“How old are her kids?”
“Six.”
Aidan chuckled. “Well, if you don’t feel like sharing a house with a couple of kids, you’re welcome to stay here for a bit. I’ve got a spare room.”
To his extreme disgust, his cock actually twitched again.
For the love of God, buddy, this is not happening. Chill the fuck out.
His lower body finally received the memo, much to his relief.
“Thanks, that’s good to know,” he said. “I’ll definitely consider it.”
“Cool. Come on, I’ll show you to the guest room.”
Dylan set off after Aidan, his gaze taking in the smooth expanse of Aidan’s sinewy back, the defined muscles that rippled at the guy’s every step. It wasn’t until he found himself mesmerized by the taut ass flexing beneath Aidan’s pants that he realized what he was doing.
Jesus. You’d think he’d been on the receiving end of a blowjob tonight, only to get interrupted right before he could ejaculate, and was now in a state of painful arousal…oh wait—that’s exactly what had happened.
Fuckin’ Masterson.
He wrenched his eyes away from Aidan’s ass and took a breath, deciding that it had now become imperative for him to jack off tonight.
Otherwise he might do something very, very stupid.
Chapter Nine
Two days. Two whole days, and not one word from Miranda about the conversation they’d had Monday night. Defeat wasn’t something that sat right with him, which was probably why Seth was being unnecessarily harsh on the punching bag at the moment.
He was in the garage, trying to distract himself from his continuous state of unfulfilled arousal by using every piece of exercise equipment. He’d already lifted weights, hit the treadmill, and used the chin-up bar, and now he was on the punching bag, sweat running in rivulets between his pecs and down his back.
Thwack, thwack, thwack. He executed a series of jabs that made his knuckles throb, despite the fact that he’d wrapped them up. The soreness was the wake-up call he’d needed, the unspoken warning that it was time to stop. He couldn’t bust up his hands, not when he was scheduled to spend the day at the target range tomorrow mastering a new assault rifle the spec ops community was considering utilizing.
Breathing hard, Seth stilled the swinging bag. He unwrapped the white cloth from his hands, grabbed his bottle of water, and chugged it all in one gulp.
He’d just finished drinking when he heard the footsteps. Two sets of footsteps, both far too quiet to be Miranda’s, he realized in dismay.
Sure enough, he glanced over in time to see Sophie and Jason pop through the door that led from the kitchen to the garage. They scampered down the short flight of stairs and plopped down on the last step. Two pairs of brown eyes proceeded to watch him. One suspicious. One curious.
“What?” he said irritably.
“Whatcha doing?” Jason asked, that inquisitive gaze moving around the garage.
Seth reached for the towel he’d draped on the weight rack and patted the sweat coating his neck. “What does it look like, kid? I’m working out.”
“Why are your arms so much bigger than mine?”
He shrugged. “I’m older. And bigger. And I train.”
“Will I get as big as you when I get older?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
There. He’d officially met his kid quota for the day. Seth had promised Miranda that he’d be nicer to the rugrats, and he’d been trying his hardest to keep his word. For the past two days, he’d made small talk with the kidlets over meals, put forth an effort to answer the billion questions Jason hurled his way, pretended not to notice Sophie’s perpetual scowl every time she looked at him.
He’d been polite, cordial, respectful…and had that expedited Miranda’s thinking process in any way? Not at all.
Seth headed for the minifridge and got another bottle of water. He uncapped it, feeling the twins watching his every move. They disturbed him on a whole other level, those two. Especially Sophie, who was currently playing with the end of one of her pigtails and tapping one tiny ballet slipper on the wooden step.
Finally he couldn’t take it anymore.
“What?” he grumbled.
She pursed her lips for a moment before answering. “I don’t like you.”
Her brother looked absolutely horrified. “Soph!”
“Well, it’s true! And you don’t like him too!”
“But I’m not gonna tell him!”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not nice.”
“He’s not nice. He doesn’t like us.”
“Yes he does!”
