Frog

Chapter 6

SIX

Amale nanny, no matter what year it was, seemed to elicit quite the interest. All the folks at Lyn’s boss’s house were absolutely riveted.

I didn’t see what the big deal was, but what was surprising was the acceptance.

All those powerful businesswomen, just like Lyn, and they found me new and shiny and didn’t think it strange that I was there.

I was complimented on how good the boys looked, how polite they were, and over their manners.

They didn’t run around like crazy people, drop anything, or make a general nuisance of themselves.

Micah helped open doors, Tristan said please and thank you, and Pip brought the hostess a glass of water because he thought she looked thirsty.

They were a hit. I gave all the credit to Lyn; she volleyed it back to me.

Apparently, my manners were rubbing off on them, even after only a few days.

To Lyn’s colleagues, I was her employee, so after the novelty wore off, they ignored me.

I joined the other nannies, who treated me like a buddy, sharing about their hopes and dreams, about going to college, and finally, moving on to juicy gossip about their employers.

They encouraged me to stick to my guns when demanding days off, and suggested places to take the kids on outings that were both free and educational.

They were, as a group, far more accepting than I could have ever imagined.

We were all doing the same job. I was one of them, and the camaraderie was nice.

And while I had no misconceptions that I would always be met with such openness, their friendly banter and lack of judgment felt very refreshing.

“Well,” Lyn said with a sigh on our way home, me driving because she’d had four cosmopolitans, “you were the belle of the ball.”

“Was I?” I teased her because she was a cute drunk—being tipsy made her giggly.

“Oh,” she said and burped, “yeah. I had to tell three of my colleagues that I was paying you very well and you did not want to leave my employment.”

I snorted out a laugh. “Did you now?”

“Yeah.” She hiccupped. “Aw, crap.”

“God, you’re cute.” I smiled at her.

She sighed deeply and after a moment said, “Weber Yates, I wish you liked girls.”

I grunted. “And I wish you could have met my brother. You would have liked him, and he sure as anything would have liked you back.”

“Oh…” Her voice broke, and she grabbed hold of my shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

I nodded, choked up, not trusting myself to speak, the sting of losing him the only pain that had not eased with time.

My brother, with his quick laughter and wit, his warm eyes that flashed when he was up to no good, and his innate kindness, was a loss I still felt as sharply as the day the army officers delivered the devastating news. I wished I could’ve seen him get older.

She sniffled, and I knew without looking that she had teared up.

“He…” I took a breath, glancing at her, seeing her biting her lip as she looked at me. “He was handsome, you know. He looked like my dad. Dark-brown hair and deep-blue eyes like your boys’. My mama always said that I was a younger, lighter version of him.”

“I wish I hadn’t missed him.”

“Next time around,” I told her.

“Absolutely,” she whispered and took hold of the hand I offered her. “Next time.”

After driving Lyn and the boys home and taking the Lexus back to Cy’s, I was surprised that his car wasn’t in the garage when I returned.

It was late, and he was still out, and though I wanted to call and check on him, see where he was, I had no way to do that, as there was no landline in the house.

Interestingly, though, when I walked into the kitchen, there was a cell phone on the bar.

I was thinking maybe there was someone else in the house, but after a quick walk-through, I realized I was alone.

When it suddenly played “Desperado,” I figured the call was for me and answered it.

“Very fuckin’ funny,” I grumbled.

“You needed a phone now that you’ve got the kids with you, and I should be able to get a hold of you, right?”

It seemed logical. “And you might need to call me sometimes too.” I grunted.

“Like tonight.”

“This one’s too fancy.”

“I’ll show you all the cool stuff it can do later.”

“All right,” I agreed.

“And how ’bout that ringtone?” He cackled.

“You’re hilarious,” I groused at him, and was rewarded with lilting laughter on the other end, sensual and mirthful.

“Oh, c’mon, get a sense of humor.”

“Where are you, Cy?”

“I need a favor.”

“Whatzat?”

“See, I met some friends out for drinks after work because you had to go to that party with Lyn and you wouldn’t have been home anyway, but now I realize I should have just gone there and waited for you.”

He was rambling, and his voice was rising. Someone was trashed. “And so?”

