Snakes Among Sweet Flowers (11 page)

Clint took his position on the line across from Jackson. Like night and day, good and evil, the two were beautiful and contrasting young godlings ready to do battle. Where Jackson was golden, Clint was nearly black-headed with fur of the same color in abundance across his muscled chest and firm abdomen. While Clint had on a shirt for this game, Grant was well aware of what hid beneath. In addition to being a regular at the weekly football games, Clint had allowed Grant to help him release some alcohol-fueled frustration in the past.

And Jackson thought Grant couldn’t keep a secret. Grant smiled at that. How he’d love to throw his trysts with Clint in Jackson’s face, but while Jackson only fumed and grumbled at Grant’s supposed lack of tact, Clint would beat him to a pulp if even a whisper of those indiscretions ever got out. And worse, he probably wouldn’t let Grant get a hold of that hot schlong again.

There was lots of yelling and running on the field, but Grant paid little attention to the actual game. He clapped at what he thought were appropriate moments, but otherwise, he was only there for the scenery. Most of the time, that kept him busy in his own fantasies with no time for worrying about the score or which team was winning.

Grant pulled out an old church-style fan from his satchel and fluttered it in front of his face. It was still rather hot out, and while he was enjoying the sweat dripping off the men on the field, there was no reason he needed to join the festivities. It was one of the reasons he’d gone into veterinary medicine. He was not made for manual labor of any kind. He also liked a nice lifestyle, and so far, being the town vet, added to his wife’s family’s money, had provided that for him.

A couple of older teenage girls wandered in the direction of the game. They looked familiar, but honestly, Grant paid little attention to the female population of the town. Except for Regina, his assistant and BFF. Well, and his wife and daughter, but that was only because he had to. As the girls got closer, they clapped at one of the plays, drawing the attention of a few of the guys who were playing. Grant wanted to hiss at the girls and tell them this event was for men only. They were in his territory.

The two paid him no attention, no matter how much he frowned at them. They sat on the other side of the field and cheered at things Grant didn’t even notice were worthy of applause. Bill and Pete, who both worked construction over in the new housing developments these days and had kept fine bodies to show for all that sweat and labor, were the first of the group to perk up when the females paid them attention. Soon all the guys were strutting a little bit more, even Jackson, lifting their shirts—those who wore them—to wipe the sweat from their faces and in the process displaying their mostly flat stomachs and defined chests. Okay, maybe Grant could admit that having the girls around was beneficial to him too. But how he wished the men would strut for him, want him to look at their manly physiques.

When the game was winding down, Grant stood and collected his things, then headed for his car in the parking lot. He opened the trunk where he had stored a cooler full of ice, water bottles, and a Ziploc full of hand towels, cooled and ready for the hot and sweaty men to use.
Let’s see those girls compete with this!

A few of the players dawdled to speak to the females, but most of the guys were much more interested in what Grant had to offer for once.
Yeah, if only they’d crowd around me like this when I offer my mouth.

Jackson and Clint seemed more interested in chatting with each other, rather than paying attention to their loyal fan, but Grant simply watched the pair, licking his lips as they used their towels and water bottles to cool and wipe the sweat from their bodies. Jesus, he could bust a nut just from that alone.

Grant noticed Pete passing his number to one of the girls and considered teasing the guy about jail bait, but decided against it. Pete was one to ignore his hetero status when drunk, and Grant didn’t want to endanger any chances he had with the big guy, although he’d rather not share with the skank.

The guys all gave man hugs along with pats to shoulders and asses as they said their good-byes to each other. Grant wished he could be part of that good ol’ boys tradition, but he was locked out, either because of his sexuality or perhaps his inability to play football.

CAM PEELED
his eyes open as some noise intruded on his sleep. He felt a dead weight on his chest and for a moment couldn’t figure out where he was. The noise came again, a banging—the door, it was definitely someone at the door.

“Coming,” he croaked. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Coming!” He was louder this time and the banging stopped. He momentarily wondered who would be at his door in the middle of the night.

He lifted a hand, which was numb from hanging down while he slept, and attempted to scrub the sleep from his eyes. He only succeeded in slapping himself in the face. From there, his runaway hand dropped to his chest where it upset the cat lazing atop him. Tommasina squalled her displeasure and jumped down.