“No he doesn’t!”
Seth watched the verbal ping-pong match without comment. Despite his better judgment, he found himself smiling, a reaction that startled as well as annoyed him. Shit, he wasn’t supposed to be amused by these rugrats. He was supposed to keep an indifferent air, give them the absolute minimum amount of attention, and high-five himself when they were finally gone.
As the twins continued to argue, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Why don’t you go find your mother? She’s leaving for work in a couple of hours. Don’t you want to spend some time with her before she goes?”
Their bickering died abruptly.
“She’s on the phone,” Jason informed him.
“And we don’t like you,” Sophie added.
“So-phie!”
Seth swiftly held up his hand to silence them, not in the mood for round two. “Listen, kid.” He shot Sophie a look that usually made grown men cower, and yet didn’t get so much as a blink from the six-year-old. “I don’t care whether you like me or not.”
“That’s ’cause you don’t care ’bout anything,” she shot back. “Because you’re mean. And I don’t like it here!”
“Soph!” Jason’s face was so red he looked like a little dark-haired tomato.
“It’s fine,” Seth told the boy. “Look, it doesn’t matter anyway, because you guys won’t be here for much longer. You’re going back to your place tomorrow or the day after, remember? And FYI, I’m not mean.”
Sophie smirked. “Are too.”
“Are not.”
“Are too.”
Holy sweet baby Jesus, was he actually playing the Are-Not Game with a six-year-old?
Gritting his teeth, he fixed both children with a stern glare, pointed to the stairs and said, “Go find your mom. Now.”
This time the look did the job. The tone must have helped too, because the kids shot to their feet and hurried up the stairs like they were being chased by bloodhounds.
Once they were gone, Seth let out a breath. Well, that had been unpleasant. And now he’d lost all enthusiasm for his workout.
Muttering a string of curses, he headed upstairs and emerged in the kitchen, where he found Dylan at the counter preparing a turkey sandwich.
“Did you really just tell those angel-faced children that you hated them?”
Seth’s jaw fell open. “What are you talking about?”
“They just came running through here like bats out of hell. Sophie said you told them you hated them.”
Lying little imp.
“I did no such thing,” he muttered.
Dylan had the nerve to grin. “I like that kid. She’s got spunk. Wish she was around all the time, just so I’d get to see that angry, pulsing vein in your forehead more often.”
“Well, we might be around a while longer,” Miranda spoke up from the doorway.
Seth turned as she walked in with a twin on either side. Visible lines of unhappiness marred her mouth, and her hazel eyes glimmered with frustration.
“I just got off the phone with our landlord,” she explained. “There’s been a delay, and now he says we can’t move back in for another week.”
Seth frowned. “What happened?”
“I was too upset to pay attention to the details, but Marco said there was more damage than they thought, and som
ething about ordering more materials. I don’t know. Oh, and apparently the living room wall, the one right underneath the gutters? The drywall and insulation need to be torn out and replaced.”
“That sucks.” Sympathy rang from Dylan’s tone.
She made an angry noise. “I knew those construction guys were acting weird when I was there earlier today. I kept asking what was wrong, but they wouldn’t answer me.”
Her misery was written all over her pretty face, which made her appear younger. Actually, no, it made her look her age. Normally, he completely forgot that she was only twenty-four—she carried herself with a maturity that surpassed her years—but when her eyes filled with unshed tears and her lips quivered with frustration, her youth was unmistakable. It made him want to pull her into his arms and hold her close.
“It’ll be all right,” he said gruffly. “You guys can stay here as long as you need.” He glanced at his roommate. “Right?”
“Right.” Dylan got a funny look on his face. “I’ll even let you have my room, so you’re more comfortable.”
“Oh no, please, you don’t have to do that. I’m fine bunking in the guest room with the twins.”
But Dylan was adamant. “That double bed can’t be big enough for all three of you. It’s all right, honey, I’ve got a friend with a spare room, and he already said I can crash there whenever I need.”
