Question Mark (18 page)

Zane pushed roughly into Mark’s mouth with a heart-wrenching groan and wrapped both his arms tightly around his waist until they were melded together. His chest was pumping and neither of them slowed down, lips moving unrestrained over each other. Mark’s mouth tasted like beer and the sweetness of sex and surrender…

Why? Why is this so difficult?

The kiss ended much too soon and they held one another tightly, foreheads touching as they caught their breath.

Mark’s voice trembled as he whispered, “Don’t fucking forget that while you’re gone. Don’t forget about
me
.”

Zane lifted a hand to Mark’s neck and upward to his face, holding him tenderly. “Only if you promise to think about me…”

Mark kissed him again and pushed almost roughly out of his arms, taking the book as he walked around the truck bed to the curb. “Be safe, Zane. Call me when you get home—no matter what time.”

Saying “see you later” seemed totally inadequate. Zane was wishing there was some sentiment in between “I like you” and “I love you” that conveyed the weight of what he was experiencing in that moment. Nothing came to mind. Not one word.

He was scared of driving away. Of losing this chance. Of losing this man.

“I’ll call,” he said softly and climbed in his truck, starting the engine and shifting into gear automatically. When he pulled away from the curb, he waved and watched in the rearview as Mark returned it. “I don’t want to leave you,” he whispered, the words dying before they traveled inches from his mouth.

***

There were three missed calls from Christian on his phone. Mark debated sending him a text and finally typed out a quick explanation and hit send. When his phone rang immediately, he sent it to voicemail and moved back inside the bar, dragging his feet like a lovesick kid. Sean glanced up at him when he sat down at the table and did a quick double take.

“So he’s gone, huh?”

Mark only nodded and focused on Reid hamming it up for the crowd. They were playing Robert Palmer’s
Addicted To Love
now and Mark let out a pathetic breath.

Sean scooted closer to him and nudged him with his elbow. “If it’s meant to work out, it will. Moping won’t help, though.”

Mark glared at him knowing he was right. “I seem to remember a lot of moping when you and Sheena split.”

“That’s because we were together for two years and she led me on a treacherous journey through bitchy, across frigid, and into the land of cheating psycho. I barely escaped with my life. It required a week of solid moping just so my balls could grow back.”

Mark gave him a sideways look. “Yeah. Different circumstances. You guys never liked each other.”

“Guess you gotta be gay for that to happen.” Mark made a noise like “whatever” in his throat and Sean peered at him, the booze working its magic and making him talkative. “Just. Don’t. Panic. You have two go-to reactions that you always fall back on. You either panic and run, or you panic and cling, but the panicking part
never
leads to something good. I’ve seen you dump guys who would trample their grandmas to get a little of your attention and I’ve seen you cling like ivy to guys who are trying to shrug you off faster than you can tell them you love them for the hundredth time.”

Sean’s loose tongue was sharper than he realized and Mark couldn’t help the stab of hurt he felt. His brother might be too close to accurate for Mark’s comfort, but wasn’t there a better way to tell him this shit? Several different responses, all equally cutting, flew to Mark’s lips, but he remembered his promise to himself—the promise to knock off the bitchiness—and he clamped down on every single retort. He gave his brother a long look.

Sean’s face softened and he grabbed Mark by the scruff of his neck. “I’m honestly not trying to be a dick. You know me. I know you. I’m telling you that when you get that urge to panic, one way or the other, push pause for a minute and figure out what that’ll do to you. I don’t want to see you get hurt again, and I honestly don’t want to see that lost little lamb look on another guy’s face after  you pull chocks.”

Mark crossed his arms on the table and rested his chin on them. “I’ll push pause,” he said, “but only if I’m allowed to tell you when you’re screwing up next time.”

“Deal.” Sean gave him a smacking kiss on the cheek. “Now, go buy my drunk ass another beer.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Mark was hovering over a cup of coffee the next morning with a nearly comatose Sean on one side and an obnoxiously awake Reid on the other. He felt like hell and reeked of alcohol…or was that Sean stinking up the place? It was probably a combination of them both. The only reason Mark was up in the first place was because he’d needed to piss like never before, then he caught a whiff of coffee brewing.

After Zane left the night before, Sean decided getting his little brother hammered was a fantastic idea, which was why Mark missed Zane’s call. In his drunken haze he left his cell phone at the bar and had to have Reid go back and get it for him. By then it was too late to return the call and he was much too sloshed. Mark couldn’t remember for certain, but he might’ve only giggled when Reid handed him his phone and a giggling man is rarely attractive.

He lowered his head a little further until the heat of the coffee flirted with the tip of his nose.
Coffee, coffee, coffee. I love you.

Reid’s screen door banged open, earning a groan from Sean, a curse from Mark, and a hello from Reid, or what seemed like a hello since his mouth was full of cereal. Their mom rushed into the kitchen, her dark hair wild like dogs had chased her inside, and slammed down a stack of paper on the table top. “Did you see this, Mark?”

He made a noise and ignored her, looking lovingly back at his coffee.

“Mark!”

“Mom, I barely managed to crawl out of bed this morning thanks to
Mr. Another One On Me!
” he thumbed Sean’s direction. “I haven’t had any time to do my usual morning reading of the…”

Mark paused to glance up at the papers she’d plopped on the table, blinking past the blurred vision. What he saw made him jerk to his feet, then slam back down in his chair because of the head-pounding dizziness. “What the f—”

“Language,” his mom snapped.

