I’d remember this place, this night, for the rest of my life.
The fact of things were I hadn’t decided what to do when this little trip of mine ended. I’d taken off without a thought, dropping out of school without a word to my parents. My dad would be furious and my mom would be disappointed, but school had been torture. I didn’t want to be a politician; I didn’t want to follow in dad’s footsteps. I wanted to figure out what I liked and what I wanted, and then do that.
It was bad enough I was already at a disadvantage. Most people knew by high school at least a vague direction they wanted to follow, but I hadn’t been allowed that thought. There were no meetings with the career counselor for me. My path was a foregone conclusion.
“Do you play guitar?” Jasper asked, pulling me out of my mind and into the present again.
“What?”
“Do you play guitar?”
“How did you know that?” I pulled the blankets around me again.
“I saw the guitar case in the back of your car.”
“Right.” I let out a nervous laugh.
I was in Vermont. I was allowed to play guitar here. I was allowed to be Liam. I didn’t have to be Senator Liam Luckett, Sr.’s disappointing and closeted gay son.
“I try,” I told him. “I’m new to it. Newish.”
“That’s nice,” Jasper said, and we lapsed into another silence.
“What about you?” I asked, shifting my weight toward him on the couch. Through the pile of blankets, my knee grazed his thigh.
“What about me?”
“Do you play any instruments?”
He answered with a barely restrained laugh.
“What do you do for fun then?” I asked, using my elbow to gesture to the house. “I know the power is out, but I don’t see a TV or anything.”
He cast me a dubious glance out of the corner of his eye. “Do you think watching TV is fun?”
“Well, no. But it’s something to do.”
“The garage,” he answered. “I like to work on cars.”
“That Mustang you have out there would beg to differ.” I chuckled and smiled at him, the expression quickly falling away when it was met with a sharp and deep frown. “Was that… not the right thing to say?”
Jasper stood abruptly, rubbing at the back of his neck and looking out the window, at the stove, at the dining room, anywhere but at me.
“It’s getting late,” he said. “You should get some rest.”
“I’m sorry,” I apologized, “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“My bedroom is the first one at the top of the stairs.” Jasper completely ignored what I’d said. “The fire should be good until the morning, but I’ll come down in a bit and check it. We’ll get your car in the morning and get you back on the road.”
“Jasper.”
“Good night, Liam,” he said, walking away from me. The stairs creaked as he made his way to his bedroom. Gus barked at the sound, then relaxed back against the couch. The walls were thin and old, and I listened to the creaks and groans as Jasper settled into his bed, which was apparently directly overhead.
I wanted to know what his bedroom looked like. How many blankets he used. How many pillows he had. Did he have art on the wall? Did he have dark curtains to keep out the sun or was he an early riser? A thousand things I wanted to know, but never would.
And with those thoughts roiling around my head and the storm raging outside, I somehow fell asleep.
7
Jasper
I opened my eyes, thankful the sky outside the bedroom window looked pale gray instead of pitch black. That meant it was morning, that meant the storm had settled. I jumped out of bed and changed clothes, bundling up and jogging down the stairs so I could get a look at the generator and get it going.
Liam slept peacefully on the couch, his lips parted and his eyes closed tight. He hadn’t moved the entire night, and I knew that because I’d come down to check the fire—and him—at least half a dozen times. The sitting room had stayed warm, but the rest of the house had seen better days. Gus wasn’t beside him like he’d been before sunrise, and I found my dog near the back door, ready to go out.
I zipped up my jacket and pushed the door open. Gus bounded out into the yard, half his legs disappearing as he landed in a drift. He ran around in the snow while I tinkered again with the generator. A connection had frosted over and disconnected, but once I got it hooked back up, the thing kicked to life right away. I checked the house, seeing the kitchen light on through the window, then I wrapped my arms around myself and bounced on the balls of my feet, waiting for Gus to finish doing his business.