“I can’t put you out of your own home.” Her voice trembled. “I refuse to inconvenience you.”
“It’s no inconvenience. Besides, I could use a change of scenery.”
Seth studied Dylan’s chiseled features, wondering why he seemed so eager to leave. He must have been talking about Jackson—Texas was the only one Seth knew with an extra room—but why the hurry to move in with the guy?
In all honesty, Seth would prefer it if Dylan stayed home. The dude was amazing with Miranda’s rugrats. He watched movies with them, joked around with them, even gave them piggyback rides on command. Without Dylan there to entertain the kids, Seth would be forced to spend more time with them.
But it was clear Dylan was dead set on jumping ship.
Asshole.
“I’ll make up the bed and get the room ready for you,” Dylan told Miranda. “And quit arguing. As long as you’re staying here, you deserve your own room, okay?”
“Okay,” she said weakly.
Seth fought another urge to cross the kitchen and take her in his arms. She’d probably slap him if he tried, and besides, the twins were clinging to her legs like spider monkeys, looking unhappy about this latest turn of events.
“I wanted to go home,” Sophie whined.
“Me too! All my toys are at home.”
Miranda seemed to snap out of her thoughts. “Actually, most of our things are in Seth’s garage. I spent the last two days packing up all the dry clothes and toys and bedding. Remember the boxes I showed you?”
The twins nodded.
“Well, that’s our stuff. If you want, why don’t we pick out a few items that you can keep in the guest room?”
Sophie’s brown eyes lit up. “Like Belinda?”
Miranda’s expression grew strained. “I’m sorry, sweetie, Belinda isn’t in any of those boxes. She was too wet and dirty. I couldn’t save her, hon.”
“She’s dead?” Sophie wailed.
Seth swallowed a groan, knowing the waterworks were about to make an appearance. But although tears clung to Sophie’s dark eyelashes, the kid kept her cool, triggering a spark of grudging admiration.
“Will you get me another doll?” Sophie asked in a small voice.
Miranda smiled and tugged on one of her daughter’s pigtails. “Of course I will. But not today. For now, why don’t you put on your shoes and we’ll go to the garage and find you some toys.”
Both kids dashed out of the kitchen, leaving Seth alone with Miranda.
She eyed him for a moment, wary, reluctant.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he said roughly.
“Kim’s coming over in an hour to babysit.”
He arched a brow. “And?”
“And then I’m going to the club.” She hesitated. “I’m only working until midnight.”
He refused to acknowledge the tiny spark of hope that hovered in his chest. “Where are you going with this, Miranda?”
Her teeth dug into her lower lip, gnawing, revealing her evident nervousness.
The spark grew bigger.
“Seth…remember how I said my life was a big ball of stress?”
He nodded.
“Well, the ball is bigger now. It’s huge, actually. It’s ginormous.” Her hazel eyes took on a slightly wild glint. “I’m close to freaking out and I don’t have time to freak out right now, okay? I need to relax. Just a teeny, tiny bit of relaxation, a few hours where I don’t have to think about anything but me.”
The spark caught flame and burned a path straight to his groin.
“So please, don’t come to the club tonight. Stay here, work out, do your hair, I don’t care. But when I get home later?” Her chin lifted in fortitude. “You’ll be lying in your bed waiting for me. You’ll be naked, you’ll have protection handy, and you’re going to fuck me.”
Chapter Ten
This was a mistake. A big fucking mistake.
Whatever, man, you need a place to stay, Aidan’s got a spare room, end of story.
“Bull-fucking-shit,” Dylan muttered.
Wow. He was actually calling bullshit on himself. That was beyond messed up. Yet even though he knew his reasons for coming here tonight were bogus as hell, he couldn’t seem to talk himself out of it.
So here he was, standing in the expensive, brightly lit lobby of Aidan Rhodes’ condo, waiting to be buzzed up. Miranda had dropped him off on her way to the club, though neither of them had said much during the ride over. She’d clearly had something on her mind—something named Seth, no doubt—but Dylan hadn’t pushed her to talk. She hadn’t tried to force conversation either, which he appreciated.
