Chance at the Impossible Read online

  You can do this. Brent won’t make fun of you. He accepts you. He gave himself a pep talk as he tried to work up the nerve to get out of his car.

  “You going to take a nap or come in the house?” Brent rumbling voice made Miller groan.

  All the older man had to do was talk, and Miller’s dick perked up. Everything the man did would make his cock take notice. All Brent had to do was smile at him, and he was ready to beg the man to take him.

  “A bed would be more comfortable.”

  The mention of beds from Brent sent his mind straight to the gutter. He didn’t need any more excuses to imagine every nasty scenario of the man fucking him.

  “I have a favor to ask, but I need a minute to steel myself for the humiliating story.”

  “Can’t be that bad, you did dance naked in a fountain singing Dancing in the Rain, and I had to bail you out of jail.”

  He groaned at Brent reminding him of one of his top most embarrassing moments in his almost thirty-one years. Although the list was longer than he wanted to admit.

  “It’s worse, much worse.”

  “Get your ass out of the car and come inside. Beer or something stronger?” Brent’s voice was warm with amusement.

  Maybe the older man wasn’t that sexy after all. Heavy steps retreated, and Miller forced himself to get out the car. Faded black cotton stretched tight across a broad back, and powerful muscles flexed. He wanted so badly to jump the older man. It wasn’t the time for his hormones to go crazy, he needed a favor, but it was going to show Brent just how much of a loser Miller was.

  He walked through the front door and closed it behind him. Brent walked around the kitchen, and he took a moment to appreciate the easy way Brent moved. Miller stopped and leaned his shoulder against the doorframe. As soon as he walked into the house, it was like all his tension just eased away. Brent’s presence had always done that for him.

  “Come here.” Brent patted the island, and Miller rolled his eyes.

  He closed the distance between them and squeaked as Brent easily lifted him onto the counter. Sitting there, eye to eye with Brent, the nerves that had disappeared came back with a vengeance in his stomach and picked up the pace like dancing butterflies with razor blade wings. Brent’s large hands spread on the butcher block surface on either side of his thighs.

  “Spill, what’s going on?” Brent asked.

  “I need you to go to one of Gertrude’s parties with me this weekend.”

  “And having me as a date would be humiliating?”

  His head shot up from studying the rough hands with the spattering of dark hairs on the back. “No,” Miller’s shouted, and Brent’s brows rose. “The reason I need you to go is the humiliating part.”

  “Okay, are you going to tell me?”

  Brent's voice was full of caring, and the man watched him with a soft smile on his handsome face. He became distracted just looking at him until he forced himself to finish what he’d come there to do.

  “A year ago, I briefly dated this guy, his name’s Porter. I thought I was falling for him.”

  He flinched as Brent stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest. His strong jaw ticked as he clenched his teeth. What was that, Miller asked himself, but pushed it aside to continue his story.

  “Turns out there was a Mrs. Porter. She didn’t care if her husband screwed around if it wasn’t with other women. Um, he wanted to continue the affair, and I told him to go to hell.”

  “He’s going to be at this party?”

  There was a sharp edge to Brent’s voice as if that simple question cut him. Did Brent think he should be able to handle his own problems? That asking for help was a cowardly move, he hated when he thought he’d disappointed Brent.

  “Yes, I ran into him six months ago at a club, and he tried to get me to go back to his hotel.”

  “You better have said no.” The menacing growl made him scoot farther back on the counter.

  “Of course, I said no, I’m not…” He turned his head away to hide the start of his tears.

  Why did Brent have to think so little of him? Calloused fingertips nudged his chin and brought his eyes back to warm hazel ones.

  “I’m sorry, baby, I am. So, tux or would a nice suit do?” Brent asked with a warm smile.

  He threw his arms around the older man’s neck and hugged him tightly. Broad hands splayed across Miller’s lower back, and he resisted the urge to bury his face in Brent’s neck. Brent’s trim hips nudged apart his knees, and his control nearly slipped. “The gray suit I bought you should do, you’ve never worn it.”

