The loud rattle coming from his stomach made him want to groan. The mac n’ cheese he’d made yesterday was still in the fridge. Hell, the thought of putting anything in his mouth made his stomach turn. For once in his miserable life, the cabinets and fridge were full, and it figured he’d lose his appetite.
Both Ron and Eric had commented on his eyes when they’d greeted him at the door. Black circles were common for a fighter; guess he’d just grown used to seeing them. If he thought Eric’s bathroom was a chamber fit for a king, it had nothing on the rest of the house. The sprawling estate resembled a vacation home more than a real house. Where Abigail’s apartment was warm and cozy, Eric’s house was pristine and spacious. Who really needed five bathrooms? Not to mention the cabana and tiki hut constructed on either side of the stone patio. It resembled a lush, tropical paradise with potted plants and small palm trees scattered everywhere. Any guest could walk out into the landscape and feel like he’d entered a five-star resort.
The gentle waves lapped at his heels, lulling the raft around the pool. The late afternoon sun baked his naked chest. He scooped some water and splashed his skin. The coolness eased the dry feeling and reassured him he hadn’t drifted off into oblivion. He rolled his head on the tiny makeshift air pillow.
The wooden loungers lining the patio conjured all kinds of wet dreams. The red cushions sparked an image of Abigail lying naked in the sun. The mirage tugged on his dick, waking the limp thing up to full attention. His cock had stirred only once in the last week, and that was because he did a solo and had thought Abigail might happen to be on the set somewhere, secretly watching him.
Fists clenched and jaw tight, he let the mirage sway with the heat vapors. Her lush hips rocked to the imaginary song reeling in his head. The private show continued, dragging his thoughts to plead with his dream girl. “Turn over,” he murmured. She rolled over, sticking her round ass up in the air. He could see her bare pussy lips displayed between a set of fucking edible thighs. She dipped her shoulders over the end of the lounger. “Damn, baby.” He licked his dry lips, remembering the sweet taste of that secret flesh. So wet, dripping with need, as he’d teased his tongue inside the tight hole. The raft shifted again. Was it the waves or his hips pumping? With her waist pushing back against him, he could pretend her soft body rocked him up and down.
One peek over her pale shoulder and he was caught.
Do you want me, Sean?
“God, yes,” he pleaded. “I want you so bad.”
“Well, thanks, man, but I’ve got a boyfriend,” Ron said and laughed, destroying the fragile mirage Sean had constructed.
Sean looked down. When the fuck had he stuck his hand down his trunks? He splashed a handful of water on his face. The cool water cleared his head a little bit. “Not you, dickhead.”
Ron laughed. “Really? I’m the only other one in the pool, and by the way you were working that boner…”
Sean tipped the raft over, welcoming the prickly sensation from the sudden change in temperature. He took an extra second under the water, holding his breath. A few more seconds and he could sink to the bottom, letting all the frustrations of the last week float away with his soul. The burning in his chest forced his head to pop out of the water.
“Did you say something about my ass?” Sean joked. “I thought I heard you say you wanted to lick my ass?” It felt good to tease Ron. Fuck, it felt good just to talk to somebody.
“Ha-ha. Very funny,” Ron said and splashed Sean in the face. “The only ass I’m licking is the doctor’s.”
Sean sputtered and wiped his face. “My loss.”
“Damn right!” Ron swam over to the wide steps that sank into the shallow end. With elbows perched behind him, he lazily kicked at the water. “So what had your cock all jacked up? Wait, let me guess… A little boss lady with big tits and a love for flips-flops?”
Sean wanted to leap out of the fucking pool and run. He opted to dunk under the water, giving his brain a minute to recover. When he came back up, Ron was still staring at him. “Just zoned out, that’s all. I’m a porn star now, right? Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do, you know, jack off for people?” He smiled but didn’t mean it.
“Give it up, man. You think we couldn’t tell how you looked at her when we were at the bar? Eric even asked if you two were a couple. I
know
she’s into you. Shit, she can’t sit still for five seconds when she knows you’re coming into the office.”
To hear someone else say it made him feel worse. He’d really fucked up. Nothing was going to make this more bearable. His life had become a cesspool. Worse than the day Ms. Evelyn died. Worse than the morning he’d found his mom. Yeah, the empty hole in his chest was fucking worse than those combined.
