Justin O'Dwyer is 19. Four days ago, his mother died of a drug overdose, and now Justin is back in Enterprise, Oregon, trying to figure out how to raise the younger siblings he's afraid of losing to the foster system. Justin is completely out of his depth. Harper is six, and hates him. Wyatt is four and doesn't remember him. And baby Scarlett, at fourteen months, has never even met her big brother before. When Scarlett gets sick and won't stop screaming, and when Harper runs off in the middle of the night, Justin is at the end of his tether. In desperation, he knocks on a neighbor's door begging for help.<br><br>Del Abbot is 38, and living in his grandparents' old place in Enterprise after his marriage broke down and he lost his restaurant in the divorce. He's a chef, even had his own show on cable for a while, but now he's looking for a new start, if he could just figure out what exactly that entails. When the O'Dwyer family barrels into his life one night, Del can't refuse to help. What begins as a trip to the hospital becomes a regular child-minding gig while Justin struggles to find his feet. And the more time Del spends with Justin, the more they both want more than friendship. But small town life comes with its own bigotry, and, in Justin's case, that bigotry has always been close to home.<br><br>When an act of violence threatens to destroy the small family they've built, both Justin and Del need to put aside their pasts and reach for their future together.

Family Recipe

Del kissed him on the forehead. “You okay, baby?”


Justin blinked dozily at him. “When can we do that again?”


Del laughed again, and leaned in to brush their lips together. “Whenever you like, babe.”


Justin was going to hold him to that.  14


In his marriage, Del had bottomed about ninety percent of the time. Was it his preference? No, not really. That had just been the dynamic between Clyde and him, and frankly, it had been the only dynamic that had worked for Clyde at all. He’d bottomed enough times that it was obvious he saw it somehow as…less, maybe. It got to a point where Clyde didn’t even enjoy it, and it had been obvious to Del that he could’ve, if he’d wanted to let himself.


The odd time he asked to bottom—usually drunk and a couple of times high—he’d gotten off spectacularly. But every morning after had been unpleasant and in the last couple of years, Del hadn’t bothered asking and Clyde hadn’t volunteered.


Chapter 48