Tipping the Balance (39 page)

“Stayed home and handed out candy,” Brad muttered.

“That’s right. I used to go out. Now we stay in, but not because we’re homebodies. No, we stay in because you can’t deal with being gay.”

“I didn’t know any of that. I didn’t know you felt that way,” Brad said, deflated.

Drew exhaled noisily. “I didn’t either, but I’ve realized I’m really losing patience with having to put your coming out first. I’ve got needs and wants, too, and I’m figuring out that I can’t just box them up, even thought I thought I could.”

“You… uh, want to fuck me?” Brad asked.

Drew’s cheeks colored. “Yeah, I’d love to nail your ass to the wall. Or the bed. The thought of you stretched under me and moaning incoherently while I ram your ass hard never fails to get me off during my own private sexytime.”

“You know I’m not there yet,” Brad said, studying the floor.

“I know, but maybe I need to know you’re working on it,” Drew said.

Brad looked up. “So where do we go from here?”

Drew thought about it. “First, we separate the personal and the professional. We’ve got two different issues, and the one that matters now is the hole that was cut where it shouldn’t be.”

Brad nodded. “It sounds like we’d better talk later. For now, can you show me on the blueprints? Because you have to know, I wouldn’t do something like that if I weren’t absolutely sure.”

“I know, but Brad? You’ve got to slow down. I don’t know what the answer is, but this schedule… it’s just too much,” Drew said.

He pulled out the thick sheaf of blueprints and flipped to the detailed plans for that part of the second floor. He showed Brad exactly where he’d gone wrong.

“Damn,” Brad said, shaking his head. “You’re right. I was kind of hoping somehow you wouldn’t be, but that’s a rookie mistake. I’ve been around these things long enough I should know how to read them.” He rubbed his face. “So how do I fix this?”

“I really don’t know,” Drew admitted. “I’ve got some ideas, but it all depends on what our subs say. We may have to call in a restoration specialist.”

“That won’t be cheap,” Brad sighed.

Drew nodded. “I’m probably going to resume selling houses and badger the city to start paying its bills. It’ll take a while to get the money flowing again, but it’s better than nothing.”

“I know it’s not much, but I’m sorry,” Brad said. He held his arms open. After a moment’s hesitation, Drew allowed himself to be held.

“It’s funny, but even when I’m mad at you, I can’t get enough of you,” Drew said, his voice muffled by Brad’s chest.

“Lucky for me I’m so lovable,” Brad said.

Drew didn’t say anything for a moment. “Yeah, you are.”

Brad kissed the top of Drew’s head. “I know I’m not perfect, but I’m trying.”

“Yes, very,” Drew said, elbowing him affectionately.

Later
that evening, when everyone else had left the jobsite for the evening, Brad and Drew walked through the mansion before heading back to Drew’s place. Their new evening routine consisted of a workplace-safety inspection, checking to ensure that electrical cords for the work and security lights were properly taped along the edges of traffic areas or otherwise away and that anything valuable that could attract thieves had been returned to the locked cargo containers.

They couldn’t do much about vandals but keep the place discreetly illuminated at night and hire private security. Fortunately the Bayard House sat on a parcel of land occupied on all sides but the front, and thanks to gentrification, the surrounding properties were both occupied and well cared for. In fact, that the mansion was the neighborhood eyesore was one of the city’s reasons for restoring it.

Despite the mild November night, not uncommon in early fall in northern California, the air in the mansion never really warmed up. Then again, the air inside wouldn’t become too inhospitable until deep into winter, and both men wore their light jackets loosely.

“I really am sorry,” Brad said, “about the fuck-up with the doorway and the things I said.”

“I am too,” Drew replied, even though he suspected on some level they’d both meant every word.

They didn’t say anything for a few moments as they went single-file up a narrow staircase at the back of the second floor. When the mansion had been built, the staircase had led to the servants’ quarters under the eaves, but Drew planned to the turn the old servants’ rooms into a private retreat for the mayor and—currently—his family by knocking down a few walls to open it up a bit, and any resident staff would live in quarters at the back of the property.

The air in the attic was warm, even close, under the influence of the halogen work lamps, and that was another reason to check the mansion before leaving for the evening. They would leave only the bare minimum of lights on not only to spare the neighbors, but also to reduce the risk of fire.

Already the structural engineers had been at work up here, and they saw stacks of lightweight galvanized metal studs to be inserted carefully into the walls before new carrying beams were placed over the existing ones and new doorways and top plates over all of it, essentially creating a modern framed wall inside the old one. Then they’d be anchored from below, and above, the roof would be reinforced and skylights added in select rooms, then insulated and closed in with new lath and plaster for continuity of appearance. The complex, intricate work fascinated them both. Just so long as they avoided the holes in the floor.

