His Hart's Command (Nothing Special 6)

Free came in and handed Hart a cold bottle of water.

“Yeah, I bet,” God mumbled.

Free gave the other one to God. Hart couldn’t take his eyes off Free’s toned chest. His boyfriend bent down and gripped his beard and pulled him close for a quick kiss. “I’ll be in my lab for a while.”

When Free tried to pull away, he grabbed the back of his arms and stared suspiciously at him, “What have you been working on so much in there this past week, huh?”

“You’ll know soon enough. Now, let…go.” Free laughed as he wrestled out of Hart’s clutches.

Hart watched him walk down the hall and exit the garage to his RV—which was nothing more than his workspace now.

“In his lab?” God raised a brow.

“That’s right.” Hart looked his friend in the eye. “Because this is his home.”

God was quiet for a long time before a slight smile graced his rugged face. “Well done, bro. You deserve this.”

“Thanks, man.”

God visited with him for a while. They were watching Sports Center when Hart asked, “How’s it been going with Day? It’s been a week.”

God was stretched out with his Jordan’s propped on the coffee table, a beer in one hand and the other draped over the back of the sofa. He had his head resting on the cushions and lolled around to face him, his mouth curving into a crafty grin. Hart knew then that things were good.

“I did that grand gesture that you mentioned.” God sat up.

“Do tell.”

“You won’t even fuckin’ believe me if I told you, but Day can confirm it, man. I did it.” God shook his head as if he was still surprised with himself. “The things you do for love, bro. You’ll see.”

“You’re not usually one for dramatics, Cash. Spit it out,” Hart grumbled.

“Damn. Okay.” God turned toward him looking dead serious. “I called Prescott Vaughan for a favor.”

“Shut the fuck up. I don’t believe you.” Hart jolted up straight in his chair.

God’s robust laugh filled his den. “I told you you wouldn’t believe it! But, hell yes I did. It’s insane what a man will do to be let back in his own bed. I still don’t know how Leo held out as long as he did. He goes crazy for all this.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he was two seconds from being committed,” Hart said dryly. God could stroke his own ego in his own den. “What did you ask the famous television chef for, that’s all I want to know.”

“I asked to use his yacht.”

“Holy shit. That’s not exactly a small favor.” Hart couldn’t think of anything else to say. He’d seen Mr. Vaughan’s luxury liner, which required a round-the-clock twenty-man crew. “And he said, yes?”

God frowned. “Of course he did. We’re talking about Pres. As much as the guy makes me want to punch him in his gorgeous face for being my Leo’s first love, the guy will do anything for him. I’m just glad Pres is already committed to not one, but two men.” God finished his beer and belched loudly.

“Now that’s grand.” Hart smirked.

“Shit yeah, it was. And, I planned it all myself, too. We had a nice drive to Tybee Island, he was totally shocked. We sailed to Ossabaw Island and did some good fishing there, took in the sights. We ate a lot of that weird gourmet food he loves, watched sunrises on the top deck.” God bit his lip. “I hadn’t seen Leo that happy in a while.”

“And he was appreciative.” Hart laughed.

God stood and grabbed his denim coat from where it’d been flung over the arm of the couch, “Oh, he appreciated the hell out of me. Repeatedly. The entire four days. I’m surprised I can—”

“I got it,” Hart growled, cutting off that shit.

“I’m outta here. Just wanted to see you off for your excursion.” God mocked him, “You still don’t know where he’s taking you?”

“Nope.” Hart walked God to his front door.

“Now that’s trust.”

“Tell me about it.” Hart smiled.

“All right, bro. I’ll see you in the office on Monday. I had Carlos put a meeting on your calendar for nine. It’s time to revisit this grounding, don’t you think? My guys have done everything you asked,” God contended.

Hart rubbed his hand over his beard in thought. “True.”

God slapped him on his back. “We got enough evidence to go after Monroe Cornelia now. Come on, man. I need your help to get this bastard. He went after my men, hard. Let’s strike back,” God urged.

“I’m with you,” was all Hart needed to say. He was ready for Cornelia to go down as well. And it didn’t help that the man had sent goons shooting after his lover. Oh, yeah, that motherfucker was going down under the prison.

God gave him a strong one-armed hug. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

“Hey. You seen Fox around? I been messaging and calling him, and I’m not getting an answer.” Hart frowned, walking onto the porch.