Briefcase Booty (4 page)

He was still a little freaked out by the fact that he’d gotten hard looking at a man—and not just any man, but his best friend.

And that was another thing. Could he still call Luka his best friend after twenty years’ absence? This was so frustrating. He hated not being in control.

A few times over the years he’d thought about what it would be like to find Luka again, but never in those scenarios was Luka gay. Then again, Luka wasn’t with a woman either. Neither was he, which just messed things up even more and made him think of more questions about his sexuality.

But the thing that bothered him most of all, even though it was none of his business and he didn’t have the right to judge, was that Luka had belonged to someone else. It was hypocritical, since he wasn’t exactly a virgin, but it still bothered him.

And he was so damn tired he couldn’t make sense of anything.

The big fluffy cushion at the end of the sofa that Maggie had bought him was beginning to look really tempting. Maybe he could just lie down for a little while.

A few minutes wouldn’t hurt anyone.

Peter kicked off his shoes, curled up on the sofa, and put his head down on the cushion. He’d joked about it with Harry when Maggie wasn’t there, but damn, it was the most comfortable thing he’d ever rested on.

Closing his eyes he actually felt his body shut down. His last thought was that he’d just lie here for a few minutes.

* * * *

Light streaming in the window woke him, and he struggled to remember what happened the previous day. He’d been resting on the couch for a few minutes… Oh no! He’d fallen asleep.

Opening his eyes, he dragged his wrist up for him to see the face of his watch. Eight AM.
Shit!
Loukas must have been awake and crying for hours for food.

Oh god, he was an awful father! Somehow he’d slept through his son calling for him. Loukas never slept passed six AM.

Without looking, he swung his legs over the side of the couch and tried to stand. Only he didn’t realize he wasn’t actually on the couch but in bed, until it was too late.

Instead of standing up, he toppled off the side of the bed, rolling and falling face-first onto the floor. Never had he been so thankful that he’d stopped Kayleigh from putting wooden flooring in here.

Hitting the carpet with his face still hurt, but nowhere near what it could have been.

“Urgh,” he moaned, levering himself up off the floor and onto his knees. He’d never felt so old as when he knees cracked. Damn, he was only twenty-eight. His joints shouldn’t be cracking, and he shouldn’t be waking up in places where he didn’t remember going.

Well, that
had
happened a couple of times in college, so perhaps he was actually having a Benjamin Button moment. Getting to his feet, he found his right foot was numb and he had to shake out the pins and needles.

Yeah, he was definitely not getting younger. Maybe he should take up yoga or something like it.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he yawned and stretched before remembering why he’d been in such a rush.
Loukas!

Peter stumbled as he ran out of his room and hit the polished wooden floor in his bare feet, but he didn’t stop until he reached Loukas’s room. Throwing the door open, he nearly screamed when he found the little bed empty.

Oh god. Oh god. Where’s my baby boy?

As if a reply from a higher power, Peter heard a screech from somewhere downstairs. Running like a hero in a horror movie, he tripped, jumped and staggered down the stairs and around the corner into the well-sized kitchen.

And then stopped dead.

Luka stood by the stove, shirtless and in pajama bottoms, with the baby against his chest, bobbing and dancing to music from the radio on the island counter. Loukas was laughing, giggling and waving his little arms in the air as much as he could.

It was the weirdest and most beautiful thing Peter had ever seen.

His best friend from when he was young, the boy who’d grown into a man and the person he’d named his son for, was in his kitchen with his little boy looking at the man as if he was a god.

“Umm, hi,” Peter greeted lamely, lifting his hand as Luka spun around.

Luka and Loukas looked at him with identical smiles and wide eyes. Seeing them together, it was easy to mistake Luka for the father instead of himself. And it completely frazzled his brain.

“Hey, Peter. I hope you don’t mind. When you let me in last night you were kind of out of it, so I put you to bed. This little one woke me up about dawn, and you were still dead to the world. I, uh, hope you don’t mind I gave him one of the pots of carrot puree that were in the fridge,” Luka said in one continuous breath.

