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  “They could probably handle a whole hot dog now.” His mother observed as she fixed her own plate.

  “Last thing we need is choking.” Apollo sliced slightly bigger pieces before handing the girls their plates. “And I don’t mind fixing their plates.”

  Truth be told, he kind of liked it. He still wasn’t used to the two of them sitting side by side on the picnic bench, no booster seats in sight, real little people.

  “Hey, Apollo,” Maddox called. “We were just talking. If Dylan can’t stay here, Ben and I could rearrange some stuff, see if he could stay with us.”

  Hah. Apollo knew the “rearranging stuff” would undoubtedly include jockeying for whether Dylan shared Ben’s bed or Maddox’s by summer’s end and just...no. Something angry and surprisingly protective unfurled in his gut.

  “He’s staying here,” Apollo said firmly before he could recall the words.

  The girls sent up a delighted squeal, and Dustin grinned widely. Ben winked at him, and Apollo knew he’d been had. Fuck.

  Chapter Three

  Dylan kept himself from grinning after Apollo announced that he’d be staying there for the summer. Apollo wasn’t happy with his offer—that much was clear from how he stared down his friends. Maybe staying with the other two would be preferable to being some kind of burden on Apollo. At least Ben and Maddox were funny and seemed to want him around.

  They were also the only two guys at the barbecue on the same SEAL team, from what he gathered. Apollo and Dustin used to be on the same team, but Apollo recently took a post with SEAL operations, overseeing something to do with training, and Dustin had taken a promotion to XO, second-in-command for his new team. Zack, the young blond guy with eyes only for his boyfriend, was on a team due to ship out in a few weeks, which explained why the two of them appeared superglued together. Meanwhile, Ben and Maddox were just back from overseas, and as far as Dylan could guess, they were both into guys but not a couple despite the way they sniped at each other. And after Apollo’s blatant denial that he’d ogled Dylan, Ben’s open appreciation was a nice little ego boost.

  “So you work out, right?” Ben asked after returning from getting another giant burger. These SEALs could pack away the food even better than Dylan’s soccer team. “Play any sports?”

  “Soccer all four years at U of O. Softball and basketball in the campus rec league too. And I was in a rock climbing club. I’ll pretty much try any sport once.”

  “My kind of guy.” Ben clipped him on the biceps. Shorter than the other SEALs but taller than Dylan, the guy was seriously built with massive arms and a chest that stretched a shirt advertising a first-person shooting game. “Too bad you’re going to be here over the summer. Spring and fall I play soccer with the LGBT team here when I’m in town. There’s also a huge LGBT softball league. I’d love to introduce you to some people.”

  “Oh, that does sound fun.” Dylan smiled at him. Across from him Dustin gave him a warning look that Dylan ignored. What? He wasn’t supposed to have fun? Or perhaps it was that Ben wanted in Dylan’s shorts and wasn’t hiding that, and Dustin felt the need to be all cave-big-brother. Dylan didn’t need Dustin’s glower to figure out that Ben was a player. Dylan was a grown guy and could take care of himself.

  “Do you surf? Or want to learn?” Maddox asked. He was quieter than Ben, but more sincere in his presentation with a deep, soothing voice.

  “I’d be down with learning, but this summer I’m probably going to be mainly focused on my job.”

  Trill. Trill. Dustin’s phone went off with the most obnoxious chirping ringtone ever.

  “F—shoot.” Dustin glanced down at the screen. He swept his plate full of half-eaten seconds into the trash. “Gotta get to base.”

  “Wheels up?” Dylan had picked up enough of the military jargon over the years. He stood, trying to still his racing heart. Even after all these years, it never got any easier knowing that his brother was about to go into a dangerous situation.

  “Won’t know for sure until I get there, but yeah, that’s what it looks like. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I’m flying back tomorrow. It’s all good.” Dylan kept his voice upbeat, knowing that the last thing Dustin needed was a clingy little brother.

  “I’ve got no way of knowing if I’ll be back when you come back to start the summer.” Dustin ruffled Dylan’s hair, and this time he let him without complaining or flinching away.