  “Not the outfit to be crawling around under houses or unclogging toilets.”

  Brent pulled back, and he had the worst urge to hang on. He wanted to wrap his arms and legs around the man while begging to—he bit the inside of his cheek and swallowed down a moan, so not appropriate.

  “Are you going to trim this up for me?” Brent scrubbed his palms over the slightly scraggly beard liberally peppered with silver.

  “I can do that.” He remembered shaving Brent when the older man was too weak to lift his arms. He had straddled withered thighs and scraped a razor over spotty patches when Brent had started to lose his hair. Tears burned Miller’s eyes, and his chin fell to his chest.

  “Hey, what’s this?”

  Brent's calloused thumbs traced his wet lashes, and he let out a shuddering breath. “Remembering the last time you let me shave you.”

  “Miller, I’m fine and healthy. I swear you and Troy are going to be old before your times worrying about my health.”

  “I know, we didn’t…” He didn’t have to finish what he was going to say.

  “You and Troy went above and beyond, especially you. You didn’t have to put your life on hold for over a year to watch me wither away.”

  “Yes, I did, you gave me a place to stay when my parents no longer wanted me. You came to my college graduation and cheered me on. Encouraged me to do what I wanted. You were there when I needed you, why wouldn’t I do the same?”

  Before the older man moved away, putting distance between them, something strange moved through Brent’s gaze. It was so quick Miller couldn’t figure out what it was.

  “You coming out, which I think was kind of pointless”—Brent rolled his eyes and waggled his brows, Miller pushed him—“was no reason for them to disown you and kick you out. Hell, you practically lived here after you and Troy became friends. You moving your stuff in was only a technicality.”

  “I wasn’t here that much at the beginning.”

  “You had your own key, Miller.”

  “Okay, but you gave it to me if I ever needed it for an emergency and then I needed it when you let me crash in the spare room for a year.” His senior year of high school he had essentially ended up homeless, and Brent helped him with the emancipation process. Even let him move in for that final year before he’d headed off to college. Brent had done more for him than any member of his blood family.

  “Feeling better?”

  “No, still embarrassed you’re going to meet my biggest mistake.”

  “We all have them, baby.”

  Miller loved when Brent called him that.

  “I have a few myself, not as many as some. Besides being a single parent kind of put a damper on the love life.”

  “Why don’t you date now?”

  He was terrified to hear Brent say he was dating—that he had a lover. Over the years he hadn’t abstained, but the thought of the older man loving—fucking someone else hurt. Intellectually he knew that he had no right, but his heart and soul screamed that he belonged to Brent and the older man was all his.

  “I haven’t been a monk, but I was discreet while Troy was growing up. Never met anyone important enough to think it would become permanent, so I didn’t see a reason for anyone to meet him. Then when I got sick.” Brent paused. “Something changed, I started rethinking my life and noticing things.”

  “What things?”

  “M
issing pieces of what hadn’t been right with the others and I won’t settle for anything else.”

  Miller didn’t like the sadness that tightened Brent’s handsome face. “Daddy,” he purred and reached out to run his fingertips down Brent’s chest. He batted his lashes. “When you picking me up for our first date?”

  “You, my cute little man, are a pain in the ass and you’ll be coming here to dress and groom me.”

  His heart kicked up a few beats at the opportunity offered to him. He touched Brent a lot, he couldn’t help himself, but he’d be put in an intimate position. Taking care of Brent’s needs even if it was just a shave. The intimacy he’d experienced when he’d cared for the older man were some of the most intensely profound moments in his life.

  “Why did you ask me? You know I’m not fit for polite company.”

  He answered truthfully, “Because you’re the only one I trusted enough to ask. Troy would just roll his eyes and figure it’s typical Miller stupidity. Win would hit first and pay the bail later while cursing my irresponsible decisions.”

