Brainy and the Beast (18 page)

“Now, what were you asking me?”

I found myself shrugging and ducking my head a little, and all of a sudden I felt like a teenager once more. What was
up
with that? “I don’t know. He’s just…he’s being a pain.”

“That doesn’t tell me a heck of a lot.” My dad cocked an eyebrow at me.

I twisted my lips into a frown. “Well. He…he doesn’t want to spar. He won’t talk to me unless I force the issue. Now that soccer’s over, he’s spending a lot of time at the tae kwon do school. At least, that’s where he says he is.” The wind picked up, and I tugged my winter coat close to my throat. “What’s he doing there? He hasn’t asked me for money for extra lessons.” In fact, I’d just paid the regular monthly bill.

My dad gestured to a nearby bench. “Let’s sit down a second, okay?” We were walking in the park that was near the shop. Now that I had my dad’s health kicking me in the rear end and making me think about my own fitness level, I’d started walking the dogs at lunchtime. I’d been pleasantly surprised; not only was my dad getting fresh air and exercise, so were my two mutts—and
I
was feeling better.

Easing onto the bench, my dad sighed. “You know he’s helping the instructor out at the school, right?” Dad absently petted Coke’s silky head, and the dog rested against his leg.

“What? No. No, I don’t know that. Why doesn’t anybody tell me anything?” I kicked at an acorn near my foot and watched it bounce into the grass nearby.

“Nick, you’re running around trying to do everything now that I’m laid up. You’ve got to stop trying to be Superman. Spend some time at home. Maybe you and Grant would get along better.”

“He hates me.”

My dad stared at me for a long moment. “He doesn’t hate you.”

Why did that sound like something a parent would say no matter what the circumstance? “Yeah. He does.”

“Why would you say that? How do you know?”

I dropped onto the bench next to my dad and pushed Rum away when he immediately propped his front feet on my thighs. “Bad boy,” I whispered to him. “He, um, he-he kind of caught me and Henry in the kitchen the day you were at the ER.” I didn’t look at my dad when I said it.

“Caught you doing what? Cooking?”

My dad could be a smart-ass when he wanted. “No, Dad. We were not cooking.” Well, actually, Henry and I
had
been turning up the heat, kind of.

“Ah.”

“That’s all you’ve got to say?” I cranked my head around to look into eyes that matched mine. Hazel all the way, and with those damned reddish-brown eyebrows.

“So what happened when he, um, interrupted you?”

My dad and I had not really talked about my sex life, not much anyway, since the time I’d come out to him and my mom when I was eighteen. It had been a roller-coaster ride in our house for the first few years, and I hadn’t been sure where I stood with them both—until, that is, the night I was jumped by some gay-bashing freaks from Northwestern. I think that changed everything for my dad. Up until then, my mom had been a little more supportive than my dad, but they’d both been really uncomfortable with the whole idea. Then those three asshats from NU decided to try to teach the gay boy a lesson.

I’d been minding my own business. Sure, I’d been in a gay bar right before, but I had been alone, walking to where I’d left my car, when they jumped me. As it turned out, they’d been hanging around that bar for several weeks, and I wasn’t the first victim they’d found. Even my tae kwon do skills hadn’t saved me—the three of them were on the football team, and those fuckers were
big
. No, they’d been stopped by an honest-to-God Good Samaritan, who’d been walking down the same street and had seen them pull me into an alley. He’d called 911 right away, and then he’d run into the alley, throwing rocks at the thugs. One of them had turned on him, and if the police hadn’t responded right away, there’s no telling what would have happened to the two of us.

That Good Samaritan now worked for us. Jake Goldstein had lost his job at a fleet maintenance facility up in North Chicago a month before I got jumped, and his meeting up with the Sheltons had been a lucky day for all of us.

So, needless to say, neither my dad nor I had spent a lot of time speaking openly about me with other guys.

“Grant caught us kissing. I was kind of on Henry’s lap at the time.” I blurted it out as quickly as I could.

“That’s it?”

I frowned again. “Yeah, that’s it.”

“Well, I was waiting for you to tell me you and the genius were doing the horizontal bop on the kitchen floor.”

“Dad!” I was scandalized.

Grunting, my dad gave me the eye. “What? I’ve heard the way the guys talk around the shop. I can learn. I’m hip to the lingo. I didn’t come down with yesterday’s rain, you know.”

