Leaning Into Always: Eric and Zane part 2 (Leaning Into Stories Book 1) Read online

  I barked a quick laugh, charmed by his easy humor. I lowered my voice an octave and gave him an over-the-top lascivious look. “Hi, my name is Rod Steele. Is this seat taken?”

  Zane howled with glee. “Yeah, that game wouldn’t last long. We’d either bust up laughing or end up grinding against each other on barstools or in a crowded elevator. I’m not into sex in public but—are you? Or is it just a spanking or—”

  “Stop. I’m already embarrassed. I have no idea why I said that. I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry? If you apologize for what had to be the best hump session of my life, I’ll get mad. Mad enough to paint your back porch red, ya hear?” he mock scolded.

  I rolled my eyes then pointed toward the bathroom. “How about you mosey on over and grab a towel to clean us up?”

  “Sure thing, baby.” Zane winked before hopping out of bed, cackling all the way to the adjoining bathroom. He returned with a white towel and wiped our stomachs before dropping it on the floor and pulling me into his arms. “You know, since we’re going to be married for infinity and beyond, you really should tell me every little thing that turns you on.”

  “I thought we were done with this conversation,” I said primly. “Don’t we have to get ready to go to your mom’s?”

  “Nope. Not when we’re having an important sex chat. Mom will have to wait. So…go on. What turns you on?”

  “You do,” I replied.

  “That’s not what I meant. I’ll give you an example. This isn’t kinky at all, but…I love it when you wear your reading glasses.”

  “You do?”

  “Yep. I know you just got them and you hate the frames, but I love the way you look in them. Oh, and I dig when you wear black socks in bed.”

  “Huh? Like work socks?”

  “Oh yeah. They’re sexy. Sometimes when we get going and you try to stop the action to take your socks off, I distract you so you’ll leave them on. I can picture us doing it in a conference room or on top of the copy machine.”

  I snickered at the visual. “What else?”

  “Hats. I love baseball caps.”

  “Me too. On you anyway. You used to wear them all the time in high school,” I reminded him.

  Zane snickered. “That was to hide my long hair from Mrs. Post. ’Member her?”

  “Yeah, we were in her European World History class together.”

  “Hmm. Well, she used to tell me how much she loved my hair. Every freaking day. It creeped me out. I was tempted to cut it.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t. Your hair was part of your mystique back then. You looked like a stereotypical Cali kid in every way, but better because you were the real deal.” I sighed dreamily.

  “Did you have a crush on me, baby?” he teased, slipping his feet between my legs and setting his hand on my hip.

  I nodded emphatically. The question was rhetorical. He already knew the answer. “I did. I remember the first time I saw you. We were fourteen, I think. You were talking to a pretty blonde girl outside the office at school. You were wearing a flannel shirt, holey jeans, and a ratty old pair of Vans. The wind blew your hair into your face. You tried to shake it back but it didn’t work. You laughed with the girl like it was the funniest thing in the world, and I just stared at both of you, thinking it was so unfair that flirting came so easily to guys like you. I wanted to hate you, but that didn’t seem fair when I didn’t know you. And then you turned to push a strand behind your ear and our eyes met and…I may not have known I’d love you one day, but I knew I’d never hate you.”

  Zane smiled then laced his fingers through mine and kissed the platinum ring on my right hand. “I’ll call that a good start.”

  I chuckled. “Maybe so. Was your mom surprised about us?”

  “Smooth segue, Schuster,” he snorted.

  I shrugged. “I’m just wondering how awkward dinner might be. I’ve met her as your friend. This is the first time since we got engaged that I’m meeting her as your fiancé. Does she think it’s strange that you’re marrying a guy?”

  “You know my mom, Er. She’s totally cool. When I came out, I was more freaked out about telling my friends than her. I knew she’d support me no matter what. We’re the only family we have. I don’t have siblings, my grandparents are gone, and we were never close to other family members. When nothing is going right in my world, I know I can rely on her and she can count on me. Anytime, anywhere.”

  “You have me now too,” I said in a small voice.

  “And I’m grateful.” He kissed my lips then my forehead before sitting up and smacking my ass.

  “Ow!”

