Authors: Carol Lynne
Full House (2 page)
“And I take it you didn’t want to tell Kent you didn’t have the gas money?”
“No lectures. Please.” He knew most guys wouldn’t have a problem telling Kent they were strapped for cash, but Marco wasn’t most guys.
“Come on over. I’ll even give you a cup of coffee.”
“Thanks.”
“What’re friends for?”
* * * *
After watching Marco drive off, Kent scowled and headed back to the trailer. By the way the younger man was walking, Kent guessed he’d had a good-sized cock up his ass more than once the previous night. The thought made him want to growl in frustration. When would Marco grow up?
He’d waited for more than a couple of years for Marco to get the partying lifestyle out of his system, but the object of his dreams still wasn’t ready for what he had in mind.
Kent
slammed the door on the trailer and took a seat behind his desk. He looked at the bids that needed to be completed and sighed. He hated sending Marco to Santa Cruz, but lately, the less he saw of the gorgeous man the easier it was to cope.
He knew their mutual friends thought he was too hard on Marco, but in his opinion, they were too soft. Besides, did they have any idea the toll years of wanting someone could do to a guy? Yeah, maybe he was crabby around Marco, but he saw so much potential in the younger man, always had.
The first day the skinny teenager had stepped foot on one of Kent’s construction sites and practically begged for a job, he’d snapped him up. He could see the desire to work and work hard in Marco’s black eyes.
Although he’d always thought Marco was extremely handsome, he hadn’t actually started having romantic feelings for a couple of years. It wasn’t until the twice-monthly poker games had begun that Kent had started truly falling for the gorgeous man. A fat lot of good it had done.
Marco rarely dated anyone more than a couple of times. It seemed on the rare occasions Kent saw Marco around town, it was with a different guy. The men were always heavily muscled and extremely possessive of Marco’s attention. Kent couldn’t blame them. If he had Marco, no way would he let anyone close enough to try and steal him away.
With a shake of his head, he tried to concentrate on the job bids in front of him. Whether or not things ever worked out with Marco, Kent had spent enough time and energy wanting something that wasn’t there.
* * * *
Marco set down his trowel and reached for a rag to wipe his hands, before plucking the phone from his belt. “Hello.”
“How’s the knee?” Angelo asked.
“About the size of a grapefruit, but I’m struggling through.”
Angelo sighed into the phone. “Why don’t you go by and see either Eric or Jules on the way home later?”
“It won’t do me any good. They’ll just tell me to rest it for a couple of weeks, and we both know I can’t afford that.”
“What if you’ve torn your ACL or something?”
“I haven’t. I think I’d know if something was seriously wrong with it. It’s just sore and swollen. I’ve been putting ice packs on it at night. I’ll be fine eventually.”
“How much longer will you be working down south?”
“Well, if I worked tomorrow I could probably get it done, but I think I’d be better off waiting until Monday. At least that’ll give me two days of rest.”
“You’re still coming to poker, right?”
“I doubt it. How am I gonna explain to Kent why I’m limping, because believe me, he’ll notice.”
“How’re you going to explain why you’re not there, because I guarantee he’ll ask. You and I both know what he’ll think.”
“It won’t be anything different than what he’s thought about me for years. If I see him, he’s likely to make me stay home from work. I just can’t take that chance.”
“So why not just come clean with him? Why are you still hiding who you really are?”
Marco knew the answer to that question. “I’m afraid I’ll still come up lacking in his eyes. This way, I can at least pretend it’s the secrets that are keeping him at bay.”
Chapter Two
Kent
set his twelve-pack on the counter and started unloading bottles into his refrigerator. He had another twelve-pack in the truck to take to the poker game, but his mood called for a pre-party libation.
With the dark brown bottles lined up like soldiers, he shook his head. He needed to start buying actual food. Other than some condiments and a week-old carton of leftover Chinese, Old Father Hubbard’s cupboard was bare.
He grabbed a beer and unscrewed the cap, flipping it into the empty beer carton. With the counter against his hips, he up-ended the bottle and didn’t stop drinking until it was empty.
Kent
lowered the bottle and reached into the fridge for another. The second bottle in hand, he moved through the kitchen, up the stairs and to his bedroom. Setting the beer on his nightstand, he began undressing.
People speculated as to why he worked all the time, but what else did he have? His house was empty. Hell, he didn’t even have a cat. Where had his dreams of settling down with a special someone gone?
A vision of a five-foot-ten man with black hair and shining brown eyes came to mind.
Yeah, if only.
Disgusted with himself, he strode through to the en suite and turned on the shower. As he stepped under the cool spray, he wondered if his life would’ve been different had he stayed married to Jessica.
High school sweethearts, Jessica thought it was important to save her virginity until marriage. Kent still wasn’t sure if that was the trait that had attracted him to the petite brunette, or if he’d been in serious denial of his own sexuality.
They’d married shortly after graduation. He’d known the relationship was doomed by the time they’d returned from their honeymoon. Unfortunately, Jessica had known it, too. Kent knew he’d been luckier than most men. Jessica had been his best friend for years and evidently, she’d had her concerns even before the wedding.
Their divorce was quiet, easy and quick. Several years later, Jess had moved to Seattle with a man she eventually married. They still talked from time to time, but as the years went by their conversations were fewer and farther between.
After rinsing off, Kent turned off the water and grabbed a towel. As he rubbed his skin dry, he wondered what his friends would say if they knew he’d once been an All-American married man. He snorted. Well, at least for the six months it had taken to get the divorce.
* * * *
By the time he made it to Bobby’s, Kent was already feeling the effects of the three beers he’d had earlier. He slid into an open seat at the table and crossed his hands in front of him. “So, where’s Marco?”
