You Better Shape Up

RORY MANAGED the best hotel he could find between the hospital and Austin, and since it was billed as a resort for those who wanted to escape "the pressures of the city," it wasn't bad.

Val maintained a clenched-teeth quiet during the drive there, and Rory recognized a man dealing with pain. Dean had gathered their essentials from the rig before it had been towed, and Rory shouldered both knapsacks and his rifle case. The fact that Val let Rory lead the way and open the door for him was indication enough that driving a rig through a metal hurricane was not as easy as Val had probably made it look.

"Oh," Val said, stopping just inside the doorway. "A king-size bed?"

Rory snorted. "Don't get your panties in a bunch," he said. "I don't hit on injured men."

"Pity," Val told him and then proceeded to limp into the room, his back held like fragile glass.

"Don't get comfy," Rory said. "In fact, get naked." He dumped their stuff, such as it was, on a handy padded bench and set his rifle case carefully in the corner. "I'm gonna go make sure this place has the one damned thing I asked for, okay?"

"Sure," Val muttered, and he was still trying doggedly to lift the hem of his T-shirt up over his head when Rory returned from the bathroom.

"Is that water I hear?" Val asked, and Rory stood in front of him to gently take his T-shirt hem and lift it with care over his shoulders, around his elbows, and over his head.

Oh, his boy was bruised—some of them were already coming out—and Rory grimaced as he dropped the shirt on the floor.

"It is. Don't worry, automatic shutoff." The hotel bubble bath smelled like lemon and sage, and it wafted into the main suite. "Here, I'm gonna get familiar, don't—"

"I know, I know. My panties remain unbunched."

Rory chuckled. "As long as they remain off long enough to get you into the Jacuzzi tub."

Val let out a sound of decadent longing that probably hurt his already abused stomach muscles. "Really?" he asked pitifully.

"Really really," Rory told him.

"Is it big enough for two?" Val said, trying a coy look from under his eyebrows, but the wince he gave for craning his neck said everything Rory needed to hear.

"Not tonight it isn't," Rory said softly. He'd brought a towel in, and now he wrapped it around Val's waist, trying not to linger. Flat stomach, strong thighs, an ass that should have been squishy but wasn't? All a go.

Rory had never wanted anybody more, and the fact that he was being gentle and chivalrous made him feel as close as he'd ever been to a real lover and not a one-night stand.

"I'm—ouch—trying not to be mad at that," Val muttered. "God, we were only in the car for half an hour. Why is this—gah!" He'd made it to the bathroom and was trying to put a toe in the tub.

"C'mon, big guy," Rory cajoled. "Here, there's a step. Let me help you… there we go…."

"Whoamygod…." Val groaned as he sat on the bench of the tub and leaned against the sloped back. "This is… holy wow… if it was a teeny bit hotter…?"

"Nope." Rory slapped his hand away from the spigot control. "Remember that concussion? No steaming hot bath, just happy, happy lukewarm."

"Fine." Val sighed. "This feels too good to complain. Wow, did you know what you were doing."

"My son had one of these installed in our place when I was injured," Rory told him. "And that was when I decided that his teenaged years be damned, I was leaving him in my will."

Val smiled in sympathy. "Rough?"

"Nothing dramatic," Rory confessed. "He was a moody little bastard. Basic kid shit. Trying to make his mom and me feel bad about the broken home, that sort of thing. But you know, we've all got our shit times growing up. It's why we celebrate milestones like high school and college education, you know?"

While he was talking, he leaned against the counter to take off his boots and put them in the closet. After shucking his socks, he rolled up his jeans to the knees and perched on the edge of the tub, resting his feet on the bench.

To his surprise and everlasting joy, Val wrapped his hand around Rory's calf under the water and just… touched, smoothed his palm and broad fingers over the curve of the muscle.

"Nice," Rory murmured.

"You're easy to touch," Val told him.

"Well, maybe next time we do a room like this, I can join you," Rory said wistfully. He was pretty sure Val was going to need help out, and he wouldn't be great at that if they were both naked and slippery—no matter how much the image tantalized him.

Val squeezed his calf. "That reminds me," he said, brought back to his more practical self by the warm water. "I…." He bit his lip and turned his head. "I mean, technically your contract is up, you know. You were contracted to get the load here and then to take one of Vinnie's breeders back to Elite Cattle Company. Since they're eyeballs deep in fraud and attempted murder charges, that contract's void. I mean, I'm stuck here until I can drive the rig and the rig is cleared, but…." He cleared his throat, his hand dropping away from its exploration of Rory's skin.

