1 Chapter 1
Climbing the stairs to the second-floor walkway of the motel, Nick Dailey cast a critical eye over the faded, sun-bleached walls. He couldn’t help it. He was an interior designer and his mind teemed with ideas on how, if this were one of his commissions, this whole environment would be transformed into something much more welcoming to guests. The straggly tinsel streamers wound around the balusters were, to put it mildly, pathetic. As was the tinny Christmas music being piped to all the public areas. He’d hated Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas” as a child when his mom used to play it repeatedly every December, and he hadn’t changed his opinion of it as an adult. And it was singularly inappropriate for the sub-tropical climate of Southern Florida.
The concessions to the holiday spirit just showed how cheap the motel was. But it was his own fault for leaving the arranging of his accommodation till the last minute. “No room at the inn,” had been the message at most places he’d tried. Fortunately, or unfortunately, there had been room at what Nick was beginning to privately call The Bates Motel
He stopped partway up the stairs to tuck in an errant piece of tinsel. Nick had heard all the jokes about gay interior designers, but knew he didn’t fit the stereotype. Heck, he liked football, had even played wide receiver on his high school’s junior varsity team.
It was football that had brought him south for Christmas. As a present to himself he’d bought a ticket to see his local NFL team, the Outlaws, play an away game. And who could blame him for swapping the frozen wastes of Wisconsin for the sun-kissed beaches of Southern Florida?
Reaching the top of the steps, Nick turned right and moved along the walkway, passing several identically painted room doors. He’d just turned the corner when a door to one of the rooms opened a crack and he heard a quiet, “Mick?” whispered from the interior.
Nick stopped. “Uh, yeah? But it’s Ni—”
The door opened wider and a bare arm—biceps and triceps rippling under tattooed chocolate skin—reached out and hauled Nick into the room. The door was closed behind him and the lock engaged. Nick was about to cry out in protest, alarm, or indignation, when he saw who the arm was attached to. The shock caused his mouth to gape open. Penny had said she’d organized a surprise gift for him, but…How the hell had she gotten him a meeting with Brad Williams, the hard-as-nails defensive lineman for the Outlaws? Fear was starting to overtake Nick. The two hundred thirty pound football player had a reputation for meanness and aggression. Nick pictured Brad tearing his arms off and beating him with them. The guy didn’t have the nickname Triple B—Big Bad Brad—for nothing. Hell, the lineman was serving a five-game suspension for punching, then stomping on an opposing quarterback
“No need to be scared, guy.” The huge paw that had been clamped to Nick’s upper arm loosened and began a gentle stroking. “Daddy ain’t gonna hurt ya.”
Nick tried to form words, this was beyond surreal. But the only sound he could make before the shivers got a hold of him was a soft, “Okay.”
Penny had really gone all out with Nick’s gift. She was both an employee and best friend. Nick had confided his love of the whole daddy scene to her a number of times and…
“You cold, baby?”
“Uh.” Nick tried to stem the shaking. He was a grown man for God’s sake.
“Com’ere, Daddy will soon warm ya up.”
Two massive arms wrapped themselves around Nick and, with amazing gentleness, pressed him to a firm, broad, and deeply-ridged chest. Then the two hams that served as Brad’s hands rubbed up and down Nick’s back.
“Better now?”
Nick nodded, but his mind was still whirling. What was this meant to be, a fan meet and greet or…?
“Hey, Mick, you’re a lot cuter than in your picture,” Brad said, Nick both feeling and hearing the words as they vibrated from Brad’s cavernous chest. “But then I only got to see it on my cell. stupid thing’s too small to be of any use.”
Nick guessed Penny must have sent Brad his picture. That made sense, although nothing else about this crazy encounter did. “It’s Nick, not Mick.”
“Sorry, man. Like I said, tiny screen. Maybe I should get myself one of those tablets.”
“Uh, yeah.” Nick snuggled closer to the man’s body. Despite the hard muscles, the guy’s chest felt…Nick tried to pull back. If Brad thought Nick was feeling him up, then…
Nick was gently moved to arm’s length and Brad regarded him steadily. “Yep, definitely a lot cuter than your pic.” The lineman’s next comment floored Nick. “Do you kiss?”
“Kiss?”
“Daddy likes to kiss his boys, ‘specially cute, sexy ones like you.”
Nick’s mouth fell open again, but he had enough brain cells working to make his head nod up and down a couple of times. He was twenty-nine, about the same age as Brad. But, yeah, if the man wanted to call him boy, he could sure get behind that idea, especially if it meant he got kissed. How the hell did Penny organize this? Nick made a mental note to give her a raise.