Two separate articles from popular websites were sitting in front of him, hot off the press of his mom’s printer, apparently. They each held different shots of him and Zane wrapped around each other next to the open door of the truck. It had to be one of those assbags outside the bar that took the picture; they were the only ones around to do it. Granted, he and Zane hadn’t picked the most private location for a muscle-melting farewell, but why couldn’t a guy catch a break?

The second article had an assortment of pictures—Mark belting out the lyrics to a song, hand on Zane’s thigh, the two of them talking closely, another couple shots of the kiss. Good Lord, his family was seeing this!

“Your father was at the gas station this morning and the cashier wouldn’t let him leave with his coffee until he asked if we’d seen this. Your father was furious with him. He loves Zane and told me to tell you not to panic and do something stupid.” Sean raised a fist in victory at this comment. “And it’s quite clear that you’ve been identified in the articles,” his mom said this last bit on a whisper, as though afraid photographers were beneath the kitchen table.

Sean leaned over and nudged Mark out of the way to peer at the printed stories. “Damn,” he croaked, blinking blearily. “You guys were in it to win it, huh?”

Mark scowled at Sean impatiently as Reid tucked in for a look from the opposite side. There were way too many competing smells in this room.

“He’s giving you the tongue in that one, yeah? Reminds me of that movie scene with Sophia—”

“Piss off!” Mark snarled. “Like I’d ever want you guys to see something like this.”

“What?” Reid shrugged. “Sean nearly saw you guys assaulting the beachhead—”

“Reid Michael Newland, do not test me!” Their mom held up a hand as he tried to protest. “This is not a laughing matter.”

“I think it’s hilarious.” A frustrated huff of air from Patty was all Reid needed to sit back down and focus on his breakfast. “Just sayin’…”

“What should we do, Mark? How should we proceed?” His mom turned back to him while pointing Sean in the direction of the coffee pot. She needed a plan of action. A point to focus on.

“You think I’ve ever dealt with something like this before?” he gaped at her. “I don’t know. Keep a low profile, I guess.”

“They know you’re in town, though, and they know who you are. I mean, there could be cameras following you around. If people see this article, then
they’ll
pull out
their
little camera phones and snap away! He’s
Zane Whitlow
, sweetheart. And you’re his
boyfriend
, or if you’re not, you sure look like it in that picture. This will go straight to the big news outlets—
Entertainment Tonight
,
Extra
,
Access Hollywood
—and you’ll be swarmed. People who don’t even know you will talk about you like they do.”

“How do you know all this stuff, mom?” Reid piped in. “You sound like a publicist.”

Their mom lifted a condescending brow and sniffed. “I
do
know how to read and I’m entirely capable of using a remote, thank you very much. And Mario Lopez hosts on
Extra
,” she admitted.

“Gross,” Reid said around a slurp of milk.

“I can’t
do
anything,” Mark grumbled. “The only thing that would help this situation was not to have kissed him like that in the first place, but I wouldn’t take it back. I don’t know when or if I’m going to see him again. I’d rather not have a bunch of publicity hounds and vultures circling me—and I doubt this will get a ton of traction anyhow—so all I can do is be low key.” Mark sipped at his coffee, inwardly proud of his sensible response. This was
no big deal
.

Across the room, Sean was tapping away at the laptop Reid kept open on the counter. With a salute he turned the thing around so Mark could see it. “You’re
Googleable
… You’re everywhere, dude.”

Mark gaped at him, slack jawed, before he sank low in his chair. “Aw, sh—”

“Language!” his mom hissed.

***

Zane’s phone rang as he was stepping out of the shower and he slid across the bathroom floor in hopes that it was Mark. He hadn’t been too surprised that his phone call the night before went unanswered since Sean was there to keep Mark company, which probably meant the pair got shitfaced.

Zane knew he was going to be lonely for Mark—the two hour drive home was evidence enough of that—but then being unable to talk with him had put Zane in a surprising funk.  This part of being in a new relationship sucked as much as it was awesome.

The phone was flashing Jenny’s name instead of Mark’s and he tried to ignore the disappointment. He had a job to do, no use pouting about something that wasn’t going to change any time soon.

“I’m going to be at the meeting on time,” he said as soon as he answered. “I swear.”

“Hi, Zane,” she began with a guarded voice—never a good sign.

“Oh, God, what’s Pete want now? My left testicle?” His words actually earned a short-lived chuckle but that doomsday tone returned much too quickly.

“It’s not about Pete, though I don’t want you to be surprised if he brings this up…”

“Tell me.”

“Leslie has called me a few times already because she’s getting a lot of interest in some tabloid shots of you with a man in Bakersfield.” She posed the statement as a question in her gently probing way and Zane remained silent, refusing to fall for it. As his publicist, Leslie was probably trying to simply keep Jenny informed, not stir up trouble. “On top of that, there’s shots surfacing of you with a man who fits the same description in a bar or club in Bora Bora?”

Zane waited her out even as the urge to snap at her rose in his throat. He was so sick of this. How many times did he have to repeat himself? When it came to his personal life, the standard response was
“No comment.”

“I’m not trying to trample on your private matters here, Zane. This could end up being a really sticky wicket and I’m trying to protect you.”

And yourself
, he wanted to say, but there was no point in being mean. She was his loyal friend, he knew that, but she was also his agent… In L.A. even his landscaper had an angle.

“I know you’re looking out for me, Jen, but my response to stuff like this hasn’t changed. I’m not going to comment on tabloid articles, paparazzi photos, any of that, when those things have
nothing
to do with my job. When it’s about a relationship with a guy I care about, I’m not saying a damn word.”