“Well, I got a little drunk at the bar, and then one of the guys said his buddy was having a party close by, so we all walked over to his place, and turned out, his buddy is my buddy Jeff, yeah, small world, but I left my car in the bar parking lot, and I don’t want them to tow it, but I don’t think I should be the one to move it, and—”

“You need to take a breath before you pass out.”

“What?”

“I’ll move it. Is there a second set of keys, or do I need to come get them from you?”

“You don’t want to get me?”

“I do.” I smiled into the phone. Cy sounding unsure and needy was very cute. “But if there’s a second set, I can drive to you instead of making you walk with me back to the car.”

“That makes more sense.”

“So?”

“Oh yeah, um, there’s a second set in the nightstand on my side of the bed.”

“Okay, and where’s the bar?”

“Are you mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Just that I went out drinking without you.”

“You’re a big boy. You can do as you please.”

“No, I know.”

“Did you have a bad day?” I prodded gently.

“What makes you ask that?”

“You ain’t a big drinker. There must be a reason for you to do that on a whim.”

He sighed. “I had a long, shitty day. I lost a patient, really nice lady, mother, grandmother, right before Christmas—fuck.”

“And did you tell your friends that?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“We don’t… That’s not something we do. We don’t sit around and share our feelings. That’s what your boyfriend is for.”

“I see.”

“That’s what you’re for,” he said, emphasizing, in case I missed that I was the boyfriend.

I was quiet.

“I mean, I confessed to them I had a fucked-up day, and they just told me to have a drink so I’d feel better.”

But that was his fault for not explaining that he didn’t just have a bad day, he had a terrible one.

“You should have just come on home.”

“I know that!”

“Why are you yellin’?”

“Because I know I should have just come home. I said that already.”

“I would have been here.”

“Jesus, Weber, I know! The only place I want to be right now is with you, but my car will be in some impound yard tomorrow if I leave it at the bar!”

“Okay,” I soothed him. “I’ll be right there. Tell me where the bar is.”

After he gave me the address, I called for a cab and went to change out of the good clothes I was wearing and into a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and a long-sleeved button-down.

I grabbed the peacoat I liked more and more with each passing day—my denim jacket still hanging in Cy’s closet from the day I arrived—and my cowboy boots that I picked up that morning from the shoe-repair shop.

Why I was antsy, I had no idea, but him being drunk when I wasn’t there to warn other men off annoyed me.

My reaction to him was normal; the possessiveness was not.

If I hadn’t stopped to see him, if I’d simply stayed on the damn bus, I would not have to come face-to-face with the truth.

Hell.

I thought about him the whole ride.

I found the bar and the lot and drove the sleek car the five blocks to his friend Jeff’s place, easily finding the huge warehouse converted into trendy lofts. I took the stairs to the fourth floor instead of trusting the old metal freight elevator.

I thought I was going to a small get-together, but even before I reached the level, I could hear the voices and the music.

It was a party, loud and raucous, surprising for a Tuesday night.

But I was used to going to bed at nine and being up at four in the morning.

My guess was that no one here had to be up before dawn.

Pushing between people, making my way through the crowd outside the apartment, I finally made it inside and saw him standing by the kitchen, drink in hand, leaning heavily against the wall. Several men were near him, one with a hand on his shoulder.

As I crossed the floor to him, he looked up and saw me. His eyes lit up, and he levered off the wall, putting his drink down and brushing by the others to reach me. He could have waited, but he didn’t, meeting me halfway.

“Holy shit, Web.” He smiled wide, his eyes glittering. “You’re breathtaking.”

“You’re drunk.” I laughed softly, reaching out, my hand moving to the back of his neck, my fingers sliding under the open collar of his dress shirt as I drew him forward. The look on his face, the hooded eyes, made my stomach hurt. He was so beautiful. “Can I kiss you?”

“Really?” he asked, because normally public displays were not within my comfort zone.

“No one cares in here, right?”

“Right.”

“Well, then.” I wet my lips. “May I?”

“That would be good,” he answered, his voice hoarse.

I eased him closer, my mouth slanting over his, letting him feel my desire and need, my tongue tasting him, the tequila he’d been drinking and the faint sliver of salt.

When he moaned into my mouth, I clutched him tight, savoring the way his body melted against mine.

His arms wrapped around my neck as he whimpered, pressing his obvious erection to my groin.

Drunk and horny, his body flushed with heat. I needed to get the man home fast.

“No, no, no,” he whined when I pulled back, taking a deep breath of air.