I couldn’t help it. I had to laugh—and the ice was broken. “Dad, you are one of a kind, you know that?”

“Your mother always thought so, son. And—” He pointed his index finger at me. “She…she made me promise that I…that I’d always be there for you.” He rubbed the rough cloth of his jeans for a few seconds.

I opened my mouth; nothing came out. I don’t know why, but that astounded me. My chest got tight, and I coughed in lieu of saying anything.

My dad cleared his own throat. “Now, I’m not saying Grant might not have been surprised by what he saw, but what makes you think he’s bothered that you and Henry were…”

“Kissing?” Saying the word got me uptight again, and I exhaled to calm myself. Kissing was bad enough, but talking about it?

“Yeah.” My dad busied himself tugging a leaf out of the matted hair behind Coke’s ear.

“Um. The way he ran out of the kitchen and locked himself in his bedroom? When I went up to tell him I was going to get you at the hospital, he wouldn’t even answer me.” In fact, I’d pounded on the kid’s door, but the little snot wouldn’t unlock it. He’d just turned his music up louder.

“Well, he hasn’t said anything about it to me.”

“Do you think he would?”

“Honestly? I’m not sure. We talk about school, we talk about his tae kwon do classes, that kind of thing.”

“Has he talked to you about that little girl, Shawn?”

Dad stretched an arm along the bench. “Nope. Not that I recall. Not since he told me about that jerk kid who’d slapped her around.”

Ah, yes. The day my dad had had his heart attack. Christ, was that only three and a half weeks ago?

“Anyway. I haven’t seen Henry around much, other than that first week I was home, and he cooked those two amazing dinners for us.”

I sighed, morose again. “I know.”

“You not seeing him anymore?”

“Nah. Renton sent him to some fancy lab place out in California—
J
something, where he’s working on a supersecret project. He was supposed to come home last Friday, but they made him stay another week. In fact, I’m still hoping he’ll be home tonight, but I haven’t heard from him.” I blocked the thought of how much I’d missed my smart lover. I wasn’t going there. I didn't want to dwell on how important he was becoming to me.

I’d been surprised when he asked me to stop in and check on his fish while he was gone.
“You want me to take care of them?”
That meant he sort of trusted me; well, probably really trusted me, since the fish flock were kind of his kids, right? The first few times I’d stopped at his house, I’d tiptoed around, feeling funny.

The fish? They didn’t say much. Just swam around, did fish things. Whatever the heck those were. But I do admit they were pretty damned gorgeous. I even said it to Henry the first time he’d called me to ask about his fish. Once I’d even asked Grant for a tip when I was sure I’d seen a spot develop on one of the clown fish’s gills. I
did not
want to have to tell the doc there was something wrong with one of his kids.

“Uh, you know that orange fish in the movie
Finding Nemo?
Henry’s got one, and I think it’s sick
.” When my nephew had frowned at me like I was nuts, I’d had to back up and explain I was a fish babysitter. But after mumbling something I was sure I didn’t want to hear, the kid had Googled it and told me the damned thing had that color naturally.

All right, so maybe it hadn’t been that bad. Henry’s house was really something, and the fish were nice to look at. I didn’t have to do much beyond make sure all his systems were running properly and the fish were okay.

I did spend some time there reliving our first crazy night. I wandered into his bedroom and just stood there with a stupid grin on my face.
Okay, maybe I did miss him, a little.

But, boy, had Henry and I been burning up the phone lines a few nights a week. And when I say burning, I mean hot, hot, hot. I’d never before gotten into phone sex—guess I never saw the appeal. But now? With Dr. Love?
Oh, my
. I couldn’t even begin to describe the ways he’d gotten me off over the phone. He’d shot his share of long distance loads too let me tell you. And there was no way in hell I was going to mention
that
to my old man.

“Why don’t you take him hunting when you go?”

“What? Henry? Are you serious?” I had to laugh.

“Grant. Your nephew.”

My head went back.
No. No way.

“And, yes, I’m serious.” Dad pushed Coke to the side and stood. “Look. You want the kid to talk to you, right? Be kind of hard for him to ignore you if he’s with you and your friends, running around out there, trying to find Bambi.”

“Ha-ha.” For whatever reason, the hunting gene had bypassed my dad, going straight from his father to me. My dad was so not into the shooting sports, not at all.