"But what?" Rory prodded.

"You… you earned your fee. You're, uhm, free to go. If you want to."

It was the way he wasn't looking Rory in the eye that saved Rory from heartbreak—that and the "If you want to."

"What if I don't want to?" Rory asked, keeping his voice low.

"I… I'd love you to stay," Val said after a moment, turning carefully to look Rory in the eye. "We could go hang out at Vinnie's place—which is like an oasis in the desert, it's so pretty. They've got a Jacuzzi too, you know. And, well, Vinnie said the whole family would be gone in two days. He's got a whole guest wing, but, you know." The water was too tepid for heat to be making Val Royal's cheeks that red, and Rory decided to save him the trouble.

"If you put your hand back on my leg," he drawled, "I would consider it a pleasure to go visit your friend Vinnie with you." He bent and captured Val's wet hand in his own, pulling it gently higher, until it was on the inside of his knee. "In fact," he said softly, "I may have called my son to tell him I won't be back for another two weeks. Just, you know, in case we think of something to do to kill the time."

Val laughed softly. "Like maybe take our time driving from Austin to Bakersfield?"

"Oh my God, three days at the least!" Rory laughed. "That was some epic time we made."

Val gave him a shy smile. "That could be its own country song," he said.

"You know," Rory said, "since country music is my jam, I bet I could find a song that would fit the bill."

HE LEFT the bathroom for a few minutes after that to order food and then came back to bundle Val up in one of the plush robes and set him up in the bed—clean, dry, and completely relaxed—in time for room service to bring up some passable steaks.

Val ate about half of his before setting it aside and stretching out on top of the comforter, obviously doing a mini-pilates routine of stretching and releasing the muscle groups in his body. "That was great," he murmured. "But seriously—I would bet Vinnie's got a four-star meal ready for us tomorrow night. You haven't had steak until you've had one of Vinnie's."

"I can't wait," Rory told him. He kept the television on low for a while, Val dozing lightly while Rory ran gentle fingers through his hair.

It was not a kind of evening Rory had ever spent with a man, and he was starting to see the kind of future Val had envisioned when he'd said he was ready to settle down.

As Rory turned off the lights and the television—and set his phone to wake Val up in a couple hours to make sure the concussion wasn't getting worse—he gazed out over the skyline of Austin from the hotel room window and wondered what kind of vast horizons he could experience in the arms of a man like Val Royal.

It was at least worth a little vacation time and some travel to find out.

PEOPLE OFTEN underestimated Texas; the state was nearly three times the size of the UK alone. So while Rory grew up in the panhandle, around Lubbock, driving around Austin was a whole new thing. After Val got his head checked out—and was told to come back in a week to both get cleared for driving and recover his rig—he gave Rory directions to the Arboretum, where they found a menswear store and made some quick purchases.

"This is probably a good idea," Val said through a yawn. "Sam, Vinnie's wife, is doing the whole shebang tonight. Vinnie's been asking me about steak and—"

"Raw. Still mooing. Opinionated," Rory said promptly.

"So I've noticed." Val laughed as they neared the SUV. He was moving stiffly again, and Rory made note of the time. Another painkiller, he figured, and probably the extra muscle relaxant too. "I told him that. So, you know. We get there in an hour—"

"You go rest," Rory prompted.

Val nodded, conceding. "I go rest," he admitted. "And then we meet for dinner afterward. Tomorrow it's us and Vinnie, and you know…." He waggled his eyebrows.

"Four days in a stranger's house," Rory said, hitting the Beep button. "I get it."

Val snorted softly and set his clothes in the back of the rented SUV. "You really don't," he said, yawning. "But you will."

An hour later, as they drove through acres and acres of cattle country, Rory had a dawning epiphany.

"Wait a minute," he said, feeling dumb. "We've been passing the same spread for the last half hour, haven't we?"

"Yup," Val mumbled. He'd taken his meds and slept soundly, head tucked against his wadded-up sweatshirt.

"Is this… Vinnie's spread?"

"Mm-hmm…," Val said. He squinted blearily around and added, "In about a mile there's going to be a really dramatic lacework arch with Vinnie's logo done in wrought iron. Turn there and keep driving until you see the cow's palace." He giggled to himself a little and fell back asleep.

