Page 9

9

LEVI

“Care to explain yourselves?”

I tossed my keys on the kitchen island and regarded the two men in front of me. Stetson and Harrison sat on the opposite side, soaking wet from head to toe and dripping on my kitchen floor. They both had towels around their shoulders, though the flimsy things weren’t doing much to aid the drying process.

Harrison spoke first, barely coherent. “We just wanted to have a good time!”

“By getting drunk off your asses and streaking through the fountains in Centennial Olympic Park? During the season? You’re lucky no one called the police! There could have been kids around!”

Stetson snickered, eyes in his lap.

“You think this is funny? I should call your agent and wake him up.”

Stetson’s head snapped up, and he swayed on the spot. “No!”

I knew that would get him if nothing else did. Stetson’s agent was a notorious hard-ass.

“Do either of you realize what you have to lose if you get a drunk and disorderly charge? What about public indecency?”

Both sets of eyes went back to their laps. I was a sports agent, damn it, not a parent. But sometimes it felt a lot like wrangling children. Or chickens. Or both. Especially when I was constantly dealing with one of them getting hurt—or sick. I sighed when Harrison gagged.

“Harrison, there’s a bathroom under the stairs.”

“Thank you,” he muttered before bolting off the stool.

Stetson pulled the towel tighter around him, shivering. I suddenly felt sorry for him. He had sat right under the vent, and my hot-blooded ass kept the air on full blast. It was spring, but it was spring in Georgia . In other words, wildly unpredictable. “Upstairs,” I told him. “Take a warm shower. You remember your way?”

He nodded and rose from his seat a little more carefully than Harrison had. Out of the two, he seemed the most sober, which possibly meant that he’d been streaking out of sheer stupidity. He was nowhere near the blackout state from before. “Thank you for picking us up,” he whispered sheepishly.

“You’re welcome.” He passed me and headed for the stairs, but I called out to him again before his foot could touch the bottom step. “Coffee or tea?”

“Huh?”

“Assuming you’re not vomiting or passed out after your shower, you should come down for a drink to warm up. Coffee or tea?”

When I was met with silence, I paused. Stetson shuffled in place, tracing an invisible shape on the banister.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Can I have hot chocolate?” he pouted, blue eyes shining in the dim light.

Warmth spread through my chest. How in the hell was I supposed to say no? “Is regular milk okay?”

He nodded, eyes hopeful.

“Then yes. Go. I’ll find something dry for you to put on.”

I called Harrison’s brother and once he was finished expelling the tequila from his system, I poured him into the car and raided my drawers for something for Stetson to wear.

I hadn’t heard from him at all since opening day. If I was honest, I was starting to lose hope. Then I got that call from Harrison that he’d been snatched by park security, and when I showed up to claim him, Stetson sat right next to him.

If Stetson didn’t run out of here, I’d have to thank the troublemaker.

I was heating the milk on the stove when I heard soft footsteps coming down the stairs. He stopped when he saw me, wet clothes and towel in hand. Damn, he looked good in my shirt. I indicated the door behind him. “Put them straight in the washing machine.”

I poured steaming milk into two mugs, then added the hot chocolate powder. “I have an important question for you.”

Defeated, Stetson trudged into the kitchen. “Is it ‘Do I take my career seriously?’”

“Jumbo or mini marshmallows?”

At first, his brows scrunched together in confusion, then he relaxed into a smile. “Mini.”

I tossed them his way and he caught them midair. “Cream?”

“If you drink hot chocolate without cream, I’m leaving this house right now.”

By the time I’d retrieved the can from the fridge, Stetson had claimed the bag of jumbo marshmallows too and was stuffing one in his mouth. “You’ll get sick off all that sugar.”

“Sugar sick is better than tequila sick,” he garbled through the candy. I grunted in agreement. The shower seemed to have sobered him up, at least. “Where’s Harrison?”

“His brother picked him up. Once you finish your drink I’ll take you home.”

Stetson made a sound that could only be described as a yelp. “You okay? You don’t actually feel sick do you?”

