10 Ways to Accidentally Fall in Love

Chapter 30

Joey

“You’re not going to tell me where we’re going?” I call.

“Nope,” Brad yells from downstairs, sounding exceedingly cheerful for someone who showed up the minute I arrived home from work and shoved me up the stairs like a drill sergeant with the express instructions to shower and get dressed for a night out.

The fact that he didn’t join me in said shower was odd enough. Him refusing to tell me what, precisely, this night entails? That has me more than a little curious. It could be anything with Brad.

A specialty coffee run for his espresso with whip.

Announcing my love of watersports to a stadium crowd.

Hell, going down in a shark cage for all I know.

I have no clue what to expect, but I trust Brad. So I head to my closet to grab a shirt.

The moment I throw open the door, I stop still. “Uh, bub?” I call. “What am I looking at?”

I hear Brad bounding up the stairs, a strange beeping noise accompanying him. He walks into the bedroom holding my stud finder, the noise coming from him as he waves the device in front of me. His beep, beep, beeps intensify.

“Found you,” he says triumphantly.

“You’re ridiculous,” I tell him, unable to stop my grin. “Did you find that in my tool bag?”

“Yep.”

“You didn’t get out the—”

“No, I wasn’t playing with your drill again,” he says, pouting. “I’m well aware we still need to repair the wall after last time.”

“Mhm,” I say mildly.

“I didn’t know it’d start spinning when I squeezed the trigger!” he defends. “I thought the safety was on.”

I snort, waving toward my closet. “What’s this?”

Brad brightens immediately. “Oh, that’s your fanny rack, dude! A rack for all your packs. It keeps ’em neat and tidy. Nice, right?”

“Sure,” I say slowly. “But, uh, when did I get so many?”

The… fanny rack , as Brad called it, has a good dozen fanny packs tucked into neat rows. Last I was aware, I only had two.

“I might have gone on a bit of a spending spree,” Brad says. “But you deserve to look pretty, babe.”

He pats my stomach, his touch lingering as he looks fondly over the fanny packs.

I don’t even tell my traitorous heart to cut it out.

“Should I wear one tonight?” I ask, pulling a shirt off its hanger and shrugging it on.

Brad hems with a prolonged “ehhh” noise, seemingly torn. “I mean, it’s not really a pack place. But… Your fannies, man.”

“How about I wear one tomorrow?” I suggest, doing up the buttons on my shirt. “Your choice.”

“ Ooh , the ‘sexy bitch’ one,” he says excitedly, his previous woe forgotten. “No, wait. The tie-dye. No . ‘Cool dad.’ Definitely that one. You’re a total DILF, dude.”

“I’m…not even a dad,” I point out.

He pshts . “Not yet, maybe.”

I’m pretty sure my heart stops.

“We should get going,” Brad says, checking the time on his phone. “Are you ready?”

Christ .

“I hope so,” I mutter.

Brad drives us into town, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel as he hums along to the music on the radio. He’s wearing a long-sleeved green shirt in nearly the same color as his eyes tonight, and when he looks over at me with an instant smile, I’m hit the same way I was the first time I saw him.

He took my breath away then. That smile. The sight of his laugh. The way he drew me in like a magnet, calling to the very iron in my blood to get closer and learn who he was.

He still takes my breath away. I think he always will.

Brad pulls into a parking garage not far from his own apartment, and I wing up a brow.

“Are we heading to your place to play video games?” I ask.

He snorts. “No. We wouldn’t have needed to leave your house to do that.”

“Gym?”

“Dude. You definitely could’ve displayed your fanny at the gym. It’s not that. Just…trust me?”

“Always,” I tell him.

His answering smile is like a sucker punch.

Brad’s fidgeting intensifies as we leave the parking garage and walk down the sidewalk past the many businesses on this stretch, both of us weaving around the typical evening crowd. He seems…nervous. Which, in turn, makes me nervous.

Finally, Brad slows, and I look over at a building I recognize. It’s the steakhouse I brought him to for our first date. Or, well, what I thought was our first date.

Brad stops in front of the restaurant, not yet going in. My heart beats a little unsteadily as his gaze flicks up to me, to the side, and back to me again.

“So, uh,” he says, twisting one hand in the other. “I’m not sure if you remember, but it’s been a month since we started this whole…bennies thing.”

My breath catches, pressure coalescing beneath my ribcage. I exhale slowly.

“And, uh, well… I’ve been thinking a lot about that,” Brad goes on. “About what we’ve been doing and how we met. And…the future.”

