Page 7 of Oddly Fine

“Say another fucking word about weddings and you’ll be the one taking a toaster bath,” Beckett warned.

Loic just laughed and pulled out his phone. No doubt he was hastily composing a group chat to fill in the team on Beckett’s dumbass plan to surprise his family with a new son-in-law.

“It’ll be fine,” Hayes said soothingly. The voice of reason.

“And if it’s not?” Beckett asked, though he honestly didn’t think his parents would kick his ass or anything.

“I’ll bend you over the kitchen counter and give them something real to be upset about?”

Despite how wildly inappropriate Hayes’ suggestion was, Beckett found his worries vanished like smoke in the wind at Hayes’ twisted sense of humor.

Chapter 1

The tie around his neck was choking him. It wasn’t tight enough to kill him though—much to Beckett’s dismay—just tight enough to induce claustrophobia. He felt compelled to at least pretend to enjoy the grand opening of Jackson’s new jewelry store while fighting to breathe. Hayes picked out the tie, of course. Beckett had originally planned to wear his nice jeans—his Sunday best—and a white dress shirt. It wasn’t his fault that Hayes had ambushed him, forcing him to wear a suit and tie. Dammit. Had he been in his right mind, he’d have punched Hayes for even daring to ask him to dress up. But he’d been blissed out of his mind from an earth-shattering orgasm, so he agreed in the heat of the moment. As a consequence, he was currently being choked by his tie and wishing he was anywhere but here. With a champagne flute in one hand and the other stuffed in his pocket while he scanned the crowd, he stood next to Hayes in a back corner of the showroom. He didn’t attend shindigs like this. Not if he could help it, anyway.

“Your brother has impeccable taste,” Hayes observed, looking far more relaxed in this social setting than Beckett could ever hope to be. He’d worn one of his best suits—in Beckett’s greatly biased opinion. It was a dark green that appeared black in dim light, making Hayes’ dark blue gaze turn to gunmetal grey. The suit fit him like a glove, too. The double-breasted style wasn’t one Hayes wore very often, but every time he did, it made Beckett feel as if he’d snagged a villain straight out of a James Bond film.

He fucking loved it when Hayes wore his double-breasted suit. Not that he’d ever tell him that, especially since Hayes was well aware of his movie star looks and didn’t need the ego boost.

“Right, and you’re the expert when it comes to recognizing the height of good taste, since you picked me,” Beckett said, with his usual arrogance.

Hayes ignored him with practiced ease. “I love the architecture,” Hayes remarked without a trace of sarcasm.

Beckett sighed. He usually didn’t pay much attention to the design of a store, since he typically had much better things to do, such as assessing the layout to make sure no one could get the drop on him. At the moment though, he was standing in a corner, with his back to the wall, and Hayes by his side, so he could safely lower his guard. His brother’s store was especially nice. Jackson had regaled him with details about incorporating art-deco elements to enhance the more traditional ones, such as glass casing and crystal embellishments. The end result was an elegant room, the sparkling jewelry contrasted sharply with the dark wood and its gold accents, displayed in clear crystal cases lined with bright lights.

“Katerina was in charge of the design,” Beckett said, recalling at least one thing from the deluge of information Jackson heaped on him earlier. Beckett had been only too grateful when Jackson finally abandoned him in favor of chatting up new customers.

“Well done,” Hayes observed admiringly.

Beckett pulled at his collar, desperate to loosen the damned thing. He couldn’t breathe right, and he was rapidly becoming overheated. This was like some form of medieval torture.

“How long do these shindigs usually last?” he asked Hayes because it seemed like the type of thing his sophisticated boyfriend would know.

“Hard to say—anywhere from one to three hours? It’s a cocktail party essentially, so theoretically you can come and go as you please. However, I assume there will be a speech to welcome the guests, and then perhaps another about—”

“Alright, stop, ‘cuz I’m gonna lose my shit,” Beckett cut him off, sorry he’d even asked in the first place.

Hayes chuckled and shook his head. He stepped slightly behind Beckett and leaned closer to softly whisper, “We could always sneak off to the bathroom—”

This was so unlike Hayes that Beckett startled and spun to face him like he’d just taken a cattle prod up the ass.

“Really?” Beckett couldn’t hide his shock. Hayes never wanted to fuck anywhere out in public where they could get caught.

“—so you can unbutton your shirt for a few minutes? Sure!” Hayes finished his statement with a sexy smirk.

Beckett wanted to throttle him. He did—if only slightly less than he wanted to toss his ass to the floor and ride him right there in the middle of the store. His wearing that goddamned double-breasted jacket was not playing fair.

“You think you’re funny now, but just wait until I set fire to this place, and we both end up in jail—again!” Beckett growled while waving a finger in Hayes’ face to stress his point.

“Again!?” A shrill voice came from close behind him, and Beckett froze momentarily.

“Maman!” he exclaimed in delight, spinning around to greet her with open arms.

“Beckett Claude Thérault! Tell me you’re joking about being arrested!” she shrieked, as if terrified at the very idea.

Beckett heard Hayes cough to mask his laughter.

“My middle name is not Claude,” Beckett said, snarling at Hayes to make sure to get the point across. Then turning to his mother, “Quoi? No—I would—well—but no one pressed charges, so it doesn’t really matter what I have or haven’t done,” he claimed with a straight face, confident that she’d believe him.