Page 27 of Contingently Yours

Andrew

The steam from my shower filters out into the empty bedroom as I pack up my toiletries bag to head out to Harlow’s Landing tomorrow.

I thought the hot water would wash away the memory of Lucas’ body pressed against mine from earlier, but it’s official.

The Hepperlys shouldn’t buy this place; the water pressure is shit.

He was giving me puppy-dog eyes all night. I could feel it. I saw them even before I left him at the outdoor showers earlier. What the fuck am I supposed to do with puppy-dog eyes? We barely get along. Did he forget that?

He sure looked like he wanted to get along when he turned around and faced me, though. Grunting, I adjust my cock roughly behind my boxers. We went to Tuft Town once, you hear me? I silently admonish it. Once was enough. You saw the way he looked at us.

What business did he have looking at me like that, anyway? We were both just getting off. What does he expect will happen next? That I fuck him?

I can’t fuck him. I mean…I probably could. It can’t be that difficult to figure out. I’ve done anal before. Men’s and women’s bodies aren’t entirely different.

“Shut the hell up, Andrew,” I grit to my reflection in the mirror. “What are you even saying?”

My phone resounds with a familiar ring tone, making me groan, but I answer it. There can be no better way to cleanse my brain of my current debacle than a chat with my mother.

“I stopped by yesterday and you weren’t home,” comes her veiled scolding, and any hello is forgotten.

“If you’d called first, I could have told you that so you didn’t waste a trip.”

“I was in the area doing some shopping.”

Wow. Way to be blunt. She didn’t come to see me at all.

“I’m in Massachusetts showing some properties.”

“The miles you probably put on that car of yours,” she tsks. “Lou should give you a company vehicle.”

“I flew. First class on his dime. Don’t worry.” Rolling my eyes, I toss my toothbrush into my bag. Her disdain for all things Uncle Lou is astounding. “Although, I guess I could have picked this last one up as a get-well present for him,” I add, just to push her buttons.

“ Get-well present?”

“Yeah. He had surgery yesterday.”

“For what?”

Is that actually alarm in her voice? Loretta Broadhouse has never shown an ounce of alarm over her brother in my life.

“Hernia repair. Aunt Vera said he’s sore, but he’s all right.

He has to take it easy for a few days, so I guess he’ll be laid up at home if you want to go visit him,” I venture, curious about how deep her unexpected sympathy runs.

“Oh?” There’s a pause, and then her unconcerned tone returns. “I’ll send him a card.”

Yup. I knew it was a fluke. Whatever falling out they had years ago—that no one has ever elaborated on—has me shaking my head.

At least, I assume there must have been a falling out.

Her repeated claims of him being the black sheep of the family whenever I used to ask why he was rarely ever invited to family functions never seemed to add up to that kind of isolation.

And by family functions, I mean only Christmas.

“That is very generous of you, Mother Dearest,” I deadpan.

“Don’t call me that,” she scolds. “I know what movie you’re talking about, and I am nothing like that.” I bite my lip on a snicker, mentally picturing her spine stiffen over the jab. “Did he send me anything when I had back surgery five years ago? No. I don’t think so.”

Sighing when I zip up my bag, I realize I don’t even care about whatever their age-old feud is right now.

I need to slip into bed before my bearded cock interest decides to come to bed.

Two can play possum, and I plan to play the Lucas Everette card tonight, closing my baby greens before he even gets here.

“How’s Dad?” I ask, deflecting and trying to be a good son.

“Busy…”

Fuck. Why did I even ask? That’s the most loaded statement I’ve ever heard. “He could use your help if you’re finally tired of being a house salesman.”

“ Real estate agent , and no. I’m working on the deal of a lifetime right now. Also, I think his exact words on my last day at Broadhouse Publishing were, ‘You’re fired.’ I highly doubt he asked for my help.”

I want to tell her the scoff she makes is unladylike, but why poke the bear more than I already have? “He was just upset. If you’d told him you were dating that intern and explained all those charges on the company card, he might have been more reasonable.”

“One—It is not my fault he didn’t elaborate on what types of purchases could be made over the workday. And two—which intern?”

There’s a grumbling noise on the other end of the line that makes me smile. “I’m not discussing this with you if you can’t be serious.”

Leaning against the doorframe, I inspect my cuticles. “Maybe I’m being perfectly serious.”

“You’re just like him, you know?” she huffs.

“Who?”

“Your father.”