Blinking, Peter stood there without saying anything for long seconds, and then his brain kicked back into gear. “Thank you. It’s been weeks since I’ve gotten more than an hour or two at a time. It scared the hell out of me when I woke up and thought I’d slept through Loukas calling me.”

Luka smiled, and his gaze dropped for a second, then shot away from him again. “I wondered what the crash was,” Luka said, with the very tip of his tongue coming out to touch his bottom lip, the way he used to do when he was a boy and trying to hide how he felt about something.

Turning away from him, Luka switched off the stove, took the pan off the hob and seemed to be far too interested in scooping bacon onto plates. If he didn’t know better, Peter would have sworn that Luka was deliberately not looking at him. Loukas, on the other hand, was staring at him and laughing as if that pig program was on.

Peter frowned but left it alone. “How much of the carrots did he eat? He’s not the best with them yet.”

Still not looking at him Luka spoke at the wall instead. “He ate it all, actually.”

“Really?” That was a pleasant surprise.

“Yes. Every time he ate a whole spoonful, I’d do a back flip,” Luka admitted, going a little pink. But still Luka didn’t look at him. And Loukas was still laughing at him.

Well, that was one way to get the little monster to eat his carrots. Anything else Loukas wolfed down, but his son had something personal against orange food, which wasn’t all that bad as a philosophy. Peter just hoped his son wouldn’t expect him to do tricks when he tried to feed him the food of doom.

“Uhhh, good thinking. Okay, I give up. Why won’t you look at me?”

He couldn’t remember letting Luka in or going to bed, but everything seemed fine, everything except Luka’s refusal to look at him. He wasn’t in Luka’s league in the looks department, but he didn’t think he was call-the-townspeople-and-light-the-torches ugly

Luka lifted Loukas higher in his arms, but the little boy didn’t even seem to notice. Normally there were hysterics whenever someone other than Missy, the old baby-sitter, or himself tried to pick him up.

Luka glanced at him and turned a shade darker, the blush spreading down his neck and chest. “Peter, you’re naked. I only have so much control, okay?”

The words didn’t sink in for a second, but then he realized why he’d felt odd standing there. Luka was right; Peter was stark naked, with everything on show. “Holy sh—” He didn’t even get the whole word out before he spun around, giving his back to Luka and his son.

Geez, this was a bad start to the day. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what the hell happened; I never sleep naked.”

Luka chuckled, but it sounded a bit strained.

Peter hurried over to the couch and picked up the throw-cushion to shield himself as he turned and walked back to Luka. If he clutched the cushion much tighter there were going to be feathers everywhere.

“I think that might be my fault. After you let me in, you zoned out and just stood there. I asked you to show me the room I could use, but you went to yours instead and said you had the left side. You seemed dead tired, so I told you to get undressed and go to bed. I guess you took me literally.”

Oh god, it was worse than he thought. “So you’re telling me I tried to get you into bed, and then stripped off?” Where was the hole to swallow him up when he wanted it to?

Standing there with a cushion covering his bits and pieces, just a minute ago he’d been sure nothing more embarrassing could happen. Apparently he was wrong.

Now that he was at least covering the vital parts, Luka didn’t seem to have too much trouble looking at him. Hell, the man even smirked. If he’d thought Luka was handsome as a pirate, the man was absolutely stunning without the face paint.

And it hit him again that he was attracted to his best friend.

…Or the man-boy who used to be his best friend, but was now a pirate living in his house and maybe giving him a midlife crisis far too early.

Life was fucking complicated.

Luka’s chest was broad, the muscles carved and ripped. They’d have to be, to be able to work and control that much strength on the silks. Luka lifted a box of something back into the cupboard, stretching up and letting Peter see that chest and shoulder stretch and tighten. All the while keeping a safe hold on his son.

Peter’s cock took notice and began to harden behind the cushion as he got distracted by Luka’s body.

Not again!

“I’m, ummm, going to go put some clothes on,” he forced out, trying to sound normal, before hightailing it out of the kitchen. And damn if he didn’t hear Luka and Loukas laughing as he ran.

“Nice ass, Peter!”

Luka’s whistle and call only made him run faster for fear he’d embarrass himself further.

