Groomzilla (12 page)

Daniel leaned back, resting on his elbows as he regarded Owen with serious eyes. “I’m going to worry about you, if that’s okay.”

“I’m fine,” Owen said, trying to sound reassuring as he walked the few steps from door to bed.

“And I want to apologize for all the body comments, jeez.”

“You want to apologize for telling me you like my cock?” Owen straddled Daniel’s lap. “My abs? My face? My ass?”

“I don’t believe I’ve mentioned anything about your ass.” Daniel fell back on the bed, his seriousness fading into a smile.

Owen dropped down and planted his hands next to Daniel’s shoulders, their bodies lined up in a perfectly pleasurable line. “Shame, it’s quite impressive.”

Daniel obliged, resting his palms on the swell of the aforementioned ass, squeezing a few times before nodding in agreement. “You’re right, it’s amazing.”

“TRUTH OR
dare?” Owen murmured. They were lying in bed, dozing as the shift of light changed from afternoon to early evening.

“Hmmm… truth.”

“You and Ander.”

Daniel rolled over, bumping Owen’s chin with the top of his head. “I told you, we’ve never slept together.”

“I mean—you’re so different from each other. You seem to give each other an endless amount of crap….”

“Oh, ‘why the hell are you friends?’ That’s your question.” Daniel laughed, rubbing his cheek on Owen’s chest. “I get that a lot.”

“And?”

“And—okay, so once upon a time, two sixteen-year-olds got themselves in trouble of the knocked-up kind,” Daniel said, tracing figure eights over Owen’s furry abs and belly button. “They weren’t from such great homes—divorce, bad marriages, lots of bad relationship role models—and there was no way they were going to be able to raise the baby, so they decided to give it up for adoption.” He paused, dipping his fingers low under the blanket. “Except when the baby was born, the girl’s mother decided that it would be wrong to let her flesh and blood go into the system, and ta-da. She kept the baby.”

Owen heard the tired recitation of this story—practiced and edited, like when he tried to describe the insanity of his father’s actions and how he had ended up as Victor’s bank account and lackey. Tenderly he threaded his fingers through Daniel’s hair, stroking as the story resumed.

“And so the girl leaves home, leaves the baby with her mother, and that’s the last we’ll hear from her. So Grandma is raising the kid, and things are okay for a few years, until she gets cancer. No one can find her daughter, her husband’s dead, and there’s nobody to take care of the boy. She’s dying, she knows she has to do something, so she calls the kid’s other grandmother.”

Daniel paused again, turning his head so he could look Owen in the eye. “That was Grandma Constance, my father’s mother. Her son was in the Army and her husband had run off with his secretary, so there she was, living out her quiet life of bitterness, and here comes a seven-year-old kid that no one wants. Including her, for the most part. She takes the kid, waits until he’s old enough for boarding school, and sends him to Maine, seven hundred miles away.

“Okay, so here’s the Ander part of the story: I’m sitting there on my bed in this boarding school and I’m scared shitless. Grandma Constance wasn’t too sure she wanted another go-around at motherhood, but at least she was a person I knew. All of a sudden there’s this sound of like… the most pitiful sobbing I have ever heard. One of the faculty walks into my room, dragging Ander inside.

“We were literally the most depressed and depressing two children on the floor.”

Owen shook his head, the story sending a sick pang to his heart. “You must’ve been so sad.”

“I was miserable. But Ander was… ten times more upset. His parents got a divorce and no one wanted their postmarriage fun spoiled by a kid. Before that, though, he’d had a house and a father and a mother and a freaking dog, and then he had nothing. And technically I never had anything to begin with, so… we bonded over being dropped off. Like literally and metaphorically.” Daniel rubbed his palm over Owen’s chest, then pressed against his heart. “Ander said, ‘You and I will be best friends forever,’ and seriously? Of all the people that have been granted a day pass to my life? He never left.”

The story seemed to knock the energy out of Daniel; he curled up closer to Owen’s body as silence fell over the room.

“You are seriously amazing, Daniel Green,” he murmured, rubbing circles against the back of his neck.

OWEN WAS
in the shower when the knocking started. Daniel pulled himself out of a doze, then jerked fully awake when it turned into pounding.

“Daniel Edward Green!”

