Page 51 of Stick By Me

Taking the bottle from Archer, Mom said, “Oh, it’s my favorite. It’s so nice to meet you.” She gave him a quick hug with a soft pat on the back. “Leo, dear, can you open the wine for me? I could use a glass right now.”

“I can do that, Mom. Remy showed me how.” Axel wound around me and snatched the bottle from the dark granite counter. “I’m sure Leo and Archer would like to watch the game with Remy and Dad.” He chortled. “Archer is a hockey player.”

“Yes, I know. Your brother told me all about him last night.” Covering her mouth and turning off a burner on the stove, she giggled.

With the ghost of a smirk, Archer’s gaze snapped to mine.

As my cheeks heated, I grabbed Archer’s elbow. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to Dad.” And get him away from my brother.

When we approached the wrap around leather sectional in the family room, open to the kitchen, Remy and Dad looked up from the television, tucked into a wooden console in the wall across the room.

“Hey, dude, glad you could come.” Remy jumped up from the corner of the couch and held out his hand.

Archer rounded the coffee table to reach Remy, then shook his hand. “Glad to be here.” He faced dad, who also stood up. “You must be Leo and Axel’s father.” He straightened his shoulders.

“I am. Name’s Ed. I’m very happy to meet you, Archer.” Dad shook his hand, then lowered himself onto the sofa and patted the cushion next to him. “Have a seat. It’s nice to have a sportsman in the house.”

“Thank you.” With a glance at me, Archer sat down.

Shit, I should have gotten us drinks. I shuffled my feet. “Um, Archer can I get you a beer, wine, or?” I looked at the square coffee table in front of them. Of course, both Remy and Dad were drinking canned beers.

“A beer would be fine.” He smiled at me and dropped in next to my dad. “So, what’s going on with this game? I can’t wait to see Minnesota nail the Packers.”

Dad gave Archer a smug, tight grin. “You a Vikings fan?”

“I am. I’m from way up North in Minnesota.” He smirked. “Duluth, don’t you know,” he said with a heavy Midwestern accent.

Remy barked out a laugh. “Oh shit, watch out, Archer. Ed here was born in Wisconsin. You’re in trouble.” He picked up his beer and drank it, lifting his brows.

“Oh, really.” Archer’s gaze met mine. “Leo didn’t tell me that.”

“Uh, sorry.” I skimmed my hand over the back of my head. How the hell was I supposed to know? I hurried to the kitchen and grabbed two beers out of the refrigerator, then snicked them open.

“Archer is hot.” Axel leaned into me, whispering, “I mean, he’s not hot like Remy, but damn. If I were a single gay man…” He whistled. “Look at the muscles under his shirt.”

Yeah, I’d been up close and personal with those muscles. “Axel, behave yourself.” I squeezed my eyes for a beat, my stomach rolling. At least it wasn’t Axel who’d hooked up with Archer. Now that might have been unbearable to deal with.

With a soft snort, Axel said, “And look how he’s getting along with Dad. Isn’t he so charming?” He arched a brow at me.

“Uh, yeah.” Did Axel know? The guy could smell a queer person from five miles away. His gaydar must be off the charts with all of us in the same house together. I inhaled deeply. I wasn’t going to think about this anymore. If he knows, then he knows. I brought the beer to Archer and tucked in beside him and Remy, then sipped my beer, the cool bubbles sliding down my throat. Damn, I needed this. “Who’s winning?” My attention drew to the television, a commercial for Doritos hogging the screen.

“Vikings.” Archer lifted his chin.

“They’re only up by a touchdown and there’s plenty of time left. We’ve still got two quarters to play.” Dad leaned forward to give Archer a pointed look.

I gulped down more beer. Hopefully the rivalry wouldn’t get too heated. Dad loved his Packers. I glanced at Archer. But then, he was a Minnesota boy. Damn it. I edged closer to him, my gaze dropping to his thigh, the pants tight across the thick muscles. I wanted to touch him, to place my hand on him, wrap an arm around him, anything.

As the game started back up, the men on the screen took up their positions on the field in a long line, bent over and ready for action. I shot a glance at Archer. “So, who do you really think is going to win?”

“Green Bay,” Dad said.

“Vikings,” Archer said, then chuckled with a shake of hishead. “Let the best team win.” He held his beer can out in front of me and dad tapped his can on it.

“As long as the best team is the Packers.” Dad smirked at Archer.

Archer freed a long breath, then grinned. “We’ll see.”

I glanced at Remy, watching the exchange with a sly smile spreading over his mouth.

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