  “Let’s do this, kinky boy. Last one in the shower is gonna get it.” He flashed a wicked lopsided grin my way before sauntering toward the bathroom.

  I listened to the familiar sounds of my lover puttering around in the next room as I stared out the sliding glass window at our view of the Bay and Lido Island. The palm-printed drapes were wide open leaving us exposed to—well, someone with high-powered binoculars, I supposed. It wasn’t like me not to insist on privacy. Especially in the bedroom and even more significantly…in this town.

  I’d been out and proud since my freshman year of college but I had to admit, I’d never felt the kind of freedom and acceptance here that I did in San Francisco. But there was something about being with my sexy confident man that encouraged me to let my preconceived notions of this place go. We made our own rules now, and we belonged anywhere we chose to be. Even home.

  Forty-five minutes later, we took the scenic route along the boardwalk to the lobby and waited for a preppy-looking teenager to bring the Jeep around. I followed Zane’s lead and opted to wear shorts and a collared shirt, though I knew I didn’t look half as hot as he did. I’d caught a couple of women sitting in the outdoor bar checking him out. I couldn’t blame them. His blue gingham oxford shirt hugged his broad shoulders and made his eyes pop. And when he pushed his aviator glasses on his nose, I almost whimpered. Wow. He was the perfect combination of casual meets sophisticated. The rebel surfer was still there, but he’d acquired a refined edge that somehow enhanced his already potent sex appeal.

  I adjusted my sunglasses and did my best to focus on his spiel about the boats he wanted to research while we were in the area and simultaneously keep my gaze on his ardent admirers. I supposed that was why I didn’t notice the tall man barreling toward us until he slapped Zane’s back and immediately enveloped him in a bro hug.

  “Dude! This is so cool. I thought I’d have to wait ’til tomorrow to meet up with you. It’s been way too long.”

  “Hey! It’s good to see you, Dean. How are you, man?” Zane grinned then thumped his friend’s shoulder and nodded a couple of times in what had to be some ancient “dude” ritual I wasn’t privy to and would never be.

  I watched their greeting with an odd sense of detachment. It wouldn’t last long. I’d been dreading this since the day Zane mentioned his name a week or so ago. I’d just hoped I’d have more time to mentally prepare for meeting my husband-to-be’s “first.” Unfortunately, Dean Gorman was better looking than I’d remembered. He was roughly Zane’s height but with a lankier build, shaggy beach-blond hair, sun-kissed skin, and bright green eyes. Dammit.

  “Thanks. I’m doing all right. I—hey, you’re Eric Schuster, right? I think you were buddies with my kid sister, Chelsea, in high school. I’m Dean Gorman.”

  I shook Dean’s hand politely. “Hi, Dean. Of course. It’s nice to see you again. Tell Chelsea hi for me. I haven’t seen her since we graduated.”

  “That had to be thirteen years ago, man. A lot has changed. She’s married with two kids,” Dean said with a smile. “You might know her husband, Mike Sandburg. He played football in high school. Good guy.”

  My smile felt tight and phony like I was wearing a mask. This was what I’d been afraid of. I didn’t want to know about these people anymore. At all. I’d liked Chelsea back then but we hadn’t kept in touch and frankly, it made me sad to think of
her with Mike Sandburg. I hated that guy. He was an ignorant jock who got off on bullying anyone who didn’t worship the football players. If I had a dime for every time he’d called me “Sherbert” back then, I’d have been a millionaire before I graduated high school. Maybe things had changed but I didn’t want to know. That part of my life was over. Thank God.

  “That’s nice,” I commented vaguely, giving a mental whoop for joy when the valet drove up just then with our Jeep.

  “How’s your family? I heard you were married with kids. Did I know your wife?” Zane asked as he raised his hand to the valet and pulled a few dollars from his wallet.

  “Ex-wife. Michelle and I divorced about two years ago. The kids live with her in NorCal, so we do the every-other-weekend thing.” Dean’s jolly façade slipped momentarily. He glanced away briefly then stepped backward and gestured toward our waiting vehicle. “Hey, I don’t want to keep you and I’ve got to get back to it.”