So Rory was starting to get it when he saw the "really dramatic arch"—which must have been twelve feet high and had an elaborate logo version of "Conti & Sons" done in wrought iron over an arching rainbow of warped brass. The whole arch was supported by marble Grecian columns, and it was big enough to fit two big rigs side by side.

And the road, which had been a rough and pothole-filled county road as they'd roared through cattle land, suddenly became newly paved and smooth as glass.

"Damn," Rory said, thinking he got it.

And then he saw the "palace" and "it" hit him square in the solar plexus.

" Oolf …," he breathed, taking in a modern two-story stucco fortress, surrounded by beech trees that shaded every window. There appeared to be an entire copse of them on the other side of the house, and as the driveway wound to the west, taking them to a parking area designed to host dinner parties attended by people who commuted by limousine, Rory remembered hearing something about a pool and a Jacuzzi at "his place" and realized that the trees were probably some sort of landscaping in the back to separate the homestead from the rest of the rolling green acreage in the immediate vicinity.

The size and the scope of the place was breathtaking. He'd seen hotels smaller than Vinnie's home, but he'd never seen any more luxurious.

"You went to school with this guy?" Rory wondered out loud.

"This was the other side of the family," Val said. "You see how it says, ‘Conti and Sons'?"

"Yeah?"

"Vinnie's mom was the one named Conti, and neither of her brothers wanted the ranch. She married poor, they lived modestly in Bakersfield, but he visited his grandfather and uncles here. He…." Val smiled. "He really loved it. His wife, Sam, is from money. I mean, lots of money. But Vinnie brought her to our house first, you know, to meet my folks? She was so classy. Remembered everybody's names, helped with the dishes, played cards with my folks after dessert. Vinnie took me outside and told me he'd needed to see how she treated us—'cause let me tell you, my parents' place is a pile of rubble after seven kids on my folks' salaries—so he'd know if she was really as kind as she seemed. She's the one who told him he was smart enough to run this place. I think it's all he ever wanted."

"God, Val, your family. They sound like Hallmark movie people."

Val snorted. "Hallmark wouldn't let my mother on the set. That woman… I mean truckers are supposed to swear."

Rory laughed and grabbed their stuff. He locked his rifle in the back under some blankets to keep it from getting too hot in the steamy sunshine of spring. There were children in this house, and he didn't know the rules, and while most people in Texas liked to brag about being able to shoot, he was a guest here.

Then he and Val made their way to the front door, and Rory had never felt so small in his life.

A FEW HOURS later, after he and Val were given their own room where Val had rested while Vinnie gave him a tour of the house and grounds, Rory couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed so much in his life.

The house was as lovely inside as it was out.

There was a grand dining room and ballroom in the east wing of the house, but the west wing was a home . The floors were tiled, with soft colorful rugs underfoot in the bedrooms, and the whole house seemed to be rooted in the concepts of passive air-conditioning—although there was plenty of active air-conditioning should they need it—as well as airy spaces and peace.

The floors were dark, the alcoves were shaded, the painted walls were eggshell with accent walls in terra-cotta and forest green. The great family room, complete with giant -screen TV, was surrounded by a wraparound window with an equally wraparound shutter that could be remotely closed partially—to block out the sun if it was too bright—or completely, to help the AC do its job if the outside temps got too brutal. The back of the wing opened onto a patio, and while there was a smaller inside dining room nearer to the kitchen, Rory was led to believe the patio was, while the weather held, the heart of the house. Shaded with mini palms, strategically placed in planters wherever the sunlight came in too strong, as well as a remote-controlled portico, the patio had a floor of polished stone, surprisingly comfortable alfresco dining furniture, and a separate space for a "living room" of sorts, with lounging furniture and even a sound system. The Jacuzzi and pool were, as Rory suspected, a little farther off from the patio and shaded in beech trees, as well as surrounded by a safety fence that also enclosed changing rooms and a gazebo.

The place was a cool, shady oasis. There was even a fountain between the dining area and the lounging area, and Rory was once again reminded of a resort hotel.

The elegance was breathtaking, but so was the welcome, and it was the welcome that shone through during dinner.

Rory and Val both dressed, and Rory was glad. The girls—all three of them, aged nine, eleven, and thirteen—were dressed in cool sundresses, and even the youngest had sweet little sandals and adorably painted toenails. (Apparently that had been something they'd done that day, and Rory was one of the first admirers of the delicate shell pink.) Sam—who had heavy wheat-blond hair pulled into an updo, wide gray eyes, and an adorable cheerleader nose—wore a simple white sheath dress and a sapphire pendant.

