the mantel. “Shit, it’s nearly noon. No wonder I’m starving.”

“Bailey had time to reconnoiter. She’s most likely going to apologize and beg me to come back to her. We’ve done this dance before. She’ll forgive me for straying and everything will be fine.”

“She’s messed up, Darcy, you have to see that. She is obsessed with you, wants to control you, can’t commit to you but can’t let you go either. Believe me, I know what messed up looks like. It’s sort of like looking in the mirror.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” He wanted to laugh off the comparison, but something in Caleb’s voice made him think better of it. “Are you talking about yourself now or after Iraq?”

“Then. I came home a mess. I came back here for the first time since I left for school and fell apart. She looks like I felt then, shell-shocked and terrified. She’s wearing a mask to hide the fear and pain.”

“What exactly happened to him? The soldier who died.” Darcy knew he shouldn’t have asked but he couldn’t help himself.

“It’s in the photos. Come back to bed, baby. I’ve got to leave soon and I want to taste you again before I go sit and wait for death.”

Darcy heard the pain in his voice. His heart twisted at the sound and he went to him, taking Caleb’s hands in his. This close he could see into his eyes. Dark and light seemed to wage a war in the crystal-green depths. “I’ll stay with you as long as you need me.”

“Oh, cher, don’t promise things you can’t control,” Caleb said before he kissed him.

* * * *

After a hastily consumed breakfast of cold cereal and toast, Caleb dressed in the clothes he had worn on Friday and kissed him goodbye.

“Are you coming back?” Darcy held his breath, not daring to hope.

“I think I should go home tonight, change clothes at the very least. I start this job tomorrow and I don’t want the boss to think I spend my weekends in decadent pursuit. Merde, Darcy, your kisses are so fucking…addictive, how am I going to see you tomorrow and not do this?” Raking his hands through Darcy’s hair, he pressed his lips to his neck with a soft moan. “Come to me tonight. Stay with me, beb.”

“Don’t tempt me. I have some work to do.” But the lips nuzzling his ear had him reconsidering. “For a while.”

“All night. I’ll pick you up on my way home.”

Darcy groaned when Caleb slid his hand inside his jeans and squeezed him. “All night… Oh God, that feels so fucking good.”

Caleb laughed softly against his neck before he drew away with a sly smile.

“You’re just going to leave me like this, aren’t you? All hot and bothered and addicted to your touch.”

“Yeah, cher, I am an evil, evil man.” The smile in his eyes was anything but evil. The tender love Darcy saw there made him want to sigh. “I’ll pick you up tonight, after eight. Bring your appetite and your toothbrush, you won’t need anything else.”

“What about work tomorrow?”

“I’ll drop you here on my way to my new job. Or we can just blow the day off and sleep in.”

“Don’t you have some place to be?” The thought of waking up with Caleb again was too attractive. As Darcy watched, all the light crept out of Caleb’s eyes as grief took over. “I’ll stay with you as long as I can, but tomorrow I’ve got to clear things up with Bailey. Tuesday. I’ll stay with you on Tuesday.”

“Darcy, you don’t have to give up the magazine. You have a loyal following there. If you love it, baby, stay with it.” He reached out a finger and traced Darcy’s cheek.

“That’s the problem, isn’t it? I am ambivalent about the magazine. It’s just something I’m doing for now—building a résumé. I have some money saved. I think it’s time to move on to something else.” Icy fingers of fear gripped Darcy’s heart. He was leaving soon, and Caleb knew it. “Please, Caleb, don’t look at me that way. I’m not leaving.”

“Yet.” Caleb dropped his hand and, with a quick wave, he walked out of the door. Darcy went to the window and watched as he crossed the street, folded himself into the silver sports car and drove away. Before he left the window, he just happened to glance down the street a few cars. He sucked in his breath when his gaze stopped on Chester. His heart revved into overdrive at the shock of seeing him there.

His brain shot through all of the excuses he could come up with to explain why Caleb Mitchell had just left his apartment. Except Chester didn’t appear to have noticed. He laughed and waved and walked in the other direction. As Darcy watched, Bailey drew close, Chester took her hand, kissed her cheek then tucked her into the small car he drove, and they were gone.

“Christ. That was close.” The fear of discovery slowly released its grasp but not before the threads of discontent began to knit themselves a home inside Darcy’s brain. He was falling in love with a man, but he refused for one second to think what that meant for him in the real world. “This is just fantasy. Just a taste of the forbidden. Jesus Christ, I am not…” He closed his eyes, unable to even think the word. “Shit.”

* * * *

Waking up in Caleb’s arms Monday morning led to incredible sex in his shower. Christ, the things one could do with a bar of soap. Breakfast was rushed since they were late. Late enough that Darcy only had time to run into his apartment and grab his messenger bag. Amber was standing on the street when they drove up in Caleb’s car and parked in the small lot across the street from the building. She waved but nothing in her demeanor said she suspected anything.

“Why are you in town? Why aren’t you on assignment?” Darcy said when he met her at the door, fear thudding a beat in his ears.

“I have to confess, I sneaked a peek at the calendar Thursday, Darcy, and I was too excited to wait for Sunday so I left Friday morning to get a jump-start on the story. I am so glad I did. I got to go to a music festival I didn’t know about and…” She paused, looking at Caleb with a blush, her eyes becoming playful when he caught up with them. “Morning, Caleb. Get up to anything interesting this weekend? Oh, and hey, take a look at these pics, will you, and tell me what you think?” She handed off the camera then remembered what she was saying before Caleb joined them. “I think I might have met someone, Darcy. This weekend was incredible.”

Bailey was waiting when the three of them entered the main office. Betrayal and jealousy filled her eyes at Amber’s last remark. She narrowed her eyes, levelling a poisonous glance at him before she walked away.

“What’s her problem?” Amber said, taking the camera back from Caleb. “So what did you think?”

Caleb looked a bit pale, sort of startled as she started paging through the digital pictures. “Very good, Amber. I might make a photographer out of you yet. Later today, I’ll help you format them to bring out the best of your work.”

“That would be excellent, Caleb. By the way,” she leaned in and whispered for the two of them only to hear, “you two look good together. Happy. And don’t worry, I’ll take it to my grave.” She made a twisting motion over her lips as if she were locking them then she tossed the imaginary key over her shoulder.

Darcy could only stand there. Shock hit him full force in the gut almost as if he’d been sucker-punched.

“She has a good eye. She will make a good—”

“She knows. How does she know?” Darcy didn’t hear anything Caleb said. His pulse was racing behind his ears almost as if he were drowning in a rushing river of his own shame.

“Because, baby, you look well fucked and because she saw us drive in together. And because she isn’t a prude,” Caleb said softly. “Just breathe, baby, in and out. Slowly. That’s it, baby.”

“Stop calling me baby”—Jesus Christ and every major saint he could think of, this was a fucking nightmare come to life—“before someone else hears.”

“Yes, Mr Darcy, sir.” Caleb smiled playfully, his eyes brimming with laughter. He glanced quickly around the office to make sure no one was looking before he said, “I love you. Just thought you needed to know.”

“Christ.” Darcy watched him walk away, heading for the small office he’d claimed as his own last week, disappearing inside with Amber hot on his heels.

“Hey, boss man, how was your weekend?” Chester, carrying two large cups of takeout coffee, passed him, his customary smirk on his face, but this time there was something else—a look in his eye, a slight tilt of his head, something elusive that set Darcy on edge. He thought back to the day before, when Chester had been on the street outside his apartment. Had he seen Caleb leave? Oh shit, God.

“Pretty good, Chester, how was yours?” he said as lightly as he could, hoping his voice sounded calm, relaxed, anything but tight and bordering on panic.

“It was fabulous, thanks for asking.” Chester did a little half-wink thing, his mouth stretched wide in a grin. “Well, better get Bailey her coffee, you know how cranky she can get when she hasn’t had her caffeine fix.”

Yeah, Darcy knew all about Bailey and her coffee. It wasn’t that long ago he had been the one bringing her morning fix. Not that long ago he had known what she looked like without clothes and makeup on. Not that long ago he had been confident in his sexuality. Now he was about one step away from some sort of mental break.

The day seemed to drag by. Caleb stayed busy with Amber and the rest of the crew, teaching them how to manipulate the photo-shopping program he liked. Despite his rock-star good looks and world-travelled ego, he seemed to fit in with the kids easily, laughing with them, playing along with them and making himself at home.

Darcy had to keep his door closed most of the day. Caleb’s laugh made him antsy. It made him want to join the group, made him want to run his fingers through the man’s hair and play with the silver bracelets at his wrist. He touched his chest. Caleb’s cross now lay there near his heart. He’d placed it over Darcy’s head after their shower, shrugging when Darcy had asked him why. “Because I want you to have it,” was all he’d said. Darcy trembled at the memory. Somehow it seemed almost ominous.

Bailey seemed to avoid him most of the day. When she did peek inside his office, it was to ask a quick question then she was on her way again. Chester lurked more than usual, casting strange glances his way. Darcy shook it off as his imagination. He couldn’t shake the sensation of impending doom. It hovered over him like a thundercloud in some old cartoon. But who was the villain who would burst the cloud and bring on the deluge? he wondered more than once.

Lunch came and went. Darcy stayed in his office. Caleb went down to O’Doul’s with the office staff. He brought him back a sandwich and a beer but he didn’t stay long. Darcy checked in with his other field writers, went through the next month’s worth of leads. He wrote notes and suggestions in the margins of his daily planner.

He thought it all through as he sat alone in his office—his life, his future. It was time to move on to the life he wanted, not the one Bailey had chosen for him.

After work, he would give Bailey two weeks’ notice. The decision left him feeling oddly free. To be at loose ends right now scared him, but he had options on the table. Good options.

He toyed with the idea of going back to school for his doctorate. He had always meant to, there had just never seemed to be time. The associate professor position would give him the opportunity, if he took it. He wanted to take it. The thought of going home to Oregon appealed to him like nothing else.

Nothing…except waking up every morning next to Caleb. His chest ached at the thought. His stomach swirled in a strange way, making him dizzy and lightheaded.

There were colleges in New Orleans, several to be precise. He might not have a cushy job waiting for him at one, but he could definitely apply for graduate school. He had the grades and the test scores, and he had the money put away. He could apply for a teaching certificate in Louisiana and teach at one of the many high schools in the parish. There was so much he could do.

But what if Caleb had meant what he said that day out at his family estate? When his mother passed, he would not be here anymore. What if he took one of the offers to go to the Middle East or into Korea?

The thought of losing Caleb scared him. That he could feel this way about a man terrified him. Hell, that he could feel this way at all terrified him.

At the end of the work day, Darcy finally left his office to do the usual Monday rundown on the upcoming release, what he expected the next two days and just a basic pep talk. When he was finished, he went back into his office, sat heavily on one of the armless visitor chairs, and leaned his head back. The chronic tension ache in his neck had returned sometime after lunch.

“You hurting again, cher?” The voice was soft and welcome, and the heavy click of the door closing set Darcy’s heart to racing. The touch of Caleb’s hand on his shoulder all but killed his ability to breathe and think at the same time.

“Just tension, from holding the phone wrong is all.” Darcy ached with need as Caleb massaged his neck, gripping the muscle tightly much like he had the week before. “Your hand on my neck is what got us into this mess.”

“What mess would that be, cher?” Caleb threw a long leg over his and, before Darcy could blink, he sat straddling him. His body, hard in all the right places, felt so damned good Darcy couldn’t help but wrap his arms around him and hold him close.

“This mess, the one where I can’t stop wanting you. Did you lock the door?” He looked up into Caleb’s eyes. The burning need he saw there made him want to weep.

“Now why would I do something like that? It might give your crew the wrong idea about us.” His lips were tender when he touched Darcy’s mouth.

“And someone walking in after I strip you naked wouldn’t do any such thing?” Darcy swallowed Caleb’s rumbling laugh. “Oh God, you taste so good. Caleb, I love you so much.”

He twined his fingers in Caleb’s hair, holding him gently as the kiss turned primitive. Caleb moved against him, his cock hard and hot as it stroked him through their clothes. “I’ve wanted you all day long, cher. I need you now, baby.”

“Caleb…” He didn’t know what he was going to say. He didn’t need to say anything, just kiss and explore, and—

“Hey, Dar…?” He heard Bailey gasp. Caleb froze in his arms. Terror like he’d never known seized him. He didn’t need to look at her to know this was not going to go well. “Oh, my God. I am… I don’t… I—oh God.”

He heard the door close again as all the blood in his body seeped to his feet. “I thought you locked the door?”

“I did, at least I thought I did. I turned the bolt.” Caleb was pale, his eyes filled with panic as he climbed off Darcy’s lap. “What do we do now?”

“How should I know? This is more your department.”

“Hate to burst your bubble, but I haven’t exactly had to deal with a jealous ex before. Or keeping my boyfriend’s gay little secret for that matter.” He had the decency to wince after the words left his mouth. “I didn’t mean that like it sounded. It’s not as if I’m completely out of the closet either. Shit.”

“I should go and try to explain. I don’t know what I’m going to say. What should I say?” Darcy’s brain raced in circles with fear and panic chasing each other in tight, twisting turns. “Shit.”

“I wouldn’t say anything. It’s not her business. But I’m not you. What do you want her to know? That I was just too pretty to resist. That I forced myself on you. That you are just experimenting with your sexuality. Anything you say probably will fall on deaf ears anyway.” Caleb turned his back to him. He stood at the window looking out over the street his shoulders slumped. “I’m gay, Darcy. Most of the rest of what I told you was bullshit, except that. I sleep with women to hide who I really am. So long as you know two truths about me—I am gay, and I am in love with you. You’re going to have to figure everything else out for yourself. And that includes your relationship with Bailey.”

“Do you think she will out me, us, if I don’t go talk to her?” Who was he kidding? This was Bailey after all. The term ‘drama queen’ was invented for her.

“Probably. She seems the type to use something like that against you. At least go and test the waters. Tell her whatever you want. I’ll wait here for you. We’ll go somewhere after and talk.”

“What about your mother?”

“As horrible as it is to say, she doesn’t even know the world exists anymore, she won’t miss me for a couple of hours longer. At any rate, we said our goodbyes a long time ago, last rites have been performed, there’s nothing left but a shell waiting to die. It’s killing me watching her suffer. I need to feel alive or I’m afraid I’ll follow her to the grave.” He turned to face him, his long lean arms crossed over his chest as if he were cold. The silver bracelets made the slightest sound. “You made me feel alive again, baby. Just go talk to Bailey. It’s been coming since before we met. Afterward we’ll figure this thing between us out.”

“All right.” Darcy still had no idea what he could say to save his ass. Deep inside, he didn’t know if it mattered. He was thinking about making a life with Caleb, yet here he was, unable to face the idea he might actually be gay. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He glanced at Caleb one last time before he left the safety of his office. There were only a few people still lingering in the main room. Amber met his gaze over her computer—she looked puzzled. No one else even noticed him. He took that as a good sign that Bailey hadn’t already spread what she’d seen around the office.

He knocked once at her door and, without waiting for her to answer, he walked inside and came face to face with a pair of dangerous eyes filled with malicious intent. “Hey, Bailey, your faggot boyfriend is here.”

Shit. So much for this being between the two of them.

* * * *

Too many minutes had passed. Caleb paced Darcy’s small office, going to the window to peer out as he tried to be patient and give him time. But how much time did he really need to talk to Bailey? Either she would keep quiet or she wouldn’t. Caleb leaned towards the wouldn’t side.

After fifteen minutes, his patience gave out and he stepped into the main office. Amber sat at her desk staring off towards the back, her face pale. She held her phone limply in her hand. Her eyes looked frightened. That was when he heard the shouts. Darcy’s voice and another, a deeper voice than Bailey could possibly have.

“What’s going on?” Amber half stood but Caleb motioned for her to sit still. “Why is Darcy shouting? Caleb…?”

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.” He eased down the hall to Bailey’s office, shaking his head when Amber rose to follow him. The door was slightly ajar. He could see Bailey standing against the wall, shock on her face, and her hand over her mouth.

“Damn it, Bailey, call your bitch off,” he heard Darcy say. His voice was low, almost a growl, filled with anger and frustration. Caleb couldn’t stand hearing him like that so he pushed the door open and just stood there for a moment trying to take in what he saw.

Darcy lay on the floor. His glasses, broken in two, were near the door. A trickle of blood oozed from his nose. But that wasn’t what set his heart to racing.

Chester sat on his chest, his knees on Darcy’s arms, holding him pinned. Darcy tried to throw him off, his stomach heaving with each attempt.

“All this time I’ve been trying to get your attention, all this time you played straight, and in the end some pretty fuck was all it took to make you show your true colors. I fucked your damn girlfriend, hoping you’d notice me. I took her completely away from you and you let me.”

“Chester, stop this.” This from Bailey, her face contorted with sorrow. “Get off him.”

“He won’t take you back. You’re not his type, Bai, now that he’s tasted man meat. Does he have a big dick, your boyfriend? Bigger than mine?” Chester eased up on his knees and undid his jeans.

Caleb couldn’t see past the red haze filling his brain. He launched himself into the office with a roar and in seconds he was staring into the much smaller man’s terrified eyes. “Keep your goddamned hands off him. You little fuck. Or I will—”

Chester quickly lost his fear. His lips curled into a sneer, and there was a demon in his eyes, one with knowledge he shouldn’t have. “Or what? You’ll kill me just like you did your lover in Baton Rouge?”

Caleb lifted him off the floor with one hand. His neck muscles tightened under his grip. “You don’t know anything.”

“I know all about you, Remy Caleb Lasseigne Mitchell. I looked you up.” His voice was strained, but he didn’t struggle, he just smiled an oily smile and laughed in his face. “Darcy, your boyfriend here spent two years in prison. Did you know that before you let him fuck you?”

“Shut up.” Cold prickled along Caleb’s spine, making him weak. The haze in his brain turned black.

“Do it. Choke me to death, just like you did your professor boyfriend. Think you’ll get just a manslaughter sentence this time without your grandfather to protect you? Oh yeah, I know about him too. One of the great crime bosses back in the day. He owned half this city. The whores and the bars. Nice family you’re marrying into there, Dar.”

“What’s he talking about?” Darcy laid his hand on his arm. Shame overwhelmed him at the touch. “Caleb? Is that true?”

Caleb let Chester fall to the floor. He lay there holding his neck and laughing. “I’m pressing charges, you prick. Gonna send your ass back to jail.”

“Do it and I’ll send you right along with him,” Darcy said. He was so close Caleb could smell him. He could hear the adrenaline pumping in his system. “Caleb?”

“It’s true. All true.” He couldn’t look at him. He didn’t want to see the disappointment in his eyes. He didn’t want to see the betrayal or the hate that would follow. “I’m sorry.”

The black haze was gone now, purged by fear and the need to save his own skin. He pushed past Darcy and, without looking to see where he was going, he bolted down the three flights of stairs to the street. The air outside was too heavy, he couldn’t catch his breath. A storm was brewing, the grey clouds pressing down on him, pushing him to the concrete as if it wanted to bury him.

Without thinking, he turned and started to run, only stopping when the familiar sign of something safe came into view.

He saw his uncle’s startled face as he burst into the bar. The early evening crowd parted for him. “Caleb, cher, what—”

Caleb reached over the bar and pulled out the first full bottle of whiskey he could get his hands on and with a twist of his wrist, he had it open. He didn’t answer his uncle. He didn’t trust himself to speak. He pushed his way through the crowd to the back and the private rooms, where he slammed the door closed on what was going to be his future. The whiskey burned a path to his stomach. He stumbled into a row of filing cabinets and that was where he was when he heard the door open.

“I don’t know, cher, he looks like the hounds of hell are after him. Did he hit you, Darcy?” his uncle said softly, concern in his voice.

Caleb heard a soft “No, someone else did” and something in him broke. He couldn’t stop the sob that erupted from somewhere deep inside.

“I’ll get you some ice.”

“It’s okay, just a scratch. I’ll live.”

“If you’re sure, cher? I’ll leave you to sort him out then.”

“Okay.”

The door closed, trapping Caleb in with his past and his lost future. Darcy didn’t say anything for a few minutes. Caleb took a gulp of whiskey, letting the anger he kept in check loose from its cage. “Just say what you came to say and then go, okay?”

“I’m trying to understand. I don’t want to take that little slimeball’s word. Caleb, please tell me what he said isn’t true.” There was despair in his voice.

“It’s true. I spent two years in prison for murdering my first lover.”

“The professor? You were, what, eighteen or nineteen?” The despair was gone now, replaced by a calm, reasoning tone. God, Caleb hated the tone. It was the shrink voice.

“Eighteen. I was wild back then. I was into just about anything I could think of to piss my father off. Drugs, petty theft, tagging. I raised hell in this town with my grandfather pulling my ass out of the fire on more than one occasion. Helps having a mob boss in your corner, cher.”

“Don’t use that accent right now. Be straight with me, Caleb, help me understand this.”

“I told you the day we met that I come with a load of shit. Remember?”

“I remember. Everybody has shit.”

“Not like mine. You won’t like what I was, what I did. But I’m not that person anymore.”

“I know. Just tell me what happened. Make me understand.”

Caleb turned to face him. The blood from the gash on Darcy’s nose had dried now, a purple bruise beginning to spread around his left eye. Caleb sank to the floor in a crouch, leaning against the wall. Anger welled in him at the pain in the blue eyes staring down at him. He couldn’t do this. This man…this man—he didn’t deserve this man. He didn’t deserve the love of something so pure.

“I told you the truth, mostly. He was a photography professor. I took his class, and discovered I had a talent for capturing more than was visible to the naked eye. He liked my vision and he liked my paintings. I was looking for a father figure, I guess. Hell, now that I think about it he was older than my own father. I let him seduce me.”

Darcy just nodded as he leaned back against the door.

“I really was a virgin, and I was in love. I was so fucking stupid. Darcy… I can’t tell you this shit. I’ve never told anyone this.”

“He used you. Come on, Caleb, there are professors at every college like him.”

“Not like him. Christ, I hope not, that would be tragic. He took me home with him for Christmas to meet his wife. To fuck his wife while he watched. It was messed up. He fucked me, I fucked her. They were messed up. I thought I’d died and gone to some kind of perverted heaven. When school started back, we met in a motel every evening. About a month after that, I found a strange man waiting for me. I let him do things to me while the professor watched. I liked it. I liked them all. In the spring—” The memory of that night threatened to kill him. Even after all these years it hurt so much.

“There was another man?” Darcy nudged him out of silence.

“A big one, bigger than me. He was…rough. It was brutal. When he was finished fucking me, he beat the hell out of me. Broke two of my ribs, split my lip wide open, broke a tooth or two. I could barely see. I wasn’t a virgin. He was pissed, because I wasn’t a virgin like he was promised. Ranting about the money he paid to have a fucking virgin ass to fuck and I was a fucking whore.”

“Oh.” The shock in Darcy’s voice tore at him. Caleb took a gulp of whiskey. In for a penny, in for a pound.

“He’d been selling me. Pimping me out to his friends, then strangers, for money. Because he liked watching and he had a lifestyle to support. After they were through, he’d hold me, and pet me like a fucking dog. Call me his good boy. I was getting laid, and my ego stroked. I never thought…” He pushed the memory into a small box and after another drag on the whiskey bottle, he leaned his head on his knees. “That night, I couldn’t control the monster that lives just under my skin. He was selling me. He didn’t love me. He was… I choked him to death with my own two hands. Someone called the cops. When they busted in I was sitting naked on the floor. I didn’t know who I was anymore. I couldn’t tell them what happened. I couldn’t speak. I went to the hospital. A couple of days later, I went to jail. I was a John Doe. My grandfather came looking for me. But it was too late. I had already confessed to manslaughter. He pulled some strings. Even in Baton Rouge, he had some power, not much but some. I got a light sentence. Five years. After two, my grandfather had the charges dropped to self-defense and got me out. He used his influence on the inside, too, to protect me. All I had to do was be someone’s bitch and my life was easy. Of course, he carved his fucking name in my flesh. His gang symbols on my body. He tatted me up real good. Could have been worse—could have been my face, or my arms. I could have had to service a whole cell block. Or get my ass kicked for being too pretty, or a Lasseigne or… Well, it didn’t take much to get your ass kicked.”

Darcy didn’t say anything, but Caleb could hear him. His breathing was harsh as if he were crying. He couldn’t take that. “When I got out my grandfather picked me up. Gave me a car and a few hundred thousand dollars and told me to disappear. I wasn’t to show myself back home and upset my family. The scandal had nearly killed my mother and he wouldn’t put up with a damned fag for a grandson. He’d done all he was going to do for me. I was twenty years old and I was on my own.”

“Caleb?”

“Don’t say anything. I don’t know why I told you. It’s not as if you mean anything to me. Just some straight boy I got a kick out of flipping.” He couldn’t stop the words. The pain drove him. He didn’t want to have his pity. He couldn’t live with Darcy knowing the worst about him. “You’re just a piece of meat to me, just a pretty ass to fuck. I wanted you. I took you. Now I’m done with you.”

“Caleb, please?”

He ignored the pain in his voice, letting the monster free just once more. “You want a goodbye quickie? Fine, drop trou. I’ll blow you and then I never want to see you again.”

“You don’t mean that. Please tell me you don’t mean that?” He could hear panic in Darcy’s voice but he couldn’t stop.

“I mean every word. You have my truth, all of my truths now, Duck. You’ve seen first-hand what I am capable of. I wanted to kill him. I tasted it. It tasted good. If you stay, it will be you. One day soon, it will be you, and I don’t have a grandfather to keep me from doing life this time.”

“Caleb? Don’t talk like that.” Darcy didn’t bother hiding the tears in his voice this time. Soft, sweet Darcy. His heart ached so badly and Caleb couldn’t stop himself from ripping his heart to shreds.

Caleb forced himself to look at him. Tears swam in his eyes, and he swiped them away. Betrayal, humiliation, despair—they were all there. Caleb just dropped his head on his knees as he nailed the lid on the coffin. “Run, little faggot boy. I have no further use for you. Go home.”

He heard the click of the door, but he didn’t look up to see if he was alone. He let the tears come now. Shit. “Shit!”

“You are in love with him, Remy.”

Caleb slammed his head into the wall behind him at the sound of his uncle’s voice. “How long have you been here?”

“Since that boy ran out of here like a scalded cat. He’s in love with you.”

“What do you care? You’ve never approved of my predilections.” Caleb lifted the bottle to his lips, noticed it was mostly gone and he was still fucking sober.

“Why did you never tell anyone what happened to you?”

“Grand-pere knew. He made me tell him why I killed that débauché, that fucker. He hunted down the one who beat me. It’s what freed me.”

“Remy?”

“Don’t fucking call me Remy. I stopped being Remy when I was twenty. Stop using that damned name.”

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and read the text. “Well, I guess I won the shit trifecta today.” He tossed his phone to his uncle. “Maman is gone now, and I hear about it in a fucking text message. Now get the fuck out and let me go on with my plan to find oblivion in the bottom of this bottle.”

“I’m sorry, Rem—Caleb. I wish I had known. I would have—”

“There was nothing you could have done, Uncle. You couldn’t make my father love me. You couldn’t make him stay when he wanted to leave. You couldn’t make my mother stay sober after he left. There was nothing you could have done to stop anything.”

“I saw her today. I went. I am so sorry, Caleb.”

“Yeah, Uncle. So am I.”

Caleb hefted the bottle again and drained it. This time he could feel the liquor take hold. The pain started to fade away in the recesses of his brain where he couldn’t pick at it. Soon he would find oblivion, and he would forget how ruthlessly he had run off the first good thing to ever happen to him.

Eight

Darcy was standing in line waiting to board the first plane to Oregon he could get a ticket on. Not an hour had passed since he’d run from the bar with his tail firmly between his legs. Pain threatened to drag him to his knees but he kept walking, the bruise on his face drawing attention he didn’t want. Everything was pleasantly blurry without his glasses, so he really didn’t notice the looks so much.

“Are you all right, sir?” The flight attendant who was checking his ticket seemed genuinely concerned.