Brad looked around. “I can already see this coming together.”

“This was your idea, did you know that?” Drew said.

“Uh… no, I don’t think so,” Brad said.

“That night at the coffee shop after the ballgame? You mentioned the idea of a private space for the family.” Drew smiled, then shrugged. “I hadn’t planned anything beyond a suite, not really any different than the public rooms, just closed to the public.”

“Oh.” Brad smiled. “I didn’t think I’d said anything good that night, just kind of running my mouth.”

“Oh, I listened all right. I was struck by your energy and enthusiasm, and even then knew I wanted a part of it. Remember how uncertain you were about what you could contribute to this?”

“And I was right. I screwed up,” Brad huffed.

“Yeah, you did,” Drew said. “My dad used to say anyone can fuck up, but it takes a real man to make it right. And I know you’ll make it right. I’m not sure yet how we’ll explain this, but you admitted you made a mistake. You’d be surprised how many people can’t.”

“Well, if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s screwing things up and people over,” Brad muttered.

“That’s your dad talking,” Drew said.

Brad hunched his shoulders defensively. “I ratted out Nick to the athletic department and almost broke Nick and Morgan up,” he said softly. “I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

“They survived, and they’re the stronger for it. Besides, you made it right,” Drew said.

“Jeez, I hope that never comes out,” Brad said, shaking his head.

Drew shook his head. “They won’t find it out from me.”

“But Nick’s your best friend,” Brad objected.

Drew shrugged. “And you’re my boyfriend.”

“Some boyfriend,” Brad muttered. “I keep you from doing the things you want to do. I still wish you’d told me how much you wanted to go to that Goblin Ball.”

“I should’ve given you the chance to say no instead of making assumptions,” Drew admitted. “But I wish you wouldn’t be so hard on yourself. I’m not trying to get all rah-rah, and some of this you’ve pointed out to me, but look how far you’ve come since this summer. Beer-soaked college pussy hound to a guy who’s got a boyfriend.”

Brad smiled despite himself. “You’re throwing my own words back at me. No fair.”

“How’s that unfair when you were right?” Drew said. He smiled softly. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier.”

“Me too.” Brad hesitated. “This is probably really wrong since we’re at work, but… can I kiss you?”

Drew nodded and parted his lips, ready for Brad. The kiss stayed tame, a touch of lips to lips, for almost five whole seconds before he realized there were other parts of Brad’s anatomy he wanted to explore.

Drew tasted Brad’s lips, running his tongue across them. He found traces of breath mints, and underneath that, the apple Brad had eaten earlier. The slide of smooth, slightly moist flesh over flesh made him shiver with need, that one simple act promising intense pleasure to come.

He licked his own tingling lips, then flicked his tongue against Brad’s lips, which opened for him.

He reached down to check if Brad felt it, too, pretty sure what he’d find. Sure enough, Brad’s not inconsiderable cock was rising to the occasion.

“Jeez, babe, what’re you doing?” Brad rasped.

“You know what I’m doing,” Drew said. He shifted to straddle one of Brad’s legs, grinding against the muscular, jeans-clad thigh. The zing rushed from his groin up his spine. He shivered.

Brad moved his leg a bit, bumping into Drew’s crotch. “You sexually harassing me?”

“No, it’s make-up sex,” Drew breathed as he kissed Brad.

“Never really had it,” Brad whispered. He pulled back a little, resting his forehead on Drew’s.

“Really? Never?” Drew gasped, shocked despite the moment.

Brad shrugged. “When I screwed up, the woman I was with usually just dumped me.”

“Oh, Brad,” Drew said, suddenly feeling so strongly for this man who played the blundering oaf but who secretly held a certain shyness, a wounded something about him that made Drew long to take him in his arms and hold and caress and love on him.

So he did, kissing Brad again, slowly at first. Then Brad opened for him, with increasing heat and passion, and Drew took the lead. He wanted to reassure Brad, wanted to make him feel good and let him know it would all be all right.

He worked his hands under Brad’s construction “uniform” shirt of a long-sleeved T-shirt under a short-sleeved one. First the top layer, the short-sleeved tee. He smoothed his hands up along Brad’s chest, knowing the friction and texture of the knit fabric rubbing over his man’s nips would heat Brad up fast.

Brad exhaled loudly, and Drew smiled into the kiss. Yep.

Then Brad, sometimes naïve where this was concerned but never slow on the uptake, pulled at Drew’s own shirt. Drew withdrew just enough to make it easier. Brad’s touch on his bare skin sent an electric something through him that made his scalp ripple and sent a shiver through him.