Chapter 26 Now That We’re Standing #2
“Don’t fret, brat,” the lawyer interrupted his internal gyrations.
“We’re family, all of us, remember? We look after each other and we keep each other out of trouble, too.
” The hand that landed on Nico’s shoulder was large, and warm, and reassuring.
“Let’s go. Daniel’s done enough moping and feeling sorry for himself.
I’ll kick Flynn’s arse for neglecting you two.
And then we’ll sweep the street without incurring penalties. ”
“What is that infernal racket?” Gareth rolled over, only to see Jack already out of bed, pulling a T-shirt over his head.
“That’s the glazier with my panels, and if he’s making a racket, I’m worried.” He leaned to press a kiss to Gareth’s cheek. “Go back to sleep.”
Gareth wished he could do just that, but twenty years in the military had left him wired for early mornings.
He didn’t mind being awake, though he wasn’t in the mood for a run.
Stretching to catalogue sore spots and bruises, he found nothing concerning.
Which made him miss Jack even more. They didn’t have the house to themselves all that often and a lie-in was a treat, especially feeling as mellow as he did after the previous night.
The racket outside abated, and Gareth rolled out of bed with a sigh. He could trust Jack to dispense coffee and tea to delivery drivers and visiting tradesfolk, but if Jack was setting to work breakfast was required. And he needed a shower before he was fit for company.
Gareth had just finished drying off when his phone chimed. And chimed. And chimed.
A flurry of texts was worrisome, even without alarms going off alongside. Gareth snatched his phone… and started smiling as he read the misspelled, garbled messages. Was there a mobile phone equivalent of a keyboard smash?
He heard Jack on the stairs and stepped into the bedroom, towel in one hand, phone in the other. “I think Daniel’s having a bit of—Oh.”
Jack had brought him tea.
“We can have a few more minutes in bed,” Jack smirked. “Strategising.”
“Is that what we call it now?” Gareth dropped the towel and shoved the cushions into a pile. Jack had brought coffee for himself, he saw, and a plate of shortbread. Maybe he hadn’t been the only one dreaming of a lazy morning. “Are the glaziers gone?” he asked, holding his hands out for the tray.
“Yep. I’ll fit the glass this morning and then reconnect the security system.” Jack settled against the headboard and reached for his coffee. “Though it sounds as if security wasn’t what sent Daniel running.”
“And forgetting your birthday.”
Jack waved that off, as Gareth had known he would. “You’re not mad at him, are you?”
“Daniel? Of course not. But we need to have a conversation about trust. They both feel we won’t believe them unless they bring us something ironclad. That bothers me.”
“Same.” Jack stared at nothing, sipping his coffee. Then he shook his head as if to clear it. “I’d still like to blame the school, but they’re spending at least the same amount of time with us, so…”
“It hardly matters where they came by that stupid notion, just that we get rid of it,” Gareth said. “How’s the jetlag?”
“Annoying. Give me a pass if I’m only present in spurts, okay?”
Gareth nuzzled into Jack’s neck, close enough for a nip to his earlobe. “You can have anything you want. You only have to ask.”
One reason Jack loved renovating was that it left his subconscious mind free to trace connections while his conscious mind—and his hands—were busy elsewhere.
Time and again he’d stepped away from his screen, frustrated by a lack of progress, only to return after a stint of painting, tiling, or a bit of carpentry, with the solution ready and waiting for him.
It worked a little less reliably when the problem involved his family. Or maybe those problems just took longer to puzzle out.
The previous night’s discussion with Gareth had left him off-kilter. Daniel’s angst-filled texts had shoved him sideways a bit more, and Jack was grateful for a job that needed his full attention, so the back of his mind could contemplate the gaps between acknowledgment and acceptance.
Baby steps, he supposed. Like their house and their family, his and Gareth’s relationship was a work in progress—and they’d taken another step forward.
“Are you done?”
Caught up in his thoughts, Jack hadn’t even noticed he’d stopped moving. “Hardly. What do you need?”
“You. For maybe half an hour if you can spare the time.”
Jack had been rolling putty between his palms. He set it aside, stood, and stepped so close to Gareth, their chests touched. “We may get sidetracked by disasters now and then, but I’ll always make time for you.”
Gareth’s shiver was all sorts of sexy.
“Then come and take a break,” he said, voice rough, wrapping his arms around Jack.
“Yeah? What’s this break entail?” Jack wanted to push Gareth against the nearest wall and kiss him silly before going to his knees.
They hadn’t done that in the shower last night, and having the house to themselves gave him ideas.
But the smell of heavy-duty cleaner, damp plaster, and putty reminded him now was not the time.
Or at the very least, the half-finished hallway was not the place for that kind of entertainment.
“Me, showing you something,” Gareth said with a smirk, and Jack had to backtrack to remember the question. “There’s food, too, if you want it.”
“Of course I want.” He answered by rote, unsure whether food or Gareth dominated his desires, and followed his man up the stairs.
Gareth led him not to their bedroom, but to his study where a tray of sushi and sashimi and his latest sake set dominated the centre of Gareth’s desk, alongside dishes of wasabi, ginger, and soy sauce.
“I never cooked you a proper birthday dinner when you deserve that and more,” Gareth said and waved Jack into a chair.
Jack sat, confused by the sudden colour in Gareth’s cheeks.
What could be embarrassing about fabulous food?
He perused the feast, looked up… and started laughing.
“Bare feet,” he snorted, intrigued to see himself mid-practice, but far more interested in Gareth’s reactions.
“Bare feet every time. Are we in fetish territory yet?”
“No.” Gareth poured sake for them both and handed Jack a cup. “Happy birthday. I’ve had fantasies of bending you over my desk, but since Conrad could bring the boys back at any moment, we’ll have to stick to lunch.”