“I’m fine.” He didn’t feel like trying to explain when he had no idea how to process what had just happened. “Lost my glasses and walked into an overhang.”

She seemed to take his answer in stride and directed him to his seat. He’d bought first class out of desperation because the plane was full. Once seated, he asked for something cold to drink, mostly to press against his face, and for something to kill the headache building behind his eyes. At five o’clock he left the Big Easy behind, his heart aching with so much pain he couldn’t swallow.

Eight hours later, the taxi pulled into the drive of the neat house he’d grown up in. There were lights on downstairs. He knocked, feeling like a fool. He’d never thought he’d come home like this, empty-handed and broken.

His mom answered, her smile fading as he stepped into the lighted foyer. “Sweetheart…what happened to your face?”

“Who is it, Monica?” His dad came out of the kitchen, a beer in hand, before Darcy had a chance to say anything. “Darcy! Oh my God! Son, what happened to you? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, it’s nothing. I just… I need to come home for a little while, if that’s all right?” He knew he should have called. He should have stayed in New Orleans and tried to salvage his life. He should have broken Chester’s nose. There were a million things he should have done but hadn’t.

“Of course, sweetie, you know you’re welcome here. Why would you even ask?” His mom pulled him to her for a hug. “Are you hungry? I have lasagna in the fridge, I could heat it up.”

“That would be nice, thanks.” He followed his parents into the kitchen, noting the new stove. “I left the magazine. Bailey and I…”

“Broke up?” His mom finished for him when he couldn’t find the right words.

“Something like that. I was offered a job at the university. I’m going to take it,” he decided on the spot. There was nothing holding him back. He could have the career he wanted, he was free. Free to do as he pleased, to live as he wished, to love…

No one. He loved no one. And that was how it should be. He didn’t need a sultry-talking man fucking with his head just to get into his pants. He didn’t need anyone. Pain clutched in his gut and twisted. Caleb’s tormented green eyes flashed in his memory. ‘Run, little faggot boy. Go home.’ The words chimed in his mind, tearing him into so many pieces he didn’t know if he could ever put himself back together.

“On second thought, Mom, it’s so late and it’s been a long day. I’m just going to crash, if that’s okay?”

“Sure, sweetie, go ahead. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Darcy hugged his parents, trying not to see the worried looks they passed each other when they thought he wasn’t looking. Upstairs, he fell into the twin-size bed he’d occupied for eighteen years, and wrapped himself in the blue plaid comforter. Sleep dragged him under before he could even think to fight it off. Somehow, he roused himself enough to kick off his shoes. After that, he found the oblivion he so desperately wanted.

* * * *

He moped around the house for two days. His parents tiptoed around him but Darcy could sense their tension. Finally, he turned his phone on and scrolled through the missed calls and messages. A hundred, maybe two hundred. Some from Bailey, most of them from Amber. Caleb hadn’t called, or texted. He quickly squashed the feeling of disappointment. Why would Caleb call? He’d got what he wanted from him. Just another straight boy he’d wanted to flip.

Darcy squeezed his eyes closed. His old glasses weren’t strong enough, and his head hurt from the combination of poor vision and lack of food. At least that was what he told himself. He called Amber. Amber he could deal with—he’d never slept with her. Amber was a good person, she would—

“Where the fucking hell are you?” Amber answered, her voice filled with anger and fear. “I ought to kick your ass for scaring us like that.”

“I’m sorry.” God, he didn’t know what he needed to say. “I’m in Oregon. Amber, I—I’m not coming back.”

“I will kick that fucking moron’s ass if he turns back up. Darcy, you’ve got to come back, we need you. I need you. There’s no one running things. Bailey won’t talk to anyone. She just sits in her office. Chester bugged out. And Caleb… Well, I was hoping you knew where he was. You both sort of disappeared at the same time.”

“I don’t know where he is.” Darcy forced the guilt and grief into a hole in his heart. “I’m so sorry. I can’t come back. I’ve taken a job at the university. I’ve been on the waiting list for years. It’s my dream job, Amber.”

“So you just run off and leave us without a word? Darcy, that isn’t right. I was this close to calling the police. Bailey wouldn’t let me. She thought you and Caleb were just off fucking around somewhere. She said you would show up when the new wore off. What happened with Caleb? The two of you looked so happy.”

“You said it yourself, we were just fucking around. Listen, Amber, there’s something I want you to do for me.” He evaded the question. He didn’t need to know anything about Caleb right now. He didn’t want to know. ‘Run, little faggot boy, run home.’ “I sent you the key to my apartment. Will you go through it for me this weekend? Pack it up, I’ll tell you what to ship to me and the rest you can just give away.”

“You’re not coming back? Really? Oh, Darcy, you loved the magazine. Come back. Everything will be okay. Bailey will—”

“I can’t, Amber,” he said, feeling the lump dissolve in his throat. “He doesn’t want me. He made me fall in love with him and it’s over. I can’t come back.”

“Oh, baby, I’m sorry. I knew you would fall hard for some guy one day. That thing between you and Bailey just never fit. And Caleb, he was perfect for you. I’m sorry he hurt you. Want me to hunt him down and cut him? I can, you know,” she said in a soothing voice. “Don’t cry, Darcy, you’ll make me cry.”

“I’m sorry. I just didn’t know who… I haven’t talked to anyone about it. I just left. My parents are freaked, I can’t talk to them about this. How did you know I would fall for a guy? I didn’t know… I didn’t know—”

“That you’re gay. Baby, it takes one to know one. Even if I’m not a guy. I can read the signs of someone living a lie. And don’t bother denying it. You might have fucked Bailey and other girls, but you didn’t enjoy it, did you? Did you?”

He sat there on his bed holding the phone to his ear as if it would bite him. His whole life was a lie. He looked around his room at the posters on the wall, movies, music, sports—there were no women in them. He’d never looked at a girly magazine with interest. Hell, it had been Bailey who’d initiated sex. Always. Even the first time. “No. I thought something was wrong with me, but I’ve never looked at men either. I thought I just wasn’t interested—”

“Bitch, please—give you a couple of drinks and all you do is ogle men, their asses in particular.” She was laughing at his squeak of denial. “Oh, yeah, I’ve watched you. And you blushed every time one of them looked back. Don’t worry, Darcy, no one else noticed. Except maybe Chester, it’s what drove him crazy. You looked at him like he was worse than something you’d stepped in. He’s gone. He took off after he and Bailey had a knockdown, drag out. Come back, the magazine needs you.”

“The magazine needs you. You have the passion I’ve lost. Amber, I’m going to sell you my half of the business. You can manage it. You’ve got the drive, and, frankly, I thought you were wasted as a field reporter. I was going to offer you assistant editor. But you’ll make a great editor.” It was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do. Darcy just wished he’d thought of it earlier. Like back in the early spring when he had first lost interest. And again as summer had come and he’d just felt trapped.

“I can’t afford to buy you out. I’m sort of knee deep in student loans and the apartment I’m in isn’t cheap.”

“One dollar, plus cleaning out my apartment. And if you want, you can take over the lease there. It’s not bad, and close enough to walk to work so you won’t have to worry about cab fare. I’ll call the landlord, let him know.”

“You’d do that? For me?” There was disbelief in her voice, almost as if no one had ever done anything nice for her.

“You’ve been a great friend, Amber. I don’t make friends easily, and I don’t throw away the ones I do have. And I’ll be here to walk you through everything. Any time of the day. Except when I’m teaching class, I’m pretty sure that’s frowned upon.”

“Professor Darcy Butler. Hmm, has a poetic ring to it.” Amber laughed, the husky sound infusing him, making him feel better than he had in days. “What do you want me to tell Caleb the next time I see him?”

The laughter died as the pain in his stomach came back. “You won’t see him again. He’s probably out of the country by now.”

“I’m sorry, Darcy, but you know, now that you’ve opened the door to the closet, it wouldn’t hurt to explore the world a little. Go out and meet a nice guy, get laid. It’ll help.”

“Yeah. I know. I’m going to run now. I’ve got an appointment to replace my glasses. And I’ve got to go buy new clothes. I sort of only have what I was wearing on Monday. Let me know when the package I sent you arrives, okay?”

“I will, and, for what it’s worth, I love you. You know that, right? I’ve got your back, no matter what.”

“I know, Amber, I love you too. I’m just sorry I had to leave.”

After he disconnected he looked up to find his mom standing in the door. He waited for the inevitable questions as he wondered just how much she’d heard. He wasn’t sure if could discuss Caleb, not just yet. Maybe not ever.

“Who’s Amber?”

“A girl who works for me…worked for me. A friend.” He sighed. “I’m all right, Mom.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything. I recognize heartbreak when I see it. Lord knows your brother and sister put me through hell. But not you.”

“Not me. You’d think at twenty-nine I’d be able to deal with it. But no. I have no idea how to get past this.”

“You were with her for ten years. I’m sure it will take some time. Bailey was a good girl, but she wasn’t… Well, she just never struck me as the type to settle down and raise a family, honey.”

He laughed a harsh bitter laugh that shocked his mom. “She’s pregnant. It’s not mine. Guess she is willing to raise a family. But it won’t be with me.”

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. I just don’t know what to say.”

“Me either. And, Mom, I’d rather her condition not get out. I mean, I’d just as soon people not know why, you know.” Let her think what she wanted. Let her think it was Bailey’s infidelity. As long as he didn’t have to admit it was a man who’d broken his heart, he could get through this. And hell, maybe if he tried hard enough, he could convince himself.

“Sure thing,” she said, her eyes sad. “Hey, before I forget to warn you, Damien is coming this weekend. He’s bringing the kids. And Delilah might drive down from Seattle.”

“Why?” Horror gripped him. He wasn’t fit company to be tormented just now. Especially by older siblings.

“Because they love you and miss you, and I suspect they want to make sure their baby brother is living and breathing and in one piece after living down south for nearly a year.”

“Down the bayou.” He laughed, thinking about the peculiar way of speaking they had down there.

“What?” She thought he’d lost his mind. Of course, she’d caught him sitting in his room with tears on his face and now he was babbling nonsense. She could be right.

“‘Down the bayou’—it’s the New Orleans way of saying south. Up the bayou is north.” He wrapped his arms around his chest, shivering, Caleb’s voice clear in his head as he’d explained the local dialect to him. Of course, they had been lying in bed, fingers entwined at the time. “I hated that damned city the whole time I was there. And now…”

“You miss it?”

“Yeah, crazy, isn’t it?” He laughed at the irony. “Okay, I have places to be. I need to get some clothes. The clothes in my closet don’t fit anymore, and I need a second set of eyes. And—”

“Do you want some company?” she offered almost hesitantly. “I’ll take you to lunch, and there’s an art gallery I’m dying to go to, but your dad can’t be bothered to go with me. And you always loved going to the galleries with me. My sweet baby boy. I missed you so much.”

“If I say yes, will you stop with the mush?”

“I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll stop with the mush if you actually eat lunch instead of pushing it around on your plate.” She smiled—a cunning, calculating smile—and Darcy knew he’d been manipulated.

“Deal. But I’m not talking about my feelings.” Darcy climbed to his feet, grabbed his wallet and phone. On second thought, he tossed the phone on his bed and walked away. “And I need to get a new phone. This one is broken.”

She nodded. She might not have understood but she nodded. Darcy sighed. He didn’t understand himself. But he couldn’t hang on to the past. He needed to make a clean break. He would keep one number and lose the rest.

* * * *

The twenty or so degree drop was hard to get used to. Darcy pulled his jacket tight and tucked his hands in his pockets. Somehow, summer at home had always seemed much warmer than this. Of course, that was before he’d become used to ninety-degree temperatures. The lack of sunlight was also a shock after so many months living in the sunbelt.

He was miserable, missing a city he hadn’t really liked until there at the end. He didn’t think about what he really missed as the days turned into weeks. He kept up with Amber. He knew the magazine was struggling because Bailey refused to work with her. Amber was the only person keeping it afloat. Selling her his interest for a dollar hadn’t been a mistake. She was a good kid—bright, driven and idealistic. If she and Bailey could just find some common ground, things would work out just fine for the mag.

And Bailey… Well, he hadn’t spoken to Bailey since the afternoon in her office, but he knew everything about her. According to Amber, she’d just sort of shut down for a while then had come back a different, bitter person. If she was pregnant, she had yet to show it. She seemed bound and determined to destroy the magazine, and Amber. But the crew was loyal to Amber. Never to Bailey, he found out. Bailey was their cross to bear.

June rolled into July then into August. Darcy moved to Eugene, into a small apartment near the campus. Amber had sold most of his furniture so he had very little to move, just a few boxes of personal stuff, his books and clothes. Pathetic. But in the one bedroom walk-up, it was more than enough. He went through orientation and started work before the students returned in late September. He kept busy, followed Amber’s advice and he went out, even got laid. A girl first then a guy, but neither of them satisfied the craving he had. Neither of them had a voice that could melt him. It was just sex, nothing special. When sex didn’t work, he joined a gym, became active in the small community of teachers near his age, and with the community surrounding his apartment.

He liked teaching. The kids were great—eager, intelligent and polite. But he was on edge. And nothing seemed to help. He knew deep down that until he found closure he was going to continue in this sort of holding pattern. He needed to know the truth. The truth about Caleb’s past was his chief concern.

So much so, he called Amber after his first week of classes and had her start looking into one Remy Caleb Lasseigne Mitchell’s past. Amber faxed him as much as she could get her hands on, which was mostly just newspaper articles from the time of the murder. There were a few more when he was suddenly released from prison only to disappear. The next time he showed up he was just Caleb Mitchell, in a byline for Rolling Stone magazine, then other magazines. He was a genius with a camera. And with a canvas.

Darcy found one of his pieces in the gallery in Astoria just before he had left, and paid the exorbitant price for it. It hung over his mantel in his new apartment. He had a mattress and a painting. Yeah, his life was right on track.

Then in early October, Amber called him and told him she’d gone to Baton Rouge following a tip and that she was sending him something. He ran to his computer and watched as the documents spewed from his fax machine. It was a lot of papers. He put them together, pausing at the photos, black and white but startling. All of the same young man with long hair, his lean body bruised and battered, his face barely recognizable as he sat in a corner, nude and bleeding. The body of a fully dressed, handsome, middle-aged man with dark hair stared unseeing at the ceiling. There didn’t appear to be a mark on him. In one of the photos, Caleb’s startling clear eyes stared back at him. There was nothing in them—they were dead.

Thinking back, Darcy remembered Caleb saying how he couldn’t speak after the beating. He’d said he didn’t even know his name. The reports seemed to confirm this. He was in shock, barely responsive, but he had nodded when asked if he’d done the crime.

Jesus, he was just a kid. The report was filled with information on the professor. A known sex deviant who preyed on students, staying just out of reach because the boys he used were legal and all acts were consensual. Except those that weren’t. But Caleb had killed him. And that was all that had mattered. It hadn’t really been self-defense, either. Still, the charges had been dropped to accidental homicide as a result of self-defense two years later based on new testimony. He’d been released with time served.

Darcy cried himself to sleep that night, the brutal crime scene photos haunting him. And the next day, like a man possessed, he found the magazine that carried all of Caleb’s Iraq photos, not just the few that had won him a Pulitzer. He devoured it—the photos were heartbreaking. Caleb and a reporter were embedded for two months with an unnamed Army division in the early phase of the war. Going through the hundreds of photos again, Darcy saw one soldier featured over and over again. A dark-haired man with laughing eyes and a very square jaw, who looked at the camera as if he were in awe…in love with the photographer, more like it. He was never named. The segment that had won both the reporter and Caleb their Pulitzer—the burning trucks, the bodies, soldiers running, chaos. The soldier with the love in his eyes caught just as a bullet had struck him from behind. The shock in his eyes. He had been running to Caleb. Then there was Caleb in army fatigues and armor, holding the man as he died. These photos were not as composed—they were grainy, often blurry, the stark contrast startling. The agony on Caleb’s face as he held the man tore Darcy apart.

He’d seen that agony first-hand the day Caleb had sat on the floor in his uncle’s bar and done everything he could to drive him away. And Darcy had gone. Tucked his tail between his legs like a scared little boy and run home to his mama.

Amber told him later that Caleb’s mother had died that day. Darcy had tried to call him but the number he’d saved was no longer in service. He’d sent a letter to the address outside the city, another to O’Doul’s bar and one more to the bar where Caleb lived. He had never received a reply.

He told himself this was how it should be. This was for the best. Caleb was gone. He tucked his heart away in a steel box and decided it was time to get on with his life.

* * * *

The weather turned cold that month. He had bought new clothes after he’d got back on his feet financially, clothes that Caleb wouldn’t call an old man uniform. He liked dark colors lately. Somehow he’d become partial to the color black, letting it infuse nearly his entire new wardrobe. He’d let his hair grow out, and he didn’t shave as often as he should.

Today was one of those days. He’d forgotten to shave, he wore black slacks and a black cashmere sweater that hugged his body like a second skin, over a blue shirt with the tails untucked and peeking out from below the sweater.

His students were in a good mood. It was homecoming week, and he could feel the excitement bubbling in them. And for a while he forgot he was tired and lonely, lonelier than he’d ever been in his life. Convinced homecoming fever made him do it, he finally agreed to a date with the owner of a coffee shop just off campus. He had red hair and brown eyes and a sweet smile. They were going slow. Very slow.

The date wasn’t until Friday. There would be time to freak out later. He had to get through today, and today in class he was discussing Shakespeare and how his works were meant to be read out loud. They were plays, after all. He’d assigned parts and read along with his students as they walked around the room. He did Lady Macbeth. His falsetto had his students in stitches. It was a good class. When it was over, he stood by the door saying goodbye, tossing easy banter back and forth as the students filed out.

Something in the air caught his attention. A scent, a sound—he couldn’t lay his finger on what exactly. The girls giggled, and he heard the hushed admiration of some hottie as they walked past his room. Curiosity led him to investigate. He stepped into the hall but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Just the usual class change chaos, then the crowd parted and his heart came to a thudding halt just before it raced to the moon.

“Hey, cher.” Caleb leaned against the far wall in that insouciant way of his—his long legs extended, one boot crossed over the other, the ragged jeans, the tight black T-shirt showing every muscle in his lean body, the brown vest. His hair was longer, past his shoulders now. Several days’ growth of blond beard covered his jaw. His eyes were so green. Darcy had forgotten just how green they were. There was sadness in the depths, becoming almost wary now that Darcy had seen him.

“What are you doing here?” Oh God, he didn’t care, he was so happy to see him. He stepped into the crowd and slowly made his way across the hall.

“Ooh, you go, Mr B.” He heard the male voice. The taunt in it stopped him cold.

“I’m leaving for Korea tomorrow. I wanted to say… Hell, I don’t know why I’m here.” Caleb smiled at the girls who stared at him in appreciation. “Is there some place a little less public where we can talk?”

“My office is down the hall.” Darcy finally crossed the sea of human bodies and held out his hand, wanting to lock it behind his neck and pull him close. He settled for a handshake. It was a mistake. Sexual heat raced through his body, nearly bringing him to his knees. “So you got clearance to go into North Korea then?” he added, letting his hand go quickly.

“Not exactly.” Caleb looked everywhere but at him. “Your students are staring. You look good, by the way. I love the sweater. I miss the glasses.”

“Had laser surgery to fix my astigmatism. No more broken glasses.” He stopped himself from saying more. He didn’t want to talk about that day. “I missed you.”

“Me too, cher.”

“It’s a suicide mission, isn’t it? Your trip to Korea, I mean. You won’t come back if they catch you.”

“You’re probably right.”

“And that’s what you want? To die the way you’ve lived.”

“Cher—”

“Don’t ‘cher’ me, Caleb, I’m immune to your charm now.”

“Where’s your office, Darcy? I want to say hello to you in the worst way. I can’t with all these curious people watching us. And stop staring at me like that.”

“I’m not staring.”

“You are staring, cher. Your pretty eyes gone wide, your face is flushed. Where’s your office, beb?”

Darcy tried not to let his voice seduce him, but his accent was so smooth, Darcy felt it embrace him when he wasn’t looking. He turned, smiling at his students gathered against the far wall, watching them, their eyes curious as they whispered together. Speculating about them. Oh God. Why did he have to turn up here of all places? “Come on then before I have too many questions to answer tomorrow.”

“Still in denial, cher?”

“I’m seeing someone, Caleb, a guy. Guess you flipped me good.” He meant for it to hurt him. It had been months, he’d moved on.

“That’s nice, beb. You know it was eighty-five degrees in New Orleans yesterday when I saw Amber. She said to tell you hey.”

“Amber and I keep in touch. She’s doing a pretty good job running the magazine.”

“I know, I read it every now and then.”

Darcy let him walk into his office ahead of him. “Have a seat. It’s not big or luxurious, or even friendly, but it is private. Why are you really here, Caleb?”

“I wanted to see you before I left the country. Try to explain things… Hell, I don’t know.” He sat in the one chair Darcy had besides his desk chair, a hard plastic thing that used to have a desk attached. Darcy stood beside the door, holding the knob until he remembered the last conversation with Bailey and how he’d just stood there holding the damned door. He released the knob and walked across the room. It wasn’t a far walk.

“Let’s start with the fact that I loved you. You ripped my heart out that day because you were afraid I wouldn’t, or couldn’t, handle your past. Does that sound about right?” He leaned against the wall facing him and watched as Caleb stretched his legs and leaned back in the chair. Darcy’s mouth went dry when their eyes met.

“Sure. And you ran like a scared rabbit.”

“Because you wanted me to go. Because you were punishing me for being stupid enough to let you seduce me. Just a straight boy you wanted to see if you could flip, or something along those lines.”

“I killed my first lover, Darcy. My second died in my arms. You were my third. I was terrified something was going to happen to you. My father is dead, Maman was dying. I’d lost everyone. Everyone. I was so afraid I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“It’s been four months. You changed your number. I sent letters you didn’t answer.”

“It hurt too much. You were gone, Maman died, I had funeral arrangements to make, her estate to settle. Uncle Jeb and I liquidated pretty much everything we had left from Grand-pere. The legal stuff kept me tied up. If that wasn’t enough, I had days when I couldn’t get out of bed. I saw someone, got my head on right…okay, righter, doubt it will ever be on completely right. I didn’t sleep around.”

“I did. I needed to purge you.” Darcy just wanted to hurt him. The pain in his eyes told him he’d succeeded.

“Did it work?” His voice was neutral, his eyes guarded.

“No.” Darcy ran a hand through his hair, trying to control the things his body was telling him. “I saw the police file from eighteen years ago. The things that happened to you, Caleb, would have killed me. You were a kid, beaten nearly to death. Hell, your face was so messed up I wouldn’t have known it was you except for your eyes.”

“I killed the wrong man, cher. The professor didn’t beat me near to death.”

“He sold you to the man who did it. You weren’t the first. He’d been doing it for years. The cops couldn’t pin anything on him, though.”

“Which is why I didn’t get life. But I had to be punished. Two years of my life gone. But it straightened me out. I was still wild, just careful about who I trusted. I don’t love easily, Darcy.”

“Do you still love me?” Jesus, he shouldn’t have asked. Caleb was leaving tomorrow to sneak into a communist country. He was never coming back. Darcy knew this. He could see it in his eyes.

“Do you want me to love you? I come with a huge load of shit, cher.”

“I don’t want a one-night stand to say goodbye. I’m not interested in letting you in my heart again just to watch you walk out the door.”

“Is that an ultimatum? If I want to love you I have to stay here with you?”

“Yeah, I think it is. If I love you, I want the ultimate sacrifice in return.”

“My freedom?”

“Take it or leave. I won’t be with you tonight and watch you leave tomorrow. I want you to stay. I want to be with you. I will not wait for you to run around the world chasing your mortality. If you love me, Caleb—”

“I’ll stay. Just tell me you love me. I’ll do anything just to hear you say the words. I’ll stay here with you. Just let me love you, bebe, it’s all I need.” His voice broke on the last words.

The pain in Darcy’s chest swelled so tight he couldn’t breathe. He took the two steps separating them and threw his leg over Caleb’s, straddling him exactly like Caleb had done the last day in New Orleans. Startled green eyes stared into his, Caleb’s heart trapped there for him to see. “I love you so fucking much. I cried myself to sleep more nights than I can count for missing you so much. I don’t know what I’ll do if you leave. And all you ever have to do is ask and I’ll follow you anywhere.”

“Do you mean that? You said you were seeing someone. What about him?” He sat stiffly under Darcy’s weight. Pain welled in his eyes. “Is he good in bed?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t slept with him yet. Right now, that relationship consists of one coffee after class and a date that won’t happen now.” Darcy let him snake his hand under his shirt, loving the feel of his fingers on his skin. Caleb clutched the cross pendant in his fist. “I never take it off.”

“And the others?” His grip loosened on the necklace but the pain stayed in his eyes.

“One-night stands. A woman back in Astoria, a man right after I came here. Hell, I don’t even remember their names. Bailey and you were all I’d ever known. I wanted to know—”

“If you were straight or gay. I understand. I did the same after I got out.”

“No, it wasn’t that. It was just sex, nothing special with either of them. Like with Bailey. Just sex.” Darcy heard his voice waver. “Nothing like I had with you.”

“His name was Mike.” Caleb looked away. “The soldier. The one who died. I knew him for about five weeks before he was killed. We had to sneak around because of who he was, you know.”

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because I need you to know what I had with him was the first gentle, loving experience I’ve ever had with another person. But it was nothing like I found with you. In less than a week, Darcy—we were together less than a week. Sex with you was crazy, like nothing I’d ever known. Waking up with you made me want to cry, made me think things like true love and happy ever afters were real. I didn’t have that with him. When that little prick Chester told you I’d been in prison, the look on your face nearly tore me into a million pieces. I went from loving you to fearing you. I’ve been to some dark places. I have the scars. I made them as pretty as I can but under the tattoos there is still ugly.” He pulled his shirt up running his fingers over the marks around his navel. On his chest. “I can’t make my past any prettier.”

“I know, baby. I was just shocked. From the fight with Chester, mostly. He was a— He was after me. I didn’t see it. He went after Bailey to get my attention. I don’t know why I didn’t see it. Why didn’t she?”

“I don’t know, cher, I didn’t see it either. I thought he was after the magazine. He didn’t set off my gaydar.”

“You have that? Really?” Darcy laughed, his laugh quickly turning to a groan as Caleb rocked into him, his cock hard beneath his jeans. “Did I set it off?”

“No, cher, you didn’t. I love your laugh, but I love how easily I can make you moan.”

Darcy moaned again when Caleb slid his fingers into his hair. He held him for a moment, pressing his forehead to Darcy’s. The gleam in his eyes made Darcy’s heart race. His lips were so close, his breath so sweet, Darcy couldn’t stand being so close yet so far away. “Kiss me before I melt into a puddle right here in your lap.”

“I can do that.” Caleb snaked his hand underneath Darcy’s shirt again, the fingers of one hand skimming his back, the others still clenched in his hair. “I want to make love to you, Darcy, but not here.”

“My apartment is just off campus. I just finished my last class. I can slip out early.”

“Later we can go out. We’ve never been out before.”

“Like on a date? Wow, let’s not rush into anything, shall we?” Darcy got tired of waiting for him to kiss him and took matters into his own hands.

Caleb groaned against his lips, his arms tightened around Darcy’s back, pulling him against his body. The erection between his legs pressed against Darcy’s. After a few moments, Darcy had to pull away just to catch his breath. He was close to orgasm just from the tongue in his mouth. “Fuck me. That was intense.”

“Merde! Don’t say that. I might just take you up on it.” Caleb’s breath came in short, ragged bursts. “I want you so much, bebe.”

“Take me home, now, before I lose this feeling. I never want to lose this feeling, Caleb.” Darcy reluctantly climbed off his lap. His body pulsed in places he never knew could pulse, but he ignored the sensation long enough to work his phone and let the department secretary know he was leaving for the day.

“Think it’s safe to go out there? I mean, you look like you’re about to come in your pants. Your lips are swollen, beb, like you’ve been well kissed.” Caleb’s laugh coupled with the fire burning in his eyes made Darcy weak.

