Taking It Slow - Reese Knightley Page 0,10

I was coming.”

“I forgot.”

“This is your one freebie. I’ll send you an email with another date. Don’t put me off again.”

The phone went dead and he tucked it away. Motherfucker. He squeezed his fists, wishing they were gripping Mayer’s neck.

Taking a deep breath, he turned toward the porch and spotted both Wesley and Liam waiting. Mayer’s threat was quickly forgotten when his gaze met Liam’s.

Liam’s eyes were the color of the grass in the summertime. Light touches of barely there silver threaded the colonel’s hair. A smile lit up the man’s handsome face, lines crinkled at the edge of his eyes and mouth, but that only gave him a maturity that tightened Spencer’s stomach.

“Liam, this is my kid brother, Wesley. Wes, this is Colonel Liam Cobalt,” he said, shaking off his fixation on Liam’s good looks as he crossed the distance between them.

“A colonel? Cool.” Wesley grinned and gripped the man’s hand.

“Nice to meet you.” Muscles flexed when Liam held out a hand to Wesley. “Come on in, I was just about ready to toss on some burgers.”

“Hell yeah, I’m starving.” Wesley skirted around them.

“Language,” he murmured, but Wesley was already out of earshot down the hallway.

If you could call it a hallway. It was more of a grand entrance. Black and white marble tile extended into a large, wide room with white walls. At the far end was a staircase leading upward. Three wide arches leading to various rooms graced the entry.

He suddenly felt out of his depth and it fucking sucked. He was a captain in the Army for fuck’s sake, gave orders to men, owned his mistakes, and killed bad guys, but standing in Liam’s entryway made him aware of every stress tear in his leather jacket, the frayed knees of his jeans, and his threadbare t-shirt. Wesley’s clothes were in the same shitty condition.

“Come on.” Liam jerked his head as if sensing his increasing desire to get the hell out of there.

Slowly, he followed Liam through the first archway and across a massive living room with thick white carpet and black leather couches.

Liam waved a hand. “I had the couches changed out, but the carpet was my ex-wife’s idea.”

Spencer stumbled. “Wife?”

“Yeah, we’ve been divorced for a long time.”

Spencer frowned. “When did you marry?”

“Right out of high school. We divorced a year later.”

“You’re bi?”

“No.” Liam stopped and turned.

Spencer took a step back, searching Liam’s face.

“I’m gay. I got married to hide it from my parents. I didn’t need to,” Liam said after a moment. “After my divorce, I came out to them and they told me they already knew.”

He returned Liam’s smile.

“That’s nice.” It was all he could come up with, but it sounded lame. He couldn’t relate, his parents had never known he was gay. That ship had sailed. His father had passed away before he could share with the man. His mother was a bigot; he hadn’t bothered to come out to her.

“This way.” Liam walked through a large, open doorway and into a kitchen with white cabinets and stainless-steel appliances. A long, island-type bar ran the length of the room with stools lining one side. Liam snagged two root beers out of the fridge and handed him one.

Spencer slowly took it, wondering where the hell his awkwardness was coming from. He grabbed the bottle, twisting off the lid, and turned to the window that ran the length of the wall behind the stove and kitchen sink. To the right of the room, a pair of French doors stood open, letting the California sunshine and breeze inside.

Beyond the doors, his brother stood facing a massive swimming pool.

“I never knew you had a brother.”

Spencer glanced over at Liam to find unreadable green eyes studying him.

“Sorry. It just never came up,” he offered lamely. It wasn’t so much that he was a private person, but more due to the fact that in the few years he’d known Liam, they hadn’t really had the chance to talk. Let’s face it, he thought, it wasn’t like I could ask Liam over to my place, for god’s sake. His rundown apartment in a bad neighborhood wasn’t someplace you had a Cobalt over for dinner.

“How old is he?”

“Sixteen. I was fifteen when he was born.”

“Mr. Cobalt? Shall I set out the sides?” a soft voice interrupted them.

“Please.”

Liam spoke to the sixty something woman. She wore her blonde hair pulled back in a bun, cream colored pants, and a pale blue shirt covered with a flowered apron.

“Spencer, this is Anna, she keeps