“Bullshit. The man is Midas rich. He can have anyone he wants. I’m just entertainment while he’s slumming in Bend.” Ian waited for Tim to confirm the truth.
Instead, Tim surprised him by laughing. “Yeah, you keep thinking that. Tell you what, fifty bucks says you’re living here full-time by October.”
In a month and a half, Ian would be back in his condo overlooking the Deschutes River and dreaming of ways to scheme a path to his nest egg. Once he had enough, then he might decide to move on. Maybe. “Make it five hundred. Why not? Every little bit helps.”
They shook hands, and Ian tried to ignore Tim’s amusement. “Who knew you big guys were so funny?”
Tim chuckled. “Whatever, shorty. Come on. I need to get back inside, and that means you need to head in.” His smile faded. “I have to talk to Joe and Reuben about the boss.”
Ian didn’t argue, even though he’d prefer to sit outside. He decided to ready Owen’s room for his return, trying not to think about Owen’s injuries. Instead, he dwelled on how best to blow Owen’s mind with the games they’d play. Yeah. It would be all about Owen’s pleasure. And then once the bossy man regained his own two feet, the gloves would come off, and Ian would do his best to fleece his lover but good.
Later that evening, the car pulled up, and Dolly, Bev, Joe, Reuben, Tim, and Ian waited anxiously by the large bay window in the living room.
When the door opened, Dalton exited the driver side. He didn’t look too beaten up. A few bruises, but no limps or disfigurement that Ian could see. Too bad about that. The guy could have used a swift kick in the ass. Then he helped Owen out of the car.
“Holy shit,” Reuben swore. “Er, I mean, shoot.” He cast a side look at Dolly and Bev.
Bev had tears in her eyes. “Oh my. I’ll go get his favorite sticky buns all warmed up for him.”
Dolly nodded. “I’ll check the room one more time. Ian, keep him busy for a few minutes, would you? I just want to make sure everything’s all tidied for him.”
“Sure, Dolly.”
Tim frowned. “He looks drugged. Why is Caleb not propping him up better?” Tim swore under his breath and hustled out of the living room and down the hall.
Ian heard the door open but forced himself to remain standing there, not wanting to appear too eager to see his lover—his boyfriend—again.
Joe and Reuben turned as one when Dalton preceded Tim, who was helping Owen into the living room.
“Hey, guys. We’re back,” Dalton announced. “I have some things to talk to you about. Didn’t want to go over it until we were in person.”
“No problem,” Reuben agreed. “Why don’t we get you something to eat while Joe heads back to security? I’ll fill you in,” he said to his brother.
“No. I want to talk to both of you together.” Dalton frowned. He saw Ian, and his frown lessened. “Hey, keep Mr. Nosy occupied, would you?”
“Right here, asshole,” Owen slurred from under Tim’s long arm.
“Yeah, I get that,” Dalton snorted. But his gaze said something else to Ian. He glared at Owen again. “Look, I don’t have time to hold your hand with this.”
“Hey, back off,” Ian growled. “He’s hurt.”
“You’d think so, with the way he’s limping and all,” Dalton drawled, “but he won’t stop issuing orders. I can handle the security with the Knoxes. Ian, if you could deal with Owen? Hey, Tim, put him in bed, would you?”
“Dick.” Owen yawned.
He looked bruised, tired, and incredibly appealing. Ian had never seen Owen appear anything less than perfect. Even first thing in the morning, he had a dewy-eyed sexuality that screamed “lovemaking at its finest.” Yet now he seemed vulnerable, and Ian finally felt on equal footing with the larger-than-life playboy.
“Yeah, Tim. Could you carry His Highness into the bedroom? I want to talk to you, Owen.” He tried to pretend to be a little mean, but inside he quavered. God, the guy is half falling down, and I want him. I want to…hold him. Too weird. Yet Ian felt the rightness of that closeness. A scary pattern that followed what his fellow PowerUp! team members seemed to feel for their significant others.
He wondered as he followed Tim and Owen to the master bedroom if that meant he was falling in love with Owen. “You might want to carry him up the stairs,” Ian suggested.
Tim immediately, carefully, lifted Owen into his arms.
“For God’s sake, Tim. You don’t have to carry me.”
“Yes, sir.” Tim continued to carry Owen up the stairs, his pace slow so as not to open the bandaged wound on Owen’s upper thigh.
Good man. In Tim’s strong arms, Owen almost looked helpless. Almost. The glare he shot Ian over Tim’s shoulder indicated the man was far from powerless.
“Put him in bed, Tim,” Ian directed once they entered the room.
Dolly had put fresh flowers and silky sheets on the bed. The room smelled wonderfully like Owen’s scent, and Ian made a note to tell her how much Owen had appreciated her efforts.
“Tim, I’m fine,” Owen protested.
“Yes, sir.”
Tim continued to yes him to death while following Ian’s orders. Ian loved it. “Awesome. Can you shut the door on your way out?”
Tim nodded. He winked at Ian before nodding to Owen. “Good to have you back, sir.”
Owen blew out a frustrated breath, and Tim grinned. Then Tim turned and left, closing the door behind him.
Ian and Owen stared at each other in silence until Owen shook his head.
“Damn, you’re fine. Even when you’re bossing Tim around.”
Ian laughed, but inside he worried over the glazed look in Owen’s eyes. “Hey, you said I was in charge while you were gone. Everyone’s safe, the place is a fortress—a clean fortress, thanks to Dolly—and everything’s good.” He approached and carefully sat by Owen’s side. “How did things go?”
Owen frowned. He leaned against the pillows stacked behind him. “Okay.”
Ian had a million questions, but he wanted to ease Owen first. The man looked too tired for anything sexual, but perhaps Ian could help him relax. He moved some pillows out of the way and scooted behind Owen, so that Owen rested against him.
“What are you doing?” came out slurred.
Ian shushed him. “Shut up and relax.”
Owen chuckled, then moaned when Ian began massaging his stiff shoulders. Ian told him all that had happened in his absence, to include the various art pieces Ian planned to copy and sell that he’d found in Owen’s supposedly secure vault. Dolly and Reuben’s growing love, the attraction Tim fought having for Joe. Bev’s traitorous falling into Ian’s camp, because Ian was so much prettier than Owen.
All the while, he continued to work through the tight muscles in Owen’s shoulders and back. His neck, his scalp. Before long, Owen’s head lolled against Ian’s chest.
“Missed you,” Owen murmured before his breathing evened.
Ian slowly withdrew from his place and settled Owen down onto his pillows. He didn’t want to jostle him, so he found a blanket in the chest at the foot of the bed and covered his tired, sexy lover.
As he watched Owen’s lips part and his chest rise and fall in even motion, Ian’s own chest felt surprisingly tight. What would it be like to truly be here with Owen all the time? To be a real boyfriend, one who spent quality time with his lover, surrounded by their friends and their people? A family where it counted, spun off the love two men shared for each other?
When Owen frowned and shook his head, Ian joined him on the bed and stroked his hair. “Shh. It’s okay, Owen. I’m right here. Right here with you.”
Owen’s soft sigh made everything right in the world, and Ian wondered who was suckering whom. Because what sane person would believe a hot multimillionaire would ever fall for a con man from the wrong side of the tracks, one who was falling in love for the first time in his short but eventful life?