“And you think you look any more composed? God, Caleb the monster hard-on you’ve got in your pants makes me want—”

“Christ, don’t say it. I’ll never get it under control if you say it.”

“Suck you dry.”

“Now that, cher, was just mean. Shit, grab your stuff, let’s get out of here. I need to get you naked in the worst possible way.”

Darcy let Caleb leave first, just in case there were any students lingering in the hall. Darcy met him downstairs and followed him to his rental car. “My apartment isn’t far. I walk in on nice days like today.”

“You call this nice? It’s overcast and cold. I should have brought a jacket.” Caleb let him in and closed the door. Darcy watched him walk around the car, one almost exactly like the one he’d had in New Orleans except black.

“Welcome to Oregon. It’s like this pretty much year round.”

“No wonder you couldn’t handle the New Orleans heat.” He started the car, but didn’t put it in gear. Instead he turned and kissed him quickly.

“I got used to it,” Darcy said, trying to catch his breath. “Shit, don’t do that again. At least not until we get off this fucking campus.”

“Tell me where to go.” Caleb put the car in reverse and in moments Darcy had him heading in the right direction.

“My apartment is in an old town house on the top floor. It’s on the small side but it is decent,” he said after giving directions for the quickest way off the campus and into the parking space he never used.

They climbed the stairs and just as soon as Darcy had the door open, Caleb pressed him against the wall, his mouth finding all of the right spots, his fingers almost magical in their ability to strip him of clothes and breath. “Bed or floor?”

“Bed, it’s over there.” Darcy nodded to the mattress set on the floor in the middle of his living room. “I never managed to get it to the bedroom. Saw no reason to, really.”

“None at all,” Caleb agreed, his eyes going to the lone piece of art in the whole place. “That’s mine.”

“I know. I bought it after I came home. I needed something of you and that piece tore my heart out.”

“I painted it after my dad died in an accident. Never could get the fucking colors right.” He tugged Darcy towards the bed and fell backwards, taking him with him. “I like that you have it.”

Darcy pulled Caleb’s shirt over his head, taking the vest with it, and tossed them to the floor. He pulled the fly on his jeans open and, with a sigh, he took both of them in his hand and stroked.

“Christ, where the hell did you learn that?” Caleb bucked against him, throwing his head back. “Shit—feels good. Do you have anything?”

“In the bathroom, down the hall.” Darcy lay against him. He licked Caleb’s neck as he strained, slowly grinding his body into Caleb’s. The fabric of his jeans was rough against his legs, but Darcy didn’t mind. It felt good.

“That’s too far away. You were careful?” Caleb gripped his ass cheeks, his fingers digging in. “Fuck, Darcy, baby, it’s been too long, I’m too close.”

“I was careful. Come for me, Caleb, I want to see you come.” Darcy pressed into him, grinding his cock between them. He leaned over him, holding his mouth just over Caleb’s, and flicked his lips with his tongue. The helplessness in Caleb’s eyes drove him to do things he never would have before. “That’s it, baby, purr for me.”

“I like you like this.” Caleb panted against his mouth, straining to close the distance. “Kiss me, I’m coming. Shit, Darcy, kiss me.”

Darcy leaned over him and pressed his mouth to Caleb’s, swallowed his moans of pleasure then gave him his in return. “I love you,” he said when he could form the words.

Caleb lay still beneath him, his breath coming in short gasps. “Mon amour doux, my sweet love. Je t’aime.”

“God, I love when you speak French. Makes me horny as hell.” Darcy could feel Caleb’s chest vibrate before he heard the rumbling laugh then all he heard was French—slow, soft words he didn’t know the meaning of, but his body didn’t care. “I know what je t’aime means and that is all that counts.”

“Say it back to me.” Caleb ran his hands over his body. The heat of his fingers had him hard again in seconds flat.

“Je t’aime.”

“That’s my cher.” Caleb grinned that wicked grin of his and Darcy forgot there was a world outside their bed.

Nine

“Tell me about this?” Darcy lay below him, his blue eyes mere slits, his hand pressed between their bodies, clasping the cross medallion.

Caleb sighed and rolled to his side. He rested his hand on top of Darcy’s. “It was my grandmother’s. I wanted you to have it. I don’t know, Darcy, I can’t find the words to explain right now.”

“It was special to you.” Darcy didn’t want to let it go. “You never speak of her.”

“I don’t remember her. She died of congestive heart failure when I was a little kid. I remember she wore the cross and these.” He held his arms up, letting the silver slide over his skin. He remembered how she was kind to him and that she’d smelled of roses and had a thick French accent. “She was French, from Paris—it’s why we all know the language and not just the Cajun French. She barely spoke English. I don’t like remembering.”

“Why?” Darcy rolled to face him. He embraced him, his long arms holding him close. He rubbed his nose against Caleb’s cheek.

“My mama and daddy were nineteen when I was born. My grand-pere forced the marriage on my father. He went to South Carolina and threw money at my other grandparents. He was a hard man to like. My mama came home when I was around two. It was the first time I ever came to New Orleans. And there she was, this sweet-smelling woman who held me and gave me cookies. I didn’t understand a thing she said, but she smiled a lot and she wore the cross and other silver necklaces. Always. I never saw her without them. She taught me French. And what it was like to be loved. I didn’t know what love felt like.”

“I’m sorry, baby, I shouldn’t have pried.” Darcy held him closer and nuzzled his neck.

“It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would,” Caleb said honestly. He could see the wrought-iron railing surrounding the house in New Orleans. The rocking chair she would sit in just holding him and singing to him. “Her name was Clemence. My mama was so young. She was also vain and selfish. Her only thought was my daddy. And he didn’t think of her at all. They fought all the time. Never should have married. I look just like him except for my eyes. They’re my grand-pere’s eyes, and my mama’s. Jeb has Grand-mere’s eyes. He’s a lot like her. It’s why Grand-pere didn’t leave the family business to him. Jeb didn’t want it. Anyway…

“She died when I was five, I think. And my daddy came to New Orleans and took us back to Charleston. I barely spoke English at the time. And I didn’t know who he was. It’s all wrapped together in my memory. I didn’t understand why Maw-maw was gone and this angry man had taken me away from her. I didn’t understand the people I lived with. My other grandmother was cold, hateful. My grandfather was a silent man who said very little. His son had disappointed him. But they had money again. My parents split up and came back together about seven times. He was cold to me. Martha came to live with us when we bought the big house outside town. She became the only person who cared about me. Made sure I had food, and clothes. She took me to school and ferried me to after-school things. She took the place of my maw-maw.

“After I was banished, she found me in New York. She wasn’t afraid of Grand-pere. She flew up to see me and she brought me the jewelry. Maman sent it. Maman couldn’t come, Papa wouldn’t. Maman gave me the silver because she knew I loved playing with it when I was a child. It gave me some peace. I had the shorter chains made into bracelets. I had a picture of the townhouse with Maw-maw and me sitting on the front steps. I took it to a friend at a tattoo place and I covered my scars from prison with the iron lace on the railings we sat behind watching as New Orleans flowed past us. Sounds silly. I lost her more than thirty years ago and it still hurts.”

“It’s not silly, Caleb,” Darcy placed a kiss on his nose, then his lips. His eyes were filled with tears. “Not silly at all. You have a large capacity for love. You needed to be loved.”

“Right now, bebe, I need to love you.” Caleb grinned as confusion filled those blue eyes. The smile on his lips told him he agreed. “I need to love you, Darce, to fill you full and make you mine.”

“I am yours. I’ve been yours since you walked into O’Doul’s bar that afternoon. I just didn’t know it then.” Darcy slid his fingers along Caleb’s back, making him gasp. “Make love to me, like you did our first night together.”

His voice was soft, merely a whisper, caressing Caleb through to his heart. “Mon amour doux. My sweet, sweet Darcy love.”

Darcy found the bottle of lube they’d shoved under a pillow and rolled onto his back, his eyes filled with love and lust. “Make me forget my name. Make me yours.”

“You are mine. Only mine.” Caleb loved this man. He loved the blue eyes that held his heart and his sweet lips that said Caleb’s name as if it were precious. “Mine. My bebe.”

He eased inside his lover. He swallowed the gasp that formed on Darcy’s lips, taking it deep into his being. “Love you, Darcy. Love you,” he said as he stroked into him. “I love what you do to me. I—oh baby, you feel so good. So tight around me. I love being inside you. Making love to you.”

“Caleb.” Darcy wrapped his arms and his legs around him. He arched into him, meeting his thrusts. “Feels so good, Caleb. So… I’m… I love you so much. Stay with me. Let me love you. I want to…love— Oh…”

Caleb felt Darcy’s orgasm begin. He reached between their bodies and stroked him, pushing him over. Only when he lay trembling in his arms did Caleb allow himself to tumble over.

He lay sprawled atop his lover, sweat-soaked and heavy-limbed. Light spilled in around the blinds. It was still today. And today, he was Darcy’s. “I’m hungry, bebe. You want to go out to eat or order something in?”

“What if you’re the only thing I want right now?” Darcy groaned against his neck. “Oh, God, that was intense, I could lie here with you forever.”

“Sounds good to me, cher,” Caleb laughed, it felt so good to laugh. “But we need to eat.”

“Later.” Darcy flipped him on the bed, his voice a growl. “We’ll eat later. Right now, I need to make sure you know I meant what I said.”

“And what exactly did you say?” Caleb sighed at the first taste of his luscious lips. He could stay here forever. He didn’t really need food as long as he had Darcy.

“I love you.” His voice was soft, almost timid. He blushed as he traced a long finger over Caleb’s lips. “Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t. I’m yours. I love you more than I know how to begin to tell you.” It was true. He had no frame of reference. This thing with Darcy was completely uncharted territory for him. “So, bebe, what you going to do about it?”

Darcy just smiled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Oh, God, but he loved this man. Darcy kissed him then. And Caleb forgot all about hunger and everything else.

* * * *

Somehow, the next morning Darcy managed to leave for class without waking Caleb. They had never made it out of the house, ordering in food and staying in bed until sleep finally found them both in the early morning.

Darcy couldn’t remember ever talking so much to one person. Or laughing. Caleb made him laugh. He made him feel special. Loved. He whistled as he walked to work. The sun was out, it was nearly fifty degrees, a nice fall day to be sure. Halloween was coming. He needed to buy new furniture. He thought about a bigger bed, but he liked sleeping pressed close to Caleb, liked having his legs tangled with Caleb’s. They should probably get a bigger place.

He stopped walking as a thought occurred to him. What if Caleb didn’t want to move in with him? Caleb was used to mansions and—

He shook the worry away. No use borrowing trouble.

His first two classes were uneventful—American literature, followed by Freshman English and the dreaded essays.

His Brit lit class started out as usual. The grumblings about having to read aloud. The why do we have to do this, Mr B? This sucks.

But after they had finished Macbeth and the laughter at his falsetto Lady Macbeth died away, he asked for questions. A girl from the back row raised her hand, Darcy couldn’t remember her name. She was one of the quiet ones, one of his goths, with her purple lips and heavily lined eyes. “Mr B, we were all wondering who the guy from yesterday is? He looked like a rock star.”

Darcy felt the blood drain from his face. He hadn’t expected the bold question. He forced a smile. “He’s not a rock star, he’s an artist.”

“Ooh, look at Mr B blush,” another girl said, one of the preps this time.

Darcy didn’t like where this was going. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest.

“Did you hear his accent? Oh my God, where’s he from, Mr B? Sounds like something you hear on TV.”

“He’s from New Orleans.” Oh shit, why didn’t he just shut the fuck up?

“Is he your boyfriend? I bet he is, I saw the way you looked at him yesterday and thought, ‘Mr B is in love.’” It was the goth girl again. She rested her chin on her hand and stared directly at him with a pair of lavender, no-nonsense eyes.

“Oh, come on, Mr B, you may as well ’fess up. He’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?”

Darcy didn’t know who’d said it. His fingers trembled. He clutched the book too tight, bending it. “What if he is?”

“We knew it! Mr B is in love.”

“Oh, come on, Mr B. This is the twenty-first century. No one cares if you’re gay.”

Darcy couldn’t process everything he was hearing—his heart had yet to go back to normal. Did they really not care?

“His name is Caleb, we met last summer. He’s Cajun. I fell in love with his accent.” Shit why was he telling his students this?

“I have just one question.” Goth girl sighed very loudly. Darcy had hardly ever heard her speak before now and gave her his full attention. “Why is it all the really pretty men like really pretty men? Seriously, Mr B, I just don’t get it.”

Darcy felt the blush spread down his neck. “I can’t answer that, Jewel.” He finally remembered her name. “I’m sure there are several pretty men out there who are into girls as pretty as you. All you have to do is take a look around.”

It was her turn to blush. Darcy sighed with relief when the attention turned to her instead of him.

“Okay, back to Macbeth, what do you think Shakespeare meant to accomplish by his use of magic and murder in this story?”

* * * *

After class, Darcy managed to slip out without any further questioning. The walk home seemed longer than it should. Doubts began to form in his brain. What if he wasn’t there? What if it had all been a lie?

He shouldn’t have worried. Caleb was stretched out on his stomach asleep with the blankets wrapped around his waist, one long tanned leg hanging off the bed. His sun-streaked hair lay around his shoulders in a tousled mess, the pale growth of beard making him look almost piratical.

Darcy studied the tattoo across his lower back, black ink scrolling like the iron railings in New Orleans, yet beneath it he could just barely make out the raised edges of Caleb’s past. He shivered. He didn’t think it was from the cold permeating the room.

“Come to bed, cher, keep me warm.” One green eye peered at him, his lips stretched into a wide smile. Darcy could hear exhaustion in his voice. His whole body ached from wanting him, and needing sleep.

“I—” He closed his mouth on what he was going to say. He didn’t want Caleb knowing how insecure he was right now. He stripped to the skin and in seconds he was under the blanket and pressed against Caleb’s warm body.

“I meant it when I said I’d stay. You don’t have to worry about me leaving, beb.” His lips were warm, on Darcy’s cheek. “How was class?”

“Same as usual.” Darcy didn’t want to discuss what had happened in his last class just yet. There were other more important things on his mind. “Will you move in with me?”

Caleb rose up on his elbow and peered down into his eyes. “I thought I already had, cher.” He tugged at the cross around Darcy’s neck. “I’m not going anywhere without you, Darcy. Never again.”

“Not even back to New Orleans?”

“There’s nothing left there. My heart is here with you. ’Course it could be warmer, but I know a really great way to stay warm.” He trailed kisses across Darcy’s shoulder, ultimately finding his mouth. “A little game called Down the Bayou, want to play?”

Darcy didn’t have to say a word. Caleb just smiled and slowly worked his way southward along Darcy’s body, until he had him so hot and bothered he forgot there was such a thing as a past. Nor did he care if there was a future. All that mattered was the here and now, and the incredible things a French-talking Cajun man could do with his mouth.

“Merde.” He reached out, sinking his hands in Caleb’s hair, the word the only thing he could think to say for a very long time.

Ten

The sun was still up when Darcy managed to drag Caleb out of the small apartment. It was Friday, and Caleb would have just as soon stayed in bed for another day or two. “Come on, it’s a gorgeous day outside. Sunny, warm, in the mid-fifties. Let’s go out and do something.”

“You do know that where I come from, mid-fifties is considered winter, don’t you?” Caleb said just to see him blush. He loved watching him blush. God, the man was gorgeous. His dark hair wanted to curl now that it had grown some and Caleb couldn’t resist running his fingers through it. “I need more clothes than I brought with me if I’m going to survive up here in the frozen north.”

“Then we’ll go shopping. Get dinner. Come on, I’ll show you the city.” Darcy tugged him out of bed and into the shower.

That had been an hour ago. The new leather coat smelled nice. Caleb liked leather. He loved walking beside Darcy on the street, catching his hand in his, holding on to him for long seconds, the warmth of his fingers soothing. No one looked twice at them.

The walking tour of the downtown area, combined with the scents wafting from some of the open restaurant doors as they passed by, had Caleb’s stomach growling. “Christ, I’m starving. We should get some food in your refrigerator. And dishes, dishes would be good. Furniture too. A nice big sofa to make love on.” There was that blush again. The duck of his head, the timid smile, the bright gleam in his eyes. Caleb felt the stab of that look clear through to his toes. His heart fluttered, his stomach followed. Butterflies and love. He wanted this feeling to last forever.

With his brain still spinning with possibilities he’d never considered before, Caleb stopped walking as they neared the end of the street, his attention captured by the huge ‘For Sale’ sign on the side of a massive brick building. Three floors at least, possibly four. The upper floor was almost completely made of glass, and the wrought-iron balcony wrapped around it was just the cherry on top.

“What time is it, cher?” He pulled his phone from his pocket but it was dead.

“Just after four, why?” Darcy checked the watch on his wrist.

“Give me your phone.”

Darcy did, his gaze following Caleb’s as he dialed.

“You think this town can stand a Cajun place?” he asked Darcy. The other line picked up. “I’d like to view one of your properties. What’s the chance you can get an agent out to show me the building in the next half hour or so?”

The agent on the line stammered and tried to stall, but Caleb wasn’t interested. He wanted what he wanted and he wanted it now. In the end, the agent on the phone said she would be at the address in ten minutes.

“Bring everything you have on the place. We’ll be here waiting.”

“What are you doing Caleb?” Darcy had paled a little listening to him talk on the phone.

“This place, Darcy, look at it. It looks like home. Look at the balcony up there, the iron lace. We could live up there. I could have a studio, some place to paint.” His neck started to ache from looking up. “I could open a blues bar downstairs, just like the one at home, just nicer for the yuppies up here. I know a couple of shifty cooks who would kill to work for me again, and Teela. Teela would be great—pretty, exotic, just what this place would need. The art and music scene here has got to be one of the best.”

Darcy looked at him strangely, as if he’d never seen him before. “And that excites you, doesn’t it? Enough to lay down roots here, with me?”

“I’m staying, Darce. I need to have something to keep me out of trouble. Unless you’re going to stay in bed with me 24/7, I need something. And besides, how long do you think we are going to be able to stay in your little one-bedroom apartment before we start getting on each other’s nerves? This would be ours. It’s not far from your school. It looks like home to me.” Oh God, he wanted this. Darcy just had to see how much it meant to him.

“You’ll call it Lasseigne’s and you’ll have beignets and gumbo?” Darcy smiled at him, his pretty blue eyes sparkling with more than excitement. He quickly flicked the tears away but Caleb had seen enough.

“Beignets and gumbo and happily ever after, Darcy. I want happily ever after with you,” he said just as a blonde bombshell drove up in a silver luxury car. She parked in a no-parking zone and climbed out, her heels clicking on the concrete as she hurried towards them. Her eyes took them in with practiced ease. Sizing them up. She knew enough to flirt, but only to seduce him out of his money.

And in the end Caleb signed the contract offering an unholy amount of money for the place. The penthouse apartment was more room than he and Darcy would ever need, the lower floors big enough to accommodate a restaurant or three.

He watched Darcy lean against the railing overlooking a pretty courtyard behind the building. When the realtor excused herself to phone the owner’s agent, he went over and wrapped his arm around him. “You all right, cher?”

“Yeah, I just wonder if this is too much, too fast sometimes. There’s so much about you I don’t know.”

“Not really. I’ve told you just about everything. I’m filthy rich, cher, between my art and my inheritance and the properties I sold in New Orleans. I have no one but myself to spend it on. You know all my secrets and my family. My crazy uncle and Martha… Hell, I’m not really sure what Martha is to me, my mama’s girlfriend, not that I know exactly what their relationship was, mind you. Martha has always been there, whatever she and my mama were to each other. She is living in the plantation house, keeping it and Buster safe for me. I kept the plantation house and the blues bar.”

“For when you need to go home?”

“To have something of my family left to me. Nothing else mattered to me. When you’re ready, we can go visit. I won’t go without you.”

“That’s good to know. I’m sorry. This is all too much. I’m going back to school in January to get my doctorate. I have a family—parents, a brother and a sister, a couple of nephews. Grandparents. The whole kit and caboodle.”

“And you just realized they might find out about us?” Caleb understood now. He was second-guessing their relationship. “I can’t tell you what to do there, cher, but I’ll do what you want. If you want to keep what we are a secret—”

“I don’t. Shit, Caleb. I just need to work up to it. And this…this place. It’s wonderful, it’s just hitting me a little too hard right now. Yesterday you were someone I used to love. Today, we are buying property. Just give me a minute to process, will you?”

“Good news, Mr Mitchell, the owners are willing to accept your offer.” The realtor walked onto the balcony, dollar signs in her eyes. She stopped when she saw the two of them. “Is there a problem?”

Stunned that a decision had come so quickly, Caleb just stood there staring at Darcy, waiting for him to give him a sign. Something so he would know he was home. His heart beat rapidly in his chest as he watched Darcy’s face shift from one emotion to another. Darcy was right. This was too fast. It had been too fast from the beginning.

Darcy sighed, relaxed his shoulders and smiled a sweet, shy smile. “No problem at all. Caleb, give the nice lady some money so we can go celebrate.”

“It don’t exactly work that way, cher.” Caleb laughed and, grabbing him by his collar, he kissed him. “Come on, let’s go sign the rest of the papers and you can take me out to eat. I am starved.”

* * * *

During the next week, Caleb made Darcy’s little apartment more livable, just by adding the basics. A sofa and tables. A television since he didn’t have one. The bed was moved into the lone bedroom. He liked the size, and he loved sleeping entwined in Darcy’s arms. It was all just small things. Things they would move into the new place as soon as they closed next week.

While Darcy taught, he got to know the city, changed over his residency, bought a new car and two motorcycles. He was saving them for Darcy’s birthday next month. He started the process for opening a business. Bought food, dishes, and cookware. He even bought a cookbook to try to pretend he knew what he was doing in the kitchen.

Darcy went to work every day, came home, made love to him, and talked his ear off about his students. He loved them. All of them. This goth chick named Jewel had outed him, but it was all right—the kids had accepted him and the faculty either didn’t care or chose not to mention it.

The subject of Bailey and Chester came up once or twice. Chester had finally shown up back at the magazine. Amber and Bailey had sent him on his way, showing solidarity for the first time ever. Bailey had finally contacted Darcy. She’d wished him well in his relationship and life but Caleb could hear the loss in her voice as they spoke.

“She’ll find someone one day,” he told Darcy when the call ended.

“I know she will, it’s just… We were friends for so long, I hate losing her like this.” Darcy tossed his phone on the oversized ottoman that looked remarkably like the one Caleb had first made love to him on, and scrubbed his face. “Oh, and Amber called this afternoon. She said to check your email, she sent you something.”

Curious, Caleb pulled up his email page and downloaded the attachment in the mail titled ‘I thought you might like to have these back.’ The attachment revealed the series of photos he’d taken of Darcy that day out at his studio. The same photos he’d found and deleted from the camera he’d loaned Amber the day Darcy had left.

“What is it?” Darcy came up behind him, laying his fingers on his shoulder as he leaned over him to look at the screen. “Wow, that heron was spectacular. How did she get these?”

“The camera I loaned her. That’s how she knew about us. Your eyes were so full of, I don’t know, amazement.”

“More like awe, and, if I have admit it, I wanted you to kiss me.”

“My shoulder would argue the point, and my ass cheek. Hitting the deck left a bruise.”

“Yeah, well, you scared the hell out of me. What was I supposed to do?”

“Kiss me back and let me seduce you like a good boy.”

“I’m not a good boy.” Darcy bit his neck to prove his point.

“Fuck no, you are a bad, bad boy. Shit, bite me again, I need more of that.” Caleb let him seduce him. The ottoman was becoming his favorite piece of furniture.

* * * *

On their second Saturday together, they’d made plans to drive out to the coast to whale watch. After a long, very hot shower, Caleb, dressed only in a pair of jeans, was in the kitchen pouring two mugs of coffee when the doorbell rang. “You expecting anyone, cher?” he called out on his way to the door.

“No, it’s probably one of the neighbors coming to complain about something,” Darcy called back from the bedroom.

Two sets of startled eyes greeted Caleb when he opened the door. The tall, stocky man with dark brown hair and too-blue eyes took him in, from his bare feet to his wet hair, and the tattoos in between. The woman just looked ill at ease. “Sorry to disturb you, we must have the wrong apartment.”

Momentarily frozen, Caleb found his voice just before they walked away. “No, I’m pretty sure you have the right apartment. I’m… You must be Darcy’s mom and dad.”

“Who is it, Caleb?” Darcy came into the room rubbing his head with a towel. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and his jeans weren’t buttoned. He stopped dead in his tracks, terror in his eyes. “Oh.”

“I’m going to go, ah, give you three…” Shit, he didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t look at Darcy as he passed him and went into the bedroom and closed the door. On second thought, he opened it, handed Darcy a shirt then he closed it again. But he could still hear them.

He sat in the middle of their rumpled bed with his arms wrapped around his knees while Darcy explained why there was a nearly naked man in his bedroom. His heart did a flip when he said the words Caleb had never thought to hear him say. “Mom, Dad, I guess this is probably the… Shit.” He heard his mother gasp but shrugged it off as owing to the language. “I’m… I’m…gay. And Caleb—I love him. We’re sort of living together.”

Caleb listened as his parents went through the stages. Shock, denial, mild anger. They wanted to know if he was the one who had broken his heart and given him the shiner. Yes to the first. No to the second. If this had been the south, the ultimate question would have been ‘Do we know his people?’ Instead, they asked if he had a job. How old he was. They seemed impressed when Darcy showed them the painting.

He remembered sitting against a concrete wall in New York City, his phone shattered in about a million pieces. Martha had just called to tell him his father had been killed falling off a stupid horse, his neck broken. How was he supposed to win his love now? he remembered wondering. He had been so homesick he couldn’t think about anything else, so he’d sat on the floor in his empty room and painted canvas after canvas—the wrought-iron railing series. The painting over Darcy’s mantel he’d called Behind Iron Lace because of the haunting images swimming just out of focus behind the gates. The ghosts of his past, the architecture he loved, the pain in his chest had all combined at that moment. One of the girls he was fucking at the time had taken one. He hadn’t even missed it until the gallery had called, telling him they had a buyer for it. He’d made his first million off those pieces.

“He has a Pulitzer, for crying out loud, Dad. He’s no bum. He owns a club in New Orleans, he’s going to open one here. His people are frigging bluebloods. Yes, he has long hair and tattoos. Christ, who are you people?”

“What about Bailey?”

“What about her, Mother? We talked about her. She is having another man’s baby, and really, we were never anything more than friends. And besides, it’s not like you need me to give you grandchildren or anything, Damien already did that.”

“We just want you to be happy. You don’t look happy.” This from his father.

“You caught me with my boyfriend. What the hell do you think I feel right now? I’m terrified.”

“Of what? Were you afraid we would find out? Darcy, I just don’t understand, this isn’t like you. Hiding, keeping secrets—”

“No, Dad, I planned to tell you. I was trying to figure a way to break it to you gently.”

“Then why are you terrified? I don’t understand.”

“Because I’m afraid you won’t love me anymore. Because I’m afraid you can’t or won’t accept me like this.” The fear in his voice clawed at Caleb’s heart. He wanted to go to him, tell him it would be fine, but he couldn’t find the courage. That day long ago when he’d lost his family because he was gay came back to choke him. Please—he dug his fingers into his legs—please don’t hurt him. Just don’t hurt him.

“Darcy? You are my baby—I could never not love you.” He heard pain in her voice. Still he clutched his legs, hoping.

“Mom, I love him. You have to understand I didn’t do this on purpose. I didn’t know until I met him. I didn’t know. Now it makes sense. My whole life makes sense. Don’t you see?”

“Well, are we at least going to get to meet him? We came to take you out to eat, do some other stuff, but we can leave if you want us to.” Darcy’s father masked his hurt well but Caleb could hear it.

Shrugging away the anxiety gripping his stomach, Caleb climbed out of bed and found a nice white silk shirt and a cashmere cardigan he kept tucked in the back of the closet he shared with Darcy. He pulled a comb though his hair, and stuck his feet into a pair of Darcy’s Vans. He flipped the shirt cuff over the sweater and tugged it partway up his arm. His bracelets made a slight noise, but Darcy caught him before he unclasped them.