There was a moment where I thought vomiting was imminent, and I prepared myself to leap into action. “Drink went down the wrong way,” he finally said, but those marshmallows were suddenly much more interesting than I was.

“What’s the matter?”

He ripped one of the marshmallows apart, throwing the pieces into his mug. “I don’t know how to ask.”

I stood next to him, redirecting his attention to me. The vulnerability in those blue eyes threatened to shatter my heart to pieces. It wasn’t like him. “Do you want to go home tonight?”

He shook his head, fighting to break his gaze away from mine, but my grip on his chin held him in place.

“Do you want to stay here?”

I loosened my hold enough to let him nod. “I shouldn’t be allowed to after you saved my ass,” he whispered so softly, I almost missed it.

“It’s my house and I’ll make those decisions. Drink. Warm yourself up.” I took a step back to let him pick up his mug.

“What about Barrett?”

“Barrett trusts my judgement. He wouldn’t have a problem with you staying here.”

“Where is he?”

“Boston. He comes home tomorrow for a night before heading to Fort Lauderdale.”

Stetson clearly had another question on the tip of his tongue, but I let him sip at his hot chocolate for an uncomfortable amount of time. I focused on my own, taking it much slower than he was. I didn’t have much of a sweet tooth, and the smell of it alone was churning my stomach.

“Is that why you asked me to be your boy? Because Barrett travels so much?”

“No.” I claimed the stool next to him. “Barrett has no interest in being a boy. We talked about it, but the only conclusion we kept coming back to was that we didn’t want to break up. So, we started looking for a third.”

Stetson attempted to stall with his hot chocolate, only to realize it was empty. With a grin, I swapped our drinks. He tried to mask his joy, but I was too perceptive. “Don’t you want it?”

“No, you can have it.”

He took down half of it before I made him take a breath. “Slow down, baby boy. You’ll get a stomachache. Now say what you wanted to say.”

The name slipped out involuntarily. Stetson hadn’t agreed to be my anything yet. His cheeks were flushed, but there could be multiple explanations for that.

He took a deep breath. “If I agree to do this, are there rules?”

My heart rate spiked. “‘This’ as in…”

“A relationship, I guess. Was Barrett lying when he said you both wanted me?”

“He was telling the truth.” I paused. “How much did you have to drink tonight, Stetson?”

The boy dropped his gaze to his lap. “Quite a bit,” he admitted. “I-I’m sorry.”

My brow furrowed, and I tilted my head. “Why are you sorry?”

Stetson set down the second empty mug, and I started to wonder if the sugar combined with tequila may have been a mistake. “It was a bad decision. To drink in the first place, and to streak through the fountains. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Pride swelled in my chest. He hadn’t even agreed to be my boy and yet here he was, submitting to me without even realizing. As it was, now wasn’t the time to have that conversation. I reached forward to brush his damp hair out of his eyes. “Why don’t we talk about this later? You should rest and sober up. What time do you have to be at practice tomorrow?”

“Two.”

I glanced at the clock over the stove. “Go on. Guest room is all yours. The sheets are clean and I left the phone charger. Help yourself to anything you need in the night.” I gestured to the door off the dining room. “That’s my room there. I’ll leave the door cracked in case you need me. Don’t be scared to ask, okay?”

Stetson hesitated, opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but it snapped shut again and he settled for a nod. He collected both mugs, rinsing them out. “Where should I put these?”

I revealed the hidden dishwasher where he stored the cups away, closing the door. I was biting my tongue so hard I was surprised I hadn’t tasted blood yet, but it wasn’t enough to hold back the next words out of my mouth. “Good boy.”

Stetson’s breath hitched, but he recovered quickly. “Goodnight, Levi.”

“Goodnight, Stetson.”

He turned just in time to miss colliding with the corner of the island, stumbling across the kitchen, the dining room, then disappearing up the stairs all without looking back. I only let out the breath I was holding when I heard the guest bedroom door shut.

Fuck . What had I gotten myself into?