Vinnie was dressed much like Rory and Val, although Val had apparently visited often enough for Vinnie to notice Val's new clothes.

"For us?" he asked, giving Val the once-over. "Not necessary, my friend."

Val grinned wickedly. " Very necessary since my one good outfit is still in the back of the rig." He winked at Sam, who was smiling at him as well. "And of course very worth the effort, Sam. It's always such a pleasure to be here."

"Stop talking sweet," she said, taking a sip of her wine, "and tell me all the gossip. And I mean all. Is Laure dating? I called her last week and nagged her, but I don't think she took me seriously."

Val shook his head. "Naw. Sam, she's so busy with her business and her boys. They're driving her to distraction."

"Has the youngest heard about college yet?" she asked anxiously. "I know we were all crossing our fingers."

Val nodded. "Yup. He got into his first choice, UCLA."

Sam actually clapped. "And she didn't tell me?" she squealed. "I'll kill her!"

Val shrugged modestly. "I think I'm the only sibling she's told," he admitted. "We were getting the finances squared away before we started bragging about the kid. His financial aid package only goes so far."

Vinnie's eyes—an average brown on the surface, but deep and thoughtful when you'd been in his presence a bit—darkened. "Val, I told you—"

Val waved. "We got it covered, Vin. You've got no worries. I'm doing good, Sal's doing great , and Dean's been putting away money too. It's like Chance. The kid had the will and the drive, and the family made sure it happened."

"How's he doing?" Sam asked. She glanced at Rory. "Chance was just a baby when I first met Val's family, and Laure had just gotten married—she had Russell less than a year later. I don't have any siblings of my own, so I babysat the hell out of those kids, and Shaw when he came along two years later."

"What about Reg?" Rory asked, pleased that he remembered the kids and their order.

Sam grimaced. "Reg is supernaturally old and wise, and he was at four, but sure. I ‘baby' sat him." She punctuated the word with finger quotes. "I loved that kid, but I always had the feeling he was humoring me. I'd say, ‘Okay, Reg, time for bed,' and he'd say, ‘I've brushed my teeth, washed my face, and put on my pajamas. I just need help getting Chance changed.'" She shuddered. "And Chance would give me his hand and say, ‘PJs!' I mean, Chance needed me. Both boys still love me. We're still close, but I'm saying, Reg raised himself." She wrinkled her nose. "And as for Chance, I may be like his aunt, and I guess you don't tell your aunt about how your second year of college is going."

"He's okay," Val said. He snorted softly. "He had a helluva crush on Dean's partner—"

"Marcus?" Sam asked. "He was cute."

Val rolled his eyes. "Did he hit on you? Because I get the impression he hit on everybody but Chance."

Sam's laughter was sweet, like chimes, and young. "See, when Dean brought him here , the only person he could talk about was Chance."

Val eyed her in horror. "Chance is a baby ."

"Of course he is," she said smugly. "Which would explain why Marcus didn't hit on him."

Rory nodded. It had been the same reason he hadn't hit on Dean—too young. But also not quite right. Apparently Rory liked his Royal well-seasoned.

Val shook his head, about to say something, and then he winced. They were lingering over their plates, anticipating dessert, and Sam was the one who said, "Val, darling, go to bed. I'll have dessert brought to your room."

Val straightened and winced again. They could all see the moment when he conceded.

"Fine," he said, and Rory stood to guide him up. "Thank you," he said graciously, and Rory could tell it was rough to be gracious because he obviously hated to be weak. "Rory, please stay. Yes, I know Vinnie and Sam and the kids will tell you all my bad traits, but you know, if you can deal with me after that, I think we're good."

The girls all protested, and he bent to kiss every cheek on his way out, including Sam's. After he was gone and the staff had come in to clear the table and set down dessert, there was a brief awkward silence.

"Mom," said the oldest, "after dessert, can we go watch some TV in the family room?"

"Of course, Bella-love," Sam told her affectionately. "Not too late. We're leaving early, and I'm going to be by in an hour or so to make sure everybody's packed."

After the girls had left—chattering excitedly about Disney World—Rory polished off the rest of his to-die-for chocolate mousse and smiled up at his hosts expectantly.

"Is this the part where I get grilled about my intentions?" he asked dryly.

Vinnie seemed so unassuming, but his laughter was as rich as the place he called home. "Val's a big boy," he said. "And you obviously like him fine if you stuck with him this long. We just want to get to know you. Warn you a little, maybe, about what you're getting yourself into regarding the family."