How in the hell does sleeping with a few employees who had just as much of a blast as I did make me just like my stalwart father? Am I missing something?

She elaborates without me having to ask. “Never appreciating one thing, always thinking something better is out there.”

Pinching my eyes shut, I stifle a groan and run my hand down my face. I am in no mood if she’s gearing up on one of her tangents where she claims Dad doesn’t love her.

“Mom…he dotes on you. You’ve got him so wrapped around your finger that he wouldn’t take a shit unless you said it was okay.”

“Vulgar,” she warns, but then her tone turns more subdued. “And I don’t know about that.”

Sighing, I let my forehead thump against the drywall over the towel rod. “Is this why you called?”

“No. We’re getting off track.”

I’ll say. No shit, Loretta. Was there even a track when we started?

“We’re having a party for the Fourth of July on Saturday the fifth.”

“So, you mean you’re having a fifth of July party?”

“Hardy-har-har. Yes. Whatever. Will you be home from…wherever?”

She knows damn well where I am. The woman has a memory like a steel trap. “Yes,” I grumble before I can think better of it, so I add, “Maybe.”

“Good,” she clips, seeing right through me. “It’s been a while since you’ve come to visit. Your father and Chad will be happy to see you.”

My eyes are going to be damaged by how many times I’ve rolled them during this conversation. “Yeah. I bet.”

“You can invite Shaw and Terry if you like,” she says off-handedly. “I haven’t seen them since Easter.”

I will never understand why Lou’s kid is welcome, but he isn’t. “Yeah. Sure. The fourth on the fifth.”

“Noon. Don’t be late.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

She hangs up, and as I stare at the phone, I want to know why it’s the first time I’m pondering why we never say ‘ I love you ’ back and forth the way Lucas does so freely each time he talks to the babies. Does that make my family dysfunctional or his?

Turning off the light, I decide it’s not worth burning the brain cells over and step into the room. I stop the second I do, seeing a lump in the bed. A very large, Lucas-shaped lump.

How long ago did he get here? I didn’t even hear him come in. And is that…a fucking pillow shoved behind his ass underneath the covers?

Snorting, I shake my head at his fuckery.

There is no way he’s worried about me reaching over in the morning.

Someone’s pouting already because I didn’t tell him he was the best double jerk session I’ve ever had, no matter that he was the only one.

He’s making me as needy as him because I have to step on the lightness that brings to my chest like squashing a bug.

He was just drunk from coming. I’m not special.

The idiot. He’s too old to have a crush.

I bet he drove around Podunk in his pickup for months, blaring ‘ Friends In Low Places ’ after his woman ditched him.

I toss my toiletry bag next to my suitcase, telling myself he did me a favor with his chastity pillow. I honestly have no idea how to extricate myself from…whatever the hell is happening between us, short of turning down the boyfriend signals around the Hepperlys tonight.

The closer I pad to the bed, the angrier I get watching his still frame and that fucking bulge from his extra pillow.

Fucking Lucas. We’ve still got almost two weeks left with the Hepperlys.

I can’t afford for him to piss me off, along with his pouting.

Every time he aggravates me, I end up putting my hands or mouth on him.

Damn it. I need some advice.

Huffing, I head out into the hallway with my phone and keep going until I reach the patio door. The night air has a chill in the breeze, but I’ll take all the cooling off I can.

I hit the video icon on my favorites, and after three rings, Terry’s face appears with the backdrop of their kitchen in view. “Where’s Shaw?” I ask, not wasting any time.

“Hello to you, too.”

“It’s important. I need some advice.”

His sourpuss brightens, his face lighting up. “Ooh, about the ‘ boyfriend situation ?’”

“No, about the mouth fungus you gave me.”

His head twists around, straining the cords in his neck. “Shaw! Your dickhead cousin’s on the phone. Want me to hang up?” he yells at the top of his lungs.

Drama king. I glance out over the bay when the view on the camera starts wobbling with his angry steps through the house.

I catch his muffled voice as my cousin comes into view, looking half asleep on the couch. “There’s trouble in paradise. He wants the keys to Prostate City.”

“What?” Shaw asks, flipping the phone around to face him.

“Hey, I have a question.”

“I was just going to head to bed. I have to be up early. Can you make this quick and not weird, please?”

“What do I do if my boyfriend has a crush on me?”

“Oh, my God! He actually likes you?” Terry squawks somewhere in the background.

“Why is that so difficult to imagine? I’m a total catch.”