Candy Ever After (Hot Candy 2)

“Because?” I frown.

“Ryan!” Brylee wails, and I’m tempted to gag her. She’ll wake up Joel, and the dead, if she doesn’t tone it down.

“Ryan the Asshole?” I ask.

“Oh, you’ve met?” Brylee’s eyes widen.

“Bry…” Candy turns around to shoot her an incredulous look. “No, he hasn’t met Ryan. But he’s heard you complain about him many times.”

“Right.” She seems uncertain as to whether to believe that or not. “In any case, he’s not an asshole. Even if he seems like one. He’s a wounded, gentle soul.”

“Brylee has been harassing him to go out with her,” Candy puts in. “That’s why his soul is wounded.”

“Not true! I only asked if he’d like to have a drink with me.”

“Like, for the millionth time.”

Brylee sits back and folds her arms under her boobs. “We work together. Going out for a drink isn’t anything—”

“He says no every single time.”

Brylee looks away, her lower lip trembling dramatically. “God, nobody gets me. Except for Fang.”

“Who’s Fang?”

“My cat.”

“And since when do you have a cat?”

“Since yesterday.”

Brylee got a cat. And I have a headache.

Right on cue, the doorbell rings.

“I’ll get it,” I say and go to open the door. Riddick raises his fist and we fistbump, then I step aside to let him in. “Hey man, welcome. Come on in.”

He looks the worse for wear, his hair overlong, falling in his eyes, his unshaven cheeks hollow. His jacket has seen better days, one sleeve cuff torn, stains along one side.

Uneasy, I lead him into the living room where Joel is blinking sleepily at us, his hair sticking up on one side.

“Go back to sleep,” I tell Joel, then tell Riddick, “We can talk in the bedroom.”

“Can I grab a glass of water first?”

Feeling guilty for not offering, I let him detour into the kitchen. Candy is staring at me, her slender brows drawn together.

Brylee is staring at Riddick, a cookie in one hand, her eyes round.

I do the introductions. “Hey Rid, this is Candy, my girlfriend. And Brylee, her friend. Girls, this is my cousin, Riddick.”

He nods at them, giving them a faint smile. “And the one sleeping on the couch is your boyfriend, I’m guessing?”

“You’re guessing right.”

He winks at me. Rid swings both ways, like me. Guess it runs in the family.

And I have no secrets from him. Not about the big stuff, like my sexuality, my relationship, my state of mind.