Cam tried rolling over and almost fell to the floor, discovering he was on the couch instead of in his bed. Glancing around the room, he also noticed bright light leaking between the curtains. “Oh shit! What time is it?” Cam found his arm still didn’t work when he went to push himself up. And one of his feet tingled as he put weight down on it.

Cam ended up hobbling to the door while smacking one of his hands against his hip to get the blood flowing again. When he opened the door, it was to several figures enveloped in bright sunlight. It was like the second coming and probably just as painful. Cam gasped and shaded his crusted eyes.

“Jesus Christ!” he yelped.

“Nope, just Officer Rhodes,” the policeman said on a chuckle.

“And Galen!” “And Tony!” “And Luanne!” the kids chimed in.

Cam groaned at all the joy and enthusiasm being tossed around.

Rhodes still had the traces of humor in his voice as he asked, “Hard night?”

“Yeah, big party at the Evanses’.” Cam let his sarcasm speak for him. When he peeked out between his fingers, braving the sunlight again, Rhodes had one brow raised in question.

“Nah, just having trouble sleeping is all.” Cam looked down to see he still had on the clothes he’d worn the night before.

“Something weighin’ on your conscience, Mr. Sanders?” Rhodes asked.

“I had my conscience surgically removed years ago, Officer,” Cam replied as he turned away. “Anybody want some breakfast?”

All three kids screamed an affirmative and hurried to the kitchen. Officer Rhodes followed at a more sedate pace, glancing around with enough interest that Cam might’ve thought he was casing the place had he not known better.

While coffee brewed, Cam made fried egg sandwiches, his specialty, for each of his guests, then went to change into something more suitable to start his day. His head felt as if it was filled with cotton balls and his arm and leg still tingled from having hung off the couch all night long. There didn’t seem any use in taking a shower before going out to get greasy in the garage, so he simply pulled on one of the shirts and pants from his work clothes stack, then headed back to the kitchen.

Everyone was where he’d left them around the kitchen table, Rhodes finishing his coffee while the kids sipped at big glasses of milk with Hershey’s syrup.

“Okay, kids, I need you all in the front yard again today. Have any of you used a push mower before?”

All three nodded, their attention completely on him. He had to admit they were good kids, and he didn’t mind so much having them around.

“I only have two mowers, in the shed beside the house. Y’all can take turns using them until we get all the grass cut in the front and side yards. Understood?”

All three nodded again and chorused, “Yes, sir.”

Officer Rhodes stood and made his way to the sink where he placed his cup and turned. “With that, I’m on my way. I’ll be back this afternoon. Be good for Mr. Sanders, kids.”

CAM HAD
worked through the day with only a few stops to check on the kids and make sandwiches for everyone. His yard crew had the front and side yard of the old house looking like someone actually lived there, and Cam was awfully proud of it. He surveyed the nicely trimmed grass from the back door of the garage while he wiped his hands on a shop rag.

While the kids had worked on the yard, he had been busy trying to fix the hydraulic lift in the second bay of the garage. He was going to have to order a part before it would work again, but at least he’d found the problem and could cross another item off his list of chores to do.

His near-sleepless night had made the day into a long one. Add in the heat of working in the un-air-conditioned garage and a nagging headache behind his eye seemed to be growing by the minute. He sighed and rubbed a spot in the middle of one eyebrow as he remembered he had company coming that evening. But maybe that could release some of his tension, since the animal doc would be a sure hookup.

When the familiar Hog Mountain Police vehicle pulled up in his driveway, Cam walked toward the car, the kids wandering down off the porch where they had all been relaxing with a glass of tea.

“Well, look at what you three accomplished today!” Rhodes exclaimed as he climbed out from behind the wheel. “Looks good.” The kids beamed in response, obviously proud of themselves.

“They worked so hard, I’d like to hire them for the rest of the week,” Cam said, patting Galen on the back. Cam dug into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. “The way I figure it, that’s thirty dollars a day and you’ll be working three more days, plus what I owe you today, that makes a hundred twenty dollars.” Cam counted out the money while the kids watched with their mouths wide open. “Here you go, Officer Rhodes. That should buy some nice school clothes.”