Liam was still asleep, so I headed into town with the truck to try to get his car running. It wouldn’t turn over, even with a jump, so I hooked it up to the hitch and brought it back to the house, backing it into the empty bay beside Michael’s Mustang. I disconnected the tow hitch, closed the garage, and went back inside. The heater had kicked on with the generator and the house was finally warm.
I toed out of my boots and hung up my jacket, then went to check on Liam again, which was a horrible idea. The room bordered on too hot now, and while Liam was still asleep, he’d moved. He’d kicked the blankets off, stripped out of his borrowed sweatshirt, and lay sprawled across the couch, one arm flung over the back, the other hanging off the side.
My bottoms were too big for him and they rode low, exposing the curve of his hip, the top of his thigh. Blond curls peppered his stomach, heading down in a straight line and disappearing just before the base of his…
“Stop it,” I muttered to myself, unable to look away.
The base of his cock, my mind unhelpfully supplied, which had my own dick twitching to life with interest. Liam was half hard, the promise of a morning erection pushing at the flannel fabric. I closed my eyes, letting out a shuddering breath. I wondered, briefly, what he tasted like, and I quickly rid myself of the thought and stomped into the kitchen.
I was loud, intentionally. I wanted to wake him up so he’d make himself decent, but my plan failed. I should have known, based off his heavy-lidded looks and his innuendo the night before. Liam shuffled into the kitchen as I cracked two eggs into a frying pan and yawned dramatically, no doubt to get my attention.
I glanced over my shoulder, horrible idea, because Liam hadn’t put the sweatshirt back on and the pants were still as low as when he’d been on the couch. I quickly looked back at the eggs.
“Good morning,” he mumbled. “Is there coffee here? Do you drink coffee or just whiskey?”
I pointed toward the coffee pot on the other counter by the window.
“I don’t know how to do this,” he said, shuffling things around.
“You don’t know how to make coffee?” I slid a spatula under the eggs and pulled them off the heat, dropping them onto a plate before giving Liam a doubtful look.
“I have a Keurig.”
“Put in a filter, then three scoops of coffee,” I instructed. “Fill the pot up to the eight, then pour it into the back.”
Liam’s face scrunched up a little bit, but he flicked around until he found where the filter went and set to work. It wasn’t long before the smell of coffee filled the kitchen and Liam was beside me, his body warm and soft. His arm rubbed against mine and I stilled like a deer trapped in headlights.
“Where are your mugs?” he asked.
I reached up and opened the cabinet, taking two down. He kept touching me, and then when he took the mugs, he touched me some more.
“Liam.” I cleared my throat.
He stepped away and gave me a small smile before going back to the coffee pot. I dropped four sausages into the pan, the splattering grease a necessary distraction. And it worked, keeping my attention until Liam spoke again.
“I like how you say my name,” he said, pouring coffee into both mugs. “Do you have cream?”
My brain fixated on the first part of his statement, and much like everything about Liam, I hated t
hat I liked it. I liked saying his name, I liked that he liked me saying his name. It was all wrong, though.
“Jasper,” he said, and I realized I liked the way he said my name, too.
“What?”
“Cream?” He held up one of the mugs.
“Milk,” I said, “in the fridge.”
He opened the fridge and pulled out the milk, pouring so much into his coffee that it almost turned white.
“Why do you bother drinking coffee?” I asked, forcing my attention back to the stove. I rolled the sausages around with the spatula while they cooked.
“Manny always says I drink caffeinated milk.”
“Who’s Manny?” The grease popped, and I plucked the sausages out of the pan.
“My best friend.”
“From California?” I asked.
Something flashed in Liam’s eyes that I couldn’t recognize, but it was gone as soon as I’d seen it.
“Right.”
It seemed like Liam didn’t want to talk, and I didn’t want to make him, so I pulled a fork out of the silverware drawer and set it on the plate with the eggs and sausage.