  “It’s okay—”

  “We’ll work it out.” Apollo’s voice was firm. “I’ll handle him.”

  Oh no you won’t. This was not how Dylan’s summer was going to go down with Apollo assuming some kind of parental role. Dylan was not some favor Apollo owed Dustin.

  “I can handle myself.” He glared at both of them. So much for light and upbeat.

  “Sure you can.” Dustin didn’t sound like he believed him and both Apollo’s eyebrows were up too. This was going to be an uphill battle, but Dylan would win this war before the summer was over.

  “Take care.” Dylan’s voice was thick. “Always do.” Dustin gave him a quick hug, then traded some fist bumps with the other guys before heading out. Dustin had been at this well over a decade now, and Dylan still didn’t know how to handle goodbye.

  Ben and Maddox talked to him some more, but Dylan couldn’t recall what was said. His mind roared like engines on the transport plane that would take Dustin away, deposit him somewhere full of conflict and uncertainty.

  Eventually, the other guys drifted away, making their goodbyes and pressing phone numbers on him before returning to their own lives.

  “I know two girls who are ready for their beds,” Mrs. Floros announced, looking at the girls who were draped over Apollo, half-asleep. Damn but it was still unnerving, seeing the big bad warrior cradling two tiny kids.

  “Could I clean the kitchen for you while you get the girls settled?” he asked.

  Mrs. Floros laughed and patted Dylan’s shoulder. “I like you already. Apollo, you better keep this one around.”

  If only. Dylan glanced at Apollo who frowned as he handed one girl to his mother. Yeah, Dylan had definitely overstayed his welcome.

  “I’ll head out after I get the food packed away for you.” Dylan spoke to Apollo’s mother because she was infinitely less intimidating than the stony-faced Apollo.

  “Stay.” Apollo’s tone was better suited for an unruly Labrador. “I want to go over a few things with you. Let me get the girls down, then I’ll come down.”

  Apollo made it sound ominous, but Dylan nodded. “Sure thing.”

  He grabbed the remaining food dishes from the picnic table and followed them into the house. The patio led to an eating nook off a truly impressive kitchen. The rest of the house wasn’t particularly huge, but the kitchen was dominated by a massive granite island and wall of stainless-steel appliances, including a giant fridge that was bigger than Dylan’s closet back at the dorms. Instead of the kid drawings Dylan had expected, the front of the fridge had a whiteboard with the days of the week on it, and a menu plan as well as reminders about things like doctor’s appointments. No drawings, nothing personal—

  Wait. A small photo in a magnet. Dylan pulled it up so he could look at it closer. Apollo and a guy with dark brown hair and two tiny babies. Huge smiles on all of them. Neal. Dylan had seen other pictures of him and Apollo over the years, including wedding pictures, but something about this one made his throat burn.

  He couldn’t fix that, couldn’t bring him back, but maybe, just maybe, he could make that smile reappear, do something to ease Apollo’s heavy load.

  He was about to shove the food in the fridge, same as he would at home, but when he opened the doors, he had to do a double-take. The condiments in the door were arranged by size, something Dylan had never seen before, and the interior of the fridge was full of neat
—like freaky neat—stacks of labeled plastic and glass containers, all done in blocky, masculine handwriting. The leftover meat had already been labeled and flat-packed into storage bags.

  Trying not to upset whatever organization system Apollo had going on, Dylan carefully slid the leftover vegetable tray in, and put the ketchup and mustard back in the height-appropriate spots. A little hunting revealed a pantry that made the fridge look disorganized in comparison, what with labels on shelves and jars and stacks of plastic bins. However, the labels made it easy to put the leftover chips where they went, grabbing bag clips for them from the tidy row of clips on the inside of the pantry door. Yeah, Dylan could totally get used to this level of neatness—his mother’s pleasantly cluttered kitchen always drove him crazy with nothing in the same spot twice.

  He slid the empty platters into a space-age-looking dishwasher, then started wiping down the counters, which honestly were already in pretty good shape, but Dylan was pretty sure that “pretty good” was never enough for Apollo.