* * * *

Once he was dressed, and had found a little bit of self-respect and dignity on the floor of his bedroom, Peter ventured back down to the kitchen. This time he was prepared for the zing he felt when he saw Luka, and was able to dissect it in his head.

He liked the shoulder-length blond hair. He really liked the way Luka laughed, and the spark in his green eyes. But he
loved
the way Luka held Loukas, and the way Loukas interacted with his friend.

But Peter was straight, and attracted to women. He’d been married to a woman, and had a child with her. He liked women and boobs and soft curves.

So why had he gotten hard looking at Luka’s very male body?

A voice in the back of his head pointed out that he’d never actually been in love with his wife—or any woman, for that matter.

“Peter?”

Snapping out of his inner dilemma, he realized Luka had asked him something.

“Sorry, what?”

“I said, I took the room to the right of yours. Is that okay? I want to thank you again for offering me a place to crash while I get my sh- stuff together,” Luka said, correcting the word with a glance down at the baby on his hip

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

That reminded him. Stepping around Luka, Peter opened a drawer and rummaged through it until he found what he was looking for. “Swap you,” he offered, putting most of the items on the counter before he started to reach for his son.

Luka seemed reluctant to give up Loukas, and Loukas was equally reluctant to let go of his new friend. Luckily, Peter had a secret weapon. Revealing the hand he’d had behind his back, he waved the parrot toy at his son, laughing as Loukas lunged at it.

“What’s this?” Luka picked up the phone and keys, looking confused.

“You said you didn’t have a phone, and that’s a spare I keep loaded in the drawer. The keys are for the house, garage and the jeep.”

“The jeep? I thought you drove an estate car.”

“I do, but Loukas’ nanny needed a car, and I couldn’t really bear to get rid of Betty”

“You have a nanny called Betty?”

“No. The car’s called Betty. She was the first car I bought that was brand new. I worked like a dog for months, on overtime, to get a Christmas bonus one year—and bought her shiny new.”

“Okay, so apart from confiding in me about your weird taste in naming cars, why are you giving me a bunch of keys?” Luka wiggled them, and they jingled enough that Loukas forgot all about trying to chew the eye-patch off his parrot and reached for the keys.

“No, Loukas. We never play with keys.
Do we,
Luka?”

His friend didn’t answer for a minute, looking like a rabbit caught in the headlights. “No we
never
play with keys,” Luka stressed, very carefully holding the keys so they didn’t make a noise.

“That’s right. Now, why don’t you tell your parrot about the rules?” Peter suggested to his son. He knew Loukas understood only bits and pieces of what he said, but the baby books said that the more you talked to them in full sentences the quicker children picked up the language.

As it was, Loukas nodded and started babbling at the parrot sternly, complete with shaking finger.

“I’m impressed,” Luka murmured, looking at Loukas in amazement.

Peter laughed and met Luka’s stare. “Don’t be; its sheer luck at this point. Anyway, since I don’t have a new nanny yet, the car is free for you to use, and the phone is yours too. Plus, you’ll need keys if you plan to stay—unless you want to stand outside as a pirate and scare the neighbors,” he teased with a grin.

“Hey, I make decent—okay, adequate money being a scary pirate,” Luka pouted comically. “And I don’t feel right taking all this. You’ve already opened your home. I didn’t agree to stay with you so you could… support me financially.”

It was as if they hadn’t spent any time apart, in some respects. They still bounced off one another, and knew when the other was joking, and when they were trying to joke off something that bothered them.

“You’re not scary; you fly. There’s a difference,” Peter corrected.

Luka gave him that wide-eyed expression again, and whispered, “That’s why I wanted to master the silks, so I could fly.”

“Then mission accomplished. I literally couldn’t take my eyes off you when you were in the air. You were strong and graceful, and it was the first time I’d ever—” Thank god his brain kicked in before he blurted out anything else.

“Ever what, Peter?”

Luka stepped forward, and then there wasn’t much separating them.

Unthinkingly, Peter moved Loukas around so his son was between them as a sort of boundary. And then he realized what he’d just done, and leaned over to grab the high chair and put Loukas in it with the parrot.