Flame

by J. P. Scott

  “I would think this location and view would go for top dollar.”

  “It’s one of the best spots…unless you prefer to be more secluded and towards the back of the property. Alex, the guy who rents this cabin, likes to sit on the porch and observe the world in between breaks in writing.”

  “Oh, the writer,” Nancy smiled. “I’ve heard about him. They have a display of his books down in Payson at a little shop.”

  “I didn’t realize he was that much of a celebrity.”

  “Well, not everyone’s a fan. I saw my friend Valerie Cassidy knock the display over a couple weeks ago. She pretended it was an accident, but I saw how she was smiling, like she had gotten revenge somehow.”

  I laughed. Valerie’s first husband was the same man as George’s friend who died. It sounded like she was as miffed at Alex as George was.

  They approached Alex’s cabin. It felt weird not seeing his dog Beau jumping up to the window to look out the screen door. I also could not stop myself from remembering the night of the dinner party. Alex’s angry stare. The tackle and fall to the ground beyond the steps to the porch. It was all supposed to be different. Hot, sweaty sex, not punches and bruises.

  I unlocked the door and we stepped inside. The place looked tidy and neat. I turned on the light and Nancy returned to her notes. I looked around, looking for a sign of Alex. There were some papers near his writing desk, but other than that, he had cleared out most of his personal items—even Beau’s toys—before he left. It made sense that he might take everything back down to Phoenix before his trip.

  I wished I could see his face. I wished when I went for my morning run that he would be on the front porch watching me while he had his coffee. Did he know that I knew he was watching me? I thought he wanted me and I relished teasing him. How many days had I chosen not to end my run at his doorstep and upgraded from a sweaty run to a sweaty fuck?

  He had been afraid to have anything serious with Alex. When he started seeing Cody, I realized that my feelings for Alex were more than just desire and infatuation. I had been a fool for not doing anything about those feelings or to possibly make Alex mine. I should have broken things off with Ethan ages ago, before George even got sick. Our relationship had never really been about love, nor had it been healthy.

  “Cute cabin,” Nancy’s voice brought me back to the present, “Are they all the same floorplan?”

  “About one third are one bedroom. The rest are two. A couple have an upper loft with additional beds—popular with families with several kids. I have a map in the office that shows which cabins are which style. Besides the room numbers, the rest of the features are the same. Living room, kitchen, eating area, bathroom. I think they were all constructed around the same time and are in similar condition, as far as I can tell.”

  “If they’re similar to this one, I think we will get good news from the inspector. I have a list of some updates and changes, but so far nothing too major. I know you’ll be trying to get a good price without too much spending, but there will be things you need to do.” She tapped her notepad, “I’m going to do some research based on my notes and get back to you on what I think might be a reasonable price.”

  “I appreciate it, Nancy.”

  She reached into her purse and pulled out a business card. “I’ll type up my recommendations for repairs and email them to you. You may want to call this guy in the meantime. He’s a handyman that I know. Really great work. He recently moved back to the area and is looking for work. I’d snatch him up before word gets around about him and his calendar fills up.”

  I looked at the card. “Jonathan Clay, Handyman.” Then a phone number. No website. No email. Sometimes I really missed living in the city where I could book an appointment on a website instead of having to talk to someone.

  “I’ll give him a call.”

  Chapter Four

  After Nancy left, I felt too restless to hang out in the office. I needed to get away, even if it was only a short walk. Along the highway near the cabins was a restaurant owned by a young couple Molly ad Jim. Having someone fix a meal seemed like a better plan than puttering around my own kitchen all alone.

  My only hesitation was that Cody would most likely be there. I had not kept my distance from him since that awful dinner party when Ethan and I crossed the line. I had no idea how Cody would react when he saw me. If he was angry and acted on that, I deserved it.

  As I approached, I saw there were several cars in the lot. If there was a crowd also vying for attention of the staff, it could provide me some cover and minimize the chance for confrontation. Would this be enough of a crowd to provide that cover? What else could I do to avoid Cody and his potential wrath?