  Zane cocked his head curiously. “Do you work here?”

  “Not exactly. I do boat repairs here and at a couple of the yacht clubs nearby. My office is on Old Newport Road, but I try not to go in if I can be on the water instead,” Dean said with a chuckle. “Let’s catch up tomorrow. One of the boats I was telling you about is docked here. The other is at the Harbor Yacht Club, and I’ve got word on another down in San Clemente. Do you have time for coffee before we look at them?”

  “Sure, but not too early. I want to hit the water first. I haven’t been on my board in too long,” Zane groused.

  “Awesome! I’ll join you. The barrels are sick at the Wedge right now. Meet me at—”

  “Nah. That’s too advanced for Eric. I was going to take him to 56th Street. We’ll be there around dawn before the rush,” Zane said, putting his arm around my shoulder.

  Dean’s gaze locked on his hand then at me as though he was just putting two and two together, and the glimmer of distaste in his gaze indicated he didn’t like how it added up.

  “Gotcha. Maybe I’ll see you out there. If not, I’ll text you and we can meet afterward. Sound good?”

  “Yeah. We’ll talk tomorrow.” Zane smiled kindly and gave him a bro handshake before ushering me toward the curb.

  “Cool. See ya. Bye, Eric.”

  I waved before taking a seat in the Jeep, instantly admonishing myself for acting, or at least thinking, like a teenage brat. Zane and Dean were friends who hadn’t seen each other in years. Nothing more. No doubt I was just nervous about our dinner with Zane’s mom. Dean was harmless. If only he wasn’t divorced and good-looking too, I mused as I reached for my seat belt. It was stuck. I turned to jiggle the strap and yank it free. I pulled it across my body, glancing out the window when Zane didn’t climb into the driver’s side. He was talking to the valet near the rear of the vehicle. The young man laughed at something Zane said then stepped aside. And there was Dean. His gaze was glued to Zane in a way I could only describe as longing.

  Zane obviously didn’t notice a thing. He chattered happily about nothing in particular as we headed north on Pacific Coast Highway. He looked happy and unfettered, which I supposed made sense. This portion of PCH and the bend in the road toward the peninsula was his old stomping ground. His mother lived in the same house where he’d grown up nearby. Many of the original properties in her neighborhood had been razed to make room for McMansions. Even some of the original homes had tacked on three-car garages and rooftop balconies the owners hoped would give them a view of the Pacific Ocean beyond the main road.

  Wendy Richards lived in a single-story bungalow tucked between two large homes. It was built in the sixties and though the kitchen and bathrooms had been renovated over the years, the mid-century modern vibe was intact. I glanced up at the giant palm outside the courtyard. It looked majestic against the darkening twilight sky and rivaled the height of the huge homes flanking it. Perhaps it was nature’s way of inserting dominion.

  “This neighborhood has changed a lot from the last time I was here. A builder on Viagra has gone to town,” I said sarcastically.

  Zane pushed open the iron gate leading to the front door. “I know. It’s ridiculous. Did you see the Italian villa on the corner? That asshole owner screwed with our view of the playground. You know, we could never have afforded to live in this area if I was growing up here now. My mom struggled to pay rent for years. I think the landlord had a crush on her ’cause by rights, we should have been evicted a couple of times.”

  “The owner must have raised her rent at some point to take advantage of the monoliths popping up around here.”

  “She owns it now,” he said matter-of-factly. He set a hand on my shoulder and crooked his head, wordlessly instructing me to follow him. I started to, but the geek in me demanded clarification. The math simply didn’t make sense.

  I pulled at his shirt before he reached the front door. “How?”

  “I bought it for her.”

  “You own this house?”

  “Yes and no. I bought it for Mom a few years ago, but it’s her house. Not mine.”

  “Why didn’t you mention it?”

  Zane shrugged. “It’s not important and—”

  The door swung open and a moment later, a beautiful woman launched herself at Zane. He spun her in a circle until she squealed for him to stop. Then she turned to me and flashed a radiant smile of welcome. Welcome to my home. Welcome to my family. Welcome.

