Chapter 4
THAD
The weeks after Maxie got sick, which thankfully hadn’t spread to the entire house, flew past. I spent what time I could helping with the preparations for the Halloween charity event, sending out invites, calling in favors, and strong-arming donors.
All of it done from afar, since an intern had delivered a baby and her partner took time away as well. I didn’t begrudge them their happiness.
Much.
I ’d never really considered kids. Not even with Chelly. At least not really. Her insane levels of jealousy and possessiveness about what and who dominated my attention had pushed the idea of a family with her, a future with her, out of my mind.
The night before the charity event, I pulled into the garage at the house, grabbed the few groceries I stopped to buy out of the passenger seat, and swung the backpack I carried instead of a briefcase over my shoulder.
Once inside, I cooked a real dinner for myself, splurging on a ribeye with fish sauce and lime butter, sautéed rapini, and a chickpea-and-burrata side dish Mariska had been raving about a few days earlier.
I sat outside at the dining table on the balcony, savoring the delicious meal while enjoying a bottle of wine with the ocean crashing on the rocks below.
If I read through intakes and referrals while I ate, so what? A man could only change so much.
The next morning, I woke in my ridiculously large, half-empty bed and stretched.
The sound of the ocean filtered through the pushed-open wall of glass separating my bedroom from the upper balcony and the world beyond.
As I sat up, I glanced at the clock in shock.
I slept the whole night for the first time in what felt like—fuck, I didn’t even know.
Forever was all I could come up with. I woke rested, completely devoid of the grogginess that sometimes… always…plagued me upon waking.
As usual, I spent the morning in the gym after my protein shake-and-coffee breakfast. I went through my routine—yoga, a rowing session, and weights—then, because I had nothing pressing, I went down to the beach with my surfboard and spent several hours in the water.
Back in the house, I showered and then dressed in some sweats and my old Fighting Irish sweatshirt. The thing was so old and threadbare. It shocked me every time it came out of the wash in one piece.
I checked my email, plowed through a mound of paperwork, and contemplated how to get out of attending the Halo House event.
I’d specifically scheduled this day off so I could get ready for it and not worry about failing to show up because of a last-minute emergency.
But as the clock ticked closer and closer to the time I would need to get ready, I dreaded doing just that.
So rare was it that I took time to relax, even if I had done paperwork and reviewed some cases, that I didn’t want it to end.
Another glance at the clock, and I sighed. I pressed myself up out of my Eames lounge chair and headed down the hall to my bedroom and the bathroom beyond.
I took my time getting ready, showering and then standing before the large metal-framed mirror hanging over the vanity with a towel wrapped around my waist. While trimming my beard, I cursed myself for not planning well enough that my barber could’ve done this for me. I never got it lined up quite right.
Oh well.
Once I had styled my hair, I went through my skincare routine and splashed on some cologne.
I moved into the closet and stood in the massive half-filled custom-designed space meant for two, looking at the perfectly hung clothing.
As if someone had used a ruler to space each hanger equidistant from the ones on either side.
Unable to fathom why anyone would do such a thing, I ran my hand over the top of the rod, shuffling the pristinely placed items so the space no longer looked so staged.
Aaron
Remember! The event’s at a nightclub filled with boys and subs and hot as fuck queer men on Halloween.
Shit! I forgot it was a costume event.
Me
And?
Aaron
You, big brother, are hopeless.
Me
As if you are looking at the boys, subs, and hot as fuck queer men.
Aaron
Someone has to help you out.
[IMAGE]
Wear this. I know you have the clothes in that massive fucking closet to pull this together.
Me
You have to be kidding!?
I’m not cutting a vintage concert T-shirt.
Aaron
No. I’m not. You look just like the man.
You prick.
And it’s not like you don’t have twenty of them.
I groaned. It wasn’t as bad as other costumes my brother could have recommended, but seriously…
I pulled on the clothes he suggested, except for the T-shirt.
Before heading downstairs, I went back to the bathroom, tied the bandanna around my head, and combed through the product I’d put in my hair after showering.
The top of my hair parted down the middle, flopping over the blue fabric wrapped around my head while the back flipped up, showing off the natural wave in my hair.