“Oh crap.” Daniel found his pants and hastily put them on before hurrying to the door. The sound of water from the small bathroom—there was nothing he could do about that.

He opened the door to find a triumphant Ander on the other side.

“Please tell me I interrupted you midcoitus,” Ander said dramatically and without volume control.

“He’s in the shower. What do you want?” Daniel shivered as the cool air crept in and hit his skin.

“Let me in, it’s cold.”

“Absolutely not,” Daniel said as his nipples turned to stone. “Are you here to be an intrusive pervert or for something else?”

Ander didn’t look even vaguely insulted. “Intrusive pervert, but with a side of telling you that I covered for you and Mr. Grainger blowing off the tour of the wine cellar to blow each other—seriously, Daniel, your mouth is like a neon sign right now, consider lip balm—and also Lois is taking us into town to eat dinner at her cousin’s bistro.”

Daniel wiped at his lips. “What time?”

“Seven. They have a little bus thing to take us there—how adorable, right? So let Owen know you both have to be wearing pants in the next two hours.”

“God, it’s five already?” He tried to remember where the time had gone, but all he came up with was nudity and soul baring and Owen bemoaning the lack of condoms low in his ear after the second go-around. “Sorry.” A tendril of shame crept into his thoughts. “This is work and I disappeared—”

Ander put his hands on Daniel’s shoulders. “Honey, I will never complain about you leaving me to get laid. But I am sincerely asking you not to leave me alone with Lois anymore, because she keeps saying ‘denouement’ like ‘de-now-ment’ and I want to throw her in the lake.”

The water turned off, pipes rattling, then quiet. Ander tightened his fingers on Daniel’s bare shoulders. “Can I just see him walk out in nothing but a towel?”

“You’re an engaged man.” Daniel started pushing Ander out of the doorway. “Go look at Rafe in a towel.”

Ander’s good mood slipped the smallest bit. “He’s on the phone and can’t be disturbed right now,” he muttered.

Daniel stopped pushing and sighed. “Ander, I don’t want him to get him all embarrassed—”

“Ander.” Owen’s voice cut through his words.

The way Ander’s eyes widened and his mouth turned into duck lips—well, it left little doubt as to exactly how Owen was dressed. Or not, as the case might be.

“Hi, Owen. I just wanted to drop by and let you know about the dinner plans changing tonight,” Ander said, cheerful as a pep squad. “Daniel’ll give you the details.”

“I just wanted to let you know that this won’t affect how Daniel and I do our jobs.” Owen sounded worried, so Daniel turned around to offer him a smile.

“He’s fine with it.”

“Yes, he’s fine with it,” Ander said sincerely. “So long as it doesn’t affect the wedding planning,” he added, which Daniel didn’t love all that much. “We’ll work out a schedule.”

“I’m not a time-share. Bye, Ander, we’ll see you down at the main house by seven.” Daniel sighed, pushing the door closed—only to have it blocked by Ander’s shoulder.

“Tomorrow, he’s mine!” Ander added before ducking back out.

Daniel slammed the door.

OWEN LEFT
to go to his cabin and change while Daniel took a shower, citing some work to take care of before they left for dinner, leaving Daniel to wallow a bit as the lukewarm water rained down on his head. While he’d like to solely blame Ander for the disruption of the warm fun they were having, he couldn’t help but worry that the big sob story from earlier might have played a part. Who wanted to hear that from someone they’d been dating—sleeping with—for a few days? And while Owen had seemed touched, Daniel wasn’t a soul-baring, man-trusting kind of guy.

Daniel had dated some at the boarding school, but college had felt so overwhelming that he hadn’t even wanted to make the effort. Ander was in New York City at FIT while Daniel was alone in Boston, with only a few casual acquaintances from the boarding school on campus and not a great skill set for making friends. Work, studies, more work—he didn’t have time for human connection, or at least that was what he had told himself.

Then, to his surprise, a nice guy named Paul in his Fundamentals of Accounting class asked him out two weeks into the first semester. He said yes. They ate pizza and saw a movie. Second date was a performance of the Dudley House chorus because Paul’s roommate was a member, which was why they went back to Paul’s dorm to have sex. Third date was sex in Daniel’s room, because his roommate had a girlfriend in Cambridge. It was going great.

Week two, Daniel felt… alive. School, work, a campus of possibilities. A connection to another human being who wasn’t Ander.