Comfortable silence was so hard to come by these days, and this one had allowed him to mull over the remark Aidan had made earlier. When Dylan called asking if the offer to crash at his place was still on the table, Aidan had told him to come by whenever. He’d then added, “I’m having a chick over for dinner, but she’s always down for some variety, so if you want to join us…”
A three-way? Had Aidan been inviting him to a three-way? But why? The two of them were definitely more than acquaintances, but they weren’t quite best buds, either. In fact, the other night was the first time they’d ever been alone.
The other night… Fuck, it had been the alcohol. Had to be the alcohol. And the aborted BJ hadn’t helped either.
“Hey, Wade, come on up.” Aidan’s deep voice emerged from the intercom, and then the glass doors buzzed.
Slinging his black duffel over his shoulder, Dylan strode to the elevator bank and punched the Up button. A few moments later, the doors dinged open and he stepped into the car, riding it up to the fifteenth floor. Walking on the clean, cream-colored carpet with his scuffed up shitkickers felt wrong, so he practically sprinted to Aidan’s door, which swung open before he could even knock.
Aidan greeted him with a dimpled grin, and Dylan was struck by how damn good-looking he was. Kinda resembled a young Johnny Depp, except with the body of an action star.
“Come in. Lani and I just finished dinner. We were about to have a beer on the terrace.” Aidan opened the door wider to let him in.
Dylan toed off his boots and left them on the mat in the front hall, then followed Aidan into the living room, where Aidan’s date was waiting. She was a stunning woman, looked to be of Polynesian descent, with exotic features and long, jet-black hair.
She smiled when she spotted Dylan. “Hello,” she said in a soft voice.
“Lani, this is Dylan,” Aidan introduced. “He’s staying with me this week.” He turned to Dylan. “Lani just moved here from Honolulu.”
; “Hawaiian, huh?” He offered her a warm smile. “How are you liking San Diego?”
“It’s beautiful. And the people are so nice.” Her dark eyes twinkled in Aidan’s direction.
Dylan noticed the remnants of the couple’s dinner on the glass table across the room—plates, beer bottles, candlewicks releasing wisps of smoke as if they’d just been put out.
“I should probably get out of your hair,” he said ruefully. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your date.”
But neither Aidan nor Lani acted as if his presence inconvenienced them. In fact, the beautiful Hawaiian just smiled again and said, “You can stay if you want. Have a beer with us.”
Indecision flashed through him. Shit. He wanted to stay. He wanted to have a beer with them. But if he did, he knew exactly where this would all lead—straight to the bedroom. And while normally he wouldn’t bat an eye at the notion of a threesome, indulging with this particular man probably wasn’t the most intelligent move. After his reaction to Aidan the other night, he was a touch worried that he might not be able to control himself if they somehow wound up naked together.
“It’s a tempting offer, but I’m gonna have to pass,” he told them. “I have to make a few phone calls—my older brother just got engaged. And I need to be up at dawn tomorrow, so I can’t stay up late tonight.”
Was that a glimmer of disappointment he saw in Aidan’s eyes?
Naah, wishful thinking, maybe.
“Well, make yourself at home.” Aidan joined Lani on the leather couch and slung one muscular arm over her slender shoulder. “You need a ride tomorrow morning?”
“No, that’s cool. Cash is picking me up.”
He bid them good night and headed for the guest room, where he dropped his duffel on the hardwood floor and released a ragged breath. After a beat, he dug his phone from his pocket and sank on the double bed in the middle of the room. The bedframe was a dark oak, the mattress a perfect combination of hard and soft. Dylan made himself comfortable as he dialed his mom’s number.
She picked up on the second ring, sounding delighted to hear from him. “Honey! Did you get my message?” Shanna Wade chirped.
An indulgent smile crossed his mouth. “That’s why I’m calling. So, you’re pretty stoked about this engagement, huh?”