Page 48 of Hearts of Fairlake

Which just went to show that I was never going to win the argument. That was enough to make me lose any desire to argue or try to be stubborn about needing someone to take care of me. He hadn't said it, but I took care of him just the same, always had from the moment we became friends. Now, we were both finally able to do it without having another big fight on our hands that demanded more attention.

"Will you cook naked?" I asked with a grin.

"Uh, you put one hell of a load up my ass. I'm not sure cooking naked is a good idea," he said with a chuckle.

My stomach twisted pleasantly at the idea, and no, I didn't care that it made me a possessive bastard to be turned on by the idea of my cum inside him. "We can always clean it up. And keep talking like that, and you'll end up with another one up there."

"Mmm, promises, promises," he purred, pushing up. "I'm putting underwear on, at least. You can still stare because I know you will."

"Damn right," I said with a snort.

He slid off the bed to grab his underwear, and I followed him out of the room, a new bounce in his step. Maybe it was just the sex, but part of me couldn't help but think about how I’d been doom prophesying about our relationship only minutes ago. Now, I watched him walk out of the room, humming to himself, as he set out to make a meal for us that he could be proud of.

I knew two things.

I loved him more than anything I’d ever loved in my life and would do anything to keep him in my life.

And I needed to dig that ring out from my workshop very soon and give him the proposal he deserved.

ADAM

"Daaaadyyyyy," came the call to action with more lung power than I thought possible for such a small person.

I tried to keep my reaction to a sigh as I looked over the setup before me and tried to determine if it was actually going to hold or if it was a crooked mess from which there was no return. I tried...but I failed and mentally chided myself as I looked down into the face that even I had to admit was a younger mirror of my own.

"Yes, Colin?" I asked, unable to keep the exasperation out of my voice.

It had been a long couple of weeks, and now the festival weekend was just around the corner, and I was feeling the strain. Several projects needed to be finished by tomorrow, including setting up everything we’d built. We had less than forty-eight hours before the entire town opened up to anyone who wanted to celebrate with us. Which was why most of the downtown area was cordoned off, to let everyone doing the construction do their jobs.

To say I was exhausted and stretched thin was putting it mildly, but I also knew that as long as we got through this,everyone at the shop could take a much-needed break. The money the shop was getting was pretty mind-boggling, and there would be more than enough to cover not only my but everyone else's week-long break with full pay, along with a sizable bonus for their hard work. Until then, though, I had to keep bouncing between the ongoing orders at the shop and the construction happening downtown.

And my children, apparently.

Colin reached me, apparently having slipped away from my parents, and furiously wiped his reddened face. Despite how much Colin looked and often acted like me, he was still a child and came with all the high-flying emotions and sensitivities. I could never remember being as sensitive as him, but my parents insisted I’d been quite a crier at his age.

"What's up?" I asked again as he approached, immediately wrapping his arms around my thigh and shoving his face into it with a whine. "What's going on? Where's Grandma and Grandpa?"

All I was met with was another batch of whining and what I thought might be attempts to communicate the problem. Seeing as he was mashing his face into my leg and severely upset, however, I couldn't understand a single syllable of what he was trying to tell me. He was upset, that much was obvious, but clearly, whatever had upset him was too much for him to take a breath and tell me.

"Buddy I…" I stopped as I heard my name called and turned. "What?"

Phil, a previously half-trained carpenter who’d come from Fovel to find work at my shop, stopped as he took in the scene. “Is this a bad time?"

"He's five and upset about...something," I said with a roll of my eyes. "What's up?"

Phil jammed a thumb over his shoulder. "We were setting up the stage like you told us, but some woman started yellingat us. Something about interrupting her peace and quiet while she's at 'the good part.' I tried to figure out what she was talking about and explain that we need to build, but she told me, uh, well, she?—"

I raised a brow, wincing when Colin's hands, which had been clenched, pinched my thighs sharply. "Ow, Colin, hold on, buddy, alright? Phil, what did she say?"

"She, uh, said that unless we were going to get shirtless and oil ourselves up, we needed to keep it down," Phil explained sheepishly. "And wouldn't hear anything else I had to say. Kinda figured that one was more up your alley than mine."

I blinked at him. “Why?"

"You're the beefcake of the company, not us."

"Jesus, today is not the day, Phil."

He snorted. “Well, it still seems like something you should know about."

---