Relation Read online

  Bo turned his head Lucky’s way, scowled, and raised an eyebrow. The smudge of flour on his cheek didn’t take away from his looks one darned bit. “Asking if I’d seen any bikers? If you honestly thought they were our neighbors, you’d have run their tags and gotten every scrap of information you could on them by now.”

  Why did Bo have to know him so damned well?

  “Then you asked about bikers back home. I’m afraid they’re the first ants at the picnic.” Bo gave Lucky’s hand a squeeze, adding an apologetic smile. “Once they report back, we’ll likely be up to our eyeballs in Schollenbergers.” The prospect didn’t bring a smile to Bo’s face.

  The family was that large? “Are they all like your aunt?”

  “If you mean bossy, then I’m afraid so. But she’s the worst. Has to know everything about everybody.” At least he spoke with affection.

  Charlotte rose from her spot on the chair adjacent to the couch. “Can you believe she actually asked me to tell her each time I’m ovulating once we start trying for a baby? I’m supposed to call a near stranger?”

  Bo raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry. Aunt Becky, is… Well, Aunt Becky.”

  “I mean, I’ll be under enough pressure as it is!” She carried coffee cups into the kitchen—even the one Lucky currently used.

  Yeah, when she got nervous Charlotte liked to stay busy. All the talk of female cycles sent Ty running for the hills. They’d be lucky to ever see him again.

  Lucky would’ve joined him in escaping if Bo hadn’t kept a firm grip on his knee to keep him in place.

  The doorbell rang. Not again! Lucky raised his head off the back of the couch. Where the hell was his phone?

  “I’ll get it.” Bo patted Lucky’s knee. No matter who came to the door, they couldn’t be any more trying than the last people.

  Bo opened the door without even looking through the peephole. What did he think this was, a safe neighborhood or something?

  No words. Bo stood at the door one minute and lay flat on his back the next. What the ever-loving fuck? “Bo!” Lucky grabbed his gun and charged across the floor. “Bo!”

  Bo rolled his attacker under him, keeping a firm grasp on both wrists. Lucky couldn’t take a shot, he might hit Bo.

  The man on the floor grinned, an all-too-familiar dimple forming in his cheek. “Gotcha!”

  Da fuck?

  Releasing the man’s arms, Bo groaned but stood, offering his hand to the grinning idiot who didn’t know how close he’d come to being shot.

  Okay, so maybe not a threat. Lucky discreetly slipped into the bedroom and stashed his gun, staring up at the ceiling. Was that a cobweb?

  He came back to find the two men exactly where he’d left them, Charlotte glancing between them.

  “Why didn’t you come with Aunt Becky?” Bo asked.

  The man who had to be Drew Schollenberger rolled his eyes in a gesture so like Bo’s. “She told me to stay home, let her figure out what was what with you.” He even had Bo’s put-upon sigh down pat.

  “Should’ve known you wouldn’t listen.” Bo wriggled his fingers in a give me your hand gesture.

  “Have I ever?” The man took Bo’s offer of hoisting him to his feet. Drew stood only an inch or two shorter than Bo, with reddish-brown hair and dark eyes. While Bo’s body tended to be slender and muscled, Drew had a few more pounds on his frame, a stocky build rather than excess weight.

  While the aunt and uncle came on motorcycles, a peek outside showed a newer-looking Toyota Prius.

  Bo slung an arm around the guy’s shoulders, smile never leaving his face. “If you ever do that again I’ll kick your ass twelve ways to Sunday.”

  “You can try.” Cocky little bastard, with familiar, if a bit younger, features.

  Bo turned to face Lucky. “Lucky, I’d like you to meet my brother Drew.”

  First ants at the picnic, indeed. Anyone with eyes could see the resemblance.

  Bo would’ve killed Lucky for surprising him like that.

  Well, no, not actually, or Lucky would’ve died a few miles back. He hadn’t surprised Bo lately, though, not since promising he wouldn’t. The moment he could, he’d get Drew alone and have a little heart to heart about Bo’s PTSD, and how ambushes might set him off.

  Bo had worked hard at recovery. Thinking back on how lost he’d been a year ago, Lucky wouldn’t risk a setback.

  “Hey, man!” The slightly younger version of Bo enveloped Lucky in a bear hug. Did this family have no respect for personal boundaries?

