Page 6 of Party of Three (Sapphire Cove Suite Secrets)

Another shower was in order. They held each other under the spray, kissing, soaping, kneading but barely speaking, as if they were amazed to have their bodies back after traveling through time astride a fantasy.

Not a fantasy , Buckley corrected himself, a memory. A memory my boyfriend used to fill me and own me.

A few times, he looked up, but it was hard to read Mateo’s expression in the dim glow.

Buckley had changed the light bulb overhead to a soft and warm one, one of many he’d installed in strategic places throughout the apartment.

Dimmers were a no-go. Buckley had removed them himself.

Their slow fade from light to dark was too triggering, reminding Mateo of the awful moment the Osprey had pitched forward toward the dark ocean depths after missing its landing on the aircraft carrier’s deck.

An hour later, they were snuggling on the living room sofa. Haunting violin music filled their living room, but Buckley was only pretending to watch the true crime documentary they’d scrolled their way to on Netflix.

His mind was shuttling between memories of what they’d done in the kitchen and memories of what he’d done earlier that week—his last-ditch effort to get Jeff Braxton at Mateo’s birthday party.

Earlier, he hadn’t said a word about it because if his plan worked, he wanted it to stay a surprise.

Then his boyfriend had rolled out some surprises of his own. Now he wasn’t sure what to do.

“Should we talk about it?” Mateo finally asked.

“Sure.” Even though his heart was in his throat, he sat up slowly so he could look into Mateo’s eyes.

“That was amazing, but I just want to make sure you’re cool. I mean, it was a while ago.”

“So it was all true?” he asked. “You guys really blew out some hot go-go boy’s back?”

“You thought I made it up?”

“Parts of it, maybe. I don’t know. For fun. A fantasy. Like we usually do.”

Mateo caressed the side of Buckley’s face. “The truth seemed to be setting you on fire, so I decided to give you more of it. That’s okay, right? I mean, you said you weren’t jealous, but I just want to be sure now that we…you know…”

Buckley was a fast talker. On his ambulance crews, he was usually the one tasked with calming a panicked patient with streams of focusing, comforting words. But in this moment, words failed him.

I don’t get jealous when it comes to you , was what Buckley wanted to say.

He somehow felt tangled up and included in Mateo’s passion for other men, especially a man he worshiped.

Like Mateo’s lust for anyone flowed through Buckley first and with power, and this made him feel like the bond between him and Mateo was deeper than any he’d shared with another man.

“I loved it. It was like we traveled back through time together, and I got to see a different side of you.”

“Alright, well,” Mateo said finally, “since it looks like you’re never going to meet Jeff anyway, I figure we don’t have to worry about it being weird. But I wanted to be sure.” Their lips met in a gentle kiss. “You sure you’re cool?” he asked in a whisper.

“Cool and hot,” Buckley whispered back. “At the same time.”

“Good. But eventually,” Mateo whispered, “I’m going to open up that dirty mind of yours some more. It’s only fair since you’ve been all over mine.”

He snuggled into his boyfriend’s lap again.

Mateo was right.

No point getting bent out of shape over anything relating to Jeff Braxton given how hard the guy had proven to get in touch with.

Maybe their kitchen session had been a fluke, and maybe the real thrill had been the sense that he was being claimed by a younger, more innocent, but no less hungry version of the man he loved.

But what if Jeff actually showed up at the party?

Should he tell Mateo about it now, just in case?

The unanswered question rattled around in his head until he fell asleep in Mateo’s arms.

* * * *

Days before, Buckley had given up hope of a response from Jeff Braxton, but in the wake of Mateo’s big revelation, he’d spent the day leading up to the party nervously checking his texts for any message from a strange number.

Crickets, except for the usual steady stream from Mateo and his sister, who was helping Buckley import elements of their old neighborhood into the celebration.

The Canos could take away their support, but they couldn’t take away his culture.

That was the theme he and Marisol agreed on months before.

A few hours before showtime, and shortly after Buckley arrived at Sapphire Cove, prep took a turn for the worse.

Not only had the band taken the wrong exit, they were having trouble connecting to Google Maps, forcing Buckley to give them verbal directions into the resort’s motor court by phone.

Not the easiest thing since they were LA imports lost in the undulating labyrinth of hills between Sapphire Cove and the 405 Freeway, a place where deep canyons and a toll road could make a wrong turn into something you had to endure for twenty minutes.