  “You didn’t have to do that. But thanks.” The man himself walked back into the kitchen, idly rubbing his shoulder. Dylan wished he knew him well enough to offer to rub it for him, but he wasn’t stupid enough to try to touch Apollo now and risk this whole arrangement before it even started.

  Someday though... Dylan pushed that thought aside before it could take hold. He knew full well how dangerous crushing on Apollo could be. And he wasn’t the same kid he’d once been. He was smarter now.

  “No problem.” Dylan replaced the sponge in the sink.

  “You probably already saw the meal plan.” Apollo gestured at the fridge. “I cook in big batches on my days off, then we eat according to the schedule.”

  “You cook? Not your mom?”

  Apollo laughed, a deep, welcome sound. “No. She’s terrific with the kids and makes a decent sous chef, but I do most of it. My own grandmother lived with us when I was growing up, and she used to joke that the cooking gene skipped a generation.”

  “I hear you there. I had to learn a lot of kitchen stuff out of self-defense. And I can help you while I’m here—”

  “Oh it’s mainly just reheating.” Apollo waved the offer away before gesturing at a big binder on the counter. “Now this is the master plan—it has the bedtime and morning routines, emergency contacts, monthly shopping lists, all in one place.”

  “Impressive.” Dylan opened it to reveal page after laminated page of routines and schedules. He wasn’t sure where, exactly, the family had spontaneous fun, but it wasn’t his place to question. I’ll just have to bring the fun myself. “So when do you need me here by? I’ve got the start date for the day camp, but I can come a few days earlier to coincide with your mom’s leaving.”

  “I don’t need you—”

  Oh that cut. It was going to be a damn long summer convincing Apollo otherwise. “You’ve made that point. When would you prefer me here by?”

  “Sorry.” Apollo scrubbed at his jaw. “I don’t mean to be rude. This...isn’t easy. We’ve got a whole routine and everything going.” Weariness laced Apollo’s words, and he looked away.

  It was a rare, candid glimpse at the man behind the mask and Dylan’s breath caught. Apollo wasn’t just older than he’d been eight years ago, he was transformed—crafted by grief and sadness into someone Dylan didn’t quite recognize.

  “Hey.” He risked a touch, putting a hand on Apollo’s arm. Damn, he was solid. “I won’t be trouble. I promise. My whole job is to make things easier on you.”

  Apollo laughed but he didn’t shrug off Dylan’s hand. “You? You’re bound to be trouble.”

  “Yeah, but the good kind.” Dylan winked at him before he realized what he’d done. This wasn’t one of his friends. This was Apollo, who wasn’t going to welcome his flirting with anything other than mild irritation.

  But Apollo surprised the hell out of him by laughing again. “Let’s hope so.”

  It wasn’t much as far as moments went, just two guys teasing, but it felt like something of a victory, earning a laugh from the guy who was all-too-serious and all-business these days. For an instant, the years fell away and there was the guy Dylan had once known. And Apollo had it all wrong—it wasn’t Dylan who was trouble. It was Apollo and his unerring ability to hit Dylan square in the feels.

  * * *

  Apollo liked how Dylan thumbed through the binder, going page by page and asking intelligent questions, unlike a lot of Apollo’s friends who thought his level of planning was a bit...excessive. Or even Neal, who used to tease him incessantly about his micro-managing tendencies. God, I miss that.

  “What does I-O-B mean?” Dylan asked, pointing at a spot on the laminated bedtime routine page.

  “In own bed.” Apollo didn’t especially like confessing how his careful plan didn’t always work. “They often end up in each other’s beds. Or both in mine.”

  “Cute. I slept with my parents so much at that age that my mom got me my own pillow and blanket for their room so I’d stop stealing hers.” Dylan gave him an indulgent smile, not like the judgmental preschool teacher who’d suggested he get a lock for the twins’ door. “Any special toys they sleep with that I should know about if you’re working late and I’m putting them down?”