  “It’s not stupid, Miller. You thought the man was single, and it turned out he lied. Not your fault and I don’t want to hear you say you’re stupid again. You’re not the first person to have someone lie to them.”

  “If I wasn’t such a flake maybe people would think more of me.”

  “You’re young,” Brent said with a smile full of caring.

  “Thirty, almost thirty-one is not young,”

  “Quit interrupting. As I was saying, we all make mistakes at some point. You’re an intelligent, caring and funny man, with more personality than your share.”

  Miller sighed as Brent cupped his jaw and stroked his thumb along his cheekbone.

  “Thanks,” he whispered.

  “You’re welcome. Now, do you want to have dinner with your favorite old man?”

  “You making your famous pesto chicken with roasted sweet potatoes mashed with brown sugar and cinnamon just like I like them?”

  “For you, I think I could manage that. I’m going to shower. Get everything together, and I’ll be back in fifteen.”

  “You got it.”

  Firm lips stroked over his cheek, and Brent patted his opposite one, then left him to stare at his lap. He reached up and tried to rub away the fluttering in his chest. Swallowing down the lump forming in his throat as he realized his future was destined to get a lot more painful and there wasn’t anything to do about it.

  4

  The face staring back at him in the mirror bore deeper lines at the corners of his eyes than he remembered. He was a lot grayer and silver, he was going to look more like Miller’s grandfather when they walked into the party later. He’d carefully tamed the messy waves of his salt and pepper hair. Miller would be there any minute to trim his crazy beard.

  What had he thought when he’d agreed to this pretend date?

  “Brent, you upstairs?” Miller yelled even as Brent heard him taking the stairs. “You decent?” the younger man asked playfully.

  He snorted as he looked down at the towel wrapped around his hips. Getting semi-dressed should have been a priority before the object of his unrequited affections showed up.

  “Everything is covered, how about that?” he asked as Miller’s lithe body bounced into his bathroom and froze.

  “Nice party wear. But I don’t think it’ll be appropriate, though.”

  “Ha, ha, ha.”

  Miller’s eyes roamed over him like always with his flirty smirk firmly in place. If only it was real, but it couldn’t be. For one, he was too damn old and for another, most people assumed he was straight for fifty years.

  “I’m not complaining. If I wasn’t required to attend, I would so.” Miller’s slender arms twined around his waist, and the young man pushed flush to his side.

  “Flirt, get to trimming my beard so we can go to this party and I can scare off the Porter asshole.”

  “Spoilsport, couldn’t even let me have one little grope?”

  Brent chuckled. “No, now, shave me, boy.”

  Miller hopped onto the counter. “Yes, Daddy.”

  Fuck, he loved how soft Miller’s voice got, how submissive he sounded, yet at the same time, he felt dirty when the younger man said it.

  He closed his eyes and listened to Miller setting everything up. A mental image formed of Miller splayed across his bed, Brent’s hands restraining his boy’s slender wrists as he repeatedly took Miller to the edge only to deny him until he begged for release. He hadn’t played in forever, hadn’t wanted to until now, only with—now was not the time to add to his already long list of inappropriate fantasies about Miller.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  “How old I look,” he lied.

  “You don’t look old. You’re distinguished and exceptionally handsome. Are you going to let your hair grow back?”

  “Aren’t I a little old for long hair?”

  “No, you look like a younger, burlier Sam Eliot.”

  “Thanks, I think.” He grinned when Miller laughed. “Don’t get too crazy with the trimming. I’m not going to be some GQ model when you’re done.”

  “You look better than some pretty-boy model.” Miller grabbed a towel off the counter and wrapped it around Brent’s shoulders.

  They lapsed into silence while Miller turned on the trimmer. He allowed the young man to turn his head this way and that. He observed Miller from under his lashes. The tight t-shirt showed off slim but toned lines. He was small, almost delicate, but wasn't fragile. Brent knew how light Miller felt—how easy it was to pick the smaller man up.

