Melted Candy (Sour Candy #3)

Chapter 1

Marry me.

The words echoed through Benji’s head as his dad kept yelling. He was getting louder, making everyone in the art maze look over at them. Including Noah’s bodyguards, who grabbed Benji’s dad by his shockingly tidy jacket and dragged him away.

Noah touched the small of Benji’s back. It was enough to drag Benji out of his shocked stupor. He tuned in just in time to hear his dad, Chet, yell, “I can’t believe the kind of life he’s exposing my son to! I’ll get him back, you’ll see!”

“Dad,” Benji said weakly. “I thought you were in Missouri selling stolen cars.”

“That’s a dirty lie,” yelled Chet Caulfield, struggling against the bodyguards who had him in a headlock. “You were always a liar! Max shouldn’t be around you.”

Benji stared at him, confused. Was this the same man who left them on their aunts’ doorstep after their mom left to “make it big” in Vegas? It looked like him, but he was… suspiciously tidy. Benji had never seen him so dressed up, even during his more flashy cons.

“Get off me,” Chet snapped, shoving at the bodyguards. He freed one hand and pointed at Benji and Noah threateningly. “I’ll get Max away from you! Both of you! He shouldn’t be around such bad influences.”

“Bad influences,” Benji repeated, incredulous.

Noah cleared his throat. “Mr. Caulfield. I think it’s time you left. Boys?”

The bodyguards nodded and hauled him around the corner. Benji watched him vanish into the maze, yelling indignantly.

“Bad influences,” Benji repeated again, his head still foggy with shock.

“He tried running a dogfighting ring out of the basement, but the dogs he kept buying were too friendly. He got beat up for stealing an old woman’s sandwich on a train.

He tried to talk Aunt Nat into investing in his brewery business, which turned out to be a front for a drug den! I’m a bad influence?”

Noah rubbed a gentle hand down his back. “Come on, baby. Time to head out.”

Benji nodded numbly. He shot a look behind them at his painting, all the longing and dripping gold suddenly making him cringe. So many people had seen this. Oh god, did his dad see it?

He kept his head down as Noah led him out the back exit.

People were staring and whispering, and he even saw one of Noah’s security guys take a phone out of someone’s hand.

He caught a glimpse of Tia and Daphne walking around the corner and stopping to stare in surprise at all the security who were crowding around them as they headed out the exit.

Daphne raised a hand to wave at Benji, confused.

Benji waved back distractedly. He would tell her later. Unless the tabloids let her know first.

“Nobody’s going to hear about this,” said Noah soothingly as they stepped out into the warm evening air. “There’s barely anything to gossip about, anyway.”

Nothing to gossip about, Benji thought with a scoff. His painting was almost sabotaged by his jackass classmate, Noah had asked Benji to marry him, and then his dad showed up. Benji felt like he’d aged a decade in the last two minutes.

Noah ushered Benji into the backseat and motioned for Riona to roll up the partition.

“Going dark,” Riona said, muffled. She had been eating a sandwich when they climbed in, and she was still chewing when she rolled the partition up.

Noah waited for it to settle into place, then turned to Benji. “Are you okay?”

He rubbed Benji’s arm. He hadn’t stopped touching him once, Benji realized dimly. Ever since his dad showed up, he’d been guiding Benji with a hand on his back or holding his elbow or stroking his arm comfortingly.

“Benjamin,” Noah repeated.

Benji blinked. “I’m fine. That was so weird. I haven’t seen Chet—I mean, my dad—since he showed up at Aunt Nat’s wake asking for money.”

He stopped. Then he laughed so loudly that Noah’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“What?” Noah asked.

Benji shook his head, still giggling. “He knows I have money! Shit, that’s hilarious. Wait, why does he think yelling about Max will get him money? Shouldn’t he be sucking up to me?”

He frowned, trying to puzzle it out. There was no way in hell Chet was genuinely worried about Max’s welfare, and there was definitely no way he had such a moral problem with sex work, even if it was his son doing it with another man.

In Chet’s mind, money was money and “a hole was a hole,” as he so disgustingly put it when Benji made the stupid mistake of asking what being gay was in kindergarten.

Maybe he just wanted attention? No, Chet had to have some sort of plan to get money out of it. He always had a plan to get rich quick. An endless string of stupid, senseless plans that somehow never ended with him in prison.

Yet.

“I can look into him,” Noah offered.

Benji grimaced instinctively. “No, don’t. Trust me, it’s better if we ignore him. Whatever bullshit he’s talked himself into, he can’t actually take Max away. I have custody.”