Angelo cleared his throat and glanced at Moody before answering. “He called and said he had something else he needed to do.”
“Typical,” Kent murmured. “So what’s this something’s name?”
“Huh?” Angelo questioned.
“Is it someone he’s just met, or has he dated him before?” Kent refused to show how much it bothered him. So what if Marco would rather be with the flavour of the week instead of with his friends, with him.
“He’s not on a date.”
Kent
was surprised by the apparent annoyance in Angelo’s voice.
“So if a date isn’t more important than poker night, exactly what is?” Kent asked, equally annoyed at the run-around he seemed to be getting.
Angelo picked up his beer bottle and drank the last of the amber liquid. “Just drop it, Kent.”
Before Kent could reply, Angelo stood and stomped his way into the kitchen. Confused by what he felt was Angelo’s misplaced anger, he rose and followed his friend.
“What the hell’s going on?” He asked, trapping Angelo in the kitchen.
Angelo shut the refrigerator door and set his unopened bottle on the counter. “He’ll kill me if I tell you,” he mumbled without turning to face Kent.
Kent
stepped forward and put his hand on Angelo’s shoulder. “You’re starting to worry me.”
Angelo glanced over his shoulder. “He hurt his knee a couple days ago, and he doesn’t want you to know.”
Kent
backed up a step. He felt as if he’d been slapped. “Am I such a monster that he can’t tell me when he’s hurt? Why didn’t he file a workman’s compensation claim?”
Angelo turned to face Kent. “He didn’t do it at work. He was afraid if you found out you’d pull him off the job. He can’t afford that.”
“Shit!” Kent headed for the door.
“Wait! Where are you going?” Angelo asked, running to catch up.
Kent
spun around and shook his head. “I don’t know. Out.”
“Don’t go by his house. He’ll know I told you.”
Kent
narrowed his eyes at his friend. “You know what? I don’t really give a fuck if he finds out. You guys are so busy talking behind my back that you refuse to see what’s right in front of your face.”
He left Angelo sputtering in the foyer. He was almost to his truck when Moody came barrelling out of the house.
“Wait up there,” the big detective called, jogging towards Kent.
“What? You come out to put me in my place?”
Moody held up his hands. “I came out to talk some goddamned sense into you before you go flying out of here half-cocked.”
Kent
crossed his arms and leant against the driver’s door. “How would you feel in the same situation?”
Moody shook his head. “I’m not saying you don’t have a right to feel like you do. All I’m trying to do is to get you to stop and think about it for a second.” Moody gestured with his thumb towards the house. “This whole thing between you and Marco has Angelo half-sick with worry.”
“Why?”
“Because he cares about both of you, jackass.”
Kent
’s blood began to boil again. “I don’t have to take this shit from you.” He turned and opened the door of his truck.
“No you don’t, but I can tell you from an observer’s point-of-view, you’ve been too damned hard on Marco. I haven’t known you long, but the way you talk to him? Hell, I’m surprised he’d even be in the same room with you.”
“You don’t know shit about me and Marco,” Kent fired back. He really didn’t want to take on the beast in front of him, but he wouldn’t just stand by while Moody took chunks out of his hide.
“You need to make up your mind as to whether you love him or you hate him. Because the way you’ve been acting, the choice is going to be taken out of your hands sooner than you think.”
Kent
climbed up into his pickup and slammed the door. He roared off down the road leaving Moody standing in the middle of the street. How dare that asshole confront him.
After driving around for close to an hour, Kent pulled into the construction lot. He climbed out of the truck and walked towards the small building that held the primary offices. Although he usually used his trailer on large job sites, the rest of his office staff worked in the glass and brick building Marco had helped build.
Before unlocking the door, Kent took a moment to appreciate the brickwork Marco had worked so hard on. Even at such a young age, Marco was the best brick layer Kent had ever worked with. The mosaic-style designs could attest to Marco’s skills.
He fit his key into the lock and opened the door. After punching in the security code, he travelled through the showroom and to his office, flipping on lights as he went. In his favourite chair, Kent opened the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out a bottle of whisky.
Two shots later, Kent stood and went to his secretary, Jill’s, office. He sorted through his keys until he came up with the one that opened the personnel cabinet. Although Marco was now part of a union, Kent still kept basic information on all his employees. He found Marco’s file and carried it back to his desk.
He wasn’t sure how long he stared at the closed file, warring with himself, but he eventually opened it. The first thing that smacked him in the face was the red marker indicating a change to Marco’s birth date.
Kent
couldn’t help but chuckle. He remembered very clearly making the change. It had been on Marco’s seventeenth birthday, seven years earlier. He’d known it was Marco’s birthday, but according to what he’d been told, it was his employee’s nineteenth.
For weeks he’d been working his way up to asking Marco out. He’d finally decided taking the gorgeous guy for a celebration dinner was the perfect excuse. After tracking Marco down, Kent had arrived on the job-site at lunchtime. He’d approached Marco as the young man sat alone in the shade of a piece of machinery and received the surprise of his life.
Marco had been chuckling to himself as he read a homemade card. The front of the birthday card said, “Happy 17
th
Birthday”. Marco had quickly stuffed the card into his lunchbox when he spotted Kent, but it was too late.
Kent
had never let on that he’d seen the number on the front of the construction paper, but he sure as hell didn’t ask Marco out either. Going to jail for fucking a minor wasn’t something that appealed to him. Although he should’ve fired Marco for lying on his job application, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. He’d gone back to his office, changed the date on the application and tried his best to forget his attraction to the under-aged man.