  “Can I get you anything?” That was Charlotte and her penchant for taking care of people. “We’re just about to sit down to supper.”

  “What ‘cha having?” Drew swiveled his neck towards Bo. “No offense, but I’m not one to live off plants like my big bro here. He does still live off plants, right?”

  “Standing right here,” Bo said, giving Drew the evil eye Lucky knew all too well.

  Drew jostled Bo with an elbow. “Hey. How’d you get so much meat on your bones eating rabbit food?”

  Charlotte pulled in a deep breath and recited the menu, cutting off any more sniping between the brothers. “Fried chicken, rice and gravy, sweet peas, and homemade biscuits. Bo is getting salad instead of chicken. You can have one too if you’d like.”

  Drew made a “blech” face. “I might recycle, worry about global warming, and drive an environmentally friendly car, but if it’s all the same to you, ma’am, I’ll stick with the chicken.”

  ***

  “And then Bo went skinny dipping with his friends and I stole their clothes.” Drew sopped gravy off his plate with a biscuit. “You could hear him cussing all the way to the house.”

  Bo applied knuckles to Drew’s biceps. “Do you have to tell all my ‘when Bo was young and stupid’ stories?”

  Drew avoided another punch, grinned, and slapped Bo on the back. “I’m your little brother. It’s in the job description.” He turned a charming smile on Charlotte. “That’s some mighty fine-looking fried chicken, ma’am. I figured Bo here would do all the cooking, since he likes to so much.” The smile fell. “You do still like to cook, right?”

  Before Bo could answer, Charlotte jumped to his defense. “He made the biscuits. Mine never come out right.”

  Yeah. If they ever decided to play hockey, they’d ask Charlotte to bake them some pucks.

  Bo punched Drew’s arm three more times during dinner. So, Bo went to senior prom with a cousin, who got drunk and puked on his tux. He got caught coming in after curfew at least a dozen times.

  Of course, Bo set the record straight that Drew had reached a dozen times by junior year.

  Drew shrugged. “We always tried to outdo each other. Only, I succeeded.” He ducked out of the way of Bo’s swat.

  The moment dinner ended Drew’s phone rang. “Hello?” He winced and stood up. “Yes, Aunt Becky. No, Aunt Becky.” He let out a put-upon sigh and pantomimed someone yanking on a leash around his neck. “Yes, Aunt Becky.”

  “She found out where you were?” Bo asked, the moment Drew ended the call.

  “Yeah. Told me to get out of your hair and leave you alone. And that you’re coming for Thanksgiving.”

  Bo cut his eyes toward Lucky. Like Lucky would do anything Bo didn’t agree to. Okay, he wouldn’t do too many things Bo didn’t agree to. But from the way Drew spoke, they didn’t have much choice. Aunt Becky ordered, they’d obey, and not face the unspoken consequences. He dipped his chin.

  “We’ll be there,” Bo said.

  Drew grinned. “See you then.” He grabbed Bo up from the table and yanked him into a hug. “Good too see you, bro. I missed you so damned bad.” When he pulled back his eyes were shiny.

  So were Bo’s.

  Charlotte jerked her head to the left. What? Oh! Lucky tiptoed past the brothers and into the kitchen. He’d love to stay and hear what they had to say, but he couldn’t do that to Bo.

  Mainly because Charlotte grabbed his arm and dragged him into th
e living room.

  “Wait! What if Drew starts talking about—”

  Charlotte tugged harder, pulling him toward the couch and forcing him to sit with a splayed hand on his chest. “It’s none of your business what they talk about.”

  “Yes, it is. What if…” Charlotte didn’t know about the boyfriend Bo had hurt, and she didn’t need to. Drew wouldn’t bring that up, would he? Or anything else from the past Bo didn’t want to revisit.

  Except maybe the skinny dipping and prom incidents.

  They shut up when Bo and Drew entered the room, Bo wiping at his cheeks. Drew threw up a hand. “Nice meeting y’all. Thanks for dinner.”

  Bo walked him to the front door.

  The door opened and closed, and he was gone.

  Bo paused for a moment, then strode to the bedroom—alone.

  Oh, hell no. Lucky shot a questioning look to Charlotte. No need going after Bo only to be blocked by her flying tackle.

  She nodded. Off he went. He owed her a table clearing and loading the dishwasher.