And no judge would ever consider giving him back, Benji added privately. No matter how nice his clothes are now. No matter how many “morals” he supposedly picked up while selling stolen cars and not calling his kids for literal years.

His fists clenched in the nice slacks Noah got him. He didn't want to think about his dad. But that left him with the other elephant in the room, infinitely bigger and with way more potential to torpedo Benji’s life:

Noah had proposed. He’d even sounded like he meant it, the gorgeous bastard, and now Benji was freaking out for reasons that didn’t have anything to do with his deadbeat dad or Dillion’s sabotage attempt.

“Benjamin,” Noah said. “You’re hyperventilating.”

Huh. Benji was hyperventilating. He’d never done that before. It felt horrible.

Benjamin took his jaw. His tight, steady grip almost made Benji feel okay again. Then Noah’s thumb accidentally brushed the edge of the healing bruise on his cheek, left there by Noah’s asshole brother, and all the dumb life drama came crashing back.

“What do you need?” Noah asked.

Benjamin squeezed his eyes shut.

“Talk,” he gritted.

He was suddenly terrified that Noah would ask why Benji didn’t say anything to his proposal. Or why his family was such a trainwreck. But Noah’s voice was calm and patient as he talked Benji down.

“Your painting was beautiful,” Noah said. “Mrs. Presley loved it. I would even let her buy it if you want me to. Otherwise, I would want to hang it in our bedroom.”

Benji scoffed through his panicked breaths, fixing Noah with a stare that let him know how much that wasn’t happening.

“Alright,” Noah said easily. “I’ll let Mrs. Presley know she can bid for it.”

There’s no bidding; it’s a shitty community college art show, Benji thought.

But he let Noah talk, telling him about other art pieces he liked and how fast Tia and Daphne bonded and how the wine reminded him of a bottle he’d had at a winery in Italy in his teens, and eventually Benji could breathe normally again.

Benji sagged against the car seat. “Why did you ask me that? Before Chet showed up.”

Noah paused. Benji had caught him in the middle of a story about Tia’s fashion choices in college, which were apparently just as sparkly as she was now.

“I couldn’t help it,” Noah said, his eyes unbearably soft. “It just slipped out.”

Benji swallowed. He had been expecting Noah to say he got carried away and for Benji to ignore it. For them to sweep it under the rug. He wasn’t expecting Noah to double down on wanting to marry some twenty-year-old college student he’d known for less than six months.

“Why?” Benji croaked. “The painting’s not that good.”

“It wasn’t the painting,” Noah said. “Well. Not just the painting. It was what the painting meant. The fact that you felt comfortable showing me, let alone displaying it publicly like that.”

Benji shivered, half-pleasure, half-mortification. He still couldn’t believe he let people see that. It felt like he’d stripped naked—not from his clothes, but from his skin—and people could see all the bones and sinew and embarrassing needs he always tried to hide.

“Do you take it back?” he whispered.

Noah hesitated. But it wasn’t the hesitation of a man with regrets; it was the hesitation of a man who didn’t know how his words would be received.

“No,” Noah admitted. “I don’t.”

Benji knew what he should do. He should throw himself into Noah’s arms, shower him with kisses, and get teary, grateful, and disbelieving. So far, he was just disbelieving. Everything else was pure panic and a stubborn spark of excitement that made him nauseous.

He couldn’t marry Noah. Even the idea was ridiculous. Benji was a sugar baby, and a shitty one at that. He wasn’t husband material. Noah would see that. He had to see that. This was just momentary insanity because of the painting, and then he’d apologize and take it back properly, and—

“Benjamin,” Noah said. “You’re hyperventilating again.”

“Fuck off,” Benji said hoarsely. “I am not.”

He bent over, his hand pressed to his racing heart. He wasn’t hyperventilating; he was just breathing very, very fast.

“I can’t think about this right now,” he said in a rush. “I’m sorry, I just—I can’t.”

“You don’t have to come up with an answer right now,” Noah tried.

It was too much. Benji climbed into his lap, shoving their mouths together with a complete lack of finesse.

What is he paying me for? Benji thought deliriously. Completely unprofessional. Should dock my rates.

But they were more than a sugar baby and his daddy, Benji reminded himself as he scrabbled for Noah’s belt.

They loved each other. Oh shit, Noah loved him.

It felt like a million years since they’d said it, but it hadn’t even been an hour.

Benji had been so giddy over it. He was still giddy now, even through all the panic.

“Whoa,” Noah said, muffled against his lips. He pulled back, resting their foreheads together. “Baby, slow down.”

I love you, Benji thought desperately.