Robby (Cooper Construction Book 3) Read online

  “Mama!” He’d never heard her say the word dick in his life. Not even during their extremely awkward sex talk in seventh grade.

  “Don’t Mama me, Matthew. If you’re old enough to do it, you’re old enough to talk about it. I’m perfectly capable of speaking frankly. Are you?”

  “With my mother? No.” He buried his head in his hands.

  “Stop acting like such a prude.”

  He lifted his head, staring at her, slack-jawed.

  “I’m tired of tiptoeing around this for your tender sensibilities, son. This is long overdue. You got her pregnant. You need to marry her. End of story.”

  Patty chuckled. “I’m afraid I don’t meet his base requirements.”

  Both Matt’s and his mother’s heads whipped to the side to face her. She looked like a fierce warrior goddess, heeled black leather boots over her jeans, her arms crossed, eyes blazing. She must have let herself in the front door. God only knew what she’d say next.

  He spoke through his clenched jaw. “Patty, don’t do this.”

  Her laugh intensified into something dark and mean. “Don’t do what? Tell the truth? Come on now, Matty. Denying the truth got us into this mess in the first place.”

  “I mean it.” He stalked toward her. “Don’t.”

  She threw back her shoulders, her posture practically screaming fuck you. “What? Don’t tell your precious Mama I was your beard for eight goddamn years? Don’t tell her you only fucked me because you were drunk and wallowing in guilt after Shawn died? That you could never get it up with me a single time afterward?” She snarled. “Maybe the real reason you were so screwed up about Shawn was because he had the one thing I’ll never have. A dick.”

  His mother made a strangled sound from the table as she processed Patty’s words.

  It was a low blow bringing up his old roommate. And Patty was wrong. He and Shawn had barely been friends, much less anything more. But Matt had felt guilty. He should’ve seen the signs the guy had been partying too hard. Should’ve tried to get him help.

  He’d never been interested in sex with Shawn or any man. Or any woman. He didn’t want to have sex with anyone. The night he and Patty had conceived Jimmy was a fluke, fueled by the Fireball shots and the platonic love he’d convinced himself might be something more. He’d tried. God, how he’d tried to hold on to the fragile spark, to hold on to her, but the zing—the flare—wasn’t there. Those months of trying to pretend it was only made it worse.

  “Stop this.” Matt kept his voice calm, even as embarrassment heated his skin and his mother backed out of the kitchen, scooping up the sleeping baby on her way to the bedroom.

  “We’re just getting started.” Patty twirled. “Don’t you like the independent Patty? So much better than the mopey, pitiful girl who cried over you. I’ve given up on the dream. You should be happy.” When he didn’t answer, she cocked her hip against the table and met his eyes with a level stare.

  “I never wanted this.”

  The day after they’d conceived Jimmy, Patty had left to spend the summer with her grandma in south Louisiana. He’d spoken with her every day. FaceTimed. She’d helped him navigate his guilt after he moved back in with his mom. Comforted him. Eventually helped him laugh again.

  For him, the phone connection allowed things to feel like they always had been between them. Only, for her, everything had changed. With physical distance from her, it had been easy to talk himself out of his misgivings.

  Then, she’d come back. He’d known the first time she kissed him, he didn’t feel the spark. For a while, her morning sickness gave him breathing room without any pressure for a repeat performance in the bedroom. And he could manage the kissing when he needed to, even if it made him more and more uncomfortable every time.

  This was Patty, though. If he couldn’t make it work with her, what chance would he have with someone else? He couldn’t lose her—not his best friend.

  But when the time came to get down to brass tacks…when his excuses about studying or waking up his mom wouldn’t work anymore…he’d tried willing his body into action. He’d tried and failed. Not once. Not twice.

  Three times.

  Each failure cracked his beautiful, fierce, best friend a little bit deeper. Until she shut it all down just after Jimmy was born and started dating some jerk who had no interest in her dreams—or the little boy she’d created with another man. She shut Matt out of her life and only shared Jimmy when it suited her schedule.