Sighing, I went back into the bedroom and filled my pockets with my wallet, phone, and keys that had been lying in the valet on the nightstand before grabbing the shirt and heading to the kitchen. I cursed as I sliced the sleeves off the shirt and then made deep cuts down the sides.
When I pulled it on, I sighed. “At least I worked out today,” I muttered to myself.
Turning, I headed to the garage, catching my reflection in the large leaning mirror sitting in the foyer. A scoff clawed at my throat. I looked ridiculous. I was a thirty-nine-year-old man. I should not be dressed like a damn stripper, even if I looked like the actor.
Me
I hate you.
Aaron
No you don’t.
And don’t even think of changing.
Or not coming.
I shook my head. My little brother was the bane of my existence. He was just as bad as Phoenix for butting into my life, or what they considered my lack of a life. As if Aaron were any better, as a police officer who dedicated his life to the force. And like me, Halo House.
Me
Never said anything about changing or not showing up.
Aaron
I know you, big brother. Don’t act like I don’t.
Jerk.
I sighed, grabbed a bottle of water, and made my way out of the house to the garage. Once I got in the SUV, I snapped a picture of the interior and sent it to him.
Me
Happy?
Aaron
Not until you show your face at the club.
BTW, there’s a new guy at Halo.
I ignored his last text since I’d pulled out of the garage already. The house sat an hour from the club on a good day. Music cranked, windows open, I cruised down the coast toward the club, taking my time. If I showed up late, I wouldn’t have to stay long.
But…
Maybe Aaron had a point. This event would be filled with men. Hot, sexy, unattached, and available—hopefully—men. I hadn’t introduced my cock to anyone other than my right hand and a rando from a hookup app in ages. Maybe I should embrace the persona and see what the night had to offer.
A valet opened my car door as I arrived. The moment my feet touched the pavement, the music from the club vibrated out onto the streets and up through my legs, energizing me in a way I hadn’t experienced in probably ten years.
“Dr. Vale, if you’ll take this bracelet, you’ll be let right in. No waiting necessary.”
I nodded as I took the QR-coded bracelet, wrapped it around my wrist, and handed off the keys to my car. “Thank you,” I said, slipping the kid some cash before heading to the door.
The club’s pulsing beat enveloped me, simultaneously reminding me of my advanced age and how much I enjoyed the scene.
The interior was dim without being nightclub dark, pools of warm light spilling over the bar and tables while the dancefloor disappeared into deeper shadows, softening the normally dark, pulsing energy of a nightclub into something closer to a swanky lounge.
Dodging bodies with a nod and a smile and an occasional lifted finger to ask a person to wait, I made my way to the bar. I needed a drink to shake off the rust.
“There you are,” Aaron said, Phoenix at his side. Or rather, Aaron was at Phoenix’s side. My baby brother was completely and totally devoted to Phoenix. You could see it in his besotted expression when he looked at Phoenix. “I was beginning to have my doubts about you showing up.”
I shook my head at him with a smile and gripped his shoulder, giving him a shake. “I’m getting a drink,” I said, moving away from them on my way to the bar.
Aaron yelled after me, but I ignored him.
Before I ever entered the throng in front of the open bar, the bartender caught my eye.
His piercing electric-blue gaze unnerved me and lit me up all at once.
Fuck, he was beautiful. A tall, Nordic, blond, blue-eyed sexy beast with broad shoulders and, if the pecs and biceps straining the black shirt stretched tight were anything to go by, an insanely fit body.
I hung back, watching him. The beginnings of a tattoo peeked out of the V of his black T-shirt, looking almost like two fingers curling around his throat from the back of his neck.
Another tattoo nestled between his pecs.
The ink seemed to stretch across his chest, following his clavicle.
His hair—shorn short on the sides and back, faded up into long spikey points on top of his head—glowed in the club lighting.
The flashing colors in the lights danced over the white-blond of his hair.
My cock thickened just watching him. He had to be years and years and years too young for me, but my dick and the Daddy in me ignored the logical thoughts and fixated on the man in front of me. He looked familiar, but I met so many people in my life that I brushed it off and continued my voyeurism.