Luanne bounced up and down and squealed as Galen and Tony grinned. Rhodes smiled too and patted Cam on the shoulder. “Then I better get so we can shop. I’ll have ’em here bright and early tomorrow.”

Once the police cruiser left, Cam let Tommasina in the house and went to take a hot shower. He considered taking a nap afterward but knew that would just lead to another night where he couldn’t sleep. Cam had brought leftovers home from his dinner with Ida and Charles the night before, but they had ended up sitting out all night on the coffee table, so he was stuck with limited choices to eat.

After staring into the refrigerator for several minutes, Cam sighed. With feeding a bunch of kids the last few days, and even Officer Rhodes for breakfast that morning, there was very little left. He was going to have to go shopping soon if he planned to continue feeding a herd of kids for the rest of the week. He put some water on the stove to make some more tea, then considered his choices of fast food in town. There was a pizza place that could deliver, but he’d save that for tomorrow at lunch since it would feed more than just himself. Instead he sat the water off the burner with five tea bags to steep, then grabbed his keys and hurried out the front door.

The Dairy Queen was the quick answer. With a Nerd Blizzard in his cup holder and a double bacon burger and large fries in the bag on the passenger seat, he headed back home to eat before seven o’clock. Cam hoped the food and maybe some aspirin would help clear up the headache still pounding behind his eye.

THE ASPIRIN
didn’t help and his dinner now sat in his stomach like a lead weight. If it wasn’t for the prospect of sex, Cam would definitely call off Grant’s house call that evening. Cam popped two antacids and peeked out the drapes to see a little red BMW pull into his dirt driveway. He had no doubt that would be Grant.

When Grant climbed out of his car, Cam was impressed with how well the vet’s tight jeans showed off his slender physique. The tight T-shirt could almost be considered a baby-doll style. In Cam’s opinion, the good doc looked more like he was going out clubbing than to check on how a cat’s pregnancy was coming along.

Cam waited until Grant knocked before approaching and opening the door. “Hey” was his only greeting before he moved aside to let his guest in. Cam wasn’t at all sure how this was supposed to go. He’d never had a hookup that was pretending to be something else. Did he need to act like he tripped into Grant, then accidentally bend him over the kitchen table or something?

Grant walked to the center of the living room and stopped, turning around as he took in his surroundings.

“Want a beer or some tea?” Cam offered.

“A beer would be good,” Grant answered, wandering over to the television.

Cam headed for the refrigerator and, while he had his head inside, heard Grant ask, “Does this TV even work? I bet you need rabbit ears to pick up a signal.”

Cam grumbled instead of answering, tossing the caps in the trash, then headed back into the living room with the beers. He handed one to Grant, who took a sip, then used it to gesture toward the sofa. “Was that your mom’s or something? And not one thing hanging on the walls! Did you do the spray paint?”

Cam frowned and headed for the sofa in question, dropping down into the center of it before unzipping his fly and pulling out his cock. He flopped it against his stomach and asked, “Did you come by to critique my décor or suck my dick?”

Grant wasted no time as he set his beer down on the coffee table and then dropped to his knees in front of Cam. Cam smirked with pride at the thought that his decorating skills held no interest for Grant now.

Grant ran his tongue down the length of Cam’s cock, and it immediately thickened and firmed in response. “Yeah, that’s the only way you need to use that mouth while you’re here.” Cam lifted his hips and pushed his jeans down farther.

Cam held up his cock in offering, and Grant opened his mouth wide, taking the head in and licking around the edges of the crown. Cam dropped his head to the back of the sofa and stared up at a water stain on the ceiling as Grant began a steady rhythm of saliva-rich sucking and bobbing. Cam reached to thread his fingers through Grant’s hair, needing to guide and control the man for maximum pleasure, but grimaced as he met with a hairspray—or maybe gel—stiff helmet, which refused displacement of any kind. He could either grab the entire top layer of hair and use it like a joystick or simply allow Grant to do as he pleased. Cam chose the latter, dropping his hands to the sofa cushions and holding on as Grant went wild on his cock.