  Patty growled, returning his attention to the here and now. “I stuck by your side! All through high school. I was your date to every dance. Your study partner—”

  “My friend,” he supplied.

  “Friend,” she spat. “I defended you. When everyone said you were queer. I told them to get fucked. I was the reason you didn’t get your ass kicked clear across Fulton County. I told you my dreams, my fears, my secrets. And you never said a word!”

  Her screech woke Jimmy, who started crying. His Gi Gi comforted him with hushed words through the closed door of the bedroom.

  “What did you want me to say?” He rubbed the heels of his hands against his temples. “What do you want me to say now? It’s not like I’m out there picking up men. There isn’t anyone. The only person I have ever been with is you.”

  She pushed him. “I don’t know if that is better or worse. You weren’t lying to me? You were lying to yourself.”

  “I wasn’t lying to anyone! My love for you wasn’t pretend. What we had all those years was real, and it was important to me. But it wasn’t about sex. Not until you—”

  “Took advantage of you?” She made a noise in the back of her throat. “For fuck’s sake, can you just say what you mean for once?”

  “I’m sorry I hurt you. Maybe it’s not the truth you’re asking for, but it is the truth.” He reached for the bourbon his mom kept on top of the refrigerator and took a swig right from the bottle. It burned like fire in his throat. Coughing, he set the bottle back on the counter. “Oh, God.”

  She laughed, and for a moment, she was the Patty who convinced him to wear matching Storm Trooper costumes to a Halloween party where no one else dressed up. The Patty who recorded him throwing up after the first time he got drunk and played it back the next morning. His best friend. God, how he missed her.

  As quickly as she appeared, she was gone. Her laugh evaporated, and the smile lighting her face fell into a frown. “Don’t do that.” She pulled at one of the braids in her hair. “Don’t make me forget to hate you.”

  “You don’t have to hate me.” He reached out, but she dodged away from his touch. “We were friends for so long. Best friends. Why is it so terrible for me to want our friendship back? Why wasn’t it enough?”

  Her hands shook as she filled a glass with water from the tap. She seemed to grow steadier the more she drank. Wiping her mouth with the back of her arm, she set the glass on the counter. “When I first met you, I thought I was so lucky. Here was this smart, funny, absolutely gorgeous guy, and nobody realized it except for me.”

  She took in a deep breath, then blew it out. “I fell in love with you before we made it out of freshman year. I knew you didn’t feel the same way, but you didn’t seem to be interested in anyone else either, so I figured I would bide my time. Some guys are late bloomers and shit. Plus, I had you all to myself. We laughed at the same jokes. We cried at the same movies. We held hands; we danced together. We had everything but that one single thing.”

  “Sex,” he murmured.

  “I thought I didn’t need it. Then I told myself, I didn’t need it with you. There were plenty of guys who wanted me. When I had an itch, I scratched it. But then—” Her breath caught. “Then somehow, some way, I had you.”

  She slammed her fist into the palm of her other hand. “I had you, and it was everything. Everything I ever dreamed about. You kissed me and held me, and when you were inside me, it was real. It was real to me!”

  “It was real to me too, Patty.” And
he’d never been closer to another person. Still, he knew it wasn’t right, even after, when he’d tried to force it.

  Her eyes filled with tears. “You said you were sorry. There I was, my heart so full it was ready to burst. And you were sorry.” She swiped at her cheek with an inpatient brush of her hand. “Then, when I found out Jimmy was coming, I managed to convince myself we could make it work anyway. We could be a family. Nothing but a stupid dream. I’m tired of wasting my dreams on you.”

  “What do you want, then? It can’t be just about getting even with me.”

  She cocked her hip against the counter and tapped her chin. “Don’t flatter yourself. My life is no concern of yours.”

  “Jimmy is my concern. He’s my son too. Even if you wish he wasn’t. Because of him, we’ll always be connected.” Just not the way she’d wanted.

  “Yeah? Is that why you’re trying to get custody?” Her voice went cold. “Because you respect our connection?”