A sadness around him seemed to dull his eyes, until someone made him laugh. Then he morphed, becoming a freaking gorgeous sight to behold. Head thrown back, deep, throaty laughter lighting up a face that only moments before held…sorrow was maybe the best descriptor.
Either way, he entranced me.
And then his eyes scanned the sea of people before the bar.
They skimmed by me, then jerked back to me almost comically.
The fair skin stretched over his cheekbones and his razor-sharp jaw turned pink, as did his neck and the bit of inked skin his T-shirt exposed.
Skin that I swore read Vidi. The yearning to see the rest of the phrase inked into his skin pulled at me.
As did the man himself. He leaned forward, speaking to the person next in line at the bar.
While he listened to them, his eyes never left mine.
Not when he nodded and made their drink.
Not when he handed it to them and spoke to the next person.
The intensity in that stare was visceral, as if his hands had reached inside to toy with me.
I wouldn’t have it any differently. Well, yeah, I would.
I’d like him to actually be touching me. And I wanted to touch him.
Touch him.
Kiss him.
Fuck him.
Holy shit. This man elicited reactions from me I hadn’t experienced since I first met Chelly.
I continued watching him. He worked easily with the others at the bar, but his eyes always returned to mine. Every time they did, he blushed. His lower lip would roll into his mouth, and his teeth would flash bright white as they bit down on the tender flesh I wanted to chew on myself.
Chew on.
Suck on.
Jesus. My body was on fire. As if giving it permission had allowed it to come awake in a way it hadn’t been in far, far too long.
The girl next to him, behind the bar, caught him staring and followed his gaze to me.
Her eyes on me received no acknowledgment.
They barely pierced my consciousness, so peripheral to where my focus lay.
She said something, and the beautiful man blushed even more, shaking his head.
As I stared at him, the pink flesh on his face and neck turned on the movie reel of my imagination, making me wonder if he turned that pretty color when aroused.
And if so, did it paint the rest of his body, or was it reserved for his face and neck?
Passing glances continued. Each one sent a shot of lust to my dick.
I needed to be schmoozing new donors and glad-handing current ones to stroke their egos so they’d stroke their signatures on some checks, but I couldn’t bring myself to give a fuck.
The pretty boy in front of me held me enthralled.
I’d cut a check myself, as if I hadn’t already, if it meant I got to stand here watching the sexy bartender blush whenever our gazes met.
Minutes or hours, I didn’t know or care, passed before he walked out from behind the bar with a towel over his shoulder and a drink in his hand. A cursed gasp died on my lips. He wasn’t leaving. No, he walked from behind the bar and straight to me, a cocky smirk twitching his lips.
He favored his right leg as he moved, though he hid it well. To anyone else, it most likely wouldn’t have been noticeable. But I wasn’t anyone else. I was a fucking orthopedic surgeon.
Before I could greet him, he held out the glass to me. “You looked a little thirsty.”
I took the glass, lifting it to my mouth. He pulled the towel from his shoulder and held it out to me as he said, “You might want to wipe up the drool first though.”
Astonishment at being called out turned to hilarity and laughter burst from my chest. “Oh, so you’re a brat,” I said between eye-watering guffaws.
His magazine-cover face brightened with an enormous smile, splitting his mouth wide. “I can be,” he said, looking me up and down before continuing. “A very, very sexy, observant brat who knows when a silver fox Daddy likes what he sees.”
His left elbow found a place on the bar-top cocktail table, and he shifted his weight onto the table and off his right leg. A long, soft exhale left him, taking with it the subtle pinched look I hadn’t noticed from a distance. He masked pain suspiciously well. Like he lived with it constantly.
I smiled at him, my eyes locked with his, as I took the towel from him, using it like a napkin to wipe at the corners of my mouth.
He slow-blinked, and the smile grew. Damn, I wanted to kiss him.
I came here to be Thad, and maybe experiment with living again, not be Dr. Vale.
Leave it to me to fixate on a guy who clearly had something medical happening.
“I’ve never seen you at a Halo Hou—”
“There you are, big brother… Oh! Good! You two’ve met.”