His heart had been torn out bit by bit, and hope of ever feeling whole again rode on a tattered edge. The fear of being without Abigail ate away at his mind. He’d caused this. He was the one who’d pushed her away. Now he had to figure out some way to live without the one woman he’d actually wanted to plan a future with.
Ron lifted himself out of the water and sat on the step. “She hasn’t been into work all week. I don’t think she’s been out of bed. Every time I call, she has some excuse not to come out of her apartment. Has she called you?”
Guilt gnawed at his gut like it had since the moment his fist went through her wall. “No,” Sean said. “I haven’t heard from her. She really hasn’t left her apartment?”
Worse than everything.
“I don’t think so, and when I talked to her earlier today, she was throwing up. She never gets sick. She drinks that honey, chamomile, vitamin C crap all the time.”
“Do you think I should—”
“Who wants a Singapore sling?” Eric walked onto the patio, carrying a tray laden with three frosty glasses.
“Oh, baby,” Ron said and swam over to the edge where Eric was crouched. “That looks great.” He took one from the tray and turned back to Sean. “Hey, man, you want one? He makes the best mixed drinks.”
“No thanks.”
“Oh, shit,” Eric said and got up to head inside. “I forgot that you don’t drink. Hold on. I made some iced tea.”
Now he felt like a prick. “You don’t have to. It’s okay.”
Over his shoulder, Eric flashed a bright smile before disappearing behind the french doors.
“He likes to take care of people. It’s hard for him to turn off the doctor thing,” Ron said before sipping on the Singapore sling. “It
is
fun to play doctor and patient though. How come this doesn’t creep you out?”
“What, you and Eric?”
“Yes,” Ron said.
What was he supposed to say?
I’ve watched two guys fucking in the shower, kissing in the same bunk, jacking each other off in the rec hall?
“I don’t know. It just doesn’t bother me.”
“Iced tea on the rocks,” Eric said as he held a glass of tea in one hand and a frosty Singapore sling in the other.
Sean took the iced tea. “Thanks.”
Eric padded over to Ron, who’d stepped out of the pool, and pulled him into his arms. The pair was a contradiction. Eric, with his lean muscle and long waist, pulled Ron, the linebacker, into his arms and nuzzled his neck. Sean wanted, needed, to look away. The intimacy made his chest tighten. God, he needed to get away from it all
“So, big guy, you going to stay for dinner? I’m making lasagna. I think Ron got a movie.”
Could he really take all the cuddle time between the two men? “I don’t know. I have an early shoot tomorrow.”
Ron gulped down half of his drink. “Seriously, I made your set time for eleven o’clock, man. I rented
Transporter 3
. Come on, you came over here. You can stay for a while.” He waggled his dark eyebrows. “Free food, I know you have to eat. With a body like that, you probably eat twelve meals a day.”
The guys were partially right. He ate like a horse when he had the money for food. The two men were so nice, and he really didn’t want to be alone. For the first time in his life, he didn’t want to just escape into a world of Legos and Star Wars movies. “Okay, sounds good. But you have to let me help do something. I’m not a bum.”
Both men looked at each other. Eric spoke first. “You’re not a bum, Sean. You’re our guest. And besides, I’m kind of a kitchen snob.”
Ron pulled Eric to his mouth for a hot kiss. “No, baby, you’re a kitchen slut. There’s a difference.” Both men laughed and pulled each other in for a hug.
Sean remembered Abigail’s sweet smile when she found her small dining-room table set for breakfast. He could be normal. Making pancakes for her blessed him with a glimpse into a life he didn’t even know existed. Being a husband, a father, had never appealed to him before, but Abigail’s smile made that distant thought a possible reality. At least it had. What the fuck now?
Eric slid into the pool and tried to lift himself, clumsily, onto a raft. “It’s settled, then. You’ll stay for dinner and a movie. Babe, come over her and help me get up on this damn thing.”
Ron waggled his eyebrows over at Sean. “Sure, babe, I’ll give you a hand.”
Sean realized why Ron gave him the sly look when he planted his big hands on the man’s ass and massaged his way into helping Eric up onto the faltering raft. Sean dunked under the water, waiting for the burning in his lungs to force him to take a breath and make the decision to live another day.
* * * *
“Crap! Crap! Crap!” Abigail chanted while sitting in her parked car. Sean’s truck was tucked neatly next to Ron’s car in Eric’s driveway. “Stupid! I can’t do this.” She pulled the cell phone from her purse and hit Ron’s contact number.
