Laying Low (Princeton Royals #3)

Not Quite Baked

REG ROYAL gazed out over his parents’ swimming pool and watched his nieces and nephews playing in the dappled shade of September, his enormous hazel eyes covered with (prescription) sunglasses and a sweet little smile on his unfairly plush mouth.

“I get you’ve got to go home,” he said, keeping his voice neutral with an obvious effort, “but, uhm, after everything’s gotten back to normal and stuff, I’ll miss seeing you so much. Uhm, so, uh, maybe my treat next weekend? If, you know, you want to come hang out and just, uhm, do stuff?”

He flashed Anthony McCauley a shy smile from under his glasses, and Anthony tried hard not to swoon.

Oh dear God. Three months it had taken—three months—to get Reg to even suggest they get together on their time off. Anthony had been starting to think it was hopeless.

Back in early June, Anthony had come with his dad, Rory, to meet his dad’s boyfriend’s family.

Val Royal was the oldest of seven, and his family was really something special.

Not rich, but… well, bountiful, was the way Anthony had thought of them.

Val’s parents shared everything—their home, their pool, whatever food they had.

They’d made the generous offer to Anthony to come use their pool in the summer.

It was an expense, everybody knew it, so it might as well get swum in every day, right?

Anthony, who lived forty-five minutes away, had taken them up on that offer on the weekends. Not so much for the pool, because he usually used the one at the gym, but for this right here.

Reg Royal, Val Royal’s second youngest brother, who was almost exactly Anthony’s age. Reg was cute, smart, gentle, kind, brave, and shy.

Oh holy fuck, so goddamned shy.

Anthony, who had been an only child with two homes—both of which had revolved exclusively around him—and parents who had showered him with affection, had grown up confident, cocky, and reasonably lucky in love.

He’d had his share of both men and women and had some good relationships to his credit.

At least he had fond memories, even though none of the attachments had gone the distance.

Anthony remembered their meeting. So exciting.

A family reunion! He’d never been to one of those!

All the siblings and their kids and significant others and even a work husband.

The modest backyard had been filled with people eating at the picnic table behind the house or the patio near the pool, or playing horseshoes near the garden, or swimming—everything Anthony had ever dreamed about what it would be like to have a big family, it had been there.

And Reg had shown up, adorable glasses on his nose, and had smiled and taken the “new kid” under his wing so Anthony’s dad could meet the rest of the family.

They’d had fun. Chance, the family’s youngest sibling, and Shaw, the oldest nephew, had joined them, and they’d played horseshoes until Anthony’s arm had nearly fallen off, and in general, Anthony had thought, Great!

I have an in! Because while Reg may have introduced himself out of family duty, Anthony was hoping he’d stayed at Anthony’s side out of, well, enjoyment.

Maybe even attraction. It wasn’t unheard of, right?

And as the sun had lowered, Anthony had maneuvered Reg into a walk around the edges of the property while the breeze coming across the vast middle of California had cooled them through their damp board shorts.

Anthony had renoticed all of the great things about this new friend—the charming smile, the large hazel eyes, the suddenly deadly humor, the way he got passionate about things like music and art and television, and generally what a great companion he’d been, and he’d thought, I would like to kiss this new friend very much!

and he’d turned to face Reg, lowering his face in the sunset, and… .

Reg had turned sideways just as Anthony thought they’d been about to make contact and said, “I’m sorry it’s me out here instead of Chance. I’m afraid Chance is sort of besotted with Dean’s (another brother!) work partner.”

Anthony had been so surprised he’d almost stumbled backward.

“Why… why would you think I’d want to be with Chance instead of you?

” he asked, legitimately floored. Chance was a great kid—he was!

Sun-streaked brown hair, fashionably cut, and enormous forest-creature eyes weren’t exactly repellent, but Chance was a kid.

He was in his second year of college, so only about three or four years younger than Reg and Anthony, but still obsessed with bands and his major (media) and getting laid (so far no dice, but as Reg pointed out, Chance did seem absolutely lovestruck with Marcus, the work partner).

“Everybody wants to be with Chance,” Reg said as though that was a given. “It’s fine.”

“But… but… I like you!” Oh, this was not going as planned, Anthony thought, horrified.

“I’m likable,” Reg said, his mouth twisting with that sneaky humor Anthony had already marked. “But I’m nothing special. Chance is special. You deserve special.”