  She stalked toward him. “Try to take my boy, and I will destroy you. You haven’t got one single friend to help you fight me.”

  “You’re not taking him tonight.” He’d barely had the chance to spend time with him. “Mom just got him back down to sleep.”

  Patty squinted as she listened to the silence that had replaced Jimmy’s crying. “The fuck I’m not.” She stomped into the bedroom and returned with the boy asleep on her shoulder. “You might have called the shots in our relationship, but I call the shots when it comes to our son.”

  Chapter FOUR

  Robby

  The flashing lights and pulsing music inside Nitro made Robby feel like he’d stepped back in time. Few things had changed about the place in the past five years. A line of assorted drinks and cocktail napkins covered the shiny black bar on the right; the familiar hanging silver fixture cast light from above. Bodies pressed against the bar, three or four deep.

  It was just as crowded to the left, though harder to make out the details of the men on the dance floor. He knew from experience, though, they would range in age from barely legal to guys old enough to be their fathers. They’d all be dressed to attract, from those in expensive designer clothes, to others in tiny white shorts, suspenders, and nothing else.

  The smell of the piped-in smoke mixed with various brands of cologne and the hint of sweat.

  Someone’s hand squeezed his butt.

  Yes, it was just like going back in time. Only now, he was older and not quite as desperate. At least, not in the same way he was before. This was a little higher-end than the bar where he’d met his ex, John, and the men who had come before him. In their heyday, this was where they’d come to party as a couple.

  “Holy shit, Robby, is that you?”

  He recognized Parker right away, even though, like him, the man was a little older than the version in his memories of this place. Parker had to be about twenty-five now, though he still held on to the twink look that had always attracted older—and wealthier—men. His blond hair was long on top and short in the back. He wore skinny black slacks and a form-fitting V-neck blue shirt, which matched his eyes. His cheeks sparkled with a hint of glitter.

  “You look amazing,” Parker gushed, sweeping him into a weak hug.

  He hated hugs like that. Give him strong arms and a firm squeeze any day. Still, he liked Parker well enough to return the embrace. They had been friends, sort of. “Thanks. You too.”

  The crowd parted as Parker tugged him toward the bar. “Lemon drops,” Parker announced to the bartender. “Keep ‘em coming.”

  In a heartbeat, the shots appeared in front of them, and Parker knocked his back.

  Lemon drops had been nearly a tradition when Robby’d been a regular here. He tugged at the neckline of his own too-tight shirt.

  “I haven’t seen you in forever, dove, and look at those strong shoulders of yours. Where have you been hiding?” Parker pushed a shot his way.

  Robby ignored it. With his history, booze was a slippery slope. “I’ve been working. Saving up. I haven’t really been out in a while.”

  “Not since you broke up with John.” Parker nodded, a knowing look in his eyes. “I should probably tell you, he’s here.”

  A bubble of apprehension tickled Robby’s chest, but it mingled with a dozen other emotions coming up at the same time: nostalgia, longing, anger. He tried to distance himself from the onslaught. “How is he?”

  Parker tilted his head to the side, then bounced it to the other and back again. “He’s John. Bossy. In control. Delicious Daddy.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” He forced himself to act like it was normal talking about his ex. Like he hadn’t spent the last five years trying to forget their time together had ever happened.

  The salacious look on Parker’s face fell away. “He was a bear for the first few months—and I don’t mean in the obvious way. He loved you. It was a shock when you left.”

  Probably because John kept his boys until they grew too old for his taste. Rarely did one leave of his own choosing. “A shock, yeah. But love? I wouldn’t assign emotions to it. You know how those arrangements work. I was his property, not his partner.”

  Parker shrugged, but the careless effect was strained. “You make it sound like it’s all bad. I like feeling like I belong to somebody.”

  There was belonging to someone and there was belonging to someone. For more than a year, John had controlled every aspect of his life, from the clothes he wore to the food he ate. John chose his friends and his entertainment. And he called all the shots in the bedroom. If Robby had an opinion on any of it, he kept it to himself or faced the consequences.