“Don’t take those off. Wow, you look nice.” He smiled, looking him up and down. “Are those my shoes?”

“Yeah, one of the perks of wearing the same size, don’t you think?” Caleb loved to see him blush. “I’ve never met anyone’s parents before. I want to make a good impression. I thought I’d leave the bad boy in the closet.”

Darcy walked into the room and, before Caleb knew what he was up to, he kissed him. “I know, baby, I’m scared to death. Just be your charming self and you’ll have them eating out of your hand before lunch is over.”

“You think so?”

“God, I hope so. However this goes, just know two things—I love you and I am not going anywhere without you.”

“Okay, so let’s go do this, cher. Introduce me to your parents.”

“Sure you’re ready?”

“Fuck no. I’m scared to death and I’m only doing this because I love you. Okay, Christ, let’s go.”

He let Darcy take him by the hand and together they faced the first hurdle to the rest of their lives. His past didn’t matter, the future would sort itself out—now was all that mattered and Darcy’s warm hand in his was all he needed. It was all he ever needed and he knew he would never let go, no matter how bumpy the road to the future became.

Lagniappe

A Cajun word meaning "a little something extra".

By Mercy Celeste

2015

Un

December

Darcy Butler sat at the booth he’d claimed in Lasseigne’s far corner, well away from the ragin’ Cajuns shouting in the kitchen. He smiled as the younger man seated across from him winced yet again.

“Is it always like this?” the young man asked, his face gone stark white when something crashed and more guttural swearing followed.

“Only every five minutes. You get used to it,” Darcy assured him as he looked over his resume. “You’re a student?”

“Yes, sir. Part time right now. I’m hoping to go fulltime next year, but…” he continued to watch the swinging door across the littered room as if waiting for a fire-breathing alligator to come walking out. Considering Caleb’s temper the last couple of days, Darcy wouldn’t be surprised if something fire breathing did come racing out of there. Most likely Teela, Caleb’s cousin from back home.

“But…will there be any time restrictions I need to worry about between now and then?” Darcy directed the young man’s attention back to him and the interview. If the kid could keep it together for five more minutes and not freak out if and when Caleb and D’wayne, Teela’s very large, very Cajun, husband finally got around to mopping the floor with each other, Darcy would have the staff all set.

“No…I mean no, sir.” The kid stumbled over his own tongue, but he resisted the urge to watch the kitchen, especially after a pot flew through the swinging doors. “Money. It’s not about time. It’s about college being so expensive and not qualifying for aid. I have plenty of time and I’m a hard worker.”

“And you’ve waited tables before?” Darcy could see his list of employers dating back about five years. Starting in fast food and working up to a popular chain restaurant.

“Yes, sir. Nothing like this, but a full service table place, yes.” He looked around as the deep baritone that was not Darcy’s lover shouted for Caleb to stick his head up his ass. In Cajun. “Is that real? I mean I thought this was just a…theme, you know…but that’s real, isn’t it?”

“If by real you mean, the crude, rude, screaming at the top of their lungs as if they were running barefoot in the bayou?” Darcy managed to smile when Caleb, looking as if he’d stepped off the cover of Bad Boys Weekly, finally walked through the still swinging set of doors. He smiled over to Darcy and retrieved the pot his cousin-in-law had thrown at him. “You get used to it.” Darcy sighed, wondering when he’d gotten used to it. “But yes, they’re the real deal. Mr Lasseigne and his family are from New Orleans. They’ve been in the restaurant business for more years than either of us combined have been on the planet.”

“Oh, good. I was hoping…” The kid turned a bright shade of red when Caleb winked their way before heading back into the fray. “I mean, I want to go to culinary school. Working at a chain place, it’s really more about reheating pre-cooked food or just hustling steaks. I was hoping to get a chance to see how a real kitchen with, you know…real chefs work.”

Darcy watched Caleb’s fine ass disappear into the back of the house before answering. Mostly because Caleb’s ass was always a massive distraction. And the wink had been so full of promise, Darcy really just wanted to get this kid signed up before Caleb could scare the hell out of him, and close the front up, and go upstairs. “Oddly, I am not sure if any of them are certified chefs. But Caleb’s head man knows food better than he knows most anything else. They’ve been around it their whole life. All of them. From the cooks to the sommelier.”

Another ejaculation, this time of true French, came from the back followed by Teela’s more dulcet yet oh so scathing rebuttal, and Darcy just shrugged. It had been like that for most of the last month. He was used to it. “And there’s live music and a full bar? This isn’t like most of the restaurants around here. This is going to be nice, isn’t it?”

“That’s what Caleb is hoping for.” Darcy scrolled through the kid’s papers again. “Everything seems to be good here. I think we can use you, if you’re willing to start next week. We’re not opening until after the first of the year, but we’re going to begin training. Caleb will be hosting a large Christmas party on the twenty-third. Holiday pay, plus bonus. No tips. If this is something you think you’re interested in…”

Darcy didn’t even get the offer out of his mouth before the kid…Mark, grabbed the pen and signed the paperwork. “Yes, sir, Mr Butler. I am seriously, seriously interested. This might be my dream job.”

“I guess that wraps that up then. You’ve met Ms. Burdeshaw, she’ll be in contact with your schedule in the next day or two.” Darcy rose from the booth and waited for Mark to follow. “So nice meeting you, Mark.”

“Nice to meet you too, Mr B. My friend, Jewel, sent me. I’m so happy she did.” Mark gave him a huge smile and shook Darcy’s hand. He twittered a bit at the touch before pulling his hand from Darcy’s and waving a quick goodbye. Darcy saw him out into the chilled evening air, and with a tired sigh, he closed the door behind the kid and locked it before leaning on it tiredly.

“That the last of them then?” Caleb’s warm breath washed over his neck, and two strong arms wrapped around him from behind. Caleb sounded as tired as Darcy felt. “We at full staff now?”

“Unless someone changes their minds.” Darcy turned in his lover’s arms and nuzzled Caleb’s neck. “You should sell tickets to that little show, the kid was a captive audience.” Darcy chuckled at the look on the kid’s face the first time D’wayne had thrown a pot from the kitchen. “Should I put in an order for more pots…or is D’wayne just breaking those in?”

“You mean Bubba Wayne?” Caleb laughed softly and nipped at Darcy’s neck when he huffed.

“Bubba Wayne. D’wayne. Wayne. Who the hell ever. I can’t keep everything straight right now.” Darcy realized they were pressed tightly together, swaying to the music that was now blasting from the kitchen. Savory smells of something good wafted out with each swing of the door. “And that door needs to be fixed before you open. I think it’s off the hinge.”

“Bubba Wayne will get to it tonight before he leaves. He didn’t mean to break it, cher. He don’t know his own strength sometimes.” Caleb pushed Darcy back against the door and trailed his lips up the side of Darcy’s neck. “You tired, bebe?”

“Exhausted. Last day of finals and office hours and…shit. I still have to grade essays and get grades posted, but I’m so happy that this semester is over.” He’d been pulling double duty for most of the last two weeks to help Caleb get the local hiring done. His job there was finished and he was officially on break. “I just really want to go upstairs and fill up the big ass soaking tub you had put in and sleep in it for about a week.”

“Before or after dinner?” Caleb gripped the other side of his neck and massaged the trouble spot Darcy couldn’t seem to ever relax. “The gumbo is almost ready. We going to eat and then I’m going to kick all these people out to go do something else with their weekend. I think they deserve the time off.”

“Did D’way…Bubba Wayne…fuck…just Bubba, has to be, because I’m not keeping all your kin straight in my head, Caleb. Did Bubba settle on a recipe then?” Darcy knew that they’d had to change out the recipe to fit local fish instead of what they were used to using in Louisiana. It had been one of the main sources of contention that crawfish weren’t available locally, and shipping them out this time of year from New Orleans just wasn’t happening. So many small details.

“We decided to skip the fishy stuff right now. But shrimp we got, beb, just not tonight. Sausage gumbo. And yeah, I think we got most everything settled. For now. The opening menu at least. I have to get the liquor license pushed through and then there’s the renovation that seems to be falling behind schedule. Might have to find a new contractor if the fella’, Blane, don’t show his ass up on Monday.”

“I’ll see what I can do there.” Darcy leaned into Caleb’s strong hand and let him soothe away the stress in his neck. “I’m out for the next few weeks. I can do what needs to be done… oh, that feels good.”

“I know it does because you making pretty noises.” Caleb’s soft laugh caressed his neck, the steady hand on Darcy’s neck made his knees weak. “Darcy?”

The hesitance in Caleb’s voice brought Darcy to full wakefulness. He met Caleb’s troubled green eyes and had to catch his breath at the heat he saw there. “Yes?” He steeled himself for the bad news he was sure Caleb was about to drop on him.

“I love you.” The distress didn’t leave his eyes when he said the words. “I’m just…really happy you’re here right now.”

Darcy nodded. “I’m happy I’m here right now too. Though I’m wishing we were upstairs so you can put those wicked hands of yours to better use.” He pretended that Caleb wasn’t homesick or that he half expected him to give up on this half-formed plan and head back to Louisiana with the rest of his people. “I love you too. So much.”

“I just needed to hear you say that, bebe,” Caleb huffed out a half laugh, half sigh. “It’s been a bad day. Not going to lie to you. After food, I just want to…that bath, that, can you wait for me? And I’ll rub whatever parts that need rubbing.”

Darcy grinned. “Of course…but if you keep on rubbing things now, more things are going to need rubbing and soon…because…” Darcy wrapped his arms around Caleb’s neck and dragged him in for a kiss. “I love you. And I want you. And if you don’t stop right now I’m going to come in my pants.”

Caleb’s eyes cleared; he laughed, the sound almost happy. “Dinner isn’t for another half hour. I’ll have them send it up that piece of shit dumbwaiter we got. Be naked on the bed when I get up there, cher. That’s all I ask.”

Darcy kissed him again before letting Caleb go back to the kitchen. He knew from experience that Caleb wouldn’t be up before the crew left, but he gathered his things and went through the office area to their private elevator and up to their apartment on the penthouse level. He left his briefcase and jacket in his office and stripped on his way through the sparsely furnished space to their bedroom. Naked he lay down face first on the bed and waited.

Deux

In ten minutes, Caleb made it out of the kitchen and to the elevator. One thing after another wanted to steal his attention and drag him back into the thick of the pre-opening preparations. Bubba Wayne wanted to argue about the menu again. Teela just slapped her husband on the ass and told him to shut his craw.

Caleb was tired. He had no idea why he thought he could get this place up and going in a couple of months.

He hit the elevator button. Had it only been a couple months since he’d bought this place? Really? Felt like an eternity.

He’d paid to have the place inspected from top to bottom before pushing through the closing. Money tended to get people to do what he wanted. Darcy had been great at finding contractors and day workers to get the lower floor whipped into shape for a grand opening on New Year’s Eve. The only work they’d done to the upper floors was to remodel one of the larger offices into a bedroom and put in a full bath. Everything else would have to wait until after the restaurant was going.

The elevator came to a stop and Caleb walked into the wide open loft that overlooked downtown. He stopped to catch his breath. Home. He felt the day sluice off his shoulders like water off a duck’s back. This was home.

The cold hard truth of that hit him hard. He couldn’t move. He just stood there, taking in the blank canvas that was his new home. The marble floors to the large fireplace parked dead center of the room. The balcony, with the black wrought iron railing, had been what had drawn him in the first place. Almost as if he was supposed to be here.

He’d grown up in mansions and travelled the world living in palaces and tents, yet this was the first time he’d ever felt as if he belonged. As if he’d found his place.

He tugged off his boots, stumbling over his own feet to get to the bedroom as quietly as possible. His footsteps echoed through the nearly empty rooms and he winced with each loud noise. He’d wanted to catch his lover unaware and maybe pick up where they’d left off before dinner arrived.

He followed the meandering hallway into the bedroom and leaned against the wall. The good news, his noise hadn’t alerted Darcy to his presence. The bad news, Darcy lay sprawled in the middle of their bed, sound asleep.

“Ten minutes, beb, ten little minutes.” Caleb smiled. He loved watching Darcy sleep. Not that he ever got much of a chance.

Last night, after they’d gone through all of the scheduled interviews, dealt with the missing food delivery, scrubbed toilets, and laid tile in the bar section, Darcy had still put in another two hours on the phone with Amber helping her track down some missing reporter who’d take a wrong turn at Albuquerque…literally. He’d finally fallen into bed after two in the morning and was out of the house before seven to get to the school. His poor bebe was burning the candle with a blow torch.

Caleb shrugged out of his clothes and went into the bathroom to wash some of the grime off before he went back to wake his lover. He should let Darcy sleep. Lord knew the man deserved some rest with everything he’d taken on above and beyond his own job. But Caleb knew he wasn’t eating either and he wasn’t going to let him go to bed with nothing in his stomach. Especially after he went to all the trouble to get Bubba Wayne to cook up some of Darcy’s favorite foods.

He was going to feed him, bathe him, and then put him to bed. Maybe there’d be time for more than just a couple of quick kisses in the dark. He wasn’t selfish. But oh how he missed the pretty noises his beb made when Caleb touched him just right.

He jumped into the shower and washed the stench of the kitchen from his body and out of his hair. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he grabbed the bottle of massage oil he loved and went back to the bed. Darcy hadn’t moved a muscle in the five minutes he’d been gone.

He lay mostly nude in the middle of their bed. The city lights beyond their private balcony the only light in the room. He was golden and dark and Caleb loved him with every fiber of his being. This man, who’d fallen into his life when he was at his lowest, gave him a place in his world and his heart. He couldn’t help thinking of Darcy as his.

Home.

The place wasn’t home, Caleb realized while he watched Darcy sleep. It was the man in the place. He’d been at home in that tiny little walk-up apartment Darcy had across town. He could be at home in a tent if that was where Darcy chose to sleep. Not that he thought Darcy would willingly go camping around the world with him. No, Darcy was a city creature. He liked things like hot showers and books. No way Darcy would hump a pack of books through the mountains.

“You took too long,” Darcy said through a yawn, he never opened his eyes or moved a muscle, but somehow he knew Caleb was there.

“Ten minutes, long enough to arrange to have dinner sent up and make sure they cleaned up and locked up on their way out. Ten minutes.” Caleb let the towel fall to the floor as he climbed into bed to straddle his lover’s prone body. “You left your socks on.”

“Mmm, sorry, I meant to take them off. You smell good.” Darcy didn’t crack an eyelid, but he did smile.

“I washed the stink off me. Don’t worry, I’m still up for a long bath with you later.” Caleb poured oil into his hands and rubbed them together to warm it. He leaned over Darcy to place a kiss on his shoulder. “You look tired, beb.”

“I’m exhausted.” Darcy finally opened his eyes, but didn’t move as Caleb laid his hands on his shoulders and rubbed the oil into his knotted muscles. “Who knew teaching was so damned tiring?”

“I’m willing to bet the tutoring, the administrative work around here, helping lay floors and drywall, and jumping when Amber puts in a 911 call, which is daily I might add, on top of the teaching is the problem.” Caleb dug his long fingers into Darcy’s neck, dragging a moan out of his lover that made his body react.

“I can’t let her down. I threw her into that with…oh God that’s good. Right there.” Darcy arched his neck, exposing more of his trouble spot to Caleb’s hands. “Where did you learn massage?”

“I’ve been around. Got into a little bit of everything over the years.” Caleb watched Darcy’s hands grip the comforter, little breathy gasps coming from him as Caleb rubbed deeper.

“Feels so good. I love your hands on me. Want you in me,” he said between moans.

“This wasn’t supposed to be foreplay, beb.” Caleb laughed softly, his dick agreeing with Darcy’s request. “This was supposed to be relaxing.”

“I’m relaxed. And turned on. Can’t I be both?” Darcy rocked his hips as Caleb dragged his hands down over his shoulder, arching into Caleb’s dick and making him gasp at the contact.

Caleb ignored the plea. There wasn’t much time before dinner. “What would you like to do this weekend? I’ve given everyone the time off. I think we all deserve a break.” Caleb worked his fingers into Darcy’s spine, moving down his back making the man arch beneath him. His pretty gasping sounds grew louder with each stroke of Caleb’s hands. Caleb poured oil on his back and worked it in, moving over his lower back and down his buttocks. Darcy tried to spread his thighs but Caleb wouldn’t let him.

“Caleb, please?” Darcy’s voice was a strangled growl now, he humped the bed under Caleb’s hands. “Please, I want to…I don’t want to do anything this weekend. I want to stay here, in bed, with you. Like we used to do. Just me and you and no clothes or work or phones or…please.”

Need snaked through Caleb at the pleading tone. Darcy never begged. Caleb couldn’t deny this man…anything. He slid his oiled fingers between Darcy’s ass cheeks and stroked over his hole. “Is this what you want, Darcy?” He let his voice go soft as he leaned over his lover to whisper in his ear.

Darcy’s reply was a long low moan. He lifted his ass to meet Caleb’s questing finger and Caleb slipped inside him. The heat of him sucked the breath from Caleb’s chest. He couldn’t remember the last time Darcy had lain pliant beneath him. A week, maybe two since they’d done anything more than just a quick mutual jerk session before falling asleep, God he needed this man. Now. “You want me to fuck you, beb? Right now. Just like this?” He wanted to make sure he wasn’t reading his own wants in Darcy’s body language.

“God, Caleb, yes. I don’t need foreplay. I don’t need anything right now. Please, fuck me and talk dirty to me. I miss you so fucking much.” Darcy lifted his hips, allowing Caleb better access; he gripped the covers tight as Caleb stroked the one finger deeper inside him. “Oh fuck. Yes. That.”

Caleb’s dick went rock hard. His foreskin pulled back of its own accord. Fuck, he hurt from wanting this. “It’s been a while, Darcy, I’m not sure if I can talk dirty right now. I might…I need you too, bebe. It’s been too long.”

Darcy rolled slightly to look at him, reaching back to caress Caleb’s face. “It has been too long. I don’t need slow and I don’t need gentle. I just need you.”

Caleb nodded, he turned to place a kiss in the palm of Darcy’s hand. “Lay down, Darcy.” Caleb pushed a second finger inside him, stretching him open while Darcy fell back onto his stomach; he buried his face in the bed and pushed back against Caleb’s fingers, making the sounds that drove Caleb crazy. “Now, bebe,” he warned, withdrawing his fingers to replace them with his dripping hard dick.

Darcy didn’t say anything, a groan his only response. His long fingers gripped the covers until his knuckles went white. He arched his back, rolling his shoulders and his hips to accept Caleb inside him.

Caleb leaned over him, placing his hands on Darcy’s shoulders to hold himself up. “I love you, Darcy,” he whispered as he eased deeper into Darcy’s body. He trembled from the pleasure of his tight heat. “Oh, beb, I…you feel so good.”

“I know that sound.” Darcy’s voice was husky, a laugh ghosting into the quiet of the room. “This is when you tell me not to move.”

“If you move right now, I’ll come, and this will all be over.” Caleb felt the laugh catch in his throat. He couldn’t remember ever laughing with a partner during sex. Especially about his abysmally short stamina…upon occasion. “You make me happy.” He hadn’t meant to say that. The thought hadn’t really had a chance to take hold yet.

Darcy rolled under him until he’d twisted around to wrap his hand behind Caleb’s neck. He dragged his face down, Caleb assumed, for a kiss. Darcy met his gaze and held it. His blue eyes serious. “You make me happier than I’ve ever been. I know you don’t believe me. But, Caleb…I’d be happy anywhere with you. I’d walk away from everything for you. Money. Family. Job. Everything.” Before Caleb could reply, Darcy finally kissed him. A deep soul-sucking kiss that left Caleb breathless and fighting for balance, emotionally and physically. “But, right now, if you don’t fuck me…” Darcy let the last warning trail off in a long sigh, probably because Caleb flexed his hips and drove himself deep inside his lover. “Fucker.” Darcy snarled, drawing another huff of laughter from Caleb.

“Be still, beb, and I’ll show you just how much of a fucker I am.” Caleb kissed him again and shoved his face into the bed. “No more teasing me. Time to make you sweat.”

Darcy’s shoulders trembled; Caleb didn’t know if he was laughing or if he was reacting. He leaned over his lover and kissed his neck, his body sighing as Darcy relaxed beneath him, opening, stretching, taking him deeper inside. Caleb couldn’t stop the moan from escaping. He licked Darcy’s neck and made him scream into the mattress. His turn to arch his hips into Darcy’s lush backside. Caleb slammed into him, riding him hard. “That’s it, bebe, moan for me. I want to hear what I do to you.”

“Harder!” Darcy cried out. His voice is ragged to the point that he sounded almost as if he were in pain. “Fuck me, Caleb. So fucking…good.”

The lights from the city outside their windows washed Darcy in an amber glow. Oil and sweat glistened between his shoulders. He moved with Caleb, slamming his hips back as Caleb moved forward, taking Caleb deeper and deeper into his body. “You’re so tight like this. Trapped between my thighs. Submissive. Needy. Trembling at my touch.”

“Fuck, you talk too much,” Darcy growled. He reached back and grabbed Caleb’s hip, slapping him hard when he couldn’t get Caleb to move faster.

“I thought you wanted me to talk dirty to you, cher?” Caleb stopped moving altogether. He lay over his lover, dragging in deep breaths, hoping to delay the urge to come just a little longer.

“Not what I meant.” Darcy humped back into him, fucking him from below. Long, slow, and torturous strokes that had Caleb sweating and swearing in French because he lost his English. “That. That’s what I want. I don’t even care what you’re saying. Makes me hot.”

“Merde, bebe, I’m sliding in my own foreskin. Not going to…” He couldn’t think what the English words were. He pulled out of his lover and sat up on his knees. “Come up…” He had to pause to remember English and repeated his command. “On your knees.”

Darcy dragged his legs out from between Caleb’s and lifted himself slowly up, his arms shaking with the effort to hold himself in place. Caleb drove back inside him making him cry out. His arms collapsed. Caleb wrapped around him and held him steady as he filled him. “Caleb. Oh fuck.”

“Sweet, bebe, sit up.” Caleb supported him until he was up on his knees again. He spread Darcy’s thighs, pushing his knees between to take Darcy’s weight. “Lean back on me.”

Darcy didn’t question. He relaxed in Caleb’s arms and let Caleb kiss him. He moved slowly, rocking his hips gently into his lover from beneath him until they found their rhythm. Darcy reached over his shoulder to grab a handful of Caleb’s hair. He leaned all the way back, his head on Caleb’s shoulder as the gentle rocking turned violent. Caleb watched their reflection in the windows, their shadowed bodies moving together as one, Darcy’s soft moans the only sound in the room.

Until the soft lilt of Cajun intruded. “Hey, Remy, you need a hand wi’ dat?”

Caleb twisted toward the door with a growl on his lips. Bubba Wayne leaned against the exact spot on the wall Caleb had earlier. He lifted a flask to his lips as he watched them, a sly smile playing at the corners as he drank.

Shock and anger coursed through him. Bubba, his oldest, dearest friend, and his fucking smile had to… “Get the fuck out of here,” he growled in French, his hands circling his lover protectively almost as if he meant to shield him from his friend’s leer.

“Gee, cuz, no need to bite my head off. A simple no would have done,” Bubba spoke softly, his reply in heavily accented English. “Your dinner is in the kitchen.”

“Caleb, I’m going to…” Darcy didn’t get the words out before his body went tight and he came, crying out as Bubba Wayne watched. Caleb fought the clutch of Darcy’s body as he shuddered through orgasm, his dick standing out straight, cum dripping in bursts and spurts. He cried and pulled Caleb’s hair as he fucked himself on Caleb until his cries became ragged breaths.

Bubba Wayne lifted his flask one more time and walked away as quietly as he’d arrived. Caleb gasped in relief, and again as Darcy moved slowly over him, still riding out his orgasm. His body clenched so tightly, Caleb no longer slid inside him. Instead, he slid inside his foreskin, the head of his cock swallowed by his own body only to emerge deep inside his lover’s heat to kiss the spot that made Darcy delirious with pleasure. “Don’t stop, Darcy, I’m going to come. Ride me, beb, make me feel good.”

“Caleb,” Darcy sighed. He turned his face to Caleb’s, taking his lips and swallowing Caleb’s cries as his body finally spilled into Darcy’s glove-tight heat. “Love you so much. Come for me…Caleb,” Darcy whispered against Caleb’s lips, his name a soft sigh as his body rocked through another round of pleasure. “Love you so fucking much.”

Trois

Rain misted the balcony, turning the afternoon grey and dreary. Darcy had forgotten how miserable winter could be. Rain and cold kept him inside, spoiling the first day he’d had alone with Caleb in weeks. Even though he’d told his lover that he wanted to stay in this weekend, he was restless.

Grades finished and submitted, Darcy closed his computer with a long sigh. “That’s two down. How much more to go?” He looked across the tiny table they’d stolen from the restaurant to use upstairs. Caleb seemed distracted and if Darcy had to be honest, upset. He’d been quiet since they’d made love the night before. Attentive but quiet. Caleb was never quiet. “You tired, love?”

Caleb looked up at him with a hitched eyebrow. “You picking up my accent, cher?” he said with a hint of a smile playing in his eyes.

“Well, considering it’s about all I hear now days…maybe.” Darcy tried not to blush. He loved when Caleb’s accent came out. Though lately Caleb didn’t use it as much with him as he did with his family. “Can’t help it sometimes. I swear I’m starting to be homesick for all that heat and humidity and I don’t know why.”

“It’s probably colder back home than it is here right now. Probably just as rainy too.” Caleb rustled through the stack of mail he’d brought up after lunch. “I need to check the box more often, or we gonna be swimming in correspondence, beb.”

Several small red envelopes fell out of the scatter of circulars and bills. Darcy started sorting out the personal mail from the business, setting the RSVPs to the side for last. The return address on one caught his eye. “Bailey?” He attempted to raise an eyebrow in Caleb’s direction, feeling both arch instead of the graceful singular brow his lover had down to a science.

Caleb didn’t bother looking guilty as he returned Darcy’s accusing gaze. “I invited her, cher.”

“Don’t ‘cher’ me,” Darcy said, trying to contain his anger. “You shouldn’t have—”

“Meddled?” Caleb finished his words, taking the wind out his sails. “Amber is right, you and Bailey need closure. You were once…well, I’m not going to jump right to in love with each other, but you and Bailey, beb, you were together a long time and you can’t just let it end like this—with both of you hurt and angry. Especially with the bebe coming soon.”

Somehow, over the past few months, Darcy had managed to forget Bailey’s last betrayal: Chester, the man she’d cheated on him with, the man who’d tried to destroy his fledgling relationship with Caleb…Chester’s baby. She was dead to him. Dead, and…his heart ached from months of anger and…guilt.

“She’s miserable. Amber is worried about her. She’s alone now. He left her without even saying goodbye. It’s not good for her so close to the birth to be so depressed, cher.” Caleb shrugged as if they’d had this conversation to the point that he was indifferent. They hadn’t. More than two months and Bailey’s name hadn’t come up once. Not even when they’d made the invitation list to the pre-grand opening of Lasseigne’s. Amber and most of the Y! staff in New Orleans, yes. Bailey was never once suggested. And Darcy felt as if he’d been kicked in the balls by his lover and his most trusted friend.

“And if I don’t want to have her here?” Darcy didn’t feel the need to toe the line just because Caleb flashed those pretty green fuck me eyes at him.

Caleb sighed. “I wouldn’t have thought you could be so small.”

The comment hurt. The pain of it must have shown on his face. Caleb reached across the table and linked their fingers together. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Darcy.”

“But you did.” He let the word again die a cold death in his head.

“I know. But, Darce, when it comes to Bailey…” he looked away as if he, too, was in distress. “She’s a part of you. A part that is eating you alive. Even if you don’t want me to know how much she hurt you, I still know. You loved her. Maybe not like you love me. But there was still love and respect and maybe she was once your dearest friend. You have to talk to her, cher, you need to hear her side. You need to forgive her. Even if it’s the last time you see each other. You need to…forgive yourself.”

