Cast Off by KC Burn Page B

hummus and chips on the kitchen table. “Bring that out with you, will you? I’ve got a bunch of beers to get.”
    Back in the fridge for almost no time at all, Kurt pulled out several beer bottles and left Rick alone in the kitchen.
    He tossed back the entire glass of wine like he was at a fraternity beer-chugging competition and breathed deeply, letting the booze settle his shakiness. This was all Ian’s fault. When the hell had good sex fucked with his head as much or more than any other body part? Rick knew Ian and Kurt’s two other brothers weren’t gay, but he was hoping to meet them tonight. See if he had a similar reaction to them. Maybe it was nothing more than having a tiny crush on Kurt, followed up by having amazing sex with a brother that closely resembled him. That had to be it. There wasn’t anything special about Ian O’Donnell.
    That determination didn’t stop him from pouring the rest of the wine into his glass, leaving the liquid a mere millimeter or two away from the lip.
    He’d just picked up the glass, bringing it near enough to his mouth that the fruity scent of the Chardonnay tickled his nose, when an older woman walked in. She was a little plump, but she had a cheery, serene face, almost like Mrs. Claus. She bore enough of a resemblance to both Ian and Kurt that there wasn’t much doubt as to her identity.
    “Well, hello, honey.” She inspected him from head to toe, and Rick considered the possibility of playing dead. This was shaping up to be the worst night ever. “You must be Rick.”
    How had she known that? Rick opened his mouth, but nothing came out. It was high school all over again. His heart hammered as sweat popped out on his upper lip.
    “I’m Deirdre O’Donnell.” She smiled her sweet smile, but Rick knew how easy it was for those motherly types to show fake smiles and speak poisoned words to a world that only saw sugar and honey.
    He managed a nod, his larynx paralyzed.
    “My son described you perfectly. A hot, outrageous blond.” Her grin got wicked. “I very much like your shirt.”
    Rick glanced down, relieved he wasn’t totally naked, although he was wearing a tailored burgundy dress shirt made out of sheer, transparent fabric, tucked into pants tight enough to read the veins on his cock like a phrenologist. He’d even put on some eye makeup this evening, smudgy black and sparkly burgundy to accentuate his clothing. But in the crosshairs of the O’Donnell matriarch, he was lucky to remember his own name, he was so fucking freaked out. Sweat continued to form on his face and under his armpits.
    “Oh, there’s the hummus.” The wily Mrs. O’Donnell grabbed the dish Rick had been told to bring to the living room. “My Sean’s been asking. Loves the stuff, he does.”
    She pinched his cheek before she left. “We’ll chat later.”
    Rick stood and trembled in the wake of Kurt’s… Ian’s mother. This time his hand shook so bad, wine sloshed out and onto the floor.
    Damn, damn, double damn. Instead of grabbing a paper towel, he took a deep breath. Several deep breaths. Dealing with doting mothers—real or fake—through his work was one thing. He was able to mentally prepare for each one. Stupidly, he should have expected Kurt’s parents to show up at the housewarming, but he hadn’t prepared, not at all, and he’d been thrown back to that awful time in high school where he’d been incapable of speaking to anyone at all.
    He raised the glass and took a swallow before setting it carefully on the counter. He sang a few bars of a simple nursery rhyme, an exercise he’d been given when his voice had started to return. Hearing himself vocalize put his emotions on a more even keel, and he finally grabbed some paper towels to wipe up the spill.
    It wasn’t until he was squatting down, wiping at the floor, that he remembered what Mrs. O’Donnell said about him.
    Which son had told his mother Rick was hot?
     
     
    R ICK smoothed his hands over his shirt and