  Soft fingertips stroked over his neatly groomed beard, the skin of his cheeks above it. He tried to think of anything else because the light touches were causing his cock to ache. It would be so easy to push between Miller slender thighs. He leaned forward, his hands resting on the edge of the counter beside Miller’s hips. Inhaling the sweet scent of the gorgeous man and absorbing the heat radiating off him.

  He closed his eyes tight when the buzz stopped, and then gentle fingers smoothed shaving cream over his skin. Miller cupped his cheek, rested his thumb under Brent’s chin to tip his head back. Carefully, Miller finished up. He’d never considered having someone else shave him as a sensual experience but having Miller do it was just sexy—he could get used to Miller taking care of him.

  “Handsome as always.” Miller’s husky whisper made him open his eyes.

  “Will I pass muster?”

  “There wasn’t ever a doubt. All the other men will be jealous, and the women will eye fuck you all night, hell, some of the men may do that too.”

  “Very sweet of you to say so. Now, clean off the hair so I can get in that suit. Where’s your suit for the night?”

  “I put it in my old room.” Miller quickly cleaned him up. Before Brent could step away, Miller grabbed his hips and tugged him closer. “Thank you for tonight, I really appreciate it.”

  “No thanks needed and if it makes you feel better for me to be there, then I’m more than happy to do it. Go get pretty.” He lifted his right hand, pushed the shaggy, silken strands of Miller’s hair back from his forehead, and leaned in to kiss the slight furrows. “Don’t worry so much. It’ll be fine.”

  “I know, you’ll be there,” Miller said with a smile.

  He stepped aside to let Miller jump down from the counter and Brent took one last long look in the mirror.

  “You’re in so much trouble, old man.”

  The slick-looking bastard across the room caused Brent’s hand to clench around his glass. Porter Dorsey wore a suit that cost more than all the clothes Brent had ever owned. He smiled with the confidence of a man who was never denied a thing in his life. Brent stayed close to Miller because the younger man seemed almost jumpy. For normally carefree Miller it was an unnatural reaction. He tried to do everything to ease the tension, but the more Miller ignored Porter, the more the man seemed to take the opportunity to bump into him.

&
nbsp; One more accidental bumping and Brent was going to lose it.

  “If looks could kill Porter would fall right out.”

  Miller leaned into his side and Brent automatically wrapped his arm around the man’s slim body. His hand rested possessively on Miller’s hip.

  “I’m about to break his hand if he touches you again.”

  “You sound possessive…it’s sexy as hell.”

  Fingertips teasingly danced down his abs, and his cock jerked. He longed for those fingertips to go lower—feel the softness as they jacked his dick.

  “Brent, you’ve been hiding in the corner all night,” Gertrude chastised.

  “Hello, Gertrude, lovely to see you again.” He reluctantly pulled away from Miller and accepted her customary hug.

  “You as well, I have to say our Miller here has the handsomest date tonight.”

  “I think that would be me. Miller is the gorgeous one.” He winked at Miller as the man blushed to the roots of his dirty blond hair.

  “We’re done with the business portion of the night, so Miller is all yours. Make sure you two say goodbye before you leave.”

  She left them alone, and Brent leaned back against the wall tugging Miller with him. The smaller man rested on his chest. The familiarity of it always took him by surprise. He couldn’t pinpoint the moment where Miller’s touches were as natural as breathing. Everything in his world felt right when he was with Miller.

  “Have you been bored out of your mind?”

  “Not at all, not exactly my kinda party, but you had to work, and I was happy people watching.”

  “You were people glaring, one person in particular.”

  “He kept making excuses to bump into you.”

  “And you saw me point out my date.”

  “Yeah, pretty-boy didn’t look too happy about that one.” He couldn’t help the smirk he felt tug at the corner of his mouth. When Porter had glared at him from across the room, he stood up straighter and let his long-hidden alpha side come to the fore. The posturing had made him feel awkward in his own skin as if he suddenly didn’t belong in his body.