  Bo sat on the bed, back to the door, staring at the window.

  Lucky approached slowly. No telling how his intrusion might work out. He never knew what to say at times like these, so he placed his hand on Bo’s shoulder. Bo stiffened, then relaxed, reaching up to rest his hand on Lucky’s.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah. I didn’t realize how much I missed them. I thought, after I screwed up, it’d be best to just stay away from them, ya know? They know what really happened with Darren. How could I face them?”

  Lucky might be Atlanta’s leading expert on regretting the past. “Have they ever brought it up?”

  “No, they wouldn’t. But they could still be thinking it.” He didn’t look at Lucky. “Then the drug abuse. Aunt Becky tried so hard to raise me right. Bad enough I wound up in juvie after beating the shit out of my dad’s car.”

  Lucky sat next to Bo, taking his hand. “Bo, I got busted for trafficking. Got sentenced to ten years, yet you think I should forgive myself.”

  “You should. You’re a good man, you’ve proven yourself.”

  “And you haven’t? Damn it, ask anybody at work. They look up to you. Hell, Walter wouldn’t be training you to take his place if you weren’t the best man for the job.”

  “My brain knows, but every time I talk to my family I go back to that time, what a failure I was.”

  “Was. You’re pretty damned awesome if you ask me.” Lucky shoulder-bumped Bo.

  Bo finally made eye contact and gave Lucky a tired smile. “You’re not gonna let me wallow in self-pity, are you?”

  “Nope.” Lucky wrapped an arm around Bo’s chest and pushed him back onto the bed. “I’m sorry seeing them upset you.”

  “It shouldn’t have. I’m happy to see them and all, it’s just—”

  “Just what?”

  “I don’t know. Can we not talk about this right now?” He grabbed the back of Lucky’s head and slammed their mouths together.

  If Bo needed a distraction, Lucky could do that. He slipped his fingers into Bo’s hair and plundered his mouth, dragging him farther onto the bed and rolling on top.

  Bo squirmed, pressing his thigh to Lucky’s and sending a silent, Move your leg a little bit.

  Not a problem. Lucky could do that too. He could also rise up onto his knees, straddling Bo, and get rid of the T-shirt hiding the gorgeous body he wanted to see.

  He liked the less-groomed look, the sparse hair on Bo’s chest long enough to run fingers through, and the bit of scruff along his jaw. The man certainly cleaned up nice, but in moments like these he appeared so open, so… vulnerable. Did anyone else but Lucky get to see this less than confident side of the man?

  Lucky skated his knuckles along Bo’s cheek, bowing his head and kissing Bo again, caressing Bo’s tongue with his own.

  His jeans became tight, but not painfully so—yet. He could linger a while. When he rose, he stepped backward off the bed, taking shoes, socks, and all other hindrances from Bo’s body.

  The man looked good, always had, but his confidence, the way he handled himself, his kindness, made him outright gorgeous. The fact that he could find something in Lucky worth sticking around for? Priceless.

  Bo made Lucky not want to be alone anymore. No longer crave the freedom of being his own man, because Bo didn’t try to change him, make him someone else. Tried to improve him, maybe, and look after his health, but not change him.

  Bo’s cock stood rigid, framed by dark curls, and he shifted on the bed. “Are you going to stand there staring at me all night? ‘Cause I’m starting to get nervous. You’re not going to check my teeth next, are you?”

  “Not checking your teeth like a horse. Checking how you’re hung like a horse, maybe.” Lucky pulled off his own T-shirt, so worn he could no longer make out the band’s name on the front. His jeans joined the shirt and Bo’s clothes in a pile on the floor.

  The comment earned him an eyeroll and an end to conversation. Words. Highly overrated.

  Then he was on the bed, hovering over Bo, erections brushing together. He took them both in hand.

  Bo moaned and pushed up into the grip, adding his hand to Lucky’s. Together they stroked, maintaining eye contact. Slow, unhurried, with all the time in the world.

  Lucky’s arm started to complain about holding up all his weight, and he shifted onto his side, head toward Bo’s feet.

  The scent of Bo’s soap and arousal shot straight to his groin, and he let out a long moan when Bo took Lucky into his mouth. Lucky licked at the tip of Bo’s cock, tasting the flavor there, the precum coating the head and escaping down the side.