“I didn’t cheat. I didn’t scheme. I didn’t lie. I didn’t…” He remembered that day in his apartment when she’d told him she’d miscarried his child. He couldn’t breathe.

He dropped the envelope back into the pile and walked away to stand in front of the fireplace. A warm fire crackled behind the glass, but Darcy still felt the chill. Not from the rain or the gloom of the day. But from inside.

So much of his life had been consumed with her, directed by her, manipulated by her. He didn’t flinch when Caleb wrapped around him from behind. “You gave up a part of your life that you loved. She took that from you. And you’re angry with her. I do understand, cher, I do. I see the lonely in you. Even with me here. Your whole past is with her. And I hate seeing you so unhappy.”

“I’m not unhappy. I have too much that I want in my life right now to be unhappy.” Darcy would argue that tired and unhappy were two completely different things, but Caleb moved in front of him and the look in his eyes froze the argument on Darcy’s tongue.

“Well, if it’s not Bailey making you unhappy then it’s me. I’m not here as much as I was. I’ve never actually started a restaurant from scratch. I fell into the others, already up and running and making money. So you’re lonely and working too much to be everything for everyone because I’m letting you down.” Caleb didn’t even bat an eye when he said every petty little thought Darcy had been harboring for weeks.

“Caleb.” Darcy broke away and went to stand against the balcony door to watch the rain grow heavier and the sky darker. “It’s going to storm.”

Caleb snorted. “That’s not a storm. Storms rattle the building and the rain is so thick you can’t see past the fron’ porch.”

He argued in such a way that Darcy had to laugh. When Caleb purposefully let his accent and dialect get almost untranslatable, Darcy knew he was looking to either rile him up or make him laugh.

“Okay, no it’s not one of those epic biblical floods y’all call a summer shower. But it’s still…ugly outside.” And inside as well.

“Darcy—”

“It’s not you, Caleb. Why would you even think it’s you?” Darcy wanted to shout at him that everything didn’t revolve around Caleb Mitchell. But he was wrong so he didn’t. “I’m tired. And I’m ready for a break. And—”

“You’re overworking yourself with every little thing that comes along to keep busy so you don’t think about everything that’s bugging the hell out of you.” Caleb finally raised his voice. Darcy had been waiting for weeks to see him be anything other than the irritatingly placid man he’d become. Always with a smile for everyone even when Darcy could tell he was pissed. Always the one to back down from a fight. With him. With his cousin. Especially with his cousin’s husband.

“The only thing bugging the hell out of me is you telling me I’m bugged. I’m not bugged. Not about Bailey. Or work. Or doing the books, or laying floors, or helping Amber…or the hours you keep with Bubba…and…and the others,” he shouted back, blinking hard to keep the sting from his eyes. “I know he was in the room last night. I heard what he asked.”

Caleb went very pale. He slicked a hand through his long hair, pushing it back from his face. The bracelets on his arm jangled and slid down his forearm. It was an old gesture, one Darcy had noticed when he first met the man. He did it when he was avoiding telling Darcy the truth. Next, he would let that sly grin take over his face and the accent would come on strong and Darcy would be on his knees for the man.

“Oh.” Caleb didn’t smile. His accent didn’t kick in. His eyes went flat. “I’d hoped you missed that.”

Darcy crossed his arms over his bare chest. He was cold. “How long has it been going on?” He didn’t know why he even thought to ask. He had to know.

Caleb whipped his head around to face Darcy, his eyes wide with alarm. “How long has what been going on?” He didn’t give Darcy a chance to play off his question as stupid. “I’m not having sex with Bubba Wayne behind your back. I’m not having sex with anyone behind your back. Why would you even think that?”

Because he was completely fucking out of his mind. It was Darcy’s turn to shrug. He sat down hard on the sectional they’d moved from the apartment and looked around the room. The sectional sofa and the stolen bistro set were the only furniture they had because there was never time to go out and shop for the home they were trying to make together.

“I’m not Bailey, Darcy. I’m not. I chose to be with you. And only with you and that’s not something I’m going to throw away because my cousin’s husband was drunk and obviously not as straight as he’s always claimed to be.” Caleb sat on the ottoman in front of Darcy, his hands clasped between his knees he looked a bit green around the gills. “Is that what you’ve thought?”

Darcy looked away from him. “No. I don’t know. I’m not jealous. I swear. And the thought never crossed my mind until last night. I thought…maybe for a moment you were going to say yes. I thought…I don’t know what I thought,” Darcy said, hearing the misery in his own voice. “She ran my magazine into the ground because she was pissed at me. She threw away everything we worked so hard to build. I’m just so angry about that. I don’t have a say in anything. I sold that right. And you’re never here. I don’t know what I wanted when I came here. I don’t know why I’m angry about the magazine when I couldn’t wait to get away from it. I don’t know why any of that is your fault.”

Caleb crossed the narrow space and dragged him into his arms. He petted Darcy’s hair as if he were a child. “Talk to me, beb, whenever about whatever. Come down and get me if I’m not here.”

Darcy curled into Caleb’s embrace, and tucked his face into Caleb’s neck. “This isn’t how I thought we’d spend the day. Sniping at each other.”

He felt Caleb’s lips brush his forehead. “One thing I promise you, Darcy, baby…” Darcy could hear his voice hitch as if he were fighting to stay in control and dug his fingers into Caleb’s shoulders. “I will not ever invite anyone into our bed. And I will not ever cheat on you. I’m not interested in any man…or woman. I haven’t been in years. When I found you…I haven’t even looked at anyone since I found you. I haven’t thought about anyone. I haven’t…I’m yours. I hurt just thinking…”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Darcy raked his hands through Caleb’s hair. He tried hard to hold back the shudder that tore through his body. “Caleb, I’m sorry. I know. I’m not thinking right. I’m…”

Caleb kissed him softly. His lips barely grazing Darcy’s. He traced Darcy’s face with thumbs roughened from working on the renovation. “Nothing to be sorry about. I’m sorry for starting this shit. I’m sorry for giving you reason to worry. I’ve…never been in a relationship before. Not really. I’ll be less of a jackass, I swear.”

Darcy had to laugh. “So, was this a fight? Did we just fight?”

“If that was a fight, we need some help in that department because, cher, that was pitiful as far as lover’s spats go.” Caleb inhaled on a snort then cussed in French. “So…make-up sex?”

Darcy snagged the button on his jeans and pushed the fabric down his hips. “Here or in the bedroom?”

“Here…then maybe the bedroom.” Caleb’s reply was muffled by the earlobe he’d somehow managed to get his mouth around.

“We need more furniture.” Darcy laughed when he toppled onto his back with Caleb sprawling on top of him.

“Good sturdy furniture that won’t break when we make love on it,” Caleb agreed as Darcy flipped him onto his back.

“God, yeah. We should go buy furniture.”

“Now?”

“Today.”

“Later.”

“After the storm.”

“Okay….Darcy, if you don’t fuck me soon I’m going to expire.”

“Well now, can’t have that can we.” Darcy dragged Caleb’s jeans off his legs and pushed his legs back. The look in his lover’s eyes told him Caleb was his and his alone. “God, I love you.”

Caleb pulled him down for a kiss, his talented mouth offering no room for conversation. Darcy was okay with giving him everything he wanted and then some.

Quatre

Zydeco Christmas music filled the bar with foot-tapping get up and dance sounds from back home. Feeling a tad bit homesick, Caleb sat in the corner with a pretty redhead, watching his family and friends enjoy his hospitality. He sipped a small chicory coffee while Amber drank wine on the eve of Christmas Eve, both of them pretending they weren’t the slightest bit concerned about the lack of drama they expected once the two former lovers were in the same room.

Instead of fireworks, Caleb watched Bailey and Darcy avoid each other, both pretending the other didn’t exist. Bailey stayed with a group of people Caleb didn’t know. She wore a nice deep-red sweater dress, that flattered her new voluptuous body, over a pair of black leggings paired with a pair of black flat-heeled boots. Her blonde hair was longer now, the pixie cut she’d worn in the summer a memory.

Darcy sat at the bar with a few of his friends from school. Some students, others professors or somewhere in between like Darcy. All men.

“She looks good.” Caleb leaned in close to the petite woman with the sad eyes. “She wears pregnancy well.”

Amber shrugged and looked away, as if embarrassed that he’d caught the longing in her eyes. “She does. It’s not fair.”

“So, does she know you’re interested?” Caleb asked after a few minutes of watching Amber pretend Bailey’s flirting with the men in her circle wasn’t bothering her. She jerked her gaze up to meet his. If looks could kill, he felt he’d probably be at least seriously hemorrhaging right about then.

“She’s not into girls. And besides, she hates me. I’m the enemy. I took Darcy’s side, and then his place.” Amber tugged at a lock of her curly hair, pulling it until it was straight and then twisting the strand around her finger.

“But you are interested?” Caleb moved closer to her so he didn’t have to shout. His elbow grazed hers. She was tiny. Curvy in the right places, but petite in others. “You’re a pretty girl, bebelle, all the girls be crazy not to come running when you snap yo’ fingers.”

“Now I see why Darcy fell for you,” Amber said, a sly smile playing on her lips. “You are a tease, Remy Caleb.”

“And you avoided the question, bebelle.” Caleb liked Amber; he didn’t want to see her chasing something that was going to break her heart.

“Bebelle?” She asked swirling her wine before taking a drink. “That means…doll, right?”

Caleb nodded. “You look like the porcelain doll my grand-mere had. Pretty red hair and freckles just across her nose. She wore a green walking dress and little black boots.”

“I’m short, fat, and well, maybe I’m just too naïve. I seem to chase women who aren’t good for me. I like bad girls. I think there’s something wrong with me.” Her smile faded and she drained the last of her wine. “I hated Bailey for a long time. I don’t know. She doesn’t even know I exist except when something goes wrong and she needs someone to blame. Like having to share an apartment because the magazine is losing money and we had to take pay cuts to pay our staff. That was my fault. Because I’m not Darcy…I don’t know Caleb, it’s like I’m…atoning for something in my past life…or this life.”

“I know how that feels,” Caleb said with a glance to the bar where Darcy was laughing at something a pretty little goth boy was saying. “I’ve spent most of my life wondering what I’d done…” He shook his head to dispel the bugaboos. “He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I almost lost him because I was too stupid to fight for what I wanted.”

“Bailey isn’t Darcy, Caleb. Darcy is gay. He always has been. I knew, apparently before he did…but Bailey isn’t. Longing for something just because I want it isn’t going to make the fact that she thinks I’m trash go away.”

Caleb sat back in the seat, his coffee growing cold as he sipped it. Bailey glanced their way once or twice and pushed her hair behind her ear. She glanced away when she caught him looking, which made Caleb wonder who she’d been looking at, him, or Amber.

“Back in the summer before that day when it all went to hell, remember? Darcy said something that makes me wonder,” he said, thinking aloud.

“About what? I’m not following.” Amber poured another glass of wine and turned in the seat to face him, the emerald fitted blouse she wore accentuating her lightly freckled bosom.

“You’re very pretty, bebelle. I keep telling you this. Like a pretty doll. Bailey likes pretty things. Girly things. Back when Darcy and me were getting together, he said she knew. Not about me. But she knew he was seeing someone, and she thought that someone was you. It made her crazy with jealousy and she accused him, in my presence, of being with you.”

“Yeah, so? We worked together sometimes. Darcy and I have always been friends. He’s maybe the best male friend I’ve ever had. And I know that’s always bothered her.” Amber shrugged sipping more wine. “God I miss home so much.”

“Amber, Bailey was jealous of you because she marked you as her rival. Women like her wouldn’t just pick someone at random. She’d completely dismiss a lesser woman. But you, pretty Amber, she doesn’t think you’re ugly, or fat…she jealous of you, sweetie. And if she’s jealous…maybe…there’s more that she isn’t ready to know about herself.”

Amber just snorted. “And I have waterfront property in Arizona…cheap.”

“Just saying, cher. I know women pretty well. Been with enough of them to know when they’re pretending indifference. Like she’s doing right now. She keeps looking over here. I’m sure she’s wondering what we’re talking about. If maybe I’m hitting you up.”

“And all of her admirers are there for what? Window dressing?” Amber snorted loudly, and Caleb couldn’t help but laugh. “She’s eight months pregnant. She hasn’t even looked at some guy since she ran Chester off. That piece of shit asshole had the nerve to come back like nothing happened. He even wanted Darcy’s job. That’s why he did what he did. He wanted to be editor. He wanted Darcy gone. I don’t think for a minute that he wanted to sleep with him. I think it was—”

“Obsession,” he cut her off. “Chester found me not long after. I’d just buried my mama and I was falling apart. He was seething with anger because Darcy had left and no one would tell him where he’d gone. He wanted Bailey, he wanted the magazine, and he wanted Darcy. He was one fucked up little bon rien, cher. He was completely obsessed with everything Darcy had.”

“So what did you do?”

“I introduced him to a couple of my grandfather’s former lieutenants. Not my fault he was in one of the seedier establishments my grand-pere owned, now was it?” Caleb chuckled at the memory. “Ran like a scalded cat.”

Amber laughed, pressing her fingers to her mouth as if to stop the sound. “Oh that’s terrible. But incredibly awesome at the same time. Then Bailey took a shotgun to him. I didn’t even know we had a shotgun in the office. I bet he pissed himself.”

“Couple times at least.” Caleb caught her hand in his and dragged her in to lean against him. Amber cuddled against his shoulder, sighing as the laughter gave way to melancholy once more. “They’re not speaking to each other.”

“I noticed,” she said following his gaze to the former friends. “After we worked so hard to get them in the same room. Hell, I had to talk to her doctor to make sure she was okay to fly up. And I still had to drag her to the airport.”

“Darcy wasn’t happy that I’d invited her behind his back. We fought. I got laid. Not complaining. But, yeah, cher, they got to start talking again. I don’t want to be the reason they hate each other.” He realized how that sounded and winced. “I’m not that selfish. I swear to the God I don’t believe in.”

“I didn’t think you were.” Amber played with his hair, her arm draped over his shoulder. “We could make them jealous. I mean, Remy Caleb, the way you talk I’d be willing to give you a chance.”

Caleb relaxed against her, letting her breath tickle his neck. “Are you drunk, Bebelle?”

“Maybe a wee bit. Yes.” She laughed against his neck. “She’s looking at us. She looks angry. Maybe you’re right.”

“Mmm, maybe the baby just kicked. Darcy on the other hand would kick my ass if I encouraged your obvious rebellious behavior.” He didn’t, for one moment, think Amber was serious. Drunk yes. Trying to seduce him, no.

“Darcy is too busy being seduced by that pretty goth boy and he doesn’t even know it.” Amber turned her attention to his lover, whom, Caleb noticed, was almost wearing a young man as a bracelet. And Darcy didn’t have a clue, not a single clue that with every touch of his hand, goth boy was staking serious claim. “Which makes me wonder exactly what you did to get his attention? Because, Remy Caleb, that man is incredibly brilliant and I love him, but he is so fucking clueless when it comes to people.”

“I kissed him. And he knocked me on my ass. But not before his dick went hard.” Caleb watched the kid stroke his finger up Darcy’s arm. The kid was putting off some serious fuck me vibes that Caleb could feel all the way across the bar. But Darcy didn’t even flinch. He stepped away to get another drink and the boy followed. “That kid is…well, fuck if he’s twenty I’d be amazed.”

“I’m willing to bet younger,” Amber agreed, sobering now. “I think he’s one of Darcy’s students. The term is over. He’s probably making a play now that they’re out.”

Caleb flashed back to his freshman year and the crush he’d had on one of his professors; the crush that ended the professor’s life, and nearly his own. “I should go be all jealous boyfriend or something before this gets out of hand.”

“And talk to him about Bailey while you’re at it. We’ll be here through the holidays.” Amber slid over in the booth, shooing him on his way. “And hey, Caleb,” she called out before he got too far. “This is a great place. I love what you’ve done. I just wish I was going to be around for the grand opening.”

Caleb cocked his head her way. Maybe there was something he could do about that. Maybe. “Love you, Amber. And I don’t just say that to just anyone. We’ll get this mess fixed. Or die trying.”

“That last part is what scares me, Remy Caleb. Now go see about your clueless lover and I’ll go…take a piss…I shouldn’t have drank all that wine.” She stumbled getting out of the booth, but smiled and shooed him on his way.

Caleb met Bailey’s gaze when he turned to go find his lover. The look she shot him should have left him seriously maimed. Then she cut her eyes away as if he wasn’t worth her time and went back to laughing at something one of her beaus said.

Darcy was at the bar where Caleb had last seen him, the center of attention. Why did the man not understand how beautiful he was, or charming, or delectable? And Caleb knew he wasn’t the first man to ever notice. Amber was right. Darcy didn’t have one damned clue that the boy was practically humping his leg right here in the bar. Or that the professor with the white hair and boyish face couldn’t keep his eyes off him. Both men were threats that made Caleb’s skin prickle.

He skirted the bar coming up behind his lover to snake his arm around his waist. Darcy didn’t jump, he turned his head to accept Caleb’s kiss. “Having a good time, beb?” Caleb let the Cajun run thick as he whispered loudly in Darcy’s ear.

“I am. How’s Amber? I saw the two of you plotting in the corner.” Darcy nuzzled his neck, speaking softly just for Caleb to hear.

“I think she’s in love with our Miss Bailey, cher, she’s crying into her wine,” Caleb said, hoping to shock him, but Darcy just nodded as if he agreed.

“She’s going to get her heart broken,” he sighed and took up his imported beer while goth boy stood on his other side and glared at Caleb.

“That’s exactly what I told her just before I told her to go for it.” Caleb took Darcy’s beer and took a long drink. “I need to get me one of those. I been sticking to coffee all night. This is good.” He smiled at the boy as if just noticing him. “So my love, introduce me to your friends.”

Before Darcy could get to the introductions, the waiter Mark came up and tapped Caleb on the shoulder. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr Lasseigne, but Mr Burdeshaw said he needed you in the kitchen as soon as you can get away from your guests.”

Caleb sighed. “Oh well, no rest for the wicked it seems,” he said regretfully. Leaning over to Darcy, he whispered, “Beb, you might want to introduce your young friend to our lovely Mark here before he makes a fool of himself.”

Darcy looked up at him as if he didn’t understand what Caleb was talking about. Darcy glanced at the jealous pout on the younger man’s pretty face and whispered back. “Oh…so that’s why you came over here with your Cajun up? You’re jealous.” Darcy smiled, his eyes filled with amusement. His cheeks went a bit pink as if he’d never been in this situation before. Knowing Darcy he probably wouldn’t have noticed if he had.

“I’m not jealous, Darce, it’s been amusing wondering which one would make the first move. The professor or the kid. The professor has the sense to know it’s not going to happen. The kid though, you need to distract him with something prettier than you, and closer to his age.”

“And you immediately think that would be Mark?” Darcy glanced to the young waiter he’d hired, who’d turned out to be the best addition to the wait staff. The same one trying hard not to get caught admiring Adam while he waited for Caleb. “Oh, yeah. I don’t know how I missed that.”

“Because my love, you are adorable when you’re clueless.” Caleb gave him a parting kiss and left him to deal with his predicament. “Mark, why don’t you see if Darcy’s friends need anything? I can find my way to the kitchen, though I have no idea what kind of emergency there could be at this point.”

He heard Darcy laughing behind him as he walked through the very crowded bar and into the less crowded restaurant and through to the very quiet nearly dark kitchen.

The party had been buffet style with the waiters passing through with drinks and hors d’oeurvres throughout the early evening. Now most of the food had been cleared away and the party had shifted toward the drinking and dancing.

There wasn’t a soul in the kitchen. The quiet was almost overwhelming and more than just a touch unnerving. “Hey, B’Wayne, where you at?” he shouted into the cavernous room.

“Back here, washing the damn dishes, Remy.” The reply, along with a curse or two, echoed around the stainless steel.

“Where the dishwasher we hired, cuz? Don’t tell me we already lost a couple employees before we even open for business.” Caleb laughed and followed the sound of more cursing back to the dish room where he found Bubba Wayne sitting in a chair, leaning back on only two legs, and sipping straight from a bottle of top-shelf whiskey.

Caleb looked around at the sparkling clean sinks and wondered what was up with his old friend. Bubba just looked at him and offered up the bottle. “Want some? It’s pretty good shit, Remy.” Bubba slurred his words and Caleb reached for the bottle.

“Only the best for this joint, B’ Wayne,” Caleb said before taking a swig. He winced at the fire that burned his throat and down to his belly. He hadn’t had anything hard since that day back in the summer when he’d watched his life crash and burn around him. For a moment, he couldn’t remember what he’d been about to say. “It’s not good to drink alone, cher.”

“Cut the ‘cher’ shit out Remy. Save it for that boy you screwing. Bet it gets his pants off fast enough.” Bubba took the bottle back and up-ended it.

Caleb felt his skin prickle. Frissons of fear and shame coursing through him at the memories that one statement dug up. “You homesick, Bubba Wayne? You want to go home? I can…understand if you want to. It’s not N’awlins up here. Too…I don’t know. West Coast.”

“Do you want me to go home?” Bubba took another long swig as he watched Caleb with nearly black eyes. He was true Cajun: dark hair, dark eyes, swarthy skin, long lean body, whiplash tongue, a gorgeous man with a touch of silver starting to sneak into his beard. “We used to be…I used to know your mind like I was part of you Remy. I don’t like this person you became. I don’t like this Caleb. And your highbrow…what’s he got that I didn’t have? I’m not smart as him, I know this. I wasn’t good enough?”

“What the fuck are you talking about Bruce?” Caleb felt like all of his blood had drained from his body and his bones had melted. He was just a slab of man-shaped gelatin standing there in a memory come back to haunt him.

“Don’t call me that fucking name. I wish to hell my papa knew what saddling me with that name was going to do. Bruce fucking Wayne, Jesus, Remy. We be Remy and Bubba. Same as we always was.” Bubba set the bottle on the floor and it tipped over, empty now. He was on his feet before Caleb could decide if he needed to put some distance between them.

“It’s okay for you to use my hated name, but I can’t use yours?” Caleb stopped playing as he watched Bubba weave his way over to him. He should move away. He should call Teela.

“I hate the name Caleb,” Bubba said, his words angry and slurred, his face twisted in anger and maybe something else entirely. Something that set Caleb’s skin to crawling.

“Well, I hate the name Remy. I cringe every time I hear it. Takes me back to a time in my life that nearly destroyed me.” Caleb backed up; he didn’t know why his heart was racing. This was his friend stalking him. The boy he’d grown up with, the boy he’d cut class with, the boy he’d gone fishing with, then running through the city when they’d gotten old enough not to be afraid of the shadows. Their families were the shadows. They had nothing to fear.

“I remember how your name used to roll off my tongue. I remember how you tasted. I remember everything about you. And you give all that to some fucking pretty boy who don’t know shit about our ways.”

Caleb caught his breath when his back hit the wall between a couple of tall shelving units. Bubba pinned him to the wall and held him there, his nose not far from Caleb’s. His breath reeked of whiskey. His eyes burned with…the fire Caleb remembered as if it were yesterday. “He ain’t good for you, cher, he don’t understand you. He don’t have our history. Our culture.”

“We don’t have any history, Bubba.” Caleb tried to talk him down, but the moment Bubba’s hands tangled in Caleb’s hair, he knew he’d lost the fight.

“We have too much history, Remy,” Bubba whispered against Caleb’s lips. “Tell me you don’t remember.”

“I remember,” Caleb said gasping. Bubba’s lips were as warm as he remembered. The kiss could have been as potent as it had been all those years ago, but Caleb could only feel the weight of the pair of blue eyes staring at him from across the room. He could feel the weight of his betrayal as Darcy turned and walked away, cold hard anger burning in his eyes.

Humiliated and not just a little angry himself, Caleb felt his blood drain from his body as his world shattered around him. “I remember, Bruce. I remember it was you that got me banished the first time. I remember every ugly thing you called me just to save your own sorry sack.”

He shoved his drunk friend, watching as he lost his balance and landed on his ass near the overflow drain. “Don’t ever do that again, Bubba. And don’t ever pull any shit with Darcy either. Don’t forget, I was raised in the same world you were. That boy you remember died the day you threw him under the bus.” Caleb spat the words and walked away from his friend before the urge to kick him while he was down became too strong. He’d let Teela handle him. He had to go find Darcy. Caleb would be damned if he let Darcy walk away. He’d fought too hard to get him back to let one stupid drunken kiss destroy everything this time.

Cinq

Darcy said goodbye to his brother Damien and his sister-in-law. His parents had taken his nephews back to the hotel hours ago so his brother and sister could stay and be adults for a change. Delilah and her boyfriend had followed not long after. Everyone was leaving. Well, most everyone. The single, die-hard, party-till-you-drop people would probably have to be evicted at some point.

Dr Wells had said goodbye right after Caleb left. And his student, Adam had grudgingly followed the now off-duty Mark somewhere else. Darcy caught Bailey’s gaze. She was still the center of her own private party and didn’t seem to have any interest in talking with him. Amber had gone off toward the restrooms before Caleb had disappeared into the back.

Alone for the first time all evening, Darcy checked the time. Christmas was moving slowly closer with the tick of his watch and he wanted to be with Caleb for the first moment of their first Christmas as a couple.

He handed his empties to the first barmaid that passed him and went to follow his lover to the kitchen. Maybe whatever emergency Bubba had could be put off until tomorrow.

Caleb had passed through only a handful of moments before, but the kitchen was dark and deserted. Darcy walked deeper in until the thrum of the Cajun style Christmas music was a dull throb instead of a migraine in the making. He was about to leave when he heard the rumble of voices from somewhere toward the dish room, followed by a crash of some kind.

He moved faster, his heart racing. Maybe they’d need help. Maybe something had happened. Something…like Bubba pressing his lover to the wall, his hands in Caleb’s hair, so intent upon each other that neither one had noticed him come in.

Caleb closed his eyes when Bubba kissed him. His hands gripped Bubba’s shoulders. And then he gasped, one green eye peering past his friend to where Darcy stood rooted to the spot in shock.

Anger bubbled inside him. Rage. He clenched his fists, feeling the muscles in his forearms tense. He wanted to hurt someone. Bubba for taking advantage. Caleb for lying.

So many lies. He’d lied, swearing he and Bubba weren’t fucking behind Darcy’s back.

Darcy turned on his heel and stalked back the way he’d come. Through the kitchen back into the dining room. He slammed through the swinging doors, the music hitting him hard. The noise, the accent, the migraine he’d been fighting all evening. Bailey was the only face in the room he recognized and wasn’t that just perfect. She’d cheated. Now she smirked as if she knew exactly what Darcy had found in the back.

He couldn’t deal with this right now. He had to go, had to get far away before he really did hurt something.

Teela would have to deal with closing. Darcy had had all of this shit he could stand for one lifetime.

He made his way through the private entrance to the offices and the elevator to the floors above…No, no. He was running. Again. Just like in June. This time he wasn’t going to give anyone the pleasure of seeing him hurt.

He came to the side kitchen entrance and thought about bursting in and confronting them. What would they be doing now? Would Bubba be on his knees for Caleb…or would Caleb…Caleb, who was the more submissive of the two of them, who loved to be fucked, hard. Would Bubba know that? How many nights over the past month had Caleb and Bubba—?

“Fucking stop it,” he said, pulling his own hair to keep from screaming out his pain. Nausea roiled in his stomach and he turned to the employee restrooms and slammed inside the men’s room. “He’s not worth it,” he shouted into the empty room, his voice echoing off the tiled walls.

He could hear the sob in his voice. “Only the best thing in my life.” He leaned over the sink and ran cold water. He couldn’t look into the mirror for fear of what he’d see there. He breathed in the scent of the water, letting it wash over his hand. “Why?” He rubbed his face and slicked wet hands through his hair. “Why tonight? When he knew I could follow. Why!”

There were no answers. Just his voice echoing back to him. He looked at his image…finally. His hair was black in this light, his eyes blazing with anger…and fear…he didn’t recognize himself. Not at all. This wasn’t him. This wasn’t his life. All fucked up over a man.

A fucking man!

