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Casey clenched his eyes shut and clutched Dev’s biceps. “Oh my god. Did Randolph Scott just drop a dead mouse on my shoe?”
Dev glanced down. “Yep.” He kissed Casey’s eyelids until they fluttered open. “But that’s a good thing.”
Casey’s brows drew together in the least intimidating—and dearest—scowl in the world. “How do your figure?”
“Because if Randolph Scott shares his treats with you, then you really are home.”
Two months later.
“Dev?” Casey emerged from the cottage bathroom in a cloud of steam, a towel around his waist, and padded into the bedroom.
Hmmm. No Dev. Nobody but Randolph Scott stretched out on the bed with Lizzie and Xander draped over him in the extreme kitten exhaustion that always followed their morning zoomies.
“Thanks for babysitting the kids, big guy. You know they get lonely if Dev and I aren’t around.” He scratched Randolph Scott’s ears and got a rumbling purr in response. “Although I think you see them more as fashion accessories, since brown tabby coordinates so well with your fur.”
Casey saw it as a win-win, actually. The kittens that he’d adopted after he’d officially moved in with Dev—surprisingly, Uncle Walt had adopted their brother, Huck—would also keep Randolph Scott from indulging in mouse murder, which was absolutely crucial today.
He briefly considered heading in search of Dev with only the towel for clothing, since that could result in some very interesting uses of furniture, not to mention the floor and walls, but they had a jam-packed agenda today, and Home’s residents considered doors a suggestion rather than an actual boundary. Although after Kenny had walked in on Dev and Casey, er, in medias res, as it were, he at least knocked first.
Casey opened the walk-in closet. After Kenny had outfitted it with new rods and drawers and shelves, it held both Casey’s and Dev’s clothes very comfortably, especially since neither one of them were precisely fashion plates. Today, though, Casey wanted to take a little more care with his appearance.
Because today was an extra special day.
So instead of his usual uniform of worn jeans and a sweatshirt, he donned his best pair of chinos, a pin-striped button-down, and the forest green cashmere V-necked sweater that was so soft Dev couldn’t keep his hands off it whenever Casey wore it.
Dev’s hands always calmed Casey’s nerves—that is, when they weren’t driving him out of his senses. But Dev was a master at understanding when Casey needed soothing rather than arousal, and today was definitely a soothing kind of day.
He pulled on the hand-knitted socks he’d bought from one of the knitters at Simple Gifts and wiggled his toes, smiling at the pattern of red, orange, and gold leaves that matched the colors on the trees all over Home.
Leaf-peeper season, Pete called it with a grunt and grumble, but considering he’d been waxing the Home Grown van all week, not to mention shining up his Uber/Lyft car, Casey didn’t take his grousing too seriously.
He slipped on his loafers and trotted out to the living room. Dev was standing at the window, facing the field, his phone to his ear.
“You sure it’s okay? Kenny said he can install whatever storage you need, and knows a guy who can upgrade the electrical if— Okay, cool. I’ll let him know you’re good to go, then.” Dev chuckled. “Looking forward to it. Later.”
“Was that Haru?” Casey wrapped his arms around Dev’s waist and leaned his chin on his shoulder.
“Yep. He’s all settled in. Finished setting up his studio last night. Owen’s been helping him, when he hasn’t been underfoot at Ty’s clinic or haunting Make It Do and driving Kenny bonkers.” He turned in the circle of Casey’s arms and smiled down at him. “Hey.”
Casey kissed him. “Hey, yourself.”
“You look great.” He smoothed his hands down Casey’s back. “I love this sweater.”
Casey smirked at him. “I know.” He bit his lip. “Does it bother you that POV broke up?”
“Honestly? No. It wasn’t my band anymore. Hadn’t been for a long time. I’m just glad Haru, Owen, and Eli found soft landings though.”
“I can’t believe Eli’s off at a retreat somewhere.”
“He’s not at a retreat, babe. He’s running the retreat. Meditation through music or something.” Dev twirled one of Casey’s curls around his finger. “Call me vindictive, but I can’t say I’m sorry that Nash’s solo career fizzled like a wet sparkler.”
“Vindictive,” Casey said, deadpan.
Dev tugged on the curl. “Smartass.”
“I still think we should have set him up with Bradley.”
“Now who’s being vindictive?” When Casey raised his hand, Dev laughed. “You ready for today?”
