The O'Brien Way Read Online Free

his stomach.
    A clattering came from the kitchen followed by a string of cuss words. Sean couldn’t help but grin as he pictured Moby trying to navigate the kitchen. It was doubtful a man who looked like Moby had spent much time in a domestic setting, but Sean found the prospect of Moby in that role sexy as hell.
    “What the hell?” Even sick he couldn’t push his attraction to Moby aside. He closed his eyes and tried to remember the ill-fated relationship with Ryan. The two men couldn’t be more different in so many ways. It seemed Moby thrived on being touched by everyone, while Ryan wasn’t affectionate at all, even with Sean.
    The majority of the arguments between them had been Sean’s desire to touch and cuddle the man he loved. He didn’t need a psychiatrist to tell him he was trying to make up for the lack of affection growing up. Sean had figured that much out years earlier. He knew sex with Moby would be everything he desired, but sharing the object of his lust wasn’t something he could do. Moby wasn’t the kind of man even Sean could tame.
    Why the hell am I even thinking about this? It wouldn’t work, period. Besides Moby’s desire to do anything to bring in bigger tips, there was the whole mother issue to consider. Sean’s body shivered, but not from his illness. Ryan’s mom had been a real piece of work. She’d stuck her pointy nose into his relationship with Ryan too many times. Always calling to tell Ryan she’d had dinner with his ex and how good the two of them had been together. Florence Bronwyn had made it clear the first time she’d met Sean that he came up lacking in her eyes, and she wasn’t afraid to continually point that out to her son.
    No. I will never put myself through that kind of scrutiny again.
    The door opened and Moby stepped into the room carrying a tray from the pub. “Oh good, you’re still awake. Hope you don’t mind, but I borrowed your robe from the bathroom. I had to throw out the tea and toast Jay made, but I made you something else.”
    “I don’t mind.”
    Moby smiled. “I wasn’t sure if I should make you something hot or cold so I brought both.”
    Sean looked at the bowl on the tray. “I have chicken broth in the house?”
    Moby set the tray down and turned on the small dresser lamp. “No. I hope you don’t mind, but I drained one of the cans of chicken noodle soup that was in the cupboard and added water to it.”
    Sean was surprised at Moby’s apparent uncertainty. “I thought you were used to taking care of sick people.”
    Moby’s eyes rounded. “What gave you that idea? This is all new to me.”
    “What about the cold shower thing?” Sean asked.
    “I saw that on TV.” Moby stood beside the bed looking embarrassed at his admission.
    “What about your mom? I thought she was sick?”
    “My mom? No. I don’t know if she’s ever been sick a day in her life.”
    Sean leaned up on an elbow and reached for the water. He looked at Moby over the rim of the glass. Setting it down, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Why did I think she was sick?”
    “I don’t know.” Moby sat on the edge of the bed. “I mean, I live with her. I came back here after Dad died to help take care of her, but it has nothing to do with her being ill.”
    “Then why would you give up your fancy life in Vegas to move back to Sheridan?” Sean’s head began to spin, so he lay back down, nestling into the down pillow. He watched as Moby began to rub the robe’s belt between his thumb and middle finger.
    “It’s the everyday stuff Mom can’t handle. My dad was a drunk and a control freak. He never allowed Mom to work or have access to money. He handled everything. I think it was his way of making sure she couldn’t leave.” Moby shook his head. “I hated that sonofabitch . They were married for forty-two years and in that time he convinced my mom she couldn’t survive without him. Then the bastard up and died, leaving her with a pile of unpaid