And with that, he’d turned to amble back to the house. Anthony followed in a daze, trying to blurt out, “You are special!” in such a way that it would be believable after such a long pause.

But all that familial chaos Anthony had loved when he’d arrived engulfed them as they walked back to the picnic area, and Anthony was left opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

Chance had wandered up then and regarded him with pity.

“He totally cockblocked you, didn’t he?”

Anthony glared at him, suddenly getting the “little brother” thing with a vengeance.

“We didn’t get that far,” he muttered. “All I was hoping for was a kiss.”

Chance had sucked air through his teeth. “Brutal. Let me guess—he had no idea, right? Sort of wandered away right when you were about to make contact?”

“I could have sworn… I mean, didn’t Val tell me he was gay?” Anthony was absolutely bewildered.

“We’re all gay,” Chance said, nodding. “I mean, except for Laure and Prock.” Laure was his sister, and Prock was the “dead center” brother who had brought his wife and three children, one of whom was still in the baby basket thing that they came in.

“Someday we’ll have to check out the genetic odds of that happening,” Anthony muttered, because he was still not over that whole “You deserve to be out here with someone special” thing.

“Oh, I tried,” Chance told him, obviously put out.

“I took a second-tier biology class just to get to talk to a professor of genetics who told me that it wasn’t possible.

I told him that it obviously was possible because five out of seven of us were flamingly queer, and he said something about how he needed a drink, and I don’t know.

He had a TA teach the class after that.” Chance shrugged.

“He was cute but, you know, wasn’t really my type. ”

“Straight?” Anthony asked.

“Apparently not but, you know….” Chance’s eyes darted to where his brother Dean stood with Marcus, both of them playfully tussling with Laure’s two teenaged sons, who regarded the two FBI agents with some hero worship. “Not who I was looking for at the time.”

Anthony had sighed with him, and that had been that. Both of them cemented in the unrequited corner of the Royal family singles club, the only difference being the object of Anthony’s unrequited seemed to love spending time with Anthony.

He just didn’t understand why Anthony loved spending time with him.

“So,” Chance had said at the time, “are you going to tell him?”

Anthony worried his lower lip, which was uncharacteristic of him, even he knew that. Uncertainty? In Anthony McCauley? Naw… even Anthony’s ex-girlfriend had loved his confidence.

But then Anthony would have married her if she hadn’t been going out of state for an educational opportunity she’d worked her entire life for. What was the use of having confidence if you used it to strangle the people you loved?

I can’t do that to Reg, he’d realized that night. Reg has to know he’s worth it.

But the Royals only lived forty-five minutes away too. It wasn’t like Anthony was just going to leave him alone.

“We can be friends for a while,” Anthony said thoughtfully. “I think… I think he needs to… you know. Want to kiss me too.”

“You think he doesn’t?” Chance said, and to the little shit’s credit, he sounded doubtful. “I mean, you know. Look at you.”

Anthony didn’t preen. He knew he was tall and rangy like his father, with a long face and a square jaw, brown hair, and blue eyes—average white guy face.

He worked out, and he fired at the range a lot, which when done right, involved a lot of core and arm work.

Guns were heavy, and to fire them with any accuracy and control, the person wielding them had to have the arm strength and center of gravity—abs, thighs, and biceps, oh my!

Not a troll, he knew, but given Reg’s thoughtfulness, he didn’t think it was looks that were at play here.

It was that Reg was used to being the least important puppy. But that wasn’t a sentiment Anthony was going to share with Reg’s brother right now.

“That’s not the problem here,” Anthony explained patiently. “I need him to look at me and think, ‘I really want to kiss him.’ Not, ‘Hey, I wouldn’t kick him out of bed if he offered.’ He needs to be… you know. Courted.”

Chance had stared at him. “Courted? Like with flowers and chocolates and promises you don’t intend to keep?”

Anthony had scowled at him playfully. “You work hard at that annoying little brother thing, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Chance said without repentance. “What do you mean, courted?”

“I mean,” Anthony said, staring at Reg as he picked up his littlest nephew, the baby in the basket, and smiled transcendently into the little rug rat’s eyes, “I need to find out the things he loves and see if I can love them too.”

“Hunh,” Chance said. “Okay. Let me know how that works.”