  “I guess I’ve changed,” he said grimly. He pushed the shot in front of him back toward Parker.

  “Maybe you want somebody to belong to you now.”

  Parker’s hand on his sent a chill up his spine. He knew what the man was suggesting. Attractive as Parker was, there wasn’t even a temptation to say yes. He eased the man’s hand away and took a small step back.

  A subtle nod from Parker told him he understood.

  “I think I’m just going to dance a bit. Enjoy the music.” He took another step back, then spun on his heel. Parker’s offer had made him a little sad.

  But he wasn’t here to wallow. He was here to have a good time. At twenty-three, he was no longer fresh meat. Things could be different this time. He’d been lonely for so long.

  For the first time in his life, he had close friends. But watching their domestic bliss reminded him day in and day out what he was still missing…someone of his own. A relationship, in a perfect world, but right now, he’d settle for a square jaw and broad shoulders. Maybe tonight, his self-imposed chastity could finally come to an end.

  After just seconds on the dance floor, a set of strong hands gripped his hips and a solid body pressed at his back. Though he couldn’t see the man’s face, he gave in to the pleasure of the guy grinding against him. Moments later, another dancer in front of him closed in. The new guy was Hispanic and thick with muscles. Decked out in a mesh white shirt over hairless brown skin, the man smelled of a musky aftershave, which made Robby’s libido stand up and take notice.

  He closed his eyes and reveled in the feeling of being sandwiched between the two men. The erection of the man behind him ground into his backside as the guy in front of him pushed the evidence of his arousal against his pelvis. The strobe lights flashed bright, even through his eyelids. The driving tempo of the music echoed in his bones.

  He nearly drowned in a sea of sensations when warm, wet lips trailed over the skin of his neck. Shuddering, he clasped his hand gently behind his partner’s neck. It had been so long, he’d almost forgotten how good it felt to be wanted.

  His hips moved restlessly, seeking the friction the other man provided.

  Then, suddenly, the Hispanic guy disappeared, and the dancer behind him gasped and scurried back.

  He opened his eyes and, for a moment, forgot to breathe. Until a firm grip circled his
upper arm and pulled him off the dance floor, toward the bar.

  It was no mystery why there was now a five-foot bubble of empty space surrounding him. John Madigan was not a huge man, not particularly tall or muscular, but his presence was undeniable. He exuded a power borne entirely of his will.

  Though in his early forties by now, his ex still had his college-professor type of good looks. Robby had always thought he looked a little like Liam Neeson in the movie he made with Jodie Foster.

  John’s brown hair still parted on the left. Only now, there were a few streaks of gray. He had a few more soft lines around his hazel eyes, but there was nothing else soft about his face. His jaw was hard, and his gaze locked on Robby like a laser beam.

  “I thought he was lying.” John squeezed his arm tighter.

  Robby accepted the pain for a moment, before he realized he could shake off the man’s grip.

  When he did it, John’s eyes widened for a moment, but he didn’t try to retake his hold. “Parker told me he saw you, but I didn’t believe it. Not until I saw you myself.”

  “Here I am.” He lifted his palms, then gave John his back as he motioned to the bartender for a bottle of water.

  Only it was John who spoke first when the server came over. “Two gin and tonics. On my tab.”

  He ground his teeth, accepted the drinks, and handed one to his former lover. He hated gin and tonic, mostly because the drink reminded him of the man standing in front of him now. Lifting it to his mouth, he pretended to take a sip. The smell alone brought him back to nights that had shamed him months and years later.

  John raised his eyebrow. “I’m glad to see you’re not guzzling it down. You know how you get when you drink too fast.”

  If only he still drank so he could down it just for spite. “I can make those decisions for myself, thanks.”

  The smile John gave him made him shiver. “Of course you can. You’re all grown up now. You’ve got a man’s body.” His ex stepped closer, his familiar clove scent making Robby’s pants grow uncomfortably tight. As many problems as he’d had with John, sexual attraction had never been one of them.