Page 9 of Party of Three

“Old?” Jeff asked with a half smile.

“Straight.”

“You’re kinda out and proud to be making snap judgments based on a guy’s picture.”

“And where have you seen me beout and proudexactly?”

Jeff blushed, jaw working. “I gathered some intel when you two got together.”

“You social media stalked me?”

“Mateo’s one of the best guys I know. I wanted to see if you were a serial killer.”

“So you’re allowed to make snap judgments about people based off photographs and I’m not? Is that a Marine thing? ID’ing serial killers based on their selfies?”

The older man’s amusement took the form of a small grunt in his throat, followed by a raised eyebrow. “You got a mouth on you, firecracker.”

Was this the same husky tone, so close to a growl, he’d used to give Mateo instructions on how to properly fuck a guy for the first time?

All the things I do to you I learned from Jeff.

Focus, he told himself.

“When did you find out?” Jeff finally asked.

“Find out what?” Buckley hated playing dumb. He only did it when he was truly nervous, which was rare.

“That we havehistory, as you put it.”

Buckley took a deep breath, fighting memories of the kitchen table turning hot against his sweating, heaving flesh, his lips parting around a vegetable turned sex toy.

Was he blushing?

It felt like he was blushing. Everywhere.

“You saved his life. I’ve known that from day one. But I’ve always wondered why you were never around. Now I know. You’re really damn hard to get in touch with. And kinda a pain in the ass.”

“I’m making a clean getaway before this gets weirder.”

The valet approached. Buckley stepped between them and gently tugged the ticket from Jeff’s hand before the valet could. Out of options, Buckley said, “His parents cut him off. Because of me.”

Jeff went very still. “When?” he finally asked.

“A few months ago.”

He dismissed the valet, then shook his head at the pavement, anger turning his solid body rigid. “Still taking orders from their friggin’ parish priest,” he muttered.

“He wants you here,” Buckley said.

“Do you?” Jeff asked.

When Buckley looked up, he realized his move to intercept the ticket had left them almost face-to-face.

“Braxton?” A familiar voice made them both turn.

At the sight of Mateo walking toward them from the spot where his sister had handed off her Nissan Sentra to the valet, looking stunningly handsome in his dark suit and with the collar of his white dress shirt unbuttoned, a transformation overtook Jeff Braxton that was so sudden and profound Buckley found himself dazzled by the sight of it. The Marine’s eyes, icy and intent a second before, became open and vulnerable. His lips parted as if he were about to speak but had forgotten the words. Fear and want combined in his expression, as if Mateo held the keys to his undoing and was dangling them in one hand.

The instant connection between both men terrified him at first. Then it washed over him, drawing him closer as they met in a fierce hug. Less of a threat and more of an invitation.

---