Tipping the Balance (31 page)

“And their names and legends live on even beyond this boathouse, because once CalPac no longer needs these shells and sells them to clubs or smaller schools that lack our resources, no crew will ever change the name of a boat. They know what naming a boat means.

“So today we gather to dedicate a new boat,” Nick said, “donated by the generosity of our new assistant coach’s family. Brad, would you say a few words?”

Brad stepped forward. He swallowed and wiped his hands nervously on his jeans. He hated speaking in public. “Uh… Mom died before I discovered crew, but she always supported my decisions and encouraged me to chase my dreams. She never got upset with me when I failed, but if I didn’t give something my all, well… then she got mad.” He swallowed, his throat dry. “I think she’d be proud to know that her name lives on to help a new generation of men row beyond the limits they knew through crew.” Brad turned to the varsity squad, sparing a quick smile for Morgan and Stuart and the others he remembered. “The
Ellie
will carry you as far as you can go. Because this is a sport about limits, she’ll take you beyond what you ever thought possible. Row her well, men. Make her proud.”

Morgan started clapping, slowly, loudly, followed quickly by Stuart, as the rest of the crew joined in. To the sound of applause, Nick handed Brad an open bottle of champagne. “Just dribble it across the bow deck. If you break it against the bow, you’ll scratch the carbon with the broken glass.”

Brad nodded, his chest tight, his eyes stinging. “Here’s to you, Mom,” he whispered as he trickled the champagne across the white hull and watched with unseeing eyes as the pale liquid flowed across the cursive script of the new boat’s name in the bold blue of the CalPac Titans.

“All right, men!” Stuart cried. “Hands on the
Ellie
! Act like you know what you’re doing.”

Brad stood back as eight of the varsity rowers stepped forward to flip the boat up and out of the slings and onto their shoulders for the
Ellie
’s maiden row.

As Brad watched the new varsity A boat head down the dock on the shoulders of eight of CalPac’s best, Drew slipped under his arm. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Brad said. The PDA made him squirm a bit, but he also liked how Drew felt under his arm. A lot.

“I’ve got to take off, but I’m glad I could be here,” Drew said.

“Me too,” Brad replied, staring out at the water as the rowers lowered the
Ellie
into the river. He squeezed Drew and, with a furtive look around, kissed the top of his head quickly before releasing him.

Drew looked up at him and smiled. “I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

“Definitely. Have a good afternoon, and thanks again for coming.”

“That’s what boyfriends do, right?” Drew said.

“Right.” Brad glanced around and then took a deep breath. “Drew?”

“Yeah?”

Brad dove in and kissed him. It was just a quick peck on the cheek, but it still made his heart slam. “See you later.”

Drew smiled. “Bye, Brad.”

Brad turned and headed for the coaches’ office and his duffle bag. He’d thought maybe he’d reclaim his old locker, but as it was, Nick had given up his own locker and was giving serious thought to restricting lockers to the varsity squad only. He made a note to himself to warn the oversight committee again that they needed to expand the boathouse.

Then he saw what he was sure was his brother’s retreating back—Philip’s
and
his girlfriend’s. Shit. How much had they seen?

Brad
sat at the desk—he refused to think of it as “his” any longer—and drummed his fingers on the laminate top. The original builder had sure spared no expense, he thought acidly. Nothing but the finest quality plastic to lure people into mistakes with thirty-year mortgages. From what Brad had seen when he went snooping around the home sites, the concern for quality materials and fine craftsmanship extended to the homes themselves. Not even the pricey upgrade options changed that equation much; not even the better designers Sundstrom Homes had lured in with grand promises and fat commissions could slather on enough lipstick to disguise the ugly porkers for sale at Suburban Graveyard. It was a lesson he took into his work with Drew. They’d never talked about it directly, but he was pretty sure Drew shared his commitment to quality work with the best materials the budget afforded.

When it came down to it, he knew he was pretty sure about Drew too. As sure as he could be about anything in a post-graduation life filled with doubt. Speaking of… just how much had ol’ Philsie seen? Brad’s hand on Drew’s back as he led him out of the boathouse before the dedication? Drew under his arm for that hug afterward? The kiss?

The kiss. He must’ve been crazy, kissing Drew in public, right there in the yard at the boathouse. But then he remembered Drew’s smile. Ever there in that crappy sales office, the memory of that smiled warmed him. That couldn’t be wrong.

But Brad’s guts still churned just thinking about getting caught. How could he face his family when he didn’t have answers to the obvious question? He didn’t know if he was gay or bi. He just didn’t. Yeah, women still kinda caught his eye, but so did guys now. That didn’t mean he wanted to lick any of them from head to toe like he did Drew. Did that make him gay? He was pretty sure it did. It at least made him not straight.

The g-word and the pictures it brought to mind scared Brad. He thought of the crazy images he’d seen from Mardi Gras or that leather street fair in San Francisco, or that magazine one of his friends had shown him once when they were drunk after a frat party their freshman year.