Rory snorted. "They are tighter than the rust-welded tire bolt on a 1982 Toyota? Yeah. That much I figured."

They both laughed, and Sam shook her head. "They are tight," she said. "And there are personality pitfalls and traps like with any other family. You may have already figured that Val and Dean butt heads a lot."

"Are they the most alike?" Rory hazarded.

Sam put her finger on her nose. "Bingo. Laure is the peacekeeper and the pulse of the siblings. You've met her?"

"Spoken with," Rory confirmed. "She's a nice lady."

Sam sighed. "The family project is to find her a good man. Not because she needs one, mind you, but because she deserves someone good in her life. Bet you can't guess the catch there."

She looked at him expectantly, and Rory put together what he knew about Laure Royal, who had two teenaged sons, had married young and been widowed far too soon. The woman who had called him with the job offer, saying Dean had given her headhunting service his name, had been warm and quick-witted, and Rory thought about what it took to own a business all your own in this world, particularly one you built from the ground up.

"No man is good enough for her," he hazarded. "And all the ones good enough are gay and candidates for her brothers."

"Give the man a cigar!" Vinnie crowed.

Sam wrinkled her nose. "Ew," she complained, gazing at her husband with pleading in her eyes.

"That he will only smoke outside, an acre away from the premises," Vinnie filled in dutifully.

"I love you," she sang. "But yes, there you go. You've passed Royal Family Dynamics 101. Are you ready for the advanced course?"

Rory cocked his head. "Will it tell me what ‘Val' is short for?"

Vinnie and Sam met eyes and smirked. "Nope," they said, obviously enjoying being in the know.

Rory gave them a narrow-eyed glance. "Well, then," he said grandly, "I guess I'd rather find out from Val himself."

They laughed, and Vinnie offered him more wine—which he accepted.

"You pass," Vinnie said. "Now tell me some more about that epic drive from Bakersfield. I haven't wanted to press Val because he's still recovering, but…." Vinnie made "gimme" motions with his fingers, and Rory laughed before launching into the epic ballad of "The Race Up Bull-Jizz Mountain."

By the time he made it back to the darkened bedroom, he was loose from some very good wine, and he'd decided he liked Val's friends almost as much as he liked Val Royal himself.

His efforts to be quiet obviously failed, because as he was hanging up his new slacks and sport coat, Val mumbled sleepily from the bed.

"Did you enjoy yourself?"

"I did," Rory said, sliding out of the crisp white shirt. There was a laundry hamper in the corner of the room, and he asked a stupid question. "Do they have, uhm—"

"Staff that will launder that and starch it and hang it back in your closet if you hang it on the door?" Val asked. "Yes. And before you feel guilty, I'm pretty sure they've put half the young people in the small town nearby through college with their generous salaries. Did I mention she's from money?"

"I gotta say," Rory said, doing as instructed with his shirt and throwing the T-shirt in the hamper so he could climb in next to Val as bare as possible, "money isn't usually as sweet as Sam Conti—"

"Aiello," Val corrected. "Remember? The whole last name thing. Whatever. Sam Buchannan Aiello is pure class, but Vinnie's her soulmate, so he's not bad either."

Rory chuckled and slid under the covers with Val, hiding from the air-conditioning under the thin cloud-soft quilt. "I can tell you this much," he mumbled, lining himself up with Val's back and molding himself gingerly along the line of it.

"What's that?" Val asked. "And tighter. I'm all medicated and relaxed, and you feel really good."

"They sure do love you and your family."

Val chuckled. "Yeah. Yeah, they do. Gotta tell you, between my mom and dad and Vinnie and Sam, I've got a lot of good relationships to show me what to shoot for."

Rory's eyes were heavy, which was probably the only reason that didn't scare him silly.

"What makes you think I'm a good bet?" he asked, lost and enchanted in Val's body already, the low-key thrum of arousal purring in his stomach with every rasp of skin on skin.

"You've had my back from the moment we met," Val said before bucking gently backward. "And my God, you turn my key."

Rory chuckled like he was supposed to, but underneath the rumble in his chest was the unspoken knowledge that staying here, under Val's friends' roof, in Val's bed like a lover—that was a commitment of sorts. Val's family would know about this. Val's parents. Whether Rory was ready or not, this was going to be a real relationship, the kind in which Val would expect Rory to pony up.

The thought should have scared him—scared him shitless.

And in the end, he was so scared he closed his eyes and held Val closer and fell fast asleep.