  The lunch crowd was in full swing. I recognized a few faces of cabin guests and a few locals from the resident cabins nearby. They must have walked to the restaurant instead of driving because there was no way all of these people fit into the cars outside. I did not see Cody among the staff circulating the tables or behind the bar. I grabbed a seat at the far end of the bar and picked up a menu from the holder.

  After a few minutes, I heard a voice ask, “What do you want?”

  I did not look up but said, “I’ll start with a vodka soda with a lime, please.” Then I did look up to see Cody on the other side of the bar.

  “Not ‘What do you want to order’ but ‘What do you want’?” Cody’s forehead was furrowed with angry wrinkles. More wrinkles than a young man in his twenties should have. Much more than a gay man of any age would be proud to have.

  “I’m just here for food. Honest.” I held a hand up as if to shield myself from an attack from Cody. He may not like me, but did that prevent him from doing his job? Was I never to step foot in the restaurant again? It was the only option for twenty miles in either direction on the highway. “Hey, I know you don’t like me.”

  “With good reason.”

  “And I understand that. I was wrong. Ethan and I were out of line. You have every right to be angry.” My only option was to hit the conflict head on and own my part. I would rather just ignore it until it all went away, but I had limited options if I was going to get a meal and a drink. There were towns in either direction on the highway, but they were at least twenty minutes away. I did not have all day to be driving back and forth.

  Cody scowled, clearly debating the next move. He had more to say but knew yelling at me in front of the lunch crowd would do more harm than good. Ending the discussion and getting things moving on my lunch order was quickest way to be done with me.

  “One vodka soda with a lime coming up.” He grabbed the menu in front of me, “And I recommend the special.”

  “The special it is.” I smiled to myself. There was not much adventure working day in and day out at the cabins. It was nice to have the mystery of not knowing what the special was, or what I would be eating. Cody filled a glass with ice, poured well vodka, added soda and a lime, and pushed it in front of me. He disappeared into the kitchen before I could object for not getting top shelf vodka. He was punishing me in the only way that he could.

  “What did you do to him?” The guy next to me laughed.

  I turned to see a man, probably in his early 50’s, salt and pepper hair cut short, three-day stubble of beard. He had been weathered by time’s passage and the sun’s constant presence on his face. The outdoors had taken its toll. This was a common occurrence in this area. Many jobs required that men be outside for long hours, which they loved. In their free time, they chose hunting, fishing, and four-wheeling to round out their weekends. The weathering had not taken away his handsomeness, but he was definitely in the daddy category versus a twink.

  “Long story, but he certainly is pissed.”

  The man leaned closer, “I hope at least the sex was good.”

  I had been about to take a drink but set the glass down. What made this man think I had sex with Cody? I looked around to see if anyone else might be able to overhear our conversation. We were the last two s
eats at the bar and the volume level on everyone’s conversation likely blocked anyone from hearing what the man had said to me. I was out and proud but also aware that not everyone in a small town welcomed such openness. To hear this guy talk like he was in a gay bar in New York City without a care, assuming that I was gay, was a little shocking in the context of where we were.

  I looked at him. He folded his arms on the bar and put his weight on them. Muscles bulged on his arm. His t-shirt and jeans were dirty from work and probably never got fully clean in the wash. His work boots were old and worn, covered with splashes of mud. He was a little rough, and on the surface did not seem to be the type of guy that would be in tune to anything gay. However, as I assessed him, I could imagine if he showered, put on fresh clothes, he could be the hot daddy everyone wanted at the club.

  Figuring there was no harm in playing along, I answered his question, “Wish I could say I had the chance.”

  “There’s not too many of us up here. If you want to get laid, can I suggest not burning any bridges.”