  “Chloe has a doll in a bee costume. She calls it Bee Baby. And Sophia has a stuffed elephant she calls Kitty. Expect to spend a lot of time hunting them down.” Apollo reached across Dylan to grab a pen so he could annotate the bedtime sheet.

  “I’m on it.” Dylan had a great laugh—deep and rich, like his surprisingly husky voice. And all of a sudden Apollo was all too aware of how close they were standing, him crowding out Dylan so that he could write on the page, Dylan not taking a step back.

  Hell, he could smell Dylan’s aftershave, some sort of ocean-y scent with a hint of mint that managed to be both young and hip and infinitely appealing.

  What the fuck are you doing thinking about his smell? Apollo shoved the cap back on the pen, put it in the holder, and moved to the other side of the counter. Dylan was about to be the babysitter, and he was Dustin’s little brother. He didn’t get to smell good. Period. End of story.

  “So you said you have references?” Apollo said hurriedly, trying to get this back on employer/employee footing and away from land mines like aftershave and impossibly long eyelashes that made even teasing winks far sexier than they needed to be.

  “You’re for real going to check them?” Dylan pulled out his phone. “Give me your email and I’ll send my resumé right now.”

  “You get to drive my kids around. Yes, I’m going to check the references.” Apollo rattled off his personal email address. His phone beeped seconds later. “That was fast.”

  “Dude, you have no idea how many resumés I sent out before I got this job. Market is tight this year.”

  “What do you want to do long-term? Teach?” Apollo leaned on the counter.

  “Not exactly, and that’s why getting a job is hard. I want to direct an after-school program or a rec sports league for kids or possibly some hybrid of those things. I may end up needing my masters before I get the kind of job I want.”

  “That’s...really specific.” Apollo was still struggling to reconcile this motivated guy with the teenager who had spouted War Elf knowledge and slept to noon most days. “Why not teach a few years at a preschool or elementary—”

  “Why not hang out on a ship a few years, Lieutenant? Wait and see if you really want to be a SEAL?” Dylan fixed him with a hard stare.

  “Fair enough. You know what you want to be. I respect that. I’m just curious about why.” To his surprise, Apollo wanted to know. It would be really easy to simply say goodnight to Dylan and check the references tomorrow, but for some reason Apollo needed to keep him talking.

  “I’m the youngest, you know? Dustin and the others wer
e already out of the house by the time I hit school, and with both my folks working, I spent a lot of time in after-school programs. And I had all this energy so there were always sports programs too. I’ve seen some really, really crappy ones, and some...” Dylan got a far-off look in his eyes. “Well, the good ones pretty much saved my childhood. I know that sounds really sappy—”

  “No, I get it.” Apollo rubbed his head. “After my dad died, my mom was a single mother. I spent a lot of time in those programs or with relatives. I never really thought about how important the after-school programs are to so many kids, but I guess they are.”

  “Yeah.” Dylan had the same stadium-lights bright smile Apollo remembered, but there was something more...tempered about it now. Wiser. “Your dad was Navy too, right?”

  “Right. I was born here in San Diego actually when he was stationed at Coronado. We moved back to Fresno after he died in an accident on board a ship when I was six.”

  “Your mom never remarried?”

  “Nope. Never dated even, really. Guess he was it for her.” Like Neal was for me. Apollo wasn’t really the sentimental type, and he tried not to dwell on the fact that he and his mother both ended up bringing up kids alone. She still wore her wedding ring, even now, thirty years later.

  “Who knows? Maybe she’ll meet some Greek tycoon on her big trip, fall madly in love—”

  Apollo laughed like he hadn’t laughed in months. “Ha. Never happening. You’re a romantic though, aren’t you?”

  “Guilty.” Dylan grinned at him again. He had one of those infectious grins, the kind Apollo, even as grumpy as he was, couldn’t help returning. “And I’m not going to apologize for it. Everyone needs some romance in their life.”

  “Not me,” Apollo said firmly. Dylan opened his mouth like he had something to say about that, but Apollo shook his head. “Trust me, even Neal would have told you. I’m the least romantic person on earth. It’s the last thing I need in my life.”