“Whenever I can.” Atticus gestured toward everyone else in the bar. “But don’t feel special. I’ve asked everyone here. It’s a survey. I’m compiling the responses for a book.”
That earned him a laugh, and his dick got with the program.
He held out his hand to the stranger. “I’m Atticus James.”
“Spencer Elliott,” the guy responded, shaking his hand.
“Elliott, huh?” Atticus glanced Slade’s way. “Any relation to that one?”
Spencer followed his gaze and grinned. “My brother.”
Oh, now this was getting interesting. He’d known Slade for two months, and not once had he heard the man mention his brother.
“You know him?” Spencer inquired, leaning on the bar and giving Atticus his full attention.
“You could say we work together.”
“That task force thing?”
“Yeah. You have any more brothers?”
Spencer turned his attention back to the bar, still grinning. “I’m the youngest of six.”
“Only brothers?”
“Seems to run in the family.”
Holy fuck. Atticus wasn’t sure what was in the water in this town, but whatever it was, he made a vow not to drink it because, yes, even the gay ones had kids. Every damn person he met seemed to have half a dozen siblings and almost as many offspring. And to think he’d been surprised when he’d learned that Brantley had three brothers and three sisters.
Atticus waited until Spencer looked his way. “Any of ’em gay?”
That was always a risky question, but Atticus usually learned the answer before words were ever spoken. Like now, as Spencer’s gaze trailed over him from head to toe. That wasn’t revulsion in those golden eyes.
“And single?” he tacked on because seriously. Atticus had no problem bending the rules, but he wasn’t a damn home wrecker.
Spencer’s attention shifted to the bar when Rafe set two bottles in front of them.
“Put his on my tab,” Spencer told the bartender.
Nope. Definitely not revulsion.
***
“And how’re the kids?” Slade asked Ethanand Beau.
Both men beamed at the mere mention of Aiden, John Michael (a.k.a. Jack), and Kiera—their three-year-old triplets.
“They’re fantastic,” Beau said with a grin.
Slade noticed the man never used simple words like “good” or “fine” when he referred to his children. They were always “fantastic” or “awesome”. For whatever reason, Slade liked that.
“And Kiera? Is she still insistin’ on wearin’ their clothes?”
Ethan chuckled. “She’s a tomboy through and through.”
The first time they’d mentioned their daughter wanting to wear boy’s clothes, Slade had asked if they were worried. He quickly learned the error of a question of that nature when Beau and Ethan informed him she was her own person and could dress however she wanted. Slade had asked if they’d feel the same if Jack or Aiden wore girl’s clothes. Beau’s answer had been simple: “They’re kids. Let ’em wear what they want. If that’s the least of our worries, I’ll be a happy dad.”
Slade found he liked the simplicity.