“Yeah?” I ask, my voice hoarse.

He lets out a breath and squares his shoulders, meeting my gaze head-on. “I planned a date for you, Joey. The reservation is under your name.”

My gut does a slow, slow dive. “What?”

“I think you’ll really like this guy,” Brad says, unaware of how his words are gutting me. “He meets all your criteria, even the green eyes. I promised I’d find you the one, remember? I think this guy could be it.”

“I… What ?”

“What what?” he says, his tentative smile turning into a frown.

“Brad, I… No.”

“Huh?”

“ No ,” I reiterate.

“But you haven’t even seen who it is,” he says, his tone turning almost frantic.

“I don’t care who it is,” I shoot back. “I don’t… I don’t want it.”

This time, it’s Brad sounding almost wounded as he asks, “What?”

“I don’t…”

I let out a frustrated noise, my pulse so heavy it feels like a drum beneath my skin. I spin away before spinning right back, Brad’s wide, green eyes making my stomach clench. My fear, far outweighing my anger, has my voice coming out as a rasp.

“We said we’d talk about it. About… us . That we’d reevaluate things once the month was up. I mean…what the actual fuck, bub?”

“Joey,” he whispers.

“No, you don’t get to just…pass me off to the next guy without a word. It’s you and me. I thought we were on the same page about that.”

“We are .”

“Then why are you asking me to walk in that door and go on a date with some man that isn’t you? I don’t want them. Any of them. The only person I want, the only person I’ve wanted for months now, is you.”

“Joey,” he says again, but the words are already spilling out, and there’s no stopping them.

“None of them have your green eyes, Brad. None of them will feel the same wrapped around me at night. None of them are capable of being what I need because I’m already in love with you . I love you, okay? So no. You told me not to settle, and I’m not settling for anyone but the man I love. I’m not giving you up without a fight, got it?”

The curve of Brad’s slowly burgeoning smile takes me momentarily off guard. I don’t understand what he has to smile about, but then he says, “ Joey . It’s me. I’m the date.”

My exhale is loud. “ What ?”

“I was going to come in once you were seated,” he explains, his hand sliding up my arm. “I was trying to be cute.”

“You nearly gave me a heart attack,” I croak.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his eyes closing briefly before they’re on me again. “You love me?”

Fuck .

“I do,” I say, despite the way my nerves are flayed open.

“Good,” he says firmly. “Because I’m kinda in love with you, too, dude. And you not feeling the same way would’ve really spoiled this whole grand gesture thing I’m trying to pull off.”

I let out a pained laugh, and Brad tugs me close, his hand anchoring at the side of my neck.

“I don’t want you with anyone else, Joey. And I don’t want to be with anyone else, either. I’m sorry I fucked this up, but I was trying to tell you thirty days isn’t nearly enough time for me. Not when it comes to you. I’d like to share all your days if that’s something you’d like, too. I can’t promise to always get things right. I mean, case in point right here. But I can promise I’ll always do my best. Because you’re worth it. You’re my baby kangaroo-roo. And, if you’ll let me, I’ll be your boomer.”

“Fuck, bub,” I rasp out, my relief mixing with a heavy dose of joy and so much affection it’s physically painful. “Are you saying you want to be my Daddy?”

“Uh…” he says slowly, apparently having missed my teasing tone. “Is that something you’re into, dude? Because I don’t remember it on your list of kinks. I can totally try, though!” He clears his throat, the serious mask he draws over his face making my lips twitch. “You gonna be good and take my cock later, son?”

Oh. My. God .

“I fucking love you,” I tell him.

Brad beams. “I love you, too, man! Does this mean we’re gonna be dude-bros for life? Two halves of the same man-sammie? You can be my bro-nilla milkshake, and I’ll be your—”

Brad makes a startled noise when my lips press to his, but then he’s kissing me back just as fiercely, his hands tugging at my shirt, mine at the back of his head as I bump him lightly into the outside of the steakhouse. My breath feels as if it’s too expansive for my lungs, my eyes stinging from unshed tears. He’s the wash of the ocean over my senses, lips warm like the sun, his happiness combined with my own leaving me weightless and drowning in nothing but him.

He’s everything I didn’t know I wanted, never thought I’d get, and can’t bear to let go of.

I pull Brad away from the wall, lifting him up in my arms. He lets out a surprised sound, but it shifts quickly to a chuckle as his lips smack away from mine.

“You’ll stay with me, Baby?”

His smile widens at my question, and he throws his arms out wide. “Yeah, Johnny. ’Cause I’ve… haaad —”

“Oh boy.”