A man who was just like Bailey. If he really thought about it, he’d have recognized it months ago. There was a reason why he was attracted to them both. He had a type: the A-type. Alpha, artistic, charming…lying, cheating…bitches…both of them.

He shoved himself off the sink. The urge to vomit had passed as anger churned in his gut, replacing the fear.

He was naïve. He’d known this. Caleb knew this and had used him because of it.

“Well, not anymore.” He yanked the door back and stopped cold.

Déjà vu yanked him from inside and slung him around. They’d done this once before. This time Caleb’s hair wasn’t mussed from Darcy’s hands. This time Caleb’s lips weren’t swollen from Darcy’s kiss. This time he didn’t look smug…he looked like a man caught in the act and about to lose everything.

Except the only thing he would lose was Darcy. Darcy would be the one to lose it all this time. This time when he walked away, he wouldn’t have anything left. Not even his dignity.

“Just tell me why?” He didn’t shout, he was proud of himself for that one thing. He managed not to rush across the narrow hallway and shove Caleb against the wall and beat his head into the exposed brick…he wasn’t proud of that thought going through his mind.

“It wasn’t what it looked like, cher,” Caleb whispered, his hands out in supplication almost as if he wanted to reach for Darcy, but was afraid.

“It never is. And don’t fucking ‘cher’ me. Not ever again. I’m tired of being manipulated and seduced and…just tell me how long you and Bubba been screwing behind my back?” Jesus, he could hear Caleb’s accent coming from his own mouth.

“Never.” Caleb closed his eyes and Darcy saw him visibly calm himself, he’d seen him do that before, but never recognized it for what it was. He was mentally detaching himself from…what? Being hurt? That was fucking hilarious. “I swear, on my grandmother’s grave, Darcy, I have not been cheating on you. Period. I’ve…” he trailed off on a long sigh. “Bubba and I have history. Yes. Twenty-three year old history. He was my best friend. He was my first boyfriend. But we have never gone past the heavy petting stage. And only back then, not now. I walked into that. He was drunk. He kissed me.”

Darcy wanted to believe him. “That’s what they always say. He kissed me, I didn’t kiss him. Looked like there was some mutual tongue action going on there to me.”

Caleb’s face drained of all color. He looked as if he was about to pass out. “I kissed him, yeah. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I kissed him back. For about twenty damned seconds—”

“Until you saw me and freaked out. I understand how it is.” Darcy ducked his head. He just couldn’t deal with this. He was trying so hard. “You said he was an old friend. Not an old boyfriend.”

“You don’t understand. I…” Caleb sounded on the verge of panic and Darcy looked up to find him pacing the narrow hall, his hands in his hair almost exactly as Darcy had been less than five minutes ago. “I don’t even understand right now. I don’t know how to explain this without it coming out wrong. I didn’t want to kiss him Darcy. I didn’t ask for him to kiss me. But when he did… the part of me I left behind when I was fourteen woke up. It was a memory. And not a good memory. I could have loved him, I could have. We were the same. We were wild and we… were going to be together forever. We were going to be…everything, Darcy. We were the first kiss. The first time I ever tasted…” he blanched again, going green this time. “Dick. He’s the reason I knew I was gay and not just horny and experimenting. But we got caught, Darcy. The night we were going to…” He shook his head again. Agitated. “I was going to let him be my first. I was going to be everything for him because he wanted me. No one wanted me, Darcy. But his daddy caught us. He called my grandfather. And Bubba…Bubba swore I made him do everything. He swore he was straight and that he was afraid his daddy would lose his job in my grandfather’s organization unless he did those things with me. He’s the reason we moved to the big house on the river. He’s the reason I wasn’t allowed in the city for a long time. And until just now, I have never even thought about him. It was a pain that I buried when I went away for good. He’s part of my past. I thought it was forgotten. I thought he’d forgotten.”

Darcy stood there waiting for Caleb to slow down, to stop pacing, to stop pulling his hair and sounding lost and afraid. “He hurt you.” Darcy leaned back against the wall, his heart breaking in his chest, but he didn’t know why.

“He broke my heart. I lost my best friend that day. If nothing else was between us, I lost that. The only person I thought I could trust. The only person I thought I could love. And he betrayed me to save himself the beating I got. The humiliation of being sent away to live with my mama in exile up river. My grandfather didn’t tolerate homosexuality, Darcy. That’s why he sent me away after I got out of prison. Because I’d humiliated him. I didn’t see Bubba again until after I came back home, after my grandfather had died, after his organization had imploded. He’s never once indicated that he remembered. Or that he had…regrets.”

“Until just now.” Darcy wanted to believe him. He wanted everything to be like it was, but Caleb lied so easily. “And the other night when he came into our room?”

“He was drinking, both times. I didn’t encourage him. I thought we could be friends like we were before…he’s married to Teela. I thought maybe I really was just an experiment to him or he was just some horny fourteen year old looking to get laid no matter how. I forgot. I locked it all away and tried to rebuild my life. And you’re my life. I shouldn’t have kissed him back, I should have told you we had history. I’m begging, Darcy. Please, beb. I have no interest in him. I—”

Darcy growled, the begging pissed him off. The lying and the lies by omission. And all of it, just all of it. He strode across the hall and shoved Caleb into the wall. Fear gleamed in Caleb’s eyes. It was like that first night. “Hit me. I deserve it. Just fucking hit me and let me make it up to you,” he said in almost an exact imitation. Hit me or kiss me.

“I’m not going to hit you. Why would you ever think I could hit you?” Was Caleb so used to settling disputes with fists that he would let Darcy treat him the way everyone in his past seemed to have treated him. “Unless you ever hit me, then I will end your ass.”

“I’ll never hit you, Darcy. What kind of man do you think I am?” He could feel Caleb tremble beneath his hands. He let Darcy hold him to the wall.

“Sometimes I don’t know, Caleb. Sometimes you’re Remy and sometimes you’re Caleb, Caleb and Remy are two different people. It’s like you’re your own evil twin. I don’t know what to expect from you. I just…I’m winging this. Trying not to drown in you and keep myself headed in some direction but I’ve lost sight of who I am and what I want.” Darcy leaned his forehead against Caleb’s. He could smell whiskey on his breath, he could smell Bubba’s cologne on his shirt. “He touched you. It pisses me off that you smell like him.”

“I’m sorry. Darcy, I’m so sorry.” Caleb almost sobbed the words, he reached up, hesitating to touch Darcy. His hands trembled. “I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose your trust. Not again. Because some asshole decided…no, not making excuses. I have a very long, colorful past, Darcy. I do. I can’t deny that. But there’s nothing in my past that I want as much as I want a future with you. I swore I have not looked at another person since I met you. I didn’t lie. I haven’t looked. I haven’t even thought about it. I put myself one hundred percent in your hands. I’m here to be with you. I’ll close this place down before it even opens if you want me to. I’ll go with you anywhere you want. Whatever you want to do. I’ll send him back home.”

“Stop…okay, just stop,” Darcy whispered, fighting the pain that wanted him to lash out. He could feel Caleb. Everything. His distress, his sincerity, his fear, his…love. Darcy cradled his lover’s face in his hands. “Look at me, Caleb, look me in the eye and give me a reason to believe you.”

“I love you,” he said, his green eyes shimmering with tears. Darcy had never seen him like this. His charming façade crumbled to reveal the broken man he kept hidden. “That’s all I can say. I can’t make you believe me if you don’t. I just want you to know that I love you. And I love us…together. I have to trust that you can forgive me.” A tear slipped past his defenses and pooled on Darcy’s hand.

“Okay.” Darcy breathed the word, feeling his chest grow tight with swirling emotions that he couldn’t even begin to comprehend. “Okay. Caleb. Just…” he didn’t know what he was going to say. He didn’t know if words could fix this. He kissed him. Slicing his mouth across Caleb’s startling a gasp out of him. Caleb finally wrapped his arms around Darcy. He trembled as Darcy held him close. He tasted of whiskey and Darcy licked into his mouth, kissing him like he’d never kissed him before. He knew on some primal level he wanted to eliminate the other man’s kiss on Caleb’s lips. He wanted to mark him, to own him. To make him forget that anyone had ever kissed him before.

“You’re the only one,” Caleb whispered against his mouth.

“I know.” He did know. He had to trust this man, he had to. There was no going back now. There was no one else for him. “You’re mine too. It hurt so much seeing him on you. I’ve never hurt like that.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Caleb grabbed at his shoulders, his fingers stroking down Darcy’s back to pull him closer. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You taste like him. He touched you.” Darcy shoved his hands into the back of Caleb’s pants and dragged his shirt out. He ripped at the buttons, the black silk too fragile to withstand his anger. Caleb let him strip the shirt off, his mouth on Darcy’s, his tongue in Darcy’s mouth. The sounds he made were frantic. “Fucking need you now,” Darcy breathed the words between kisses.

“Merde.” Caleb barely got the word out before Darcy had him pinned to the wall, his pants open. He stroked Caleb’s dick in his hand, pulling him free of the heavy black trousers. “Fuck me, Darcy. Please. Make me yours.”

“You are mine.” Darcy growled against his mouth, he held Caleb’s blazing green gaze as he stroked him. He watched the man he loved drop all of his shields and just be…Caleb. “Let me see the real you. Let me see the person I love.”

“I don’t know…” he started to say, but Darcy gripped him harder, one hand wrapped around him, stroking him, feeling his foreskin slip over the tip hidden inside, the drip of his excitement slowly coating Darcy’s hand. He held his chin with his other hand, forcing Caleb to look him in the eye.

“You do know how. Just give me yourself. That’s all I want. Not the money, or the artist. I don’t want anything from you but you. That’s all I want, Caleb. You, brutal, honest, scars, skeletons, everything. I can accept your past if you let me. I can get past your past. I can. I won’t love you less. Just be honest with me.” He released the throbbing length of him to stroke the soft skin of his belly. The raised letters under the tattoo spelling out another man’s name. Prison had scarred him. He knew the process, the cutting and inking Caleb had endured in those couple of years, he could feel the scars every time he touched him. “Your worst. Caleb. I know it all. Old lovers shouldn’t ever come between us.”

Caleb sobbed. There were no tears in his eyes. He relaxed against the wall and let Darcy hold him. “I’ve done so many bad things. Murder. I killed a man with my own hands. How can you love me? I can’t love me.”

Darcy blinked. He’d never expected Caleb to show him this side. He’d never seen him this vulnerable. “Because I love you. Since the first moment I laid eyes on you. I can’t explain it. What’s between us now has nothing to do with then. You were a boy. You’re not that boy anymore.”

Caleb’s eyes shimmered, his gasp was ragged. “I’m afraid.”

“Me too. I’m terrified,” Darcy said, holding Caleb now while the tears tracked silently down his face. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I fucked up my last relationship. I walked out on my life. I barely know my family because…I barely know myself. I’m fucking terrified that I’m fucking this up with both hands.”

Caleb dragged his fingers through Darcy’s hair, pulling him in for a wet kiss. Slowly this time, languid, as if they had all of the time in the world. He trembled under Darcy’s hands, giving himself over to Darcy as Darcy stripped him. They sank to the floor, Caleb’s back still against the wall; he straddled Darcy’s thighs. “I want you, beb.” Shaking fingers undid his zipper and pulled him free, his touch growing surer with each stroke along Darcy’s dick, until Darcy was panting from need. “Right here, on the floor.”

“No lube. It’ll be spit and pre-come.” Darcy gripped his ass spreading him to slip his finger between his cheeks. He went inside, dry, to the first knuckle just to see the pleasure of penetration in his lover’s eyes.

“I can take it. All natural. The way I like it,” Caleb said in all seriousness.

Darcy spit in his hand. “Good to know. You’re full of shit, but…” he lost the words as Caleb wrapped his arms around him, his mouth devouring Darcy’s as Darcy slicked his spit coated fingers into him.

There were no more words. Caleb lifted himself and Darcy drove inside him. It wasn’t slow, it wasn’t gentle, it wasn’t graceful. Brutal and hard, Darcy laid him on the floor covering his body. It was fucking. Primal, greedy, fucking on the floor. Caleb gripped his arms, his fingernails dug in through Darcy’s shirt. He fucked into him, sliding him across the marble floor.

“Harder.” Caleb grunted as he stripped Darcy’s shirt over his head. “Fuck me harder. Make it hurt.”

Darcy couldn’t find his voice. He pushed Caleb’s legs back as far as they would go and pushed inside him until he was seated up to his balls. Caleb flung his head back and howled. Clawing at him, he dragged Darcy’s head down for a kiss. He wrapped his legs around Darcy’s hips and held him down. Darcy let go. He fucked into his lover, hard, his body tingled from the sheer power of taking the man on the floor. He caught Caleb’s hands and dragged them over Caleb’s head to hold him pinned. “Is this what you want? To be my bitch? You want me to hurt you?”

“Fuck me, hurt me, love me.” Caleb arched his long, limber body into Darcy’s, riding him as if he were in control and not the one pinned to the floor. “Own me. Fucking own me.”

“Mine. No one touches you. You’re mine, Caleb. Fucking mine. This is mine. Oh, fuck, this is…going to fucking come if you keep bucking under me like that.”

“Fucking come. Fill me full of your cum. Fuck me. Harder.” Caleb tried to lift his arms, his eyes turned a shade of green that Darcy had never seen before. Brilliant shimmering green that was almost alive with fire in the emerald depths. He sweated, his hair soaked, his body shimmered under the lights and Darcy wanted to eat him alive.

“Don’t you come,” he demanded, his body already in the grips of orgasm. “Do you hear me?”

“I hear you. Need to. Fuck me.” Caleb begged, his whole body gone stiff as he impaled himself on Darcy, taking him as deep as Darcy could go. “Fuck, Darcy,” he cried out, his muscles clenching so tight around him that Darcy lost control of his own body. He came, spewing into Caleb’s tight ass. The pulsing throbbing muscles milked him until he saw stars. He couldn’t think, just feel, he didn’t know if he cried out. He dropped his weight onto Caleb’s body, letting Caleb hold him; wrapped in his arms and legs until he could catch his breath.

Caleb petted his hair, his long fingers skimmed along Darcy’s jawline so softly he wanted to cry from the intimacy of just that. He buried his face in Caleb’s neck and tried not to let the urge to do just that overcome him.

A small sound outside of Caleb’s heart beating and their mingled breaths caught his attention and Darcy turned to find his former lover standing not far away, her hand covering her mouth as if she were frozen in shock. Her eyes filled with…Darcy couldn’t determine. She stood there watching them. Maybe she’d been there all along. Amber emerged from the shadows and cast him an apologetic glance. She took Bailey by the elbow and led her back down the hallway toward the dining room and all of their guests.

“Fuck, we just fucked on the fucking floor where anyone could walk up on us,” Darcy said as reality washed over him in humiliating waves.

Caleb’s soft laugh did nothing to settle his nerves. Long fingers sliding down his sweaty back, though, did much to calm his nerves. Caleb smiled at him, his emerald eyes still ablaze with lust, as well as humor. “Someone did walk up, beb. And I didn’t come. You gonna make me wait to get upstairs?”

Darcy smiled back, and licked the smile off Caleb’s mouth. He traced the new tattoos that covered the old scars, kissing the scrolling wings along Caleb’s belly until he found his dick, hard, and dripping from their love making. He opened his mouth and let Caleb slide inside. Holding Caleb’s hands, he forgot about Bubba and Bailey and the room full of people beyond a set a swinging doors and made sure his lover knew just how much Darcy loved him.

Six

Caleb sat below the tree he and Darcy had decorated earlier that week. There weren’t many decorations on the branches. Nothing from his life had migrated with him when he’d come to Oregon. They’d strung fake popcorn and cranberry garland around a fresh fir and set a capiz shell star on top. Their first Christmas together and it very nearly hadn’t happened.

“Papa Noel comes tonight, yes.” He told Darcy’s little nephew as he helped him figure out the controls on the toddler remote control car.

“Who is Papa No…Uncle Caleb?” The little boy, Jared, asked in his child’s voice, giving him a look that said Caleb was one skid shy of a full rocker. Caleb smiled at the honorific that he didn’t deserve. He wasn’t legally anything to Darcy, but he felt the glow of acceptance even if it was from a four year old.

“Papa Noel is what we call Santa Claus in New Orleans, p’tit boug. In New Orleans, because there is no snow, Papa Noel, brings toys to the little children in a pirogue pulled by eight alligators.” Caleb told the little boy as he raced his car under the wrapping paper littering the floor. He looked up to find Darcy watching him from the dining room table they’d found the day before they brought up the tree. The sectional and the new table was their only real furniture still, but the place was starting to look like home.

“Will Papa Noel bring the alligators to my house tonight?” Jared wrecked his car and handed the remote over to Caleb for help.

“It’s a long way from the bayou, but maybe.” Caleb cast a helpless glance up to the kid’s mama. He’d have to remember to run down to the bookstore to see if they had a copy of any Papa Noel story. Maybe Cajun Night Before Christmas. “What do you think Santa will bring you?”

“A pony,” Jared said with a laugh as if it was something Caleb should have known.

“Oh, really, I had a pony, what are you going to name it?” He asked just as Darcy laughed and the kid’s mother started shaking her head; she looked horrified. Caleb had to backpedal really fast. “Ponies take up a lot of room. He’ll need a big field to run in.”

“Oh, well, we have a back yard. I haven’t thought about a name yet.” The car was working again and the boy seemed to have forgotten the topic. He ran off chasing the car, barely missing his little brother as he passed.

Caleb climbed off the floor with a grunt and went to join Darcy and Darcy’s brother at the table. The remains of breakfast still lingered, but Caleb wasn’t hungry. “Sorry Damien, I didn’t mean to get his hopes up like that.”

“Don’t worry about it, he’s four. Tomorrow he’ll want a race car or to be Thor,” Damien replied as the boy came barreling into his lap. “And who knows, maybe that Papa Noel fella might just have something special in his boat after all.”

Caleb felt Darcy’s hand run across the back of his. He turned his palm up and linked their fingers together. Damien watched them, but didn’t seem bothered by the little PDA. But Caleb knew that Darcy was stepping outside his own comfort zone to touch him in front of his family. And that made Caleb smile.

“Well if he doesn’t,” Caleb said as if they did this every time Darcy’s family came around. “I have a stable full of horses down home that would love a visit. Anytime you want to go, let me know and I’ll arrange the stay.”

“That’s…actually a very nice idea.” Damien watched them as the little boy cuddled in his lap, the car now a flying vehicle that came dangerously close to hitting Damien in the jaw on more than one occasion. He didn’t seem to know what to say. “Maybe this summer.”

Darcy made a face that had Caleb laughing. “It’s very hot in the summer. Ask your brother, he knows first-hand.”

“Hell’s sauna,” Darcy said, laughing along with Caleb. “Seriously, it’s miserable, hot, and damp all at the same time. With huge bugs. “But out at Caleb’s house, it’s a bit more tolerable. Maybe the spring would be better.”

“Spring, then. Reece has spring break in late March this year.” Damien quietly took the toy car and set it on the table, replacing it with a leftover strip of bacon. “Maybe we can all go down. I’ve always wanted to see New Orleans. Wouldn’t know what to do there, but it would be nice.”

“That would be perfect. March is really nice. Martha is fussing that she’s out in that big house all alone. She is on me to let her start taking in boarders or something.” Caleb leaned back against Darcy who’d turned to wrap his arms around him. “How ‘bout it, beb, you think you can handle a trip back to the bayou in March?”

“March was actually tolerable last year. So, maybe. Yeah. Let’s see what I’m doing in March before we book the flight.” Darcy didn’t agree nor disagree.

Damien turned to him then, his eyes troubled. “What do you mean? I thought you were all set for the next semester? I thought everything was going well.”

Caleb did too, but he felt Darcy shrug behind him.

“I don’t know. I mean, yes, I guess I am all set. I’m starting classes next month and working for Dr Wells as…well, I’m just a teaching assistant no matter the fancy title, I won’t be offered an actual teaching position without the doctorate…but I do love the kids.” Darcy explained without actually saying anything.

“But?” Caleb asked, he’d sensed that something wasn’t quite right with Darcy for the past couple of weeks. But he’d let Darcy convince him he was just tired. “I hear a but in there, Darce. You know if you’re not happy—”

“But,” Darcy said cutting him off. “I’m not sure what I’m doing this for right now.” He sighed and laid his cheek on Caleb’s shoulder. “Maybe I’m letting exhaustion color my outlook. Maybe you’re right, Caleb, I’m doing too much for everyone and wearing myself out.”

“Or you’re not happy in the choice you made by coming back when what you really want is back in New Orleans?” Damien said point blank. He didn’t even glance at Caleb. “I don’t mean Bailey, stop even thinking that’s what I meant. I watched her last night. She’s…well, high maintenance isn’t really the correct word for her. But she was always like that. And she was never right for you. And before you get the wrong idea, I like seeing you like this, little brother.”

“Like what?” Darcy’s voice hit an octave Caleb had never heard before. He let go of Caleb’s hand and sat up straight, taking away Caleb’s support and warmth at the same time.

“In love. Happy. Relaxed enough with someone that you forget you’re around other people and actually touch him. It’s nice. You’re such a robot sometimes. Such a weird little kid, you were always so worried about what people thought of you.”

“I was never worried about what people thought of me. I don’t care what people think of me. I’m just…” Darcy’s feelings were hurt, Caleb could hear it in his voice. He thought his older brother was criticizing him.

“Super focused and a tad bit anal retentive. I think that about sums you up. But strangely that’s what drew me to you. That and you’re pretty.” Caleb turned in his seat to pull Darcy into a hug. “It’s charming on you.”

Damien laughed again, harder this time. “Oh, love is really blind.”

“Is this what having siblings is like?” Caleb wouldn’t let Darcy wriggle out of his embrace. “Because, I think I am happy to have been an only child if this is what you have to put up with, beb.”

“He’s not so bad.” Darcy finally relaxed in Caleb’s arms. “And he’s right. I hate when he’s right. It was like having a third parent sometimes. And Delilah was a tattle-tale. Couldn’t get away with anything growing up.”

“Sucks being the youngest,” Damien said, stroking the little boy’s silken hair as he started to drift off to sleep. It was barely ten in the morning but the children had been up since dawn for their first Christmas morning with their grandparents and aunt and uncle. ‘Uncles’, Caleb corrected himself. He’d gone all out for the children he’d only met once. After all, he had no nieces or nephews to spoil and would never have a child of his own. So why not spoil Darcy’s brother’s kids? He had nothing better to do with his money.

“It did suck being the youngest.” Darcy sighed, his gaze drifting out over the family spread out around the fireplace. “But no, I don’t regret leaving New Orleans. I missed being close to family. This is where I want to be. I just need to decide what I really want to do with my life and let the rest go. Hard decision. I enjoy everything I do. So choosing will be like cutting off a hand.”

Damien nodded along as the little boy sat up, fighting off sleep with a huge yawn. He reached for the car again, but Damien moved it out of his reach. “You’ll figure it out, Darcy. Spend some of your break actually taking a break. And you’ll figure it out. You’ve got a good thing right here. The restaurant is going to be impressive. And Bailey can figure out her own mess. That’s not on you.” Damien lifted the little boy and held him to his shoulder. “I think, since it’s getting so very close to nap time, we’re going to head out, hopefully the traffic will be light and we’ll get home in time for Santa.”

Caleb stood up, Darcy followed him. Time for goodbyes. And hugs. Darcy’s family liked to hug. A lot. Caleb could count on one hand the number of times his parents had hugged him and come up with fingers left over.

When they were alone Caleb collapsed onto the sectional and kicked at a sheet of wrapping paper. “So… you want the dishes or the paper clean up?”

Darcy settled onto the seat with him, lying on his back with his head on Caleb’s lap. “How about a nap? My family has a tendency to wear me out.” He flashed a tired smile that made his blue eyes sparkle, and Caleb’s heart skipped a beat, or three.

The yawn he’d been fighting off for the last hour escaped and Caleb tried to laugh it off. “Sounds like a plan. You want to go into the bedroom, or just sprawl out here?”

Darcy copied his yawn, his face stretching wide as his lingered. Caleb could see the fatigue he tried to hide along with faint lines around his pretty eyes. “Bed. Except I’m not sure I can get up now that I’m down.”

Caleb slid out from under him to kneel on the floor beside him. He traced his finger over Darcy’s lips and leaned in to whisper. “I think maybe, I can be convinced to take a stab at getting you up.”

“Oh, God, Caleb. What you do to me.” Darcy’s voice rasped with longing. He twined his fingers in Caleb’s hair and dragged his head closer. His kiss was soft, their lips barely touching. Darcy sighed into his mouth, sweet coffee scented his breath. “I love you.”

Caleb deepened the kiss as Darcy moved deeper into the couch dragging Caleb back onto the soft cushions to stretch out with him. Soft kisses became something almost desperate. Darcy twisted his fingers into Caleb’s hair and draped a leg over Caleb’s thigh. Caleb adjusted, fitting their bodies together, letting Darcy bring him to full heat. Nap forgotten, Caleb growled deep in his chest, deepening the kiss until Darcy was hard against him. “Love you, want you, need you, Darcy. I’ve never had anything like this with anyone, but you. And I want this so much.”

“Sex? I’m just sex to you?” Darcy didn’t sound like he minded so much as he chewed on Caleb’s bottom lip. “Fuck, I love sex with you.”

“It’s more than sex, you know that, right?” Caleb bent the knee under Darcy’s leg, angling their bodies so that they could lie together on the sectional, pertinent body parts touching. And rubbing. And hands under shirts, and down jeans and touching and biting. Darcy rolled him partly onto his back, his hips moving rhythmically, grinding denim against denim. Caleb gasped for breath, he’d forgotten what he was going to say. Darcy sucked hard at the base of his neck, his shirt falling open as Darcy’s nimble fingers had their way with the buttons. He arched into his lover, calling out for God to help him when the chimes echoed through his head.

“Fuck,” Darcy growled at the person standing just outside the still shuddering elevator. “Bailey! God dammit, are you psychic or just psycho?”

Startled, Caleb rolled off the sectional to sit heavily on the floor, trying to catch his breath.

“Oh, God, sorry. I’m so sorry.” Bailey did indeed stand right outside the elevator, she looked as embarrassed as Caleb felt. She flung her hands out to her side and twirled around to face the direction she’d just come. “The guy downstairs said it would be okay to come up. He didn’t say the elevator opened into your living room. I’m sorry.”

Caleb pulled his shirt together and buttoned up while Darcy lay flopped on the couch. Caleb could hear his teeth grinding. “What guy downstairs? Who let you in Bailey?” Her comment finally penetrated his lust-hazed mind. “There shouldn’t be anyone downstairs.”

“I don’t know. Big guy, black hair, tattoos down his arms. I think he’s your cook, he was wearing a chef’s jacket. I thought it was okay. I’m sorry.” She remained standing, facing the other direction. She’s dressed down today in a pair of denim leggings and a long button down shirt that hit her just above the knees with a cashmere sweater over that that didn’t go much past her baby bump. A pair of purple Chucks and bulky socks completed her outfit. She was just as lovely as Caleb remembered.

Caleb sighed and finger combed his hair. “It’s okay, Bailey. You can turn around, you weren’t interrupting anything.”

Darcy snorted. “That didn’t exactly feel like nothing to me.”

Caleb leaned back, resting his head on Darcy’s belly, he couldn’t resist laughing. “Oh, baby, that’s why I love you. Sex, sex, sex…all the time with the sexy cuddling.”

Darcy tapped him on the forehead, but Caleb could feel his tension melt away. “Asshole.”

“I know it.” Caleb reached over to pat him on the cheek. “I’m gonna go down and deal with mine. You deal with yours. I’ll be back up later and we’ll pick up where we left off.”

“In the bedroom, preferably without so many clothes in the way?” Darcy’s voice took on a hopeful pleading tone that was very much un-Darcy like.

“Oh, God, going to kill me…killing me. Killing me.” Caleb climbed to his feet and leaned over to kiss his lover. “I’ll be back in a little while, be nice, talk to her. Love you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, same back at you.” Darcy skimmed his jaw with fingers that trembled slightly. “I mean that. I love you.”