“I’m gonna go take a look at your car,” I said. “Enjoy your breakfast.”
“Wait.” Liam stopped me, his long and slender fingers wrapping around my arm as I reached for my coffee. Again, his touch was electric, and I didn’t know what to do.
“What?” I asked, voice gruff. I shook him off.
He blinked at me, mouth twisted into a painful kind of smile. “Can you grab my bag for me? The one in the back seat? And my guitar.”
“Right.”
“Can I shower again?” he asked.
“Did you get dirty overnight?”
He rolled his eyes. “It’s how I like to start my day.”
Without a word, I brushed past him, taking the coffee he’d poured for me, and quickly disappeared back into the garage. Gus trailed behind, barking when the door closed behind us, then settling in the bed I’d tucked in the corner closest to the house. The garage wasn’t temperature controlled, so working out here in the winter was pretty miserable, but wrenching on cars always quieted my mind, so I tried to not complain.
I returned his bag and guitar case to the kitchen, then retreated, needing the space. I paused at the Mustang, flattening my palms against the hood before making my way to Liam’s newer model SUV. The hood was like ice beneath my palms. I drummed my fingers against the metal, closing my eyes and taking time to breathe.
“Is this wrong?” I whispered, my stare darting toward the trash in the far corner that held a set of crumpled-up three-year-old sheets. “Is it too soon to want someone else?”
Emmett’s wife had been dead for years before Tai came along, and I’d watched him try and resist the younger man, only to be quickly overwhelmed and swept away. Their love was inspiring, and I was happy for my friend, for both of them, even if I never saw that kind of future for myself.
Maybe encouraging Liam’s flirting wouldn’t be bad. After all, he was a young kid from out of town. He wouldn’t be here long. If anything, I knew I wasn’t ready to have a relationship again, so maybe this… maybe lingering touches for a day or two would be a good start. If it went wrong, if it felt bad… it wouldn’t matter because Liam would be gone and I could be alone again. Which would be what I deserved and no one would need to know.
I worried it might be a betrayal to Michael, and I couldn’t shake the feeling, even as the lower parts of my body quickly jumped on board with the plan, so I distracted myself with coffee, which had quickly cooled to a drinkable temperature. My phone vibrated in my pocket, a deluge of buzzes that indicated a phone call, not a text. Another blessed distraction for me. Maybe the day would turn out okay.
“What?” I answered, after a cursory glance at the screen revealed my best friend’s name.
“I hear you picked up a stray,” he greeted.
“A traveler,” I murmured, keeping my voice low so Liam didn’t hear me inside the house.
“From where?”
“The bar.”
“I know that, but where is he from?” Devon asked.
“Why do you think I know?”
“Where is he from?” Devon asked again.
“California.”
“Why is he in Vermont in December?”
“Couldn’t tell you,” I said. “But if you keep me on the phone, he’ll be here for longer.”
“Would that be so bad?” Devon chuckled.
“Clearly.”
“I hear he’s cute.”
I barked out a rough laugh. “Do you now?”
“You agree. Maybe I should come find out to be sure.”
“Goodbye, Devon.” I hung up the phone and tossed it onto the workbench, then forced myself to get to work diagnosing the issues with Liam’s car.
After a quick look under the hood, the issues became clear, and I headed back into the house, nearly tripping over my own feet in the kitchen. I’d arrived just in time to catch Liam coming out of the shower, the door to the bathroom cracked open and the towel not quite yet around his waist.
I spun away, pressing my fingertips against my closed eyelids but it was too late. I’d seen… I’d seen parts of Liam that interested me and I’d never be able to unsee them. In fact, I’d probably actively see them again when I turned off the lights that night and went to bed. I already knew Liam to be a flirt, but showering with the door open was an unexpected level.
This was good, though. My initial reaction of shock instead of interest had to be a clear indicator the pep talk I’d given myself in the garage was premature. I wasn’t ready to move on yet, even if it was just sex. My traitorous dick gave a valiant twitch against my thigh, voicing its disagreement.
