Strike A Match: An MM Gay Romance

by DJ Monroe

  Richard left before noon and Colton spent the rest of the day keeping himself busy so he wouldn’t be tempted to call Grant. He cleaned up the kitchen, vacuumed and made sure everything was neat and tidy, just the way Grant liked it. Grant was such a neat freak and Colton was happy to make their apartment a warm and welcoming place so Grant would want to come home to him.

  At one point looking around the apartment, he noticed that most of the things he saw were his. It was almost like Grant didn’t really live there at all. He made a note to bring that up to his lover when they spoke again, maybe encourage Grant to go on a little shopping trip with him for some interior décor.

  Finally, when he could stand it no longer, he called Grant.

  “Hello,” Grant answered, his voice sounding tired, almost as if he’d been asleep.

  “Hey, baby,” Colton said. “Did you get my text?”

  “Um, yeah,” Grant said, clearing his throat. “Yeah, I did.”

  “I just wanted you to know,” Colton said.

  “Thanks.”

  “So, how’s it going today?” Colton asked. One sure way to get Grant talking was to mention work.

  “I have a meeting in a few. Should close this sale,” Grant said.

  “Then you’ll get to come home?” Colton asked hopefully.

  “Afraid not. I have to fly out to San Francisco. There’s some trouble with a unit out there that I have to attend to.”

  “Oh,” Colton said, trying to hide his disappointment. “Well, you won’t believe what happened to me last night.”

  “What was that?” Grant asked. He sounded somewhat distracted and Colton heard him shuffling papers.

  “Well, it began with someone else’s mail getting into our mail box by mistake,” Colton said. “And me opening it by mistake.”

  “How could you do that?”

  “There was a whole stack and I just went down through it opening them all. By the time I’d opened this one and discovered it wasn’t ours, it was too late,” Colton explained.

  “I hope you took it to Mr. Ashley and explained what happened.”

  “Actually, it just belonged to the man across the hall. I think his name is Lincoln. I took it over to him and explained what had happened.”

  “Okay,” Grant said.

  “And in my hurry to get the letter to him, I locked myself out of my apartment.”

  “Again?” Grant asked. There was no humor in his voice.

  Colton could almost see Grant shaking his head. Grant used to think Colton’s zany mistakes were funny, but not so much lately.

  “The worst part was this letter was from Lincoln’s boyfriend. Breaking up with him.”

  “You actually read the letter?” Grant questioned.

  “I did,” Colton said.

  “Good God, Colton...”

  “It’s okay, though, because I know what I’m going to do. I’m going to fix it. I’m having a dinner party tomorrow night and inviting Lincoln over, sort of as a thank you for helping me out, letting me use his phone and all.”

  Grant was quiet.

  “And Richard promised he would come, too. See what I’m getting at here?”

  “Colton, why don’t you leave well enough alone. I think Richard is happy being on his own. Maybe this Lincoln guy is, too.”

  “Richard is showing some self-destructive behavior,” Colton said. “I think he’s out picking up guys at Paddy’s.”

  “He’s a big boy,” Grant said.

  “Well, it won’t hurt to at least introduce the two of them. Who knows what might happen?” Colton argued.

  “You’re making a mistake,” Grant said, his voice gruff.

  “You always think I’m making a mistake when I do this,” Colton reminded him.

  “Meddle. You’re meddling in other people’s lives and it’s not a good idea,” Grant snapped.

  “Well, you won’t even be here, so you won’t have to witness my mistake,” Colton shot back.

  “Good.”

  “I have to go now,” Colton said, anger rising in his chest. He didn’t want to argue with Grant. Not like this, over the phone, while they were miles apart.

  “Me, too,” Grant said. “We’ll talk about this when I come home again.”

  “Fine,” Colton said, ending the call.

  He walked around the apartment for a few moments, calming himself down. Out on the balcony, he checked to make sure Lincoln and the boys were no longer playing basketball. The game was evidently over. Then, making sure he had the apartment keys in his pocket, he went across the hall and knocked on the door.

  Chapter Six

  When Colton could hear no sounds coming from the apartment, he thought maybe Lincoln wasn’t home. Or maybe he just hadn’t heard. He raised his hand to knock one more time when the door opened. Lincoln looked like he’d just stepped out of the shower, his thick, dark hair curling in wet ringlets around his ears. The dark shadow covering his chin only added to his rough and tumble good looks. He wore only jeans, and Colton’s gaze followed the sprinkling of dark chest hair down his flat stomach to where it disappeared. His belt was unbuckled.

  “Oh, hello,” Lincoln said. Although guarded, recognition showed in his green eyes. He seemed to be taking notice that Colton was wearing a shirt and shoes. “You didn’t get locked out again, did you?”

  “No.” Colton said, grinning, hoping to put this big man at ease.