Caleb smiled, brushing a kiss over Darcy’s lips. “Be back.”

He left Darcy lying on the couch to find his shoes over by the fireplace. Bailey watched him walk past. She seemed just as nervous as Darcy. He stopped, he had no idea what to say to her after all these months. “Don’t hurt him,” he whispered and watched her eyes grow round as if he’d sliced her through the heart. “He loves you. He’s angry. Just don’t hurt him more than you already have.”

And he left, going down to face his own mess of a past.

Sept

Darcy loved the ceiling in their penthouse home. Funny how he’d never noticed it before today. It wasn’t anything special. Just a ceiling. High up, with exposed beams and venting ducts and ceiling fans hanging down between the beams and ducts, very industrial.

He listened for the elevator to close and the buzz of the motor working to take Caleb down to face his first love. Maybe he was jealous. Maybe even after everything Caleb had done and said to assure him that Bubba meant nothing to him, maybe, Darcy was still so freaking jealous he couldn’t form a thought that wasn’t about something as inconsequential as a ceiling.

“I’m leaving this afternoon to head up to see my parents,” she said from across the room. Her voice was different than he remembered. She seemed almost timid. One thing about Bailey, she was never timid. Always the aggressor. She’d instigated sex the first time, usually every time. She was the one who told him they were together. Just before she cheated. She was the one who convinced him that he should minor in journalism. She was the one who suggested he turn his need to write into a blog. The blog that became their magazine, his magazine. The one he gave up to escape her and her cheating aggressive ways.

“Okay,” he said. He studied the ceiling wondering if they put mirrors up there between the chrome ducts would anyone would notice. He liked the idea of watching Caleb make love to him on this sectional. He wondered when that kink had come about. And what other secrets he’d yet to discover about his own sexuality. He would have thought that at thirty he’d have that shit sorted.

“I wanted to say goodbye, and that I had a lovely time. And—”

“Consider it said. Thank you for coming.” Darcy tried to keep his gaze on the ceiling. He tried not to give a shit about…anything. The past was the past and their past was ugly. Ten years of…wrong. It wasn’t ugly as much as their pasts together had been wrong. He’d known for a couple of years that they weren’t right for each other. But their friendship had been right. She’d been the first person to try to get past his wall, the wall he put up because he didn’t know how to be like everyone else. He didn’t know how to be like Damien and his friends so he stayed away from them. Kept his silence when Damien and his friends had tried to make him feel bad for not playing ball or chasing girls…fuck.

He sat up on the sectional and tugged his shirt back into place. He resisted the urge to smooth his hair. He didn’t want to lose the ghost of Caleb’s fingers there, messing it up. He liked being messy for Caleb. He didn’t give a damn what Bailey thought of him. Not anymore. Not like he used to.

“Dar…” she said pausing when he flinched at the old nickname. “Darcy.” She bit her lip and pressed the palm of one hand into her back as she paced across the floor. She hadn’t come any further into the room, still standing in the foyer area over by the elevator. Her pale complexion was even paler today from lack of makeup, and maybe a hint of pain. “This is nice. Very upscale industrial. I like it.”

“I’ll tell Caleb you approve.” He watched her pace and press her back and felt guilty. “Why don’t you sit down?”

“Thanks, but no. The flight was too long. My back hasn’t stopped hurting since. Walking helps. And I’m going to drive the next couple of hours so…I’m sorry,” she blurted out suddenly, her voice hitting a pitch that made him wince. “I’m…Amber made me come. She made me fly up. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to go last night. I didn’t want to come here today.”

“Then why are you here? Amber has never been someone you paid much mind to. You could have stayed in New Orleans. Or gone on to your family.”

“And you wouldn’t have noticed or cared. I know. I get that.” She shouted at him from across the room. He remembered that day in his apartment when they’d fought. And how scared she was. He thought she was lying then. But the roundness of her belly and her full breasts told him she hadn’t been.

“For what it’s worth, Bailey, pregnancy looks good on you,” he said ignoring the truth of her shout. “It’s a shame Chester isn’t around for you.”

“The baby isn’t Chester’s.” She lost whatever anger she’d found only a moment ago and seemed to wilt. “I don’t know who the father is. Just that it’s not Chester’s. Or yours.”

He had no comment to that. How could he. What would he even say? And who was he to judge when he’d taken three partners in the last few months and had moved in with a man. “Why are you here?”

She turned to face him, her eyes sparkling with tears. “To say I’m sorry. I know it’s too late. I know we can never get back what we lost. But, I am sorry.”

He let that sink in as she flicked at the tears that she didn’t shed. “No, we can never go back. I don’t want to go back. I’ve found someone I’m happy with. I won’t give that up to go back to being an afterthought for you.”

“I didn’t mean to imply…” she said, pacing again, pausing as if she were looking for the right words. “No I mean. I can see that you’re happy. I thought for a long time that he’d manipulated you into sex. I thought you were straight and that he’s so…charming. I knew that day when he first walked into the office that he had his eyes on you. It made me crazy. And he’s gorgeous, talented, rich, famous. Everything that I’m not. And he wanted you.”

“And not you.” Darcy whispered the accusation, because he’d always suspected that Caleb’s inability to see her over him had been the main reason she’d set Chester on him that afternoon. “He didn’t see you and fall at your feet like you expect every man you meet to do. He saw me. He wanted me. And that pissed you off.”

“He took you away from me. Of course, it pissed me off. You were mine.” She shouted again, whirling on him. A streak of pain slashed through her eyes and was just as quickly gone.

“I was never yours, Bailey. I’m not Caleb’s either. I belong to me. I choose to be with Caleb. I’m not property and I’m tired of people thinking they can own me just by snapping their fingers. I’m not going to be used for sex when it’s convenient, and expected to wait at home like a good dog when it’s not.” He joined in the shouting.

“I didn’t do that to you.”

“You did. And I let you do it for ten years because I didn’t know…” Agitation drove him to his feet to pace counter to her. “I’m gay, Bailey. I didn’t recognize my own desires, for years. My fault. I was too busy with everything else in my life to notice that I wasn’t interested in sex with you or any other girl. And I was too self-absorbed to let myself look at men. I was being the good son, the good student, the good…what the fuck ever. I wasn’t true to myself and I should have ended the benefits portion of our relationship when I knew you weren’t right for me. My fault. I let things go on nine years longer than it should have.”

“You don’t mean that?” She stopped pacing to face him. Her bottom lip trembled. “We were in love.”

“I love you Bailey.” He couldn’t stop the words from tumbling past his lips. They were true. They’d always been true. “But I am not in love with you. I never have been. We should never have slept together. We’re better when we aren’t trying to be a couple. You were my best friend. Ever. You saw things about me that I never would have even considered. You made me better. And I’ll always be thankful that you came into my life. But I don’t love you the way you want me too.”

“I know,” she said, her voice broken. “I guess maybe I always knew. I’m…not handling this correctly. I’m supposed to be making the past few months right instead of—”

“Twisting the knife,” he said cutting her off. “Amber should keep her nose out of my business. And Caleb. They’re wrong on this. We can’t be just friends. Not anymore. Not after what Chester destroyed. Not after you let him destroy everything. Us. Me. Caleb. Our magazine. You destroyed our magazine. You destroyed everything we worked so hard to build.”

She looked as if he’d slapped her. “You walked away without a word to anyone. You walked out on me and the magazine. I’m not to blame for that. I’ve done my best. But I am not you. Amber is not you. We’ve done our jobs, but neither of us could fill your shoes. When you walked away, you killed us. Don’t blame that on me. That’s all on you. If you wanted out, you should have had a better plan. Amber wasn’t prepared to take over your job. Hell, no one can replace you. And while we’re at it, I didn’t tell Chester anything. He knew. He did all that on his own. I tried to get him off of you. I tried to stop that. You just walked the fuck away that day and no one knew where you went. You ran like a coward, leaving a mess behind for me to clean up when I had a mess of my own to clean up. Amber has done her best. But she’s—” Pain slashed across her face she cried out as she doubled over.

Darcy forgot his anger to go to her. “Bailey?” Fear crawled through him. He’d forgotten she was pregnant. He shouldn’t have fought with her, he should have accepted her apology and let her go on home. “Bailey, is it the baby?”

She stayed bent over, her hands pressing into her waist. Her breathing was harsh and ragged. “I think my water just broke,” she said gasping for air as another wave of pain swept over her. “Oh God. It’s too early, way too early.”

“Okay, okay.” Darcy watched in horror as a patch of wet spread down the inside of her legs. Terror twisted in his gut. “Okay, what do I do?”

“Call Amber,” she said and Darcy ran for his phone.

Huit

Caleb could smell cayenne pepper the moment he stepped out of the elevator. The lights in the back hallway were dim. Only bright enough to see his way to the kitchen door. The kitchen was empty, except for a large stockpot simmering on the stove. There was no noise, no music, no conversation. Not even the sound of rain that seemed to be a constant of late.

All was silent.

The hairs on the back of his neck told him all was not well.

He walked through the kitchen into the dining room and came to a stop. His childhood friend sat on a barstool, slumped over the gleaming mahogany of the bar he’d brought up from one of his grandfather’s dives, one that he and Jeb had gutted and sold off to the highest bidder. Except for the bar. There wasn’t another bar like it anywhere in the state of Oregon, one brought over from France by Jean Lafitte himself, or so the story went. Caleb doubted the story was true. Not much was. But then it was New Orleans. And Jean Lafitte’s own bar still stood, tucked away down Pirate’s Alley.

“Hey, Bubba Wayne, why aren’t you off having a last minute shopping day with my cousin?” Caleb hoped to sound as if everything was normal and that the last time he’d seen his friend it was after having his tongue in his mouth. “She kick your ass or something?”

“Or something,” Bubba said, Caleb could hear the clink of a spoon on china. “Didn’t have anywhere else to go. Wanted some gumbo. Like we used to do every Christmas. A big pot of gumbo and corn bread.”

“I remember. Gumbo would be nice. Gotta use that shrimp up before it spoils.” Caleb walked behind the bar to the coffee bar and started up the machine for a small cup of chicory. “Been a long time since I’ve done Christmas. I think I’ve forgotten how.”

“Just give people shit they don’t want, and feed them. It’s what it is. How’s your boy? His family still here?” Bubba stared at him when Caleb turned with his coffee to lean against the bar. His friend looked like something the cat dragged in and the kittens wouldn’t have.

“They left a bit ago to drive back to Washington. I think Darcy’s mama and papa are staying at the hotel for a few more days.” Caleb sipped from his demitasse, wincing at the black bitter brew he’d missed during the years he’d been in exile. Martha kept him in supply from one of the local coffee houses when he stayed in one place long enough for her to track him down.

“They was nice folks, sure. He’s a good man.” Bubba drank regular coffee, probably laced with whiskey. He hadn’t shaved in a while. He wore a white stained chef’s jacket, unbuttoned, the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. His eyes were red, either from the drink or from indulging in a bit of remorse for the night before.

“He is.” Caleb nodded, he had no idea what to say. His best friend sat broken on a bar stool and he didn’t have a clue what to do to fix it. “I love him, Bubba.”

“I know that, Remy, I got eyes.” He didn’t look at Caleb when he spoke. He didn’t shout, he seemed…lost.

Caleb sipped the last of his coffee. He’d regret the jolt of caffeine later. Especially after the three cups he’d had at breakfast. But he had the week ahead to sleep it off, in bed, with Darcy, and no school, or magazine, or students demanding his attention. Maybe he’d take Darcy off somewhere. Maybe New York. He still had his old apartment there. It wasn’t fancy, just an old brick walled industrial studio with leaky windows and a warm bed. But it was New York at Christmas, Darcy would love it there. All that snow.

“It just makes me want something I can’t ever have, you know,” Bubba said after the silence grew long. “I don’t know if I want it, but I’m…just so angry knowing it was mine once and I threw it away. I threw you away and I’ve had to live with that for more than twenty years.”

Caleb washed his coffee cup and wiped up the brew station, doing busy work to keep himself from saying something to make it all worse.

“Teela and me, we have an arrangement. She likes men. She brings one home for us to play with sometimes. It’s not like I haven’t…I have. And I love her, Remy, I do. I thought it was enough. The woman to hold and pretty men to scratch that itch that never goes away.” Bubba never looked at him. He drained his cup and reached for the pot for more. Caleb took it from his hands and filled the cup. He took a second cup and poured a half for himself. His hands shook as he spooned in sugar and poured in the cream. He needed to keep his hands busy and more caffeine was going to kill him.

“Teela is my cousin, you know. I don’t really want to know about what she get up to in her bed, cuz. It makes things, hinky between us,” Caleb said finally. The coffee was too sweet and his stomach knotted at the thought of pouring more acid in on top of what was already burning a hole in him.

“I didn’t know she was one of his bastards when I married her. You know that, right? I don’t think she knew about your grandfather. Her mama probably did, but Teela wasn’t part of that world. She was outside that life and I wanted something outside that life.” Bubba started talking; his eyes were vacant like he was in a different world, one long gone.

“That life damn near killed me, my grandfather was an evil man, we knew that back then. We all knew that. My daddy sold his soul to that man for money. He wanted money and power and everything my mother’s name could buy him. Goddamn his wife or his kid. Teela grew up different, she grew up better, without money and the cost of having that money.” Caleb let his own mind wander back to his youth. “I love her. Probably the only blood kin I have that I actually love. Maybe Jeb, when he’s not being Jeb.”

Bubba laughed, the sound bitter. “I’m sorry for lying that day, Remy. You were right. I was terrified that my old man was going to tear me apart for being with you. I didn’t stop to think that yours would do worse to you. I loved you, I did. I didn’t want any of that to happen.”

“But our world wasn’t going to let us be together. You know it. I know it. I knew it then, I was just…” he remembered the first blow, from his father’s belt, his grandfather standing in the shadows telling him exactly what he’d done. And if he ever put his dick in another man he’d kill him. Never mind that he and Bruce had never put their dicks anywhere in each other, never mind that Caleb was fourteen, never mind that he loved Bruce with all his heart. “When I got out of prison he told me if I ever came back to Louisiana he’d kill me. He told me he didn’t care if I was his last blood heir, he’d kill me and dump me in the bayou outside my mama’s house for the gators to finish off—for my mother to find my body.”

Bubba looked up at him then, maybe Caleb saw a tear in his eye, but he wasn’t sure. “I didn’t know. He never spoke of you. I couldn’t find you. Mostly because I was too afraid they’d find out I was sleeping with men on the down low. I didn’t look too hard. I heard once that your mama’s girlfriend was the only one who ever stood up for you. I heard once he tried to send her back to where ever she came from for daring to go see you. She got balls, that woman has, bigger balls than I have. Or your mama or daddy. Fuck, your daddy…he was worse than your grandfather. He was worse than my daddy. My daddy was just muscle, yours was a lawyer. He did his shit from behind the law.”

“And then one of the horses dropped him on his head, and stepped on it for good measure.” Caleb shrugged. He’d known his father was evil, all of his life. Didn’t mean he… “I don’t know why it matters that he never loved me. I don’t know why it matters that I was just property they all fought over until I became inconvenient and was disposed of.”

“Because…because the shit we grew up in fucks people up in the head, Remy. I’m fucked up. I know you are. Teela isn’t. Your boy Darcy is confused but he isn’t fucked in the head. Maybe we need people like that so we don’t skitter off the same deep end our people did. I never wanted that life, I ran from it. I ran from my father, went into the military so they couldn’t get to me. When I got out, I stayed away for years. Meeting Teela was the only reason I came back to stay.” Bubba reached for the bottle of whiskey that wasn’t put away. Caleb intercepted and put it out of his reach.

“No more drunken passes. You almost cost me the best thing that’s ever happened to me because you can’t stay sober and off memory lane,” Caleb said, watching his friend’s expression grow dark with anger. “Look, Bubba, we have to get this out of the way. Or—” His phone buzzed, cutting him off.

“Or? Or you’re going to fire me? Because of one little kiss?”

“It wasn’t just the kiss, Bubba Wayne. It was coming into our room and offering to join in. It’s…” his phone rang this time and Caleb pulled it out of his pocket; there was no ignoring Darcy’s ringtone. “Yeah, Beb.”

Darcy’s voice came over the line, he sounded terrified. His words were jumbled together and rushed to the point that Caleb couldn’t understand a word he said. “Slow down, Darcy. I can’t…”

“Bailey’s water broke. She’s in labor and I can’t get Amber on the phone. What do I do?” The shout came through loud and clear.

“Oh, fuck, okay. How the fuck do I know? We need to get her to the hospital. And…just get her downstairs. The car is in the garage and…it’s too small for all of us. Can you drive her?” Caleb paced behind the bar, dragging his hand through his hair. He could hear Bailey’s groan of pain, and Darcy’s panic, through the line.

Bubba reached into his pocket and tossed a set of keys across the bar. “Take the SUV. It’s right out front. If I go home, I’ll call a cab since I probably should call a cab anyway.”

Caleb grabbed the keys and started for the front door. “Darcy, come down to the restaurant. I have Bubba’s car, I’ll have it waiting. Grab my jacket.” He hung up after Darcy replied and stopped walking.

He couldn’t leave things hanging between him and Bubba. “I don’t want you to go,” he said picking back up the subject where they’d left off. “I don’t want to lose you or Teela. But—”

“But you’re with him and it’s serious and there’s no room for anyone else. I got that Remy. I am envious as hell, but I got that.” Bubba found the whiskey Caleb had tried to hide and poured some in his coffee. “Just go take care of the girly and…I’ll apologize to your boy and try to make it all right. Best we can do now.”

Caleb flipped the keychain around one finger. He shivered, not knowing why. Maybe it was the final death of his childhood or just a goose walking across his grave. He knew nothing would ever be the same as it was before, he’d known that most of his life. He just didn’t know why the loss of that life bothered him so much lately. “Yeah, Bubba, best we can do. Muddle on. Just save me some o’dat gumbo, cher, I gotta feelin’ it’s gonna be a long night.”

The day had turned cold since this morning, colder than anything Caleb had experienced so far in the Pacific North West. He could swear he smelled a hint of ice in the air as he opened up the Red SUV with Louisiana plates. He’d just started the engine and cranked the heater up to high when Darcy burst out of the restaurant. He carried a couple of jackets and the cheery red throw blanket they’d bought for the sectional. Bailey followed him, her hands were tucked under her belly which seemed so much lower than it had the night before. She stopped after a couple of steps and leaned over. She reached for Darcy’s hand and held on tight for a moment. When she was able to stand again, Caleb could see pain and fear on her pale face.

He opened the back door for her and Darcy to climb inside. He took the wheel and started to pull out on the road when the bickering started. “Did she say she’s coming?” Bailey growled at his lover.

“She said she was on her way down and would meet us on the street, not to go into the hotel lot. Caleb, look for Amber on this side of the street. Is that good?”

“Well, she’s been there for me when no one else has. She didn’t fucking desert me to have this baby alone.”

“It’s not my baby.” Darcy shot back.

“It’s not Amber’s either, but she fucking stayed. She didn’t turn tail and run away when things…oh fuck. Not another one. Time…what’s the time?”

“I don’t know, I don’t have a watch. Or my wallet or…why do you need the time?”

“The time between. How long between. God, this hurts.” She must have squeezed Darcy’s hand again. This time he yelped.

“A couple of minutes, maybe less.” Caleb supplied. He wasn’t sure how long between the one contraction that bent her over on the sidewalk and now. He eyed the clock on the dash for the exact time. “Ten fifty-two.”

“See, he gets it.” Bailey’s voice was softer now. The pain had passed. “Did you tell her to get my purse? I need my insurance information…and oh God.”

“Ten fifty-three.” Caleb called out over her attempt at labor breathing, and Darcy’s cry of pain.

“Nails, Bailey. I’ll hold your hand but stop digging your nails into me. It hurts.”

“Yeah…well…fuck you,” Bailey replied, her breathing still coming in pants as the pain receded.

“Not since March. And seriously, we want to keep blaming me for running off when you and Chester had been plotting at least that long to run me off since that conference in Miami.”

“Where we got drunk and I….Jesus. Not again.”

“Ten fifty-four.”

“Why is it you would only sleep with me when you were drunk? Even back in school I couldn’t get you naked unless someone whipped out the Jack.”

“Because he’s gay sweetheart.” Caleb answered when Darcy couldn’t.

“But you aren’t, are you?” She sounded accusing. Caleb wasn’t sure what he was being accused of.

“Bi-sexual. And if I’d met you first, maybe. But I really do lean more toward men. I hate labels. Why is this about me all of a sudden?”

“Because you took him away from me.”

“I was never yours. Why don’t you understand that? Fuck, nails, Bai. Nails!”

“Fifty-five.” Caleb saw the flash of colored skirts and red flaming hair on the sidewalk in front of a closed insurance office. He pulled over to the side and hit the door locks for Amber to climb in.

“Hey, what’s going on in here?” She seemed confused when she was in and the door was closed, she turned in her seat with a smile, that fell as soon as she saw Bailey and Darcy and felt the tension in the air.

“Obviously we’re having a baby and a come-to-Jesus meeting all up in here,” Caleb answered. “Her water broke less than ten minutes ago. Her contractions are around a minute apart.”

Amber looked at him as if he had two heads. “It’s too early. She’s not due for six more weeks. We need to get to the hospital.”

“Where do you think we’re going? Whale watching? Seatbelt please,” Caleb said, looking in the side mirror while she buckled. As soon as he heard the click he was back on the street heading in the direction of the nearest hospital.

“Are you breathing?” Amber turned in the seat to look at the passengers. “Don’t dig your nails into Darcy’s hands.”

“I’ve been saying,” Darcy agreed.

“It fucking hurts. Sack up.”

“I don’t have to. I’m not the one knocked up.”

“You’re an asshole. Why did I never know this about you?”

“Because I was just a dude with a dick who was great at research to you. After that you didn’t know I was alive.”

“Well, you are right about that, you are a dick. Fuuuckk. I think this baby is coming now. She’s pushing on my cervix.”

“Fifty-seven.”

“She can’t be coming now. It’s only been ten minutes.” Amber shouted into the mayhem. “First babies take hours, that’s what all of those classes said. How can she be coming in only ten minutes?”

“I don’t know. Ask someone who knows. Sleep with a person once and…fuuck…”

“Fifty-seven…still…Wait you two…when?” Caleb dared a glance in the rearview to see Bailey’s face turn a bright red, and not from pain.

“Last night. After she walked in on the two of you.”

“Jesus, Amber, you swore you’d never tell.”

“I didn’t, babe, that was all you.”

“I’m not your babe. Oh God, make it stop.”

“That’s not what you said last night. Either one of those.”

“I am not a lesb…oh God…bian.”

“I’m thinking you protest too much,” Darcy added with a smirk on his face. “It would make sense.”

“What would make sense? I am not gay. I am…” she let out a long, low wail that Darcy echoed.

“Fifty-eight.”

“Shut up, okay. Just everyone shut up. I am not a lesbian. And stop counting.”

“Then you’re a slut who’ll sleep with anyone who gives you attention.” Amber spoke quietly, her words were laced with hurt and anger. “That’s why you used Darcy and slept with everything that moved when you were freaked about sleeping with just one guy. Last night was no different. I was just someone to lean on when the chips were down. Well, fuck you, Bailey. Oh wait, I already did, now I’m just another person you’ve used because you’re confused about your own self-worth.”

“I am not a slut.”

“Well, hon, you sort of are.” Caleb couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out. “Take it from another slut. I’ve slept my way around the world, but I own that about myself. I own that I’ve fucked up my life more times than all three of you combined possibly ever could have. I own that some of what happened in New Orleans was my fault. Darcy ran from me, not you.”

“I ran from myself and my truths. I ran because I was afraid of the truth that I’d found more pleasure in a man’s bed than I’d ever found in…”

“Mine…” Bailey finished Darcy’s thought. “I made you gay?”

“No, Bai, you didn’t turn me gay.”

“That was Caleb and his wicked green eyes. And that slutty Cajun tongue of his. I mean he could turn me straight.” Amber laughed and grabbed on to the armrest when Caleb took the turn into the emergency room lot too fast. “Fuck don’t kill us, Caleb.”

“Just thinking about what it would take to turn you straight, my pretty little pixie chick.” Caleb smiled, happy that the yelling had come to a stop. “I didn’t have to turn Darcy, he was already there; he just needed someone to point that out to him. Well, that and I couldn’t see anything else with him shining all golden all around me. I fell in love with him the second I laid eyes on him in my uncle’s bar. And I threw him away because I was scared that he was going to learn all of my dirty secrets and see me as some kind of monster. And when he ran, I nearly died. It’s all my fault for everything that happened in New Orleans. If I had never come into that building. If…”

“We’d all still be wandering around with our dicks in our hands,” Amber said as she unlocked her belt and opened her door. “Stop blaming yourself. Your mother was dying. You found the love of your life and had all of our shit fall on you at the same time. And that’s the last I’m going to hear about blame and fault and all that bullshit. Fifty-nine. Christ, they’re less than a minute apart.”

Amber tumbled out of the SUV in a flurry of skirts to run for the doors; a second later she was back with a person in scrubs running behind her with a wheel chair. She went to Bailey’s door and took her hand. “Okay, Bai, let Darcy go, we’re here. You can let him go.”

“I can’t let him go, I need him. He doesn’t understand how much I need him. I can’t be me without him,” Bailey said, sobbing now. “I hurt him, I know I did. I’m sorry I hurt him. I love him. Can’t he see that? Can’t you see that? I love both of you and I need both of you.”

“Okay, babe, okay.” Amber tossed a look at Caleb, there were tears in her eyes. Caleb came around to help Amber coax her out of the car. He took the blanket she had pressed between her thighs and reached in behind her, and under her legs, while Amber held her hand and Darcy scooted along the seat holding the other hand. “Let’s just get you inside. Darcy is with you. Come on, babe.” The look Bailey threw him startled him.

“You’ve lost your English,” Darcy said, smiling in the face of Caleb’s confusion. “You’re speaking French.”

“Oh, sorry. I…yeah. Sorry, it happens when I’m terrified.” Caleb scooped Bailey, who was now looking at him with her eyes wide. “I’ve never had a baby before, what can I say?”

“Me either,” she replied, and he could feel her slender body trembling as he lifted her from the car. “I’m scared, Caleb. I’m so scared.”

“You’re doing wonderfully. The baby is fine, we’re all here. It’s gonna be fine, Bebelle. We’re gonna have this bebe together. All us, here.”

“You’re a strange man, you know that?” She went incredibly pale when he set her into the chair. “Don’t leave me, Caleb. Okay? Just don’t leave, not again.”

“I won’t, cher. I’ll be right here.”

“Okay, good. Let’s go have this baby.”

Caleb followed their small ragtag group into the emergency room, everything he’d planned for the future hanging on the words of a frightened waif of a woman and her premature child.

Not twenty minutes later, he forgot he’d ever learned English while his life spun out of control and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it as the dark haired, blue-eyed baby stole Darcy’s heart the moment he held her in his arms.

Neuf

The delivery room was cold. Darcy couldn’t stop shivering. The baby he held wrapped in a blanket couldn’t stop crying. The sound was more of a high-pitched creak like rusty door hinges than anything. Or a small animal. Or a baby just born using lungs and a voice it had never used before while being held by a strange person in a freezing cold room.

“A nice full term little lady, all pink and squishy with ten fingers and ten toes,” one of the nurses said while she finished filling out the form she’d started just before she placed the baby in Darcy’s hands. “And she has her father’s eyes.”

“What? Wait? No.” He tried to hand the baby back. Bailey should be the first to hold her. Or Amber. Anyone but him. “She’s not my…”

“Full term?” Amber held Bailey’s hand while they cleaned her up. Darcy couldn’t even glance at what was still taking place between Bailey’s legs. He’d looked when the doctor told him to look, only to see what looked suspiciously like a scene from a Sci-Fi movie playing out down there. Caleb had to hold him upright when he’d threatened to face plant on the hard tiled floor. “Her doctor has her at thirty-four weeks. How can she be full term?”