“Can you close the door?” I asked, staring out the window on the far wall.
“Don’t like the view?” Liam’s voice carried out like a song and I clenched my jaw together.
“Laying it on a little thick this morning?”
He chuckled, and then I felt him behind me, the wet heat radiating off of his body, warming my chilled bones. He pressed a delicate hand against the base of my spine to let me know he was there.
“Thank you for breakfast,” he said, ignoring the words he didn’t want to hear, the way I’d already noticed he seemed to do.
I didn’t know much about him, but why did I know that?
Why was I paying so much attention?
“You’re welcome.”
“How’s Betty?” he asked.
“Who is Betty?”
He flexed his fingers against my spine. “My car.”
“Your water pump,” I said, clearing my throat. “And your alternator. Should be an easy enough fix. I’ll get the parts ordered and they should be here tomorrow, assuming the storm wasn’t worse elsewhere.”
“So will it be fixed tomorrow?”
“If not, then Saturday, and you can get back on the road.”
Liam didn’t say anything, and I looked down to find him frowning, staring out the window.
“It’s the best I can do,” I said.
“No.” Liam shook his head. “I just. Shit. I don’t have a car so I can’t get to a hotel and I don’t know where to find one even if I could get there. Is it okay if I stay here until then?”
Fuck. No. Definitely not.
“Right,” I said, against all better judgement. “Of course.”
8
Liam
There was no way Jasper really wanted me in his house two more days; he was just too nice to say no and I was too selfish to give him an out. Also, if he didn’t think I caught him checking out my package when I got out of the shower, he had another think coming. I’d left the door open on purpose because the coffee had me feeling a little bold, and based off his tense shoulders when he’d come inside, he liked what he saw.
After he said I could stay, he practically ran back into the garage, leaving me alone in that giant house of his. The place really was monstrous
, easily as many square feet as the house I grew up in back in LA, but this place felt different. It didn’t feel as cavernous, as empty.
I washed the dishes from breakfast and topped off my coffee, then made a slow circle of the lower level. All the rooms were connected, the kitchen to the dining room to the entryway to the sitting room to a living room and back to the kitchen again. It was a lot of house for one cranky, lonely man. The dining room alone could have hosted a dinner party for eight or ten comfortably, but I got the feeling Jasper wasn’t the type to entertain.
With a hand on the bannister, I made my way upstairs, the floorboards beneath my feet creaking as I went. The third stair from the top groaned so loud I worried it would break, but thankfully it didn’t. The landing at the top of the stairs felt pretty generic, and a handwoven rug lay on the floor at the top. There were two bedrooms at the back of the house, though only one of them had a bed. The other was stacked with boxes and piles of personal belongings that I had a feeling belonged to Jasper’s missing husband.
I didn’t look deeper, but I peeked into the bathroom, breath catching in my throat. Jasper had been holding out on me with the shower. The upstairs bathroom was an absolute masterpiece, with small hexagonal tiles on the floor and a shower so big it nearly took up an entire wall. There was a double vanity, all white marble, and a clawfoot tub beneath the window that practically screamed for someone to soak in it.
I traced my fingers over the dips of the tub and made my way to the corner of the room, testing the knob of a small door tucked in the back. What I’d expected to find was a closet, but instead it opened into another bedroom, which I immediately could tell was the master.
It was Jasper’s room.
There was a big bay window on the far wall, just like the one in the sitting room downstairs. An overstuffed chair sat tucked into it, also a side table piled with books and a small green lamp. A throw blanket lay discarded over the arm of the chair like it had been carelessly cast aside by the last person to sit there. I touched the fabric and it was soft, but I quickly pulled my hand away. I knew I shouldn’t be there. The room was heavy with memories and promises, and it was no wonder Jasper was so cranky all the time if this was where he slept.
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