Ander, who breezed up for a visit on weekend four of dating Paul.

The three of them went out to a local bar filled with college students playing darts and pool, chipping in their money for pitchers of soda and baskets of wings. Daniel was happy, even as Ander talked too loud and wore a sweater pieced together from what most likely were two old rugs. Paul seemed… amused.

Daniel relaxed.

Went to the bathroom.

Came back to find Paul with his hand on Ander’s crotch and—about three seconds later—Ander’s fist in Paul’s mouth.

Some people might blame Ander, naturally flirty and outgoing, tall and gorgeous. Some people might jump to the conclusion that he’d invited Paul’s attention.

Daniel, numb and stumbling over his own feet, let Ander drag him out of the bar and into a cab—Ander, who was swearing and spitting mad, his arm the only thing keeping Daniel upright. The logical part of Daniel’s brain posited that three weeks wasn’t an emotional investment he needed to suffer over; they hadn’t gotten past “like” and Daniel certainly wasn’t in love, but….

Three weeks for Daniel was a fucking lifetime.

Ander took him to the dorm. He called Paul a dozen terrible things while Daniel nodded, numbly sitting on his bed and staring at his corkboard. Pictures of Ander, the only photo he had of him and Grandma Constance. Some postcards he liked of mountains and the NYC skyline and his class schedule, a calendar of his work hours, his to-do list. Paul wasn’t there. Paul would never be there, because Paul was a dick who came on to his best friend when he left the table for eight minutes.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Ander huffed, tucking Daniel against his side.

Daniel’s Harvard dating adventure ended after that. He changed his seat in accounting class, and when he wanted to get laid, he took the bus to cruise whatever dive gay bar looked interesting.

It had been better that way.

THE WATER
ran cold and Daniel rubbed at his eyes. Well, that didn’t bode well for the rest of his evening.

DANIEL DIDN’T
have a suit for their dinner excursion, so he just wore what he had packed for the estate’s dining room. Black slacks, a cowl-neck sweater in marled grays, and a black turtleneck underneath. He was just smoothing his hair when Owen walked through the front door.

“Wow, you look great,” he said, throwing his gloves on the tiny café table near the front window. “Syndie has a fabulous eye.”

“Thanks.” Daniel skirted around Owen, heading for the bed and his black oxfords. “Did you get your work done?”

“Oh yeah—sorry I had to duck out, but with the condensed schedule, I wanted to make sure we were ready for the first day of filming.” Owen’s relaxed posture and the almost-posed lines of his body as he leaned against the fireplace were confusing; hadn’t he run out the door after Ander’s visit? Wasn’t he having second thoughts?

“Thursday.” Daniel tied his shoes, then reached for his watch on the nightstand.

“Thursday at Sven Glory Headquarters,” Owen said with a chuckle. “Sounds like he should be making porn, not clothes.”

“He’s a douche bag, fair warning. Everyone there loves Ander or at least appreciates his talent—except Sven.” Standing, Daniel rubbed his hands together. “It should be fun, and by that I mean ulcer-inducing.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met a wedding planner as frank as you.”

“Well, that’s because I’m a corporate event coordinator,” Daniel quipped.

Owen’s appreciative smile, the way his gaze lingered on Daniel’s outfit and then his face, warmed Daniel despite his misgivings. “And Ander wrangler?”

“Ha. Yeah. That should be its own page on my website.”

Ander and Rafe seemed to have worked out whatever snit Ander had been brewing earlier; they cuddled and rubbed noses so much that Daniel would have been sure a camera crew was hidden in the woods if he didn’t know them better. Victor kept Lois occupied, which meant Daniel could sit with Owen’s hand on his thigh in the backseat of the little bus.

They rumbled and bounced over dark country roads, the driver taking hairpin turns with ease. Daniel let the sway of the bus relax him, sinking into the rhythm of his logical mind. Lists. Lists were good. He would concentrate more tomorrow, stick with Ander and Lois, get all his information and measurements for the reception planning. Monday was his phone day: confirmations and callbacks, setting up a master calendar that would decorate his living room wall for the next few months.

Owen’s warm breath brushed against his cheek in the darkness of the bus, his hand tightening on Daniel’s leg. “I’m so glad Ander is okay with this,” he murmured against Daniel’s ear. “I was worried, but….”