“She’s small. Only six pounds. But she’s got a fully functioning set of lungs and everything is checking out at a good healthy thirty-nine weeks here,” the nurse who’d done the post-delivery weighing and measuring spoke up. “She’s perfect. Now you just need a name and Dad and Mom can rest easy tonight.”

“I’m not…” Darcy held the baby gingerly, his gaze drifting from Bailey, who refused to look his way, back to the baby. She had a shock of solid black hair that covered her otherwise bald baby head. Her eyes were a strange silvery shade of blue. He could see himself in his own baby pictures. “She can’t be, we weren’t together when she was conceived. Last time we were together was the last week of March and I barely remember it.”

“Late March, sounds about right,” the nurse said. She had a wheel thingy in her hands and was spinning it around and doing strange things. “Christmas eve, go back thirty-nine to forty weeks. Puts conception somewhere in the last week of March.”

Darcy searched for Caleb, his hands shaking so much he was about to drop the baby. Caleb wasn’t in the room. He’d been there, Darcy was sure of it. In all of the confusion and the rushing to get Bailey into a delivery room before she dropped the baby on the emergency room floor, they’d allowed all three of them into the room. Bailey still wore most of her clothes. They’d only had time to get her pants and shoes off before the baby crowned. Twenty minutes. Had it even been that long?

“March? I was drunk. She was drunk.”

“I wasn’t drunk. Jesus, Darcy, please. Okay, I know we haven’t had the best relationship. But in March—”

“You planned that conference. It was all last minute and you only booked one room saying that the hotel was full. You planned that weekend, didn’t you?”

“Does it matter?” Bailey sounded tired and defeated. “I didn’t sleep with anyone but you then. I…gave up on trying to win you back in May. I thought he was the father. I thought. I didn’t do it on purpose. I don’t know how it happened. I swear, Darcy.”

“She’s mine?” Darcy’s knees gave out and he slid down the wall. He was a father. “Caleb? Where did Caleb go?”

“Your friend left a few minutes ago. He said he needed some air,” one of the other nurses said as she took the baby from Darcy. “Are you okay? Sir? Are you okay?”

He couldn’t stop the sob that sounded like a strangled walrus was in his throat. “I’m fine.” He blurted out the words. “I’m…she’s my daughter. Where’s Caleb? I don’t know what to do right now. I’m sorry.”

Two warm hands gripped his, they were small and soft and very much not Caleb’s. Amber crouched on the floor beside him, tears shining in her eyes. “It’s okay, Darcy. It’s okay.”

“Is it? I…you’re in love with her? Do you know what this means? A baby needs parents. I’m a parent. I never planned to be anyone’s parent. I still need a parent. I’m not cut out to be married with a kid and a mortgage.” He needed Caleb. He needed to be pinched or slapped or something so he could wake up from this nightmare. “She’s a beautiful baby. She has my eyes.”

“I know, baby. I know.” Amber wrapped her arms around Darcy’s shoulders and they sat together on the floor with the doctor and nurses giving them strange looks and whispering while Bailey held her baby for the first time. Darcy could see the tears roll down her face. She should be happy, she shouldn’t be crying. He was such an ass making her cry when she should be happy. He should be happy.

“You should go be with her. She shouldn’t be crying,” he said louder than he meant. “She should be happy.”

“I am happy you dolt. I am very happy. And I’m scared and I’m angry. And I’m terrified. And…I’m not marrying you. I don’t want to get married just because we had sex. I won’t ruin your life.”

“You can’t take her away from me, Bailey.” Fear like he’d never experienced snaked through his chest, making his skin tight and his breathing hard.

“Sir, if you continue to shout we’ll have to escort you from the room,” another nurse told him.

“Maybe…maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe I need to go. I don’t think I can be here right now.” He stood up and Amber followed him. She held onto him for a long moment, pulling him into her arms. She had to stand on her toes to hug him, but she hugged him.

“Go find Caleb. We’re not going anywhere tonight, or tomorrow either. Maybe even this week. There’s time to talk, plenty of time to talk,” Amber whispered in his ear. She was crying freely. Tears stained his shirt. Some were even Amber’s.

“Where’d he go? I didn’t see him leave.” He wanted nothing more than to find Caleb and know that nothing had changed when everything had changed. His baby would be living in New Orleans. His baby. His. The doctorate was off the table. There was no way he could afford that now with a baby to support. Which meant his teaching job would go to some other deserving teaching assistant. Which meant he was unemployed and probably about to lose the love of his life because of something that happened long before he met him. “Fuck, Amber, he’s gone.”

“He isn’t gone. He wouldn’t just run off. He doesn’t know the baby might be yours. I think he really did go out for some air. This isn’t his…he was in the way. I’m sure that he’s right out in the waiting room or looking for a vending machine. Something.” Amber squeezed his hands in hers as she walked with him to the doors. He was already pulling off the mask and surgical covers they’d given him to wear.

“Okay, yeah, sure.” He leaned down and kissed her hard on the mouth. He’d never kissed anyone but Caleb and Bailey before. Not that he counted a closed mouth kiss a real kiss, but Amber looked surprised. “Sorry. Just…love you. Like the sister I never had.”

“I met your sister last night, she’s perfectly nice, maybe a bit high maintenance, but nice. And just as gorgeous as you are with long glossy black hair and bright blue eyes…oh lord, that baby is going to look just like your sister in twenty years. With legs up to her boobs.” Amber emitted a hysterical sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. “She’s going to be a heart breaker. Just like her dad.”

“I haven’t broken any hearts that I’m aware of.” Darcy cast one last look over his shoulder as the doors swung open. “I’m…I’ll be back tomorrow okay. We’ll…”

“We’ll figure things out tomorrow. There’s a lot to talk about now. More than you even know about. Things we were going to discuss before went back ho…I was going to say home. When did New Orleans become home?” Amber pulled her mask back up and stepped back into the room. “Just…be okay, Darcy. It’s going to be okay. I hope,” she said, and then she was behind the door and Darcy was standing alone in the deserted hallway with no sign of Caleb or anyone to ask.

He wandered the floor looking for his lover or a vending machine, restroom, anywhere Caleb could have possibly gone in the last few minutes. He was simply gone. None of the orderlies or nurses he passed had seen him. And Darcy was used to people knowing exactly whom he was describing. Caleb stood out. There was just something about him that everyone noticed, but not today.

He made his way back to the ER waiting area hoping to find him. He had no idea where the SUV was parked. Caleb had handed the keys off to a valet for that. Darcy didn’t know there was valet parking at this hospital. Of course, he’d never been here before. The attendant wasn’t around now.

He paced and checked his phone. Caleb hadn’t left a message. So he texted Caleb, but if he was still inside the hospital he’d never get it.

He didn’t remember actually getting into a cab until he was in front of the restaurant and realized he had neither his wallet nor his keys to let himself inside. Bubba Wayne opened the door when he banged. He looked like shit, drunk shit at that, but he was there and he had cash and paid the cabbie. Darcy didn’t notice the floor under his feet as he walked to the bar. He didn’t notice what was in the bottle he grabbed. He sure as hell didn’t care when the whiskey hit his belly. Half the bottle later, he looked up from where he’d sat on the floor in front of the beer fridge and noticed Bubba Wayne giving him a concerned look from the other side of the bar.

“Well, fuck you and the horse you rode in on, I don’t need a drunk judging me.” Darcy felt the liquor simmer through his veins, giving him courage he’d never had before. Or was that recklessness? Courage, recklessness, who cared if there was a difference. “And while I’m thinking about it. You can’t have him. He’s mine and fuck you for trying to…for coming…for something. Just fuck you.”

Bubba poured himself a cup of coffee. He didn’t smile or laugh or get angry. He just looked…about as lost and confused as Darcy felt. “Y’all left out of here a little more than an hour ago to have a baby. Only you came back. Is the girlie okay?”

“Fuck…” Darcy wasn’t expecting that response and his reply was lost while he tried to sort out what his answer should be. “I don’t…she had the baby. It’s mine. I’m a daddy.”

“I take it you weren’t aware that card was in play?” Bubba didn’t sound as drunk as Darcy wanted him to sound. He sounded…concerned…maybe happy about this little development in case that meant Caleb was back on the market.

“No. Yes. No. I wasn’t expecting to have to give up…I…a baby. She’s going to look just like my sister and be a heartbreaker and…I can’t lose him. I just found him. He’s gone because I’m going to have to marry Bailey. And…fuck you. This is your fault.”

“If you say so Cochise, but I’m pretty sure I never bearded that particular dragon. Teela woulda cut my dick off if I messed with another woman.”

“But men are okay?”

“Sure. I get the itch. She likes to help me scratch it.”

“They’re cousins. That’s pretty twisted.”

“I don’t think Remy would ever agree to a threesome with me and Teela. He wouldn’t even agree to a threesome with me and you.”

That caught Darcy off guard. He sputtered as he dragged in more drink, almost spewing the whiskey back out. “Wh…what the fuck?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

Maybe Darcy remembered something from earlier in the week. Maybe… “No. Maybe. Why me? Because there’s no way to be with him without me?”

“Cher, I’d take you right now if you so much as winked at me. Watching you with Remy is driving me fucking crazy. But so you know, he was mine a long time ago.”

“He’s mine now and I don’t share what’s mine, just so you know.” Darcy thought he growled the warning. He hoped he did at least. He feared he just slurred his words.

“He said something similar about you.” Bubba poured more coffee and sipped slowly.

“You drink too much coffee.”

“I’m not the one sitting on the floor with an almost empty bottle of Scotland’s best rotgut between my legs.”

“Yeah…well…fuck you. My ex-girlfriend just had my baby. My lover left me. I don’t know if…what the fuck am I going to do now? Give up everything here and go back to New Orleans?”

“Well, that would be my first choice, but that’s home to me. This is your home. Remy done uprooted himself to be up here for you. And this place ain’t even open yet.”

“Why do y’all’s accents go from normal to Cajun without any warning? Warn me when I need a fucking translator.”

Bubba just laughed.

“Did I say y’all’s?”

“Yeah, pretty boy, you said y’alls. That would be all y’alls, but I’m letting grammar issues go for now.”

“Oh, fuck me, from a guy who doesn’t know who from whom and you’re letting my grammar slide….well—fuck you.”

“You keep asking, baby. I’m going to take it for an invitation, and then Remy will beat me shitless and send me back down the bayou. He can do it too. I seen him play bouncer in that place he got down in Storeyville more than once. He might have been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, but he is his grandfather made over. Except he has a conscience. I never did understand where he got that from, no one else in his family has one. ‘Cept maybe Jeb, but they’s something funny about Jeb anyways.”

Darcy laughed. He drained the bottle and tucked it back between his thighs. “I don’t know whether to laugh or cry over the fact that I understood most all of that.”

“Hang around with us long enough, cher, you’ll be talking right in no time at all.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Bubba smiled at him this time. At least Darcy thought he saw a smile. There were two Bubba’s now. He hadn’t had double vision since a week after he’d had his eyes fixed. Now he was worried that he’d messed that up, his vision. “I don’t want to go back to wearing glasses.”

Bubba laughed, long and loud and Darcy’s stomach pitched a fit now that most of bottle of whiskey was swishing around in there.

“I have no idea what that means, cher. Are you drunk?”

“I was aiming for drunk. Or something. The room is moving.”

“Yep, sho’nuff. Okay, pretty boy, let’s get you up to that penthouse you live in before you face plant and I have to carry you up. Or worse, puke your guts up on my nice clean floor.”

Bubba came around the bar and took the bottle from him. He lifted Darcy’s arm over his shoulder and forced him to his feet. Darcy’s ankles were bendy and traitorous, but he eventually got his feet working. “You smell like coffee and gumbo.”

“I made some gumbo. You want some?”

Darcy didn’t answer. He bent over and released all of the whiskey from his gut onto the glitter flecked concrete floor. After that he didn’t remember much else as soft hands and an even softer voice helped him off with his soiled clothing and into his very soft bed. A warm hand on his ass cheek might have been his imagination. Or maybe his dick was just mistaking the accent and was confused. Thank God for whiskey…dick.

The room was very dark and very quiet when he finally woke up. He ran his tongue over his teeth to try and loosen the enamel from his gums. He was naked and cold and his head hurt so badly he thought a bass drummer had taken up residence in his skull.

He sat up and leaned over his side of the bed. There was a glass of water and ibuprofen on the nightstand. So he wasn’t alone after all.

He reached for the pills and downed them in one swallow, draining the water in a second swallow. God, he was thirsty. He remembered coffee at breakfast and then more coffee…and then…baby.

Fuck.

Not much after that.

He dragged the comforter off the bed and wrapped it around his body while he padded on the cold floor into the bathroom. Pissing hurt. The whiskey burning through his system hurt even worse. He was hung over, but so far the urge to vomit wasn’t there.

He rinsed his mouth out and brushed his teeth to get rid of the dead mouse flavor that seemed to coat his tongue.

He wouldn’t look in the mirror. He didn’t want to see what he looked like after his bender. He didn’t want to know if the memory of a gruff Cajun voice and rough Cajun hands on his body had been real or part of the nightmare he found himself unable to wake up from.

His stomach roiled, but he couldn’t tell if it was the whiskey. He was pretty sure he’d fallen into a barrel of whiskey at some point. Or if he was hungry. Probably the former.

He pulled the comforter tighter around his body and walked out into the darkened outer room. He didn’t know what to call where they lived. It was once just one big space, now it was one big space with a bedroom and bath. The rest of it was all one room: the penthouse, a loft, apartment.

Home.

But would it be his home for much longer?

The room was cold and at first glance, empty. He’d thought maybe Caleb had brought in the pain meds. But it was most likely his unlikely ally in drunkenness. Bubba what the fuck ever his name was. Bruce Wayne? Oh hell, that really was worse than Darcy Rhett Butler. Maybe.

He smelled sweet smoke. The fireplace was cold and dark. The city lights shone past the balcony. Christmas colors twinkled all over town. He wondered if he’d missed Santa.

The balcony door was open, he followed the scent outside to find the quiet man behind the orange-ish glow from the end of a cigar.

“I’ve never seen you smoke,” he said from the doorway. Snow fell lightly past the shelter. Caleb sat quietly, his booted feet propped up on a railing. “Are you cold?”

“I’m okay, not really feeling anything right now, beb.” His accent was thick. His voice was different. He sounded as if he’d been drinking, not that Darcy had any room to talk. “How ‘bout you? You hungry?”

“Hung over.” Darcy admitted. His heart was thumping too fast in his chest. Was this all that was left? Just some small talk about the weather and food.

“Bubba said you drank enough to kill a horse. He said you’d probably be out for a while.” There was curiosity in his voice. Maybe accusation. Darcy didn’t know if there was reason for accusation. Did something happen between him and Bubba that he couldn’t remember?

“I think he…helped me up to bed. I think I threw up on his shoes.” Darcy rubbed his temples with one hand and held the comforter closed with the other. He shivered. He didn’t really feel the cold, but he couldn’t stop shivering. “Don’t leave me, okay. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but please, don’t leave me.”

Caleb was on his feet before Darcy had the plea out of his mouth. He stood there, the slim cigar clutched in one hand, the twinkling lights from the balcony shimmered in the silver wrapped around his wrist. He just stood there staring at Darcy, his eyes concealed in the shadows. “Why would I leave you?”

Darcy could hear the same fear and uncertainty he was feeling echoed in Caleb’s voice. “I couldn’t find you. I thought you left when you found out the baby…” but he’d left long before Darcy had discovered he had a daughter. Caleb hadn’t known.

“I know that she’s your daughter, Darcy. I’m not leaving now. I’m here for the long haul. I’m not waiting for something to come along and scare me off.” Caleb crushed the cigar out in the glass bowl that sat on the table next to his chair.

“You knew?” Darcy wondered how he’d found out.

“I knew the minute I laid eyes on the squalling little face, beb. She’s yours. You can have tests run if you want, but I know she’s yours.”

“And that doesn’t scare you?”

“Of course it does, Darcy. I’m scared out of my mind. I’m scared you’re going to leave me now. I’m afraid that Bailey won. That she schemed and planned and she won. I’m afraid…I’m destined to be alone.” Caleb’s voice hitched in the dark. Darcy could hear his fear and his sorrow. “But she’s your bebe, beb. She’s a part of you and I’m going to be here for you as long as you allow me to be.”

“I’m not marrying Bailey. We don’t work. We can’t…it’s wrong to get married when we don’t even like each other, just because we have a daughter now.”

“But you’re conflicted just the same.”

“She’s my baby. I didn’t know I wanted to be a father until…” until he was sitting on the floor getting blitzed out of his mind. “I have to be in her life. I don’t know how that’s going to work. Bailey is going back to New Orleans. She’s going to take the baby. I might not ever see her again.”

“We can go. I have property all over the city, we can be there. You can get custodial rights. We can take her to court.”

“I’m not going to force something like that on Bailey.” Darcy felt the comforter slip as his hands shook. He tried to grab it before it hit the floor. Caleb was there, his hands shaking just as much, holding the cover around Darcy’s shoulders as he wrapped him in his arms. “I can’t be that person.”

“I know, beb. I know. You’re Clark Kent. You’re Superman, the good guy who takes care of everyone and never yourself, I know.” Caleb whispered in his ear, holding him close. He smelled of cold and sweet cigar smoke with a hint of bacon and the chicory coffee he loved so much. Darcy buried his face in Caleb’s neck, under his hair, he wrapped his arms around Caleb’s waist and held on to him as if his life depended upon it. “You’re freezing, Darce. Let’s get you inside.”

Darcy let him guide him into the apartment and close the door to shut out the winter night. He didn’t stop shivering. “It’s Christmas, isn’t it? This was supposed to be our first Christmas together. And now it’s…”

“Perfect.” Caleb finished for him. “Until we sort this all out, Darcy, today was perfect. Maybe not exactly what I envisioned for my first traditional family Christmas…maybe ever…but it was…perfect. There’s a perfect little lady that’s part of our family now, and years of spoiling her rotten to look forward to. Of waiting for Papa Noel, and putting together bikes and Barbie dream houses. Of teaching her how to paint and…she’s my baby girl too. She’s Amber’s, she’s Bailey’s, she’s got four parents Darcy. If we have to be two families then we will. Or we can be one.” Caleb reached behind him and pulled out a long slim box that was crushed from being in his pocket. “I didn’t know what to get you until tonight. I was going to book a flight to New York or maybe to Hawai’i or anywhere you wanted to go, but…I think this is what you want. I think this is what you need.”

Darcy took the crushed box and pulled the ribbon off. It was a long cardboard jeweler’s box that might have contained a watch, but it didn’t. There was a roll of paper inside, tied with a ribbon like the fake diploma he’d received back in high school while the real one was being printed. “It’s too dark to read it,” he said when he unrolled the sheet of parchment.

“Oh, yeah, a lamp would help, wouldn’t it?” Caleb let him go long enough to turn on the only lamp they owned. “Wait until I get the fire started okay. It’s cold. I should have started it when I came home.”

Darcy held the scroll in his hands, his brain circling back around to that afternoon and Caleb’s disappearance. “Where did you go? I mean after the birth. I looked all over the hospital and I couldn’t find you. I called you and left you a message.”

Caleb hit the switch for the gas fireplace and turned to face him in the dim lighting, the fire at his back. He didn’t meet Darcy’s gaze. “I, uh, freaked out. I’m not proud of it. I was just going to step outside and find a waiting room. Clear my head. I knew the baby was yours and I saw you fall in love with her. I thought the same thing you did, that we were over. That you would leave to be her father. And…” he looked up then and Darcy saw the stark terror in his eyes. “I thought I’d lost you and I wasn’t going to be a dick about it. So I kept walking until I was in the parking lot. I went to the bookstore and a toy store and then a children’s clothing boutique and I did what I do when I can’t cope. I spent money, lots of money. And when I got back to the hospital you were gone. Amber said you’d left a long time before that. We talked a few minutes. Bubba called me and told me he’d left you naked and unconscious. I came home and tried to beat his brains into the floor…and then came out here to get drunk and wait for you to wake up.”

“And the cigar?” Darcy tried not to laugh. He felt it in his chest, bubbling and brewing. Caleb was jealous, and Bubba was probably running for the bayou as Darcy stood there trying not to laugh.

“I haven’t had a good cigar in years. I thought all new papas handed out cigars for the birth of their first child. So I bought some nice cheroots. And stop laughing at me and look at your damned present.” Caleb quirked a smile, but didn’t so much as even breathe for the next couple of minutes while Darcy read the document, the whole document.

“You’re giving me the entire second floor? Why?” He tried not to wonder why the contract read only for his personal use…and what exactly that meant…besides the only conclusion he was jumping too. “Do you want me to move out?”

Caleb sighed, and Darcy felt stupid, like he wasn’t getting the bigger picture.

“No, cher, I want you to take back your magazine. I want you to have an office to put the one in New Orleans to shame. I want you to do what you really deep down inside want to do with your life. On your terms. I’m giving you the space and the means to rebuild Y Not Ask Y! Or if you prefer, start over from scratch. Hire new people, bring the old ones home. We’ll have contractors in it as soon as the holiday is over. You can be up and running before Mardi Gras.”

“What about the baby? What if Bailey doesn’t want to relocate back to Oregon? What if—”

“Amber does. Amber is just as homesick as you were. And Bailey doesn’t know it yet, but she’s in love with Amber. They’ll stay. Amber will make sure they stay. We both think Bailey wants to come back, but her pride isn’t allowing her to admit it. She doesn’t like being wrong, cher. But this time, this time I think she’s been waiting for someone to come in and tell her it’s time to come home. That it’s okay. That she’s got people who have her back. Just like I have your back and Amber has your back and most of your staff has your back.” Caleb was talking fast, his accents merging from Cajun to South Carolina coastal to French and back. He was scared and Darcy just wanted him to stop talking.

He laid the gift on the table beside the lamp and turned the light off. Dropping the comforter on the floor he closed the distance between them and kissed Caleb, effectively shutting him up. Caleb trembled beneath Darcy’s hands.

“Marry me,” he said when the kiss ended. He surprised even himself. “I love you. I can’t stand the thought of losing you. I know it’s not possible, not now, but one day, when it is. Remy Caleb Lasseigne Mitchell, I want to marry you. I want that more than I want a magazine or a doctorate or the moon. I’ve never felt like I do about you before. I’ve never been in love before. I’ve never—”

“Yes.” Caleb crushed his lips to Darcy’s, shutting him up. “Yes, please. We’ll find a state that will marry us. Soon. And we’ll help raise our daughter. And get rocking chairs and shotguns and chase the boys off her. And feed them to the gators.”

“There are no gators in Oregon.”

“Well, not yet. Maybe I’ll get a couple for the restaurant. Something. I’ll make it happen.”

Darcy’s legs hit the sectional cushion and he lost his balance; he grabbed Caleb around the waist making sure that if he went down Caleb would follow. “I don’t think the city will allow live alligators in a restaurant.”

Caleb followed, landing hard on Darcy making them both breathless with love and laughter…and bodily damage. “Then we’ll start a zoo. Or something. Details. I’ll figure it out…later…after I wish you a Bonne Christmeusse. Our first one together. Gators or no gators, Darcy, here or there. I will be here for you. Un jour a la fois. One day at a time. As long as we’re together.”

“That’s good.” Darcy wriggled under him to free his legs. He wrapped around Caleb and pulled him in for a kiss. “Merry Christmas. I love you.” He tugged at Caleb’s shirt, pulling it over his head. “No more talk about gators.”

Caleb smiled and nipped Darcy’s bottom lip between his very sharp teeth. The clock on the mantel chimed out a Christmas tune, then the midnight hour. “Merry Christmas, mon amour doux,” Darcy said, repeating the words Caleb had said their first night together.

“My sweet love,” Caleb whispered softly, taking Darcy in much the same way as he had that night so many months ago.

“J’aime yous baiser,” Darcy said, opening for him.

“Merde,” Caleb groaned.

Darcy smiled as the clock went silent. This was his love, his life and he couldn’t be happier.

Dix

March

Plantation Country, Louisiana

Spring in Louisiana was a joyous time of year. The world was once again green. The weather mild, with the barest hint of a breeze to ruffle the ribbons and bunting adorning the birthday cake of a house sitting in the middle of a green manicured lawn.

White chairs formed an aisle leading up to wide veranda steps where Darcy waited with the minister. The tiny raven-haired beauty ran ahead of her mother, dropping pink rose petals wherever she thought they needed to go. She wore a white lace dress with a bright blue sash tied around her waist, a big blue bow in the back, and shiny blue Mary Jane shoes to match her beautiful eyes. The flower girl, not the bride.

The bride herself wore a white lace sheath dress that ended just above her knees. Her blonde hair was twisted into a mermaid braid and sprigged with pink flowers. The hand she wrapped around Caleb’s elbow trembled as the music started. “You ready, bebelle?” he asked her, his gaze locked on the groom awaiting them. Three years had passed since Darcy had asked him to marry him. So much had changed in three years.

Dressed in a dove grey suit, with a spring green shirt and emerald green tie Darcy was the most beautiful groom Caleb had ever seen. Maybe his hands trembled too.

“Are you?” Bailey replied, she tilted her face up the small distance to meet his eye. She seemed so fragile. Her blue eyes shimmered with tears, and maybe more than a little fear.

Caleb simply smiled. He had no answer. He was forty years old. His life was one more of pain than happily ever afters. The music hit their cue and Caleb patted her hand, leading her down the green grass carpet lined with ribbon and flower petals to stand in front of the minister.

“Who gives this woman?” The minister asked, falling into their practiced roles.

“I do,” Caleb said, he turned to lift the fine lace veil that hardly covered her face and draped it over the back of her head.

“Who gives this man?” The minister veered from the traditional piece.

“I do,” Bailey replied, stepping up on tiptoe to place a kiss on his lips. They hadn’t rehearsed that. “Take care of him,” she whispered going off script once again.

“Always,” he said looking past her to the pixie waif who waited behind her. Amber gave him a wink and a big smile. She wore a long white skirt and a lace blouse to match Bailey’s. Her long red hair braided over the opposite shoulder, her flower sprigs were green. Caleb winked back and as they rehearsed they turned to their respective partners and joined hands. Darcy becoming the only person on the planet for him.

Three years were three years too long, but they’d made it. Louisiana had to be dragged kicking and screaming into marriage equality, but Caleb wouldn’t have it any other way. If he was to be married, it would be in the world he’d been banished from all those years ago.

The day was perfect. The weather had smiled upon them. Their families were here. Caleb could hear the gurgling sound of the small red-haired infant sitting in his…in Martha’s lap. The boy looked so much like his mother, but with Caleb’s eyes. And Martha had the look of a contented grandmother with Jeb sitting beside her, his hand on hers. Probably the only grandmother his child would ever know. Amber’s mother had passed not long after their son was born.

They’d named him for her mother, and New Orleans most favorite pirate. Haley Jean Gaines Mitchell. They called him Jack. His sister, Nola Claire Austin Butler sidled around Caleb and grabbed onto her father’s leg. She looked up as the minister performed the service Caleb didn’t hear. Her smile her mother’s, her eyes her father’s, her spunk was Amber’s…her knowledge of French swear words…all Caleb.

When it was over and the I dos were said, two couples were united, and Nola blessed their union with one word.

“J’taime.”

Fin

About Mercy Celeste:

Mercy Celeste is the pen name and super hero persona of mild mannered MJ Colbert....which is bull, I'm not mild mannered. I was, in fact, raised in a barn--or several. We even had grain silos. My motto growing up, anything a boy can do, I'm right behind him doing it just as well or better. I've broken too many bones to begin to count. Scraped, skinned or scarred pretty much everything that can be scraped, skinned or scarred. How I'm still walking and talking is a miracle.

So about the writing, well, I don't really consider myself to be a writer. I'm a storyteller, and when I have a story to tell, it won't rest until it's twisted me up and purged itself. The result is at times comical or tragic, depending on the people who live in my head and what they have to say. Most days that's not a lot of anything. Others I can't shut them up. They especially love when I'm driving, oh, yeah, a drive across town is a lesson in how not to get myself killed or be pulled over for reckless driving. And those are the good days.

Welcome to my crazy world, if it's boring now, wait five minutes, and don't blink. Things have a tendency to get interesting around me.