Dylan still remembered his first glimpse of Apollo in a picture Dustin had sent home of him and some buddies on a beach. Apollo had stood out even then, all muscles and tats and bad-boy grin, and then Dustin had brought him home on leave on a motorcycle trip. And God, if Dylan hadn’t already been sure he was gay, the sight of Apollo on that bike would have done it.
Boom. Insta-crush. Not to mention the way Apollo had had of talking to him like he was on the same level.
“Really? You’ve never had a boyfriend?”
“I didn’t say that.” Apollo’s chuckle did funny things to Dylan’s insides. “Trust me, I have plenty of fun. Just said I’ve never met that one guy yet, you know?”
Yeah, Dylan knew because he’d just met him. That one guy who was perfect for him, and all he could think was, “Please let it be me. Please let it be me. Please let him wait.”
That wish had carried him through two more years of hopeless adoration, right up until six years ago when Dustin told him that the impossible had happened, and the wild SEAL Dylan had lusted for was getting married. Married.
“Play! Play!” The girls danced around Dylan, tugging at his hands, and interrupting his thoughts.
“Sophia. Chloe. Can you pick up your toys? We’ll be eating soon.” Apollo pointed at the toys scattered around the patio. When he’d arrived at the house, Dylan had been totally thrown by the familial perfection of Apollo’s life. A remodeled two-story craftsman-style house on a small street full of other well-kept older homes of various styles. Exceptionally neat backyard other than the plastic toys—expansive brick patio giving way to a small section of grass and perfectly edged plantings. A fenced-off pool and hot tub beckoned on the far side of the patio.
“Yes, Baba.” Sophia, the more serious of the twins, the one with brown eyes and straight hair, answered him while the other one who had blue eyes and curlier hair spun in circles. Now, wasn’t that a kick. Apollo, sex god on wheels, a dad.
“I’m going inside to grab a beer,” Dustin announced. “Anyone else need a drink?”
“Nah.” Apollo turned back to the grill, his mother still holding the big tray of food for him.
“Here, Mrs. Floros. Let me hold that,” Dylan took the food and her place next to the grill. “You sit.”
“Oh, I won’t sit.” The older woman laughed. Clad in capris and a T-shirt, hair still as dark as Apollo’s, she looked too young to be a grandmother. “There’s plenty of other stuff for me to do. There’s more food back in the kitchen, but I’ll let you guys get this on the grill first.”
“Thanks.” Apollo barely glanced at Dylan’s face before starting to unload meat from the tray onto the grill. The grill was a huge stainless steel affair, one that looked up to the task of feeding a whole SEAL team instead of just a few friends. “I really need to get a prep table out here.”
“Oh, I’m happy to help.” Dylan used the excuse of helpfulness to step closer and lower his voice. “So why didn’t you tell Dustin you saw me earlier at the store?”
“Didn’t seem relevant.” Apollo made neat lines of burgers and sausages. “But why didn’t you say something to me at the store? Let me know who you were?”
Dylan laughed. “Dude. After ogling my ass, you hightailed out of there. I figured I’d give you time to overcome your embarrassment—”
“I don’t do embarrassed,” Apollo said firmly. “And I wasn’t checking you out.”
“Liar.” Dylan was not letting this slide. He’d waited eight years for Apollo to see him as more than Dustin’s pesky little brother, and he was going to bask in the warmth of that heated look in the bakery aisle. It wasn’t like it meant anything, but damn it was nice to be seen. “Anyway, I tried to speak a couple of times but you kept acting like you were auditioning for NASCAR, trying to get away from me.”
“I was in a hurry.” Apollo’s voice was gruff. And he was lying. Dylan could tell by the twitch in his right eye, something Dustin had pointed out when the three of them played cards all those years ago. “Sorry. Guess I should have recognized you.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.” Dylan grinned at him when Apollo finally looked over at him again. “At fifteen I was a scrawny thing with pimples who had never had a good haircut. I’ve put a lot of work into being different.”
“This isn’t going to work,” Apollo muttered as he took the last few meat patties and added them to the grill.
Dylan struggled to catch up. “Uh?”
“This crazy idea Dustin has of you staying here this summer. Not going to work.”
“Why not?” Despite the empty tray, Dylan didn’t move away, instead holding his ground in the face of Apollo’s massive frown. “You need help, right? Look, I’m really sorry about Neal. I should have said that first. I helped Mom pick out the flowers—”
“Don’t worry about it.” Apollo held up a hand. His eyes were dark puddles of grief. Fuck. How could Dylan have forgotten even for a moment about Apollo’s dead husband, gone two years now? “And we manage fine.”
Chloe spun herself closer to the grill. Working on instinct, Dylan dropped the tray and caught her mid-spin, hands colliding with Apollo’s as they both steadied the girl.
“Chloe! What have I told you about safety out here?” Apollo had the whole stern “dad voice” thing down.
“Sorry, Baba.” Chloe looped her skinny arms around Apollo’s neck as he lifted her away from Dylan. The way the girls called Apollo the Greek diminutive for father was cute as hell, and it made Dylan want to smile whenever he heard it. “I heard Ya-Ya say that Mister Dylan might be staying here when she goes away. Can he? Please? He plays tea party good!”
“Whoa. Slow down.” Apollo pressed a kiss on her head before straightening her hair. “Take a breath. Were you eavesdropping again?”
“Maybe.” She grinned up at her father who smiled back, and Dylan’s chest tightened. This was a side to Apollo he hadn’t been prepared for seeing.
“Well, why don’t you leave the arrangements for Ya-Ya’s trip to the big people? Now, finish cleaning.” Apollo set her down gently and patted her on the head.
“I don’t just play tea party, you know,” Dylan said to Apollo as the girl ran off to join her sister. “I’ve got a dual degree in early childhood education and physical education. I’m certified in first aid and CPR, and I’ve got references from the childcare center on campus as well as the Y that I worked at for four years.”
“That’s...impressive,” Apollo said slowly.
“Damn right it is.” Dustin came back onto the patio, holding two beers in one hand and a vegetable tray in the other. He set the tray down on the picnic table then rubbed Dylan’s head like he was still ten. Someday, someday, he’d convince his brother that he really was a fully functioning adult, but today didn’t appear to be that day.
“Come on,” Dustin turned back toward Apollo. “You guys need each other. It’s a match made in heaven.”
Dylan had waited years to hear that sentence leave his brother’s mouth, but he could have done without Apollo’s answering snort. But then Apollo uttered the magic word, “Maybe.”
Maybe was all Dylan needed. Just a shot to show Apollo and Dustin that he wasn’t some kid anymore.