  “Do you need to use my phone again?” Lincoln asked when Colton didn’t say anything else for a moment and then he stiffened as a thought popped into his head.

  “No, I’ve got mine.”

  “You didn’t get more of my mail, did you?”

  Colton laughed and shook his head and said, quickly. “Oh, no, nothing like that.”

  “Good.”

  “First, I wanted to apologize for last night. I know it was a bad time for a stranger to be hanging out in your kitchen and I felt like such an intruder,” Colton said.

  Lincoln grew quiet. He’d been able to avoid thinking about the night before for most of the day. That was the last thing he wanted to remember or relive. The storm. The letter from Jon. Finally, he shrugged his shoulders, muscles rippling across his broad chest. “Things happen,” he said.

  “I’d like to make it up to you,” Colton said. Before Lincoln could protest, Colton handed him a folded five-dollar bill. “This should pay for the use of your phone and the text I sent.”

  Lincoln stood there looking at the money. He knew Colton had used his phone but wasn’t even aware a text had been sent.

  “And I’d like to invite you to dinner tomorrow night,” Colton added when Lincoln didn’t take the money he offered.

  “That’s really not necessary,” Lincoln began, holding up both hands. The last thing he wanted to do was go to a dinner party, face strangers, watch this admittedly sexy man interact with his partner.

  “I insist,” Colton said, placing the money on the counter top nearby. “It’s the least I can do.”

  “I’m afraid I’m not going to be very good company for a while,” Lincoln told him, frantically trying to think of some way out of this dinner party invitation. Surely, this guy had read Jon’s letter before bringing it to him. Surely, he understood. “And I really don’t do well with crowds.”

  “It’ll only be three of us in my apartment right across the hall. Just a quiet dinner, steaks on the grill, good wine and some quiet conversation. And you don’t even have to dress up,” Colton reassured him and then he tilted his head and gave the big man his best puppy dog eyes. “Please say you’ll come.”

  God, this guy was good, Lincoln thought as he stalled, trying to think of a way out of this uncomfortable situation. Unable to take his eyes off the dimpled chin, those full lips and the beautiful gray eyes, he simply could not come up with a single excuse, short of just flatly saying he wasn’t interested.

  Colton added a little pout to his face and tilted his head the other way, waiting patiently for Lincoln to reach a deci
sion.

  Finally, Lincoln said, “Okay, I’ll come but we can’t make a late night of it. I have work Monday.”

  Colton resisted the urge to jump up and down and clap his hands. “We have work on Monday as well. Why don’t you come over around five?”

  “Okay. I’ll see you then,” Lincoln said, already dreading the interaction.

  Back inside his apartment, Colton did jump up and down and clap his hands. He whirled around the living room doing an improvised cha-cha. He just knew Lincoln and Richard were going to hit it off, which would accomplish two things. First, being in a relationship would keep Richard from picking up guys at Paddy’s and secondly, it would at least get Lincoln on the road to recovery, give him something else to think about besides the loss of Jon.

  He spent the rest of the afternoon, making sure he had everything he needed for his dinner party. Missing a few things, he made a grocery list and then checked the wine. He’d drank more of it than he realized on Friday night, so he added that to his shopping list. It was expensive but this was a special – no, a momentous occasion.

  One of his best friends was going to meet the love of his life, he just knew it.

  Finally, he settled down into his big, empty bed to read, but he missed Grant terribly. He just needed to hear his voice. He picked up his cell and tapped on Grant’s picture. The call went straight to voice mail. Colton frowned, hung up and tried again. Again, it went straight to voice mail.

  “Maybe he’s tired,” Colton said to the empty room. “Already in bed.”

  COLTON SLEPT IN THAT Sunday morning, since Richard had declined his breakfast invitation. He took his time reading the paper and drinking coffee. The afternoon was spent chopping vegetables for the salad, getting potatoes ready for the oven and marinating steaks. The wine was chilling in a silver ice bucket that someone had given him and Grant for their first anniversary.

  He smiled, remembering what a night that had been with all of their friends there to celebrate with them. Later, he and Grant had spent the night in a luxurious hotel downtown and it was almost like their first time together. That was the night Colton was sure he would be with Grant for the rest of his life. They didn’t need a marriage license, although Colton had brought it up that night. This was true love.

  He just wished Grant didn’t have to travel so much.

  He tried to call Richard several times during the day to remind him about the dinner party, but it was nearly noon before Richard answered. He sounded groggy, sleepy and grumpy when he finally answered the phone.

  “Late night?” Colton asked, looking at his watch. It was after noon.

  Richard groaned. “Closed down Paddy’s Place.”

  Colton sighed heavily.

  “You should have come with me,” Richard said. “Have a little fun, if you know what I mean.”

  Colton knew exactly what Richard meant, could picture the handsome dark-haired man winking at him conspiratorially. “No thanks. I’ll wait