“Come on, Nick. For all intents and purposes, you’re that kid’s father.”

“Shit. Don’t say that.” I could feel the noose tightening around my neck. A parent? Me?

“You are. And no amount of denial on your part is going to change that.” He gathered Coke’s leash in his hand. “Take him with. Spend some father-son time together.” My dad started to walk away, then turned back to face me. “You and I both know your sister is gone. Even if she does show up at some point in the future, she’s hardly the mother of the year.” He spoke over his shoulder as he started walking again. “You should think about adopting him.”

With that bomb safely dropped, the hardheaded old goat started back to the shop.

“Who?” I yelled it, just to be obnoxious.

He didn’t even look back as he waved over his shoulder.

Fuck.

My phone rang as I was pulling into the garage. When I saw Henry’s name on the screen, I felt a thrill go through me.

“Hey, Doc.” I shut off the ignition and spun the car keys on one finger.

“Nicholas.” That deep voice purred in my ear.

“Are you back?”

“Yes. I’m in the limo heading home from O’Hare.”

“Yeah? Limo, huh? Sweet.”

He sighed. “It’s good because I can work while I’m en route, but somehow, tonight, I just wanted to hear your voice.”

Now what the hell was I supposed to say to that? “Uh.”

Henry chuckled softly. “I know. You don’t like it when I say things like that, do you?”

No. “Um. I don’t know. Not really.”

“You remind me of Grant when you start to get squeamish.”

“Squeamish. Me. Right.” As if. I got out of the car and slammed the door shut. “Please.”

“So you’re fine if I tell you that I want to cook you a great dinner, then fuck you in front of my fireplace? Maybe not in that order.”

I was walking through my kitchen door when he said that. I almost dropped the phone as I stumbled into Grant. “Shh!” I don’t know why I bothered, since Grant just gave me a look and headed out to the living room.

“You’re the only one who can hear me, unless you have me on speaker.”

“Oh. Yeah.” I didn’t know what it was about Dr. Love that made me act like a teenager half the time. “You make me crazy, you know that?”

“I do. And I have to say I like knowing that.” His satisfied tone sent heat rushing through my belly. “Regardless, I have some things to finish for work, so all I’ll be able to do tonight
is
talk.”

He continued to whisper in my ear as I shrugged out of my coat and hung it in the mudroom. I could feel my cheeks getting red at the frank, sexual things he wanted to do to me and with me. It was like when he’d been in California and we’d get all worked up—him in his hotel room and me in my bedroom. Or me in the front seat of the Buick in Henry’s garage, after I’d gone over to check on his fish. Man, was I lucky Henry had a heated garage, since I’d had my jeans down near my knees while I jacked myself and my shirt had been open as I’d played with my nipples. He’d been whispering instructions over the phone, and I’d blindly followed just about all of them. At least, until he’d told me to—

“Uncle Nick.” Grant’s deliberately loud voice gave me a start. He’d popped back into the kitchen while I was daydreaming about Henry wanting me to get up on the hood of the Buick. I frowned at the kid, mouthing
what?
“Hang on, Doc.”

“Gramps says if that’s what’s his name—”

From the living room, I heard my father interrupt. “Henry.”

Looking put-upon, Grant repeated, “Henry. If that’s Henry, Gramps says to invite him to Thanksgiving dinner next week.” Having delivered the message, my nephew stalked away.

“Are you still with me?”

“Yeah.” That kid was too much. “Sorry. Yeah. Jeez. I’ve got to get my head back on straight.”

“Well, not too straight, I hope.”

“Stop.” I huffed out a laugh. “Listen, my dad just reminded me. Well, Grant did, anyway. Do you have plans for Thanksgiving?” I grabbed a Killian’s from the fridge. Hmm. We were a little low. Maybe a run to the grocery store was in order.

“No, I don’t.”

Sweet
. “Um. Would you…you want to join us for dinner?” Why was I being shy about having the guy over for a holiday dinner when we’d already done amazingly intimate and personal things together?

“I’m…I’m surprised…and honored.” Henry’s voice was a little deeper. “What may I bring?”

I grunted in semidisgust. “How about the turkey?” Popping the cap on my beer, I took a gulp. “Nah. I’m kidding. Just don’t get your sights set too high. It’s Dad and me doing the cooking, and even though we try, we can’t seem to get my mom’s recipes right. And the kid’s no help there either. He seems to take after us.”