  Nope. Not getting away. Lucky traced the moisture, capturing every drop with his tongue, then opened his mouth and took Bo inside. He sucked, rocking his hips and running his fingers over and behind Bo’s balls.

  He felt as much as heard Bo’s moan, and he stopped sucking to enjoy the sensation. Bo gave a thrust, urging Lucky to get busy.

  Lucky wrapped his arms around Bo’s slim hips, holding him in place, and proceeded to see how many sounds he could pull out of his lover.

  Moans, whimpers, groans, and whines. Each flick of Lucky’s tongue brought a reward to his ears. At some point finesse gave way to need.

  Oh, hell yeah. So good. Damn, but Bo had a mouth on him.

  Bringing him close. So close…

  Gripping the base of Bo’s shaft in one hand, Lucky pumped, keeping his mouth over the head of Bo’s cock. He wasn’t going to last long, just a few more…

  “Ahh…” Lucky’s orgasm caught him off guard, slamming him with the force of a Mack truck. He shuddered, shooting into Bo’s mouth, nonsense sounds pouring from his mouth. He summoned every bit of his self-control to keep stroking, keep bringing Bo off.

  Bo sank his fingers into Lucky’s hair, thrusting in earnest now. Once more, twice more. He froze, hovering on the brink, then let go, filling Lucky’s mouth.

  Whew! Where had all Lucky’s bones gone? Wherever they went they took his get-up-and-go with them. Bo would feel so good in his arms right now, if he could only move.

  “C’mon,” Bo urged, sliding up the bed and under the covers.

  “Do I gotta?”

  “You don’t want to?”

  “I don’t want to move.”

  A soft chuckle reached Lucky’s ears. “Then I’ll come to you.”

  They settled on top of the covers, heads toward the foot of the bed and Bo using Lucky’s chest for a pillow.

  Bo’s breathing evened out with sleep. Lucky tightened his arm around Bo’s shoulders. There was so much more to Bo’s relationship with his family than met the eye. Lucky wanted to know everything, but he wouldn’t ask.

  If Bo wanted to share, he would. Nothing could make him. Still, the day niggled in Lucky’s brain.

  The worst part of loving someone was seeing them hurting and not being able to do one damned thing to help, except keep on loving them.

  Lucky could do t
hat.

  Just before he fell asleep, he heard Bo mutter, “I still can’t believe you told my aunt we tried to knock each other up.”

  Chapter 5

  Bo spoke to his family on the phone every few days after their visit, as October gave way to November.

  Charlotte went back to the family farm with her two boys, leaving Lucky and Bo to face Thanksgiving in Arkansas with the Schollenbergers.

  Nine hours of driving gave Lucky plenty of time to fret.

  “You’re gonna be just fine,” Bo told him for the hundredth time, turning into the driveway of a surprisingly unassuming brick ranch style house with blue shutters and garage door. Half of the mailbox matched the shutters, with a distinct line showing where the painter stopped. Someone wasn’t going to waste a drop from that bucket of paint, were they?

  Lucky hadn’t expected a trailer park or anything, but this wasn’t the place he would have imagined for two die-hard bikers. Several bikes stood in the yard, along with an equal number of cars, and the Prius he knew to be Drew’s.

  Somehow, he couldn’t see Aunt Becky puttering around wearing a sun hat and planting dahlias, but someone had gone through a lot of trouble with the flower gardens around the house.

  A few people stood outside, some smoking, wearing anything from a nice dress to biker leathers. The weather had turned out mild, but he spotted several leather jackets, some with the same colors Aunt Becky and Ink wore.

  Every last one of them stopped talking and turned toward the new truck Bo bought when Lucky wrecked his old one. Getting ready to charge?

  Bo stared out the windshield. Exactly how long had he been gone from this place? “They’re going to love you, you know. I think Aunt Becky already does.”

  Lucky let out a snort. “Why should they?” Bo’s influence might have made him more civilized, but nothing could make him more lovable.

  “Because I do.” Bo leaned over the console and brushed his lips over Lucky’s. “Now, c’mon. We’re almost late, and you don’t want to hold up a bunch of hungry Schollenbergers.” He mock shuddered. “It wouldn’t be pretty.”

  Lucky reached in back for the store-bought cake they’d brought—their contribution to the feast. Holding a cake gave Lucky something to do and possibly prevented unwanted hugs.