  “I could have used your advice weeks ago. I probably wouldn’t have listened though. Some things you just learn from experience.” And when you experience something for the first time, there are bound to be mistakes. I had been with many guys in my life, but only recently had I realized I had never loved any of them. The feelings I found myself having for Alex were just too much. Even without all that was happening with George and the cabins, I doubted I would have been able to deal with my feelings for Alex any better.

  The man leaned back in the bar stool, arms still crossed and bulging. I love a good arm. My eyes moved from the arms and down his body. It was all a mass of beefy goodness.

  “That we do. Made a few mistakes myself.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He removed cash and dropped it on the bar next to his check. Then he pulled a business card and slid it to me. “I’ve got to run. People call me J.C. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

  I watched as he stood up and walked to the door. The jeans hugged his hips and ass, showing off what promised to be a beautiful body underneath. Thoughts raced through my mind, but saying any words failed me. I could only nod.

  When he was gone, I looked down at the card. “No fucking way,” I said.

  “Jonathan Clay—Handyman.” The card was the same as the one Nancy Carter had given me.

  I took a drink, “I think I may have just found my new handyman.”

  Chapter Five

  Cody kept his distance the rest of lunch. Another server brough the special—a pulled pork sandwich piled up high with enough meat to feed a family. When I was ready for another drink, everyone was MIA. I put down some cash and left.

  I walked slowly back to the office, enjoying the afternoon sun. In the distance, I heard several four wheelers driving through the cabins on the dirt road—no doubt headed for the trail that went deep into the National Forest that started at the property line in the back, away from the highway. Access to the forest and its trails was a major appeal of renting the cabins. Guests hikes, rode bikes, and took their off-road vehicles on long excursions to escape into the middle of nowhere.

  It may not be the city and its hustle and bustle, but I had to admit sometimes I found this place absolutely beautiful. Maybe it was the lack of needing to make major decisions that brought a sense of calm, but the tall pine trees and the chirps of birds also played their part in setting a peaceful mood.

  I put my hand in my pocket, looking for a lighter. Instead, I felt the cardstock rectangle of Jonathan’s business card. I smiled, remembering our encounter. Jonathan—or should I call him J.C. as he had introduced himself—had confidence and charm. Nancy had mentioned he was recently back in town. Where had he been? What brought him back here?

  And the real question that was on my mind—how did he know that I was gay? Most people—even back home—assumed I was straight when they first met me. I did not try to hid that I was gay, but people said I did not fit the image of what they typically thought a gay man should be. I played sports, dressed simply and without much flare, and could not sing a Broadway tune to save my life, despite Ethan taking me to every one that opened. How did Jonathan see through all that? Maybe because he had a similar vibe? I would not have picked him out of a line up as the gay one.

  I would have picked him out of the line up as someone I wanted to be gay. Or at least gay until I had sucked and kissed and fucked to the point that he was struggling to catch his breath and wet from shooting his load. The image of him sprawled naked and spent in my bed made my cock swell.

  When I looked up and saw the office, it brought me back to reality. I did not need Jonathan to get me off. I needed him to help get this place in shape. I needed his skills as a handyman, not as a lover.

  I thought to myself, “Could I have both?” Of course, my cock was trying to do all of my thinking. Recent history had shown that was the quickest path to ruin. I had already fucked up this summer. There was no need repeat the same mistake. No matter how sexy Jonathan might be. Time would soon be running out for George, and I did not want the knowledge that I had squandered time to screw some guy to hang over my head.

  I entered the office and flipped the sign from “Be back soon!” to “Come on in!” Behind the counter, I logged in to see if there were any emails or notifications on social media. There was nothing of major importance. There were no anticipated check-ins and no one was scheduled to check out today. Unless there was some emergency that popped up, the office should be quiet for the afternoon.

  If I was lukewarm before about calling Jonathan based solely on Nancy’s recommendation, now I was a mix of emotions. I needed someone who could start immediately so whatever was on Nancy’s list could get started right away. I also wanted to make sure I was getting quality work. If repairs were made but were just band aids, was that really a help? Then there was the issue of having a hot daddy running around shirtless, sweaty, and working with his hands—could I handle the distraction and the temptation?