“Hey, girl, are you hungry?”
“Ron, I…um, I’m not feeling so good. I’m just going to stay home.” She pressed on the brake and put the car into reverse.
“Really?”
The tap on her window made her jump. She looked over. Ron stood there, gawking in the window. “Get out of that car, Abigail. Now.” Ron jiggled the door handle.
She put the car back into park. “I can’t, Ron. I can’t. Please, let me go home.”
“No go, girl. Come on. Turn the car off. Let’s go.”
The jean shorts she’d put on were shredded at the hems, and the white men’s dress shirt was oversize and part of the comfy attire Ron had told her to wear.
Sean can’t see me like this
. She’d slipped on a pair of old pink flip-flops and tossed her hair up into a messy ponytail. “I forgot to bring something. I can run to the store and pick up a dessert. I’ll be right back.”
“Abigail Swanson, turn off this damn car, or I’m jumping on the hood.” He knocked on the window again with the edge of his cell phone.
“Fine! You’re an ass, Ron.” She turned the key and popped it into her purse. When she stepped out of the car, Ron hauled her into his strong arms. She wanted to hate him, beat the shit out of him, but all she could manage to do was melt into his secure hug.
I’m not going to cry. No damn way
. “You do know that we’re no longer friends, right?”
The way he stroked her hair made her sleepy. “I know. Are you hungry? How do you feel?”
When she tilted back, she had to look up to see the soft expression in his dark eyes. “I’m hungry, but I can’t eat. I feel like shit, but I’m going to be okay.”
“Come on.” He took the purse from her shoulder and cradled her against his body as they walked to the house. “Sean’s here.”
“I know. Why?”
“Don’t sound so excited. He came over to play Xbox and swim. He’s been pretty quiet today. I was surprised he came.”
Abigail slammed a fist into his biceps. The gesture hurt her a lot more than it did him. “You asshole! You knew he was going to be here and invited me over?”
“No, Muhammad Ali, I didn’t know I was going to invite him over until Eric made the suggestion, and that wasn’t until after I talked to you. So don’t get all UFC fighter on me. Go hit Eric.”
She couldn’t hit Eric. He was too sweet. “Ugh, I have to pee.”
“Listen,” he said and turned her, getting her full attention. “It’s just dinner, okay? No issues or problems. Just food.”
Abigail took her purse from his hand and hauled herself through the front door. “Right.”
There was a bathroom downstairs, right off the foyer, thank God. She stared in the mirror and washed her hands. Her hair was a total mess, not to mention her jean shorts were too tattered and way too damn snug on her fat ass. The boys didn’t care what she looked like when they spent lazy evenings by the pool or watching old movies, but this evening was different.
Sean. Beautiful, sexy, funny, smart, angry Sean is here. Oh God, my thighs are too big. This shirt makes me look too round.
She leaned on the marble vanity, trying to catch her breath.
I can do this. I can do this.
The door handle jiggled.
“Just a minute.”
“Oh, sorry.” The sound of Sean’s deep voice made her body shake.
It’s him! It’s him! Oh God, I can’t do this!
She didn’t know if she wanted to cry or fling the door open and jump into his arms. He didn’t have permission to make her feel like this. He’d thrown her away. He’d told her she was a cheater and a liar. He’d scared her and…made her pancakes and made her feel lonely…and made her laugh, and he liked her dog.
I can’t do this.
“Abigail?” he whispered behind the door. “Is that you?”
Where in the hell had the tears come from? With a wad of toilet paper, she dabbed at her eyes. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
Hopefully
. She waited another five minutes before cracking the door open to peek out into the foyer. The coast was clear.
From the hallway, Abigail could hear voices coming from the kitchen. The soft sound of Marvin Gaye’s voice drifted through the house. Peering over at the hall mirror, she dug in her purse for a tube of lip gloss. She smeared the translucent pink gloss over her lips and tossed it back into her purse.
Not great, but better.
“Stir it, babe. Don’t let it stick,” Eric said.
“I am, but you said to put the veal in now,” Ron said back.
Abigail rounded the corner and watched the two men in the kitchen. They were side by side at the stove. Eric had his hand on the small of Ron’s back while Ron stared down into a large metal pot.