Upon their delayed arrival, they realized they’d forgotten one of their amps, but the hotel’s sound equipment was all in use by other events, so he’d been forced to contact a neighboring resort a short drive up the coast to find a replacement.

As soon as a rental fee was agreed to, one of the guitarists rushed off to pick it up in their rattling death trap of a van.

Buckley took his first deep breath in hours.

That’s when he saw he had two texts from a number he didn’t recognize.

This is Jeff Braxton. I received your note. I will be there at 6:30 p.m. at the address you provided.

Then, two hours later, a second from the same number.

Here.

So Jeff had waited until the last possible second to RSVP.

How charming! Maybe he’d been deployed. But the words the address you provided suggested reluctance, as if he didn’t want to repeat anything that might make the party sound like what it was—a classy soiree at one of the finest resorts on the Southern California coast. And the I received your note line made the entire invite sound like a subpoena.

What mattered was that he was at the resort right now, on the other side of the grounds from Buckley.

If Buckley didn’t get to him first, Mateo would when he arrived with his sister in about fifteen minutes.

And then Jeff might ask him about their nonexistent move to Japan, and awkward wouldn’t begin to describe it.

He took off running.

The hotel’s restaurant and bar were open to the sparkling marble-floored lobby and not too crowded, but Buckley saw no sign of the mysterious Marine perched on one of its white leather stools. That’s because he was walking out the automatic doors into the motor court.

Buckley raced after him. “Oh, no you don’t. Stop right there, mister.”

One dark eyebrow raised, assessing Buckley as if he were mildly amused the guy thought he was qualified to order him around, Jeff Braxton turned.

The man’s photograph only hinted at his size and power.

His eyes didn’t just communicate focus. In person, they blazed with intensity.

As he surveyed Buckley from head to toe, Buckley felt chills move up his spine.

This was the look Mateo had described, the one that could make a twink drop their undies in ten seconds flat.

It made him feel like his thighs were being caressed by searching fingers.

“I brought a gift. I left it with the nice couple over there.” He spoke with a controlled Texas twang that made Buckley imagine the guy throwing him across the back of a saddle.

It took him a second to realize Jeff had gestured in the direction of the bar, where Melanie Fox and her boyfriend, Tim, classmates of Mateo’s from UC Irvine, were chatting over their wineglasses.

“Good night, Buckley. Enjoy whatever this is you’re up to.” He marched through the automatic doors.

Buckley followed him. “It’s called a birthday party. And you should be here.”

“Right.” Cool as ice, Jeff handed his ticket to the valet. “’Cause you guys are headed to Japan in a few days? Even though Mateo’s at UCI this semester and you’re an EMT? Is that a thing? EMTs deploying to other countries? You know the language?”

Thanks, Melanie , Buckley thought.

“I don’t look like a guy who can put in some time with Duolingo?” Buckley said.

“Maybe. What’s I’m a liar in Japanese?”

“It sounds a lot like you’re a dick .”

Jeff let out a low cackle as he walked closer to the edge of the curb. Buckley followed him. “Look, I’m sorry if I got sick of seeing Mateo get hurt every time he tried to reach out to you and you shut him down again , but Jesus, dude. Enough already. He worships you.”

There was a twinge of emotion in the look Jeff gave him now, but it still made Buckley feel more like a threat the man was assessing.

“Has it ever occurred to you there’s a damn good reason your boyfriend and I shouldn’t be around each other?”

“I didn’t know you two had history when I left the note. I thought you were straight. There’s a picture of you on our wall and you looked…” Like a hardcore daddy who could fuck me cross-eyed.

“Old?” Jeff asked with a half smile.

“Straight.”

“You’re kinda out and proud to be making snap judgments based on a guy’s picture.”

“And where have you seen me be out and proud exactly?”

Jeff blushed, jaw working. “I gathered some intel when you two got together.”

“You social media stalked me?”

“Mateo’s one of the best guys I know. I wanted to see if you were a serial killer.”

“So you’re allowed to make snap judgments about people based off photographs and I’m not? Is that a Marine thing? ID’ing serial killers based on their selfies?”

The older man’s amusement took the form of a small grunt in his throat, followed by a raised eyebrow. “You got a mouth on you, firecracker.”

Was this the same husky tone, so close to a growl, he’d used to give Mateo instructions on how to properly fuck a guy for the first time?

All the things I do to you I learned from Jeff.