  What other choice did I have? This was a rural, mountain community. How many handymen were around to take up such a large job?

  I looked at Jonathan’s card and decided to go ahead and bite the bullet. I picked up the office phone and dialed. I tapped my fingers on the desk as I listened to three dials and then…it went to voicemail. It was not even Jonathan’s voice, but the standard default. “Hi, Jonathan…or J.C. This is Josh Walker. We met today at the restaurant. Nancy Carter also referred you to me.” I chuckled, “Small world, I guess. Anyway, my uncle owns the rental cabins near the restaurant. I’m going to need some help with repairs. Nancy is compiling a list, but I was hoping you could stop by yourself and give me a quote.” I left the office number and also my cell phone number.

  Part of me was glad that he had not answered. He had left me tongue-tied in person. Would I have been able to speak if he had answered? I could not remember the last time a man had left me at a loss for words. When he came to give the quote, would I even be able to talk to him about the repairs I needed—or would I only be able to point to Nancy’s list and grunt?

  I made my way to my bedroom, a room off of the back office that for a long time had served as my Aunt Anna’s craft and sewing room. Later, when her eyes and fingers were failing her, she converted it to a guest room. I doubted they ever had any personal guests, but it was there nonetheless. I may have been the only person to ever have actually used it as a bedroom.

  If anyone stopped into the outer office, I would hear the bell over the door jingle as the door opened. If that did not alert me, there was the standard bell on the counter next to a taped note in George’s handwriting, “Ring ONCE!” I had a bit of privacy in the suite of rooms.

  I stepped out of my sneakers and took off my jeans. I stretched out on the bed in just my boxers and a t-shirt. I told myself that I was just down for a quick nap, but more often than not, a nap turned into more as my imagination took over.

  I closed my eyes a
nd tried to think of Alex. I had found him in the office after he discovered the porn I had been watching. He had sucked a good cock that day and the memory was a common spark to a good jerk off. Instead, today I could only imagine the empty cabin up the hill, devoid of any of Alex’s belongings. He was gone, and even my imagination was having trouble bringing him back.

  Maybe there was too much on my mind to make this happen. I slid my hand down into my boxers and wrapped my hand around my cock, tugging it a few times. No response. I sighed in defeat.

  “I give up.” Trying to force it was just making getting off more frustrating.

  I stared at the ceiling, again consumed with thoughts of all the decisions that were before me. Soon, they would be in the past and I could get back to my life. I tried to keep the hope of what could be alive.

  Chapter Six

  George flipped through the papers I brought from the cabins to the care facility where he was recovering. I had stopped off at the bank to see what was needed to be an agent on George’s accounts. Had had added me to the business accounts earlier in the summer, but he also had savings and a retirement account that I may need to access on his behalf if his heart continued to fail.

  “I knew you were after my money.”

  “Yes, George. It’s been my plot all along to rob you of your retirement savings.”

  He grunted and signed the forms where highlighted. “Don’t go spending it all in one place.”

  “When I do, I’ll be sure to post pics of my extravagance on all of my social media accounts—you follow me, right?”

  He waved his hand, “You know I don’t do any of that.”

  I smiled. It was good to see George being George—even if it was to be sour.

  I took the agent paperwork from him and put Nancy’s list in front of him. “Here are some things the realtor thinks we should work on to improve the property value. I wanted to see what you thought.” I actually just wanted him to feel included and to be active. He was out of the hospital proper, but in an extended stay care facility. Most patients were expected to recover enough to return home. That’s what he wanted, but I anticipated the next stop would be moving him into a retirement home. There were patients his age around and I hoped he was getting around and socializing a bit. However, if I knew my uncle, he was sitting in his room doing crossword puzzles and being a grump to the staff. “It’s just a preliminary list from her observations. We’re working to schedule a full inspection and appraisal.”