“—the time of my—”

“Are we really doing this?”

“—li-i-ife, and I—”

“Dude,” some guy says, stopping beside us. “Are you doing Dirty —”

“ Dirty Dancing , dude, fuck yeah!” Brad says, holding out his hand.

The guy slaps his palm. “Good movie.”

He walks away, and Brad turns to me, eyes wide. “See? Everyone gets it.”

I can’t help but chuckle, so smitten it’s a struggle to let Brad slide back to the ground where he’s even an inch further away from me. “For the record,” I say, “I’m not sure how I feel about you calling me Johnny, considering it’s my uncle’s name.”

He winces. “Yeah. To be honest, I kinda like bub more than Baby, anyway. It’s better, you know? ’Cause it’s ours.”

“Yeah,” I answer, kissing Brad’s temple, my heart clenching tight. “What would you say to going home, bub? Maybe we could do the steakhouse another night?”

“Sounds like a plan, Joey-roo. There’s just one thing I need to do first.”

“What’s that?” I ask cautiously.

“ Owe-it-all-to-you-u-u ,” Brad yells quickly before threading our fingers together. He gives my hand a squeeze, tugging me down the sidewalk at a fast clip. “Fuck, that’s better.”

Brad and I barely make it a step inside my doorway before he’s on me. We stumble down the hall together, lips locked, me managing to kick the front door shut before we get too far. Brad heads for the stairs, pulling me along with him, but I grab the banister to halt our momentum.

“Wait,” I tell him, pulling in a breath. “I need to grab something.”

He squints at me. “Is it rope?”

“Not…rope. No.”

“Did you find the handcuffs?”

I go still. “There are handcuffs in my house? Where?”

Brad scoffs. “Yeah, like I’m telling you that.”

“What—” I stop and shake my head. “Nope. No. I’m getting sidetracked. Just…wait for me in the bedroom?”

Brad takes a step backwards, a mischievous glint in his eye. “ Ooh , wait for you. Kinky. I like it.”

“How is that kinky?” I ask slowly.

He takes another step up the stairs, winking at me.

“Dear Lord. Please don’t be doing anything weird when I get up there,” I plead.

He winks harder before turning and running up the stairs.

“Fuck,” I mutter to myself, heading toward the garage. “Why’d I have to latch on to that one?”

I find what I’m looking for quickly and strip down, leaving my clothes in a pile beside the door. Then, I take a deep breath and head up the stairs.

I’m slow to push my bedroom door open, a little terrified about what I’m going to find. As it turns out, it’s Brad, nude and kneeling on the bed, a fanny pack in his grip that he’s dragging along one open palm like one might a flogger. We both stop dead when we see one another.

“ Holy ,” Brad wheezes. “You… The tool belt, and… Naked. Joey … You’re a slutty carpenter.”

“What are you doing with that fanny pack?” I have to ask.

He throws it off the bed. “Nothing. Not a fucking thing. Get over here and drill me, dude!”

“I could certainly do that,” I agree, my dick jerking as Brad’s gaze rakes over me, his desire palpable. “ Or . I took the time to get extra clean in the shower earlier, so, if you want…”

“I could drill you,” he breathes.

I nod, stepping toward the bed.

“Yes. Yep. That,” Brad says, reaching for me. “Why the fuck are you so far away?”

Laughing, I let Brad tug me in, and our mouths collide. He groans against my lips, his fingers slipping down my stomach to curl under the band of the tool belt. The sound he makes is strangled, his dick pressing into my stomach.

“Joey,” he pants.

“Yeah?” I murmur against his mouth, my palms smoothing over his ass.

“I’m going to lie on this bed,” he says.

“Okay?”

“And you’re going to get up on this bed.”

“Sure.”

“And then you’re going to king me.”

My confusion must be written across my face because Brad goes on without my having to ask.

“Treat me like your throne, king, and sit on my motherfucking face.”

The wave of lust that hits me has me grunting, my cock bucking against Brad’s thigh.

“Is that a yes?” he checks.

“Yeah,” I manage.

“Good,” he says, letting me go and falling back against the mattress, an angel on bright white sheets. “And Joey?”

“Uh-huh,” I rasp.

“Leave the belt on.”

It takes me a moment to speak past my dry throat. “Whatever you want, boomer.”

Brad’s laugh curls inside my chest the same way the man himself managed to. He’s wrapped around my heart, and no matter where we go from here, no matter where life takes us, I know that will never change.