“You do have a way with words.” Merle looked down, then glanced up through his darker-than-his-hair lashes. “Does that mean blowjobs are still on the table?”
“If I give you a blowjob on this table, we can’t come back to the Ocean Bar again.” Ru raised his eyebrow.
“Umm, I was more thinking of giving than receiving.”
They might just be bantering, but that got a cock wiggle for sure. The only thing wrong with the Rupert Maitland persona he’d created was that guys assumed he was submissive. Yeah. No. “I’ll give it serious thought.”
“I’ll remind you.”
Ru laughed. Who’d have thought he could laugh at all after his whiplash dinner being teased—consciously or unconsciously—by Gray Anson? What were the chances Gray didn’t know he about drove Ru madder than Ophelia? Zero, right?
“Would you like another glass of wine?”
“No. This is lovely, but I do have to get home.”
“I’ll drive you.”
Asking for trouble, but sometimes trouble can be fun. Hell, he could use a little fun. “Thank you, darling. That would be great.”
It only took ten minutes to get from the bar to the parking lot and then to pulling up in front of Ru’s house.
Merle turned off the car. “That sure didn’t take enough time.” He looked past Ru toward the cottage. “Cute place.”
“You’ll have to see it—sometime.” He grinned.
“I guess that means the blowjob opportunity didn’t follow us home.”
“Correct.”
“Can I lobby for a kiss?”
“Well, my neighbor is either writing a book on me or collecting data for a blackmail portfolio, but aside from that, feel free.”
Frowning, Merle glanced toward Mrs. O’Grady’s house. “Aw hell, a little scandal is good for the reputation.”
“Even with a guy?”
“Hell yeah. Haven’t you heard? We’re in fashion.” He leaned across the console, tucked a finger under Ru’s chin, and coaxed his lips into kissable range.
For a second Ru froze. Feels weirdly like cheating. Bullshit. Who had he just agreed to design a wedding gown for? He slid a hand into Merle’s thick, shaggy hair and yanked, which produced a satisfying moan from Merle. Their lips met, awkwardly and enthusiastically, and Merle slipped a tongue into Ru’s mouth. Nice, warm, exploratory, tingly, but—
Merle pulled back and gave Ru a look. “No? Not doing it for you?”
Ru sighed and wrinkled his nose. “Truth? I’m probably not giving you a fair trial. I have, uh, had kind of a, shall we say, diverting attachment to a man who doesn’t return the feeling. Unrequited passion hurts like a bitch.”
“Hmm. I notice the past tense. So maybe I shouldn’t give up?”
Ru cocked his head. “Seriously, darling, why would you bother? You’re about as adorbs as they come. Few people, male or female, would toss you out of bed.”
He dropped his head on the steering wheel dramatically. “Maybe we all need our own unrequited passion?”
“You’re very flattering.”
Merle looked at Ru under his arm. “I think you need some flattering. I’m guessing you’re too hard on yourself. I know the symptoms because I do it too.”
“Maybe so.”
“It’s not easy growing up gay. Hiding takes a toll on your self-esteem.”
Jesus, if he only knew. “So true.” Mrs. O came out on her porch with Flopsy and Mopsy dancing around her feet. Must be last-walk time. “I best go in before Mrs. O hoses us down.”
“Is she really a busybody?”
“I love her, actually, but yes, she does like to know what’s going on. Her saving grace is she doesn’t share it. Like I say, I think she’s compiling blackmail documents on all her neighbors.” He leaned over and pecked Merle’s cheek. “Thank you for the drink and the attention.”
“Anytime. Seriously.”
“I’ll see you at the Playhouse.” Ru climbed out of Merle’s car, and the two dogs looked up like someone had thrown them a bone. Running like fuzzy wind, they arrived at his feet, leaping and cavorting but not barking. They pretty much never barked—an excellent characteristic in neighbors.
The car window slid open on the passenger side. “And you said you didn’t get any attention.”
Ru looked at the dogs. “Lady, gentleman, please meet Merle Justice, my friend.” Flopsy leaped in the air and planted a lick on Ru’s cheek. “Yep, Merle likes to do that too.”
Mrs. O’s voice rang out from the porch. “Did you say Merle Justice?” The sentence rose at the end to a near shriek, and she ran, boobs bouncing, off the porch to the car. “I love you, Merle. I’m a huge fan.”
Ru spoke out of his mouth sideways. “Either flee for your life or get out of the car.”
Merle chose the latter and slowly circled the vehicle.
Mrs. O arrived, clapping her hands. “Oh my God, oh my God.”
Ru laughed. “He holds no claim to deity status, Mrs. O, but he is a noble gentleman.”
Merle stuck out his hand. “Hi. I’m Merle.”
She hurled herself, boobs and hair flying, into his arms and hugged him madly. “I’m so thrilled. I’ve watched every episode of Dyson’s Corners at least five times. You’re my favorite character.”
“Thank you, Mrs. O.”
“Oh, call me Lottie.”
Never once had she asked Ru to call her Lottie. Is anyone in the twenty-first century really named Lottie? Mrs. O wasn’t past fifty-five or sixty.
She stepped back. “Ru, you didn’t tell me you had such a famous and gorgeous boyfriend.”
“Merle’s not my boyfriend, Mrs. O. We’re new friends. We’re working together at the Playhouse.”
“He certainly looked like your boyfriend.” She turned to Merle. “You’re going to be performing at the Playhouse?”
He smiled. “Yes. In Hamlet.”
“Oh my God, tights! Where do I get tickets?”
Ru shook his head. “No tights, and you can buy tickets at the box office. Tip—I’d get there quick.”
“Of course. Everyone will want to see Merle Justice as Hamlet.”
Merle made a face, then smiled. “Thank you for your confidence, but actually, I’m Horatio. Gray Anson is Hamlet.”
She turned into a statue. “You’re joking.”
“Nope.”
“Gray—the biggest movie star in the world—Anson is coming to our little playhouse?”
“Yep.”
“Holy shit.”
Merle cocked his head. “Aww, come on, Lottie, I’m counting on you to like me best.”
“Oh, I do, I do, dear.” She patted his hand. “But Gray Anson in tights. That I have to see. That boy is hung!”
Ru sputtered. “No tights.” But he couldn’t stop laughing long enough to get the words across. “How would you know that, Mrs. O? Hollywood rumors?”
“Oooh no. You mean you don’t know about the Gray Anson nude site?”
“Uh, no.” If a kiss from Merle didn’t send his cock into orbit, the prospect of seeing Gray’s package unveiled totally did. Maybe he could find it? “Okay, you two play nice. I have to get to work.” He kissed the air in their direction, turned, and powered up the walkway and into the door of the cottage. As he hung up his jacket, he heard Merle’s car start and saw the lights move away.