Free Bitter Taffy by Amy Lane Page B

rusty since he’d moved out of the house—and just settled down to wait until she was calm enough to speak English.
    “Rico!” she said finally. “Your grandmother doesn’t like this at all — ”
    Something in Rico snapped. He wasn’t even aware it was stretched tight, but apparently it had been ready to go at any minute. “I don’t care what she likes, Mami . I went away to New York, and I got to be someone else, and you know what? I liked that person. He was pretty brave. So I’m not coming back to be who she wants or who you want anymore, okay?”
    “But your cousin! Rico, he’s—”
    “He’s gay. And you know what? So am I.”
    Rico hit End Call, took three deep breaths, and went back to lunch.
    Derek had ordered a chocolate-chip cookie with ice cream on top—and three spoons. When Rico approached, Derek looked up and raised his eyebrows boyishly, unaware that Rico had just done this spectacular, brave, terrifying thing in the span of a two-minute conversation, and Rico grinned back.
    God. He really wanted a bite of that cookie.
     
     
    B Y THE end of the week, he’d decided the cookie was worth it. He’d picked up a job almost immediately—Derek hadn’t been kidding about Rico being the employee he’d been waiting for—and between that gig and working a modest campaign for Finn’s dad, Rico was pretty busy.
    Derek did behave at work. Rico had a cubicle and a desk where he could work, but he wasn’t required to be there, as long as he could show time spent. He did most of his work there anyway, because the computer was more powerful and he had more space. When he’d lived alone, he set it all up on the kitchen table, but Adam had been using that to do his work, and Finn had been doing homework there all week. It wasn’t a hardship, really.
    Rico wasn’t the only one who took advantage of the offices, and the people Derek hired were motivated and, usually, happy. He liked that. There’d always been tension at Kellerman’s, because the whole marketing department had been pitted against each other like gladiators.
    Derek swung by once a day, checked to see people’s progress, and had actual conversations with them. When the outside people—landscapers, electricians, IT people—came in to collect their checks, they usually had conversations with Derek as well. He made them take pictures of their accomplishments, and Hope spent much of her time assembling online and paper portfolios. Nobody who worked for Derek got away with not having work to be proud of.
    The energy was refreshing—Rico liked it.
    And Derek flirted, yes, but not uncomfortably so. He wiggled his eyebrows and laughed and spent an awful lot of energy widening his baby blues at Rico and trying to get Rico to laugh back.
    Rico was finding it easier to do. And the image of Ezra’s blue eyes became less and less prevalent every time.
    Of course, in the meantime, he was dodging his mother’s calls like a shoplifter dodged a mall cop.
    Friday night found him sitting in the stuffed chair, his tablet on his lap as he put the finishing touches on the work for Mr. Stewart, while Adam and Finn slept on opposite sides of the couch. Adam had been working his own extra gig on top of his full-time job at the candy store, and Finn had been writing papers all week. Right now Adam had his arms crossed and his face turned into the side of the couch like he was hiding. Finn sprawled, legs on top of Adam’s thighs, head leaning back against the armrest, snoring loudly. Clopper finished the picture by sitting on the ground with his head on the little space of cushion next to Adam’s ass. The dog had been run off his own ass by the levee that afternoon after Adam had gotten off work, and he, too, was asleep.
    Rico took a moment from his work to switch his tablet to camera and take a picture. Chuckling, he made it his wallpaper—because hey, who wouldn’t get a laugh out of that—and he had just gone back to work when Adam grunted and