Those images still made him shiver. Was that guy trying to tell him something? Maybe find out if he were gay? The memory itself was too fuzzy, even if he recalled those pictures of hardcore bondage with perfect clarity. He knew that wasn’t him. Tying someone up a little just for play sounded fun, but not that hard stuff. Different strokes and all that, but not him.

All Brad knew was that he was Drewsexual. Why couldn’t that be enough for now? Somehow he didn’t see Randall accepting that explanation, but what the hell business of his father’s was it? Just as soon as he could swing his own place, he was out of Randall’s house and his life for good.

Speaking of Drewsexual… Brad wanted to be right then. A lot. His body did, anyway. The thought still scared him, because there’d be no turning back. You can’t unring a bell, after all, but Drew sure seemed to ring his bell. Firing off in his pants like that proved that much.

No, the thought of sex, full-deal, all-the-way sex still petrified him when he thought about it, but where Drew was concerned, his body knew what it craved. He’d spent his life following his body’s lead, and maybe it was time let it lead again. Because all this worrying about it? It just confused him.

He leaned back in his chair and let his body do the thinking. What did his body want? He thought of Drew. He thought about tapping that fine bubble butt, and he was halfway to hard before he knew it. There was his answer. It was time to do and not overthink. He’d leave that to Nick and Morgan.

Damn. Enough of this. Time to get back to doing. He was going to take his boyfriend lunch. He knew Drew didn’t have a lot of time on these Saturdays packed with open houses and showing homes. Bringing him lunch would be the perfect boyfriendy thing to do. Fortunately, open houses were just that, and he could walk right in.

Brad glanced at the clock. Close enough to lunch. It wasn’t like frenzied would-be homebuyers were beating down the door. His replacement would be there in a little over an hour, and he felt no need to hang around. If no one arrived to open the office, it wouldn’t be his ass in a sling. It wasn’t so much that his loyalties lay with Drew and Renochuck, although he could see that happening, it was that they didn’t lay with Randall Sundstrom and Sundstrom Homes.

Drew
closed the door to the garage behind him. Long day. He was ready for some rest and recuperation with his boyfriend. He loved being able to say Brad was his boyfriend. Speaking of whom, where was he? His somewhat disreputable-looking car was in front of the house. Maybe he was napping.

Then Drew heard the sliding glass door to the backyard open. “I’m home!”

Brad came in, wearing cargo shorts that hung on his hips like sin and a T-shirt that didn’t make it all the way down. Only an apron covered up the fine, furry belly and prevented Drew from embarrassing himself right then and there. “Hi, honey! How was your day?”

Drew grinned. “Better now that I’m home. What’s with the apron?”

“I’m cooking you dinner. Grilling, actually,” Brad said, grinning. He jutted his jaw out like a Neanderthal. “Me caveman. Me cook food with fire.”

Drew smiled. He loved seeing this side of Brad.

“Lunch, then dinner? That’s so sweet of you,” Drew said.

“Yeah, well, you keep feeding me. I figured it’s my turn,” Brad said, blushing. “But lunch doesn’t count. That was just because.”

“Well, I appreciate it anyway,” Drew said, tipping his head up to kiss Brad’s nose. “How long until dinner’s ready?”

“Maybe another five on the steaks. Salad and bread are from the deli at the store,” Brad said, shrugging apologetically. “It’s nothing fancy.”

“It’s food I’m not cooking. It’s my favorite meal
ever
,” Drew said.

“You’re easy,” Brad said, snorting.

Drew arched an eyebrow as he turned and headed for his bedroom and a change into comfortable clothes. “You have no idea.”

“That’s dessert,” Brad smirked.

“Ooooh,” Drew exclaimed.
Looks like the night just got interesting.

Five minutes later, the scent of dinner pulled him out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, where he was pleased to see that Brad had ditched the apron.

Drew came up behind Brad, who was standing at the counter gussying up the bagged salad with some croutons from a box. He wrapped his arms around the larger man’s waist and pressed himself against the broad, muscled back. “Thanks for this. That’s really sweet of you.”

Brad put his hands over Drew’s and leaned back into the hug. “You’re welcome. I want to do nice things for you.” He shrugged. “I’m glad you were there this morning… it meant a lot to me.”

“I’m glad I was there too,” Drew murmured, enjoying just being close to Brad.

When Brad took his hands away to resume doctoring the salad, Drew ran his hands up under Brad’s shirt, drawn by the gap between the shirt and the shorts. He couldn’t help himself. He just had to feel that furry belly.

“Someone’s frisky tonight,” Brad said.

“If you had any idea what the sight of your hairy abs peeking out from under your shirt was doing to me, you’d cover it up,” Drew said.

“Oh, I think I’ve got some idea what it does to you,” Brad laughed softly. “I—ohhhh.”

While Brad had been talking, Drew allowed his hands to roam further, up to Brad’s pecs. He flicked at Brad’s nipples while biting his back. The feel of muscles and skin and just the right amount of hair… yeah, Brad had it all going on. He ground himself into Brad’s ass and even tried to gnaw on his back as need rose like the tide. He knew he said he’d wait, but damn.

“I said that was dessert,” Brad said breathlessly.