  “Eric, I can’t tell you how much I’ve looked forward to this day. Our little family is growing and we—”

  “Jesus Ma, he’s not pregnant,” Zane scoffed before turning to me with a faux-serious expression. “Are you, babe?”

  I smacked his arm and followed them inside then gave my full attention to my future mother-in-law. It was easy to tell my fiancé came by his good looks naturally. Zane’s mom was stunning. She was my height with shoulder length golden-blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a slender physique. If I didn’t know for a fact she was in her early fifties, I would have guessed she was ten years younger. She exuded a stereotypical California beach-girl vibe that brought to mind every Beach Boys classic in both appearance and her laid-back joie de vivre.

  Zane shared once that his mom was a former Olympic-caliber swimmer who’d given up her dream to compete for a medal when she found out she was pregnant with him. She’d gone from being a young woman with big dreams to motherhood as gracefully as possible. An impressive string of nowhere relationships and a job she could probably do in her sleep hadn’t diminished her vitality or her positive outlook. Zane credited his top-tier education and his success to his mother. Although his accomplishments far outshone hers, he always insisted she was his hero and his inspiration.

  I’d already thought they were pretty cool, but my new status as “insider” heightened my appreciation and admiration for mother and son. I felt lucky to be marrying into their small family.

  “Hi, Wendy. It’s great to see you again and…thank you. I’m excited too,” I assured her.

  I should have seen it coming but I was too caught up in gooey feelings. When she threw herself into my arms, I stumbled backward and would have flipped over the sofa and crashed onto the floor with her hanging from my neck if Zane hadn’t held me still. She sensed his presence behind me and deftly pulled him into a three-way hug. As the moment stretched, I wanted to laugh at the greeting-that-wouldn’t-end but I quickly recognized its significance. Standing between the man I loved more than anyone in the world and the woman who felt the same way was the ultimate expression of welcome and acceptance.

  Zane brought us back to earth. He squeezed us both then pressed sloppy kisses on our cheeks.

  “Ew!” When I elbowed his arm, he doubled over like I’d punched him in the gut and let out a melodramatic yelp. And suddenly, we were back on even ground, no uncomfortable transition required. Defusing potential awkwardness was one of Zane’s many gifts. He knew better than most that taking life too seriously killed all the fun.

  Wendy twirled out of
his reach then pointed toward the patio. “Outside, boys. It’s a gorgeous summer night. Let’s enjoy it. I just set a pitcher of sangria on the table. There’s wine, beer, and water in the cooler too. I’ll grab the cheese and crackers. And Zane, my love, you’re in charge of the grill.”

  Dinner was simple but delicious. Grilled chicken, corn, quinoa salad, and homemade jalapeño cheese bread. Conversation flowed easily about everything from mutual acquaintances to the cooking classes Wendy started taking recently. She waited until night descended, our plates had been cleared away, and I was three sangrias in to ask a few nosy “mom” questions.

  “When did it happen?”

  I shot a panicky glance at Zane, who didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. He lifted his water glass and took a healthy sip. It may have been a diversionary tactic but she didn’t care about his reply; she was waiting for mine. I studied the buttons on the white cardigan she’d put on over her sundress before meeting her gaze with a shy smile.

  “Last October. We went to Nick’s engagement party together and something just clicked,” I said.

  “Hmm. You’ve known each other more than half your lives. Why didn’t you know sooner that you wanted to be together?” she asked persistently.

  “Uh…well…” I looked over at Zane for assistance, but his encouraging grin only told me he was fine with whatever I chose to share. I belatedly realized this inquiry was all mine. He’d surely been through this a few times with his mother.

  “Zane honey, I’d love a cup of coffee. Would you mind making some?” Wendy’s overly eager smile usually would have cracked me up but now, it made me nervous as hell.

  Zane rolled his eyes then leaned in to kiss me before standing. He shook an admonishing finger at his mother. “Don’t scare him away, Ma. I love this guy.”

  We chuckled lightly as he disappeared into the house. I knew her impromptu interrogation would be relatively painless. Wendy liked me and Zane wouldn’t leave me with her if he thought otherwise. Nonetheless, I sucked down half of my sangria and then set the glass aside with more force than necessary as if to say, “Bring it on.”