Page 13 of Party of Three

“Did you guys meet? Like, in person?” Mateo sounded so tense, he might as well have asked him if they’d hooked up.

“He slipped a note under my door with his phone number.”

Mateo was smiling into his drink suddenly.

“What?” Jeff asked.

“For a second there out front I thought maybe you guys had history too,” Mateo said, then stole a quick sip of champagne.

Well, there’s this story about Japan, but Jeff didn’t want to go there yet so he changed subjects. “How did it come up?” he said instead. “You know, you and me in Pacific Beach and what’s his name?”

Heart racing, Jeff was back in that motel room again. Watching the joy come into Mateo’s eyes as he’d pounded that hungry little dancer, then the eagerness in his expression when he’d looked to him for approval, and Jeff had responded in the only way he could, with their first deep, devouring kiss.

Mateo’s easy smile made Jeff go soft in some places and hard in others, all places he should be rushing to armor as he headed for the exit.

The first night of the trip had been a fantasy made real. On the last night, everything had fallen apart, but they’d pretended otherwise. That’s when Jeff had unleashed his dominant desires and beneath him Mateo had stiffened with resistance, a terrible moment of understanding, a recognition of deep, primal incompatibility, followed by a look of disappointment on Mateo’s face when he realized he couldn’t give Jeff everything he wanted. And Jeff had backed off, assuming with dread in his gut and a terrible ache in his heart, that he’d ended their friendship by reaching too far and too fast for something that wasn’t his to claim. Worse, he’d assumed that if he’d pressed harder, Mateo might have given him something he didn’t want to give, and the prospect hurt him like a bullet in his gut.

Mateo carefully sipped his drink. “I sent you an invite, a card. It got returned. When I saw it in the mail I told him it was probably…”

“Probably what?”

“For the better. That you didn’t come. Given our history.”

Jeff’s heart was in his throat. “Still feel that way?”

Mateo’s eyes met his. “Hell, no. Didn’t feel that way then. It just seemed like something to say. I was upset. He could tell. And he knows who you are, obviously. I’ve got a picture of you on my wall. You and me, I mean.”

Jeff tried not to blush. He’d been having the same thought about that photo ever since Buckley had mentioned it. It was another sign Mateo didn’t think of those nights back in San Diego the way Jeff did. With remorse and threads of shame woven through them.

“I missed you,” Mateo said. “It hurt, how much I missed you.”

Suddenly there was no music, no other guests. Just those big, pleading brown eyes and that earnest soul, older and more mature now. More comfortable in his skin. More intoxicating and hypnotic. More aware of what he wanted. And right now, even with his boyfriend dancing a few feet away, what he wanted seemed to be Jeff.

“So what’d you get me?” Mateo asked. “For my birthday?”

“It’s over on the gift table. I’ll grab it.”

He was grateful for the chance to pull away from the seductive power of Mateo’s gaze, but he’d barely taken a step before the man seized his wrist in a powerful grip. “I’ve got a better idea.”

They were face-to-face, noses almost touching. They hadn’t been this close since that night.

“Go dance with my boyfriend.”

For a second, he thought the request was Mateo’s way of defusing the tension between his old mentor and the man he loved. But Mateo hadn’t seen that tension in action. What he was asking for, and the hungry way he’d asked for it, seemed like something altogether more complicated. But there wasunsteadiness in his voice, too, a bit of fear, as if he was trying to make himself comfortable with the thought of Jeff and Buckley dancing together.

Jeff was about to protest. He didn’t dance to fast songs, and Buckley was surrounded. Then the band launched into a slow rendition of “Bésame Mucho,” and half the dance floor either coupled up or cleared out, leaving a clean path between him and Buckley, who was staring at him with a look in his eyes that seemed as hungry as the one in Mateo’s.

5

Jeff started for Buckley across the dance floor, reminding himself he’d faced down far more formidable opponents in his life, some of them armed. A close slow dance didn’t have to be awkward or tense. It could be a perfect opportunity to talk some quiet, forceful sense into the situation.

He’d apologize for hurting Mateo with his radio silence, but he’d also make clear he had every intention of telling the guy about Buckley’s lie. All in a reasonable, mature tone, the kind he used with his junior Marines. And he’d do it pronto, establishing dominance before the dangerous cupid could unleash that wicked little mouth on him. Again.

But when he took Buckley’s hand, looked into those big, beautiful eyes that seemed to smile even when his bow-shaped lips didn’t, all that came out was, “Where’d you find the band, firecracker?”

“Marisol did. They’re old friends of theirs from Huntington Park. Most of them have regular gigs playing backup for big musicians so they get together on the weekends and do the songs they grew up with.” The drowsy, lilting love song seemed to wrap its gently swaying arms around them both, and Jeff felt himself being seduced into forgetting his complaints about the evening entirely. But it was Buckley who broke the silence. “His parents can take away their support, but they can’t take away his culture. That’s the theme for the evening, basically.”

The statement’s sincerity and quiet force tugged at him, proved Buckley Mitchell could use his determination and smartsfor something other than deception. The idea of someone else doing such a good job of loving Mateo,protectingMateo, warmed his heart. What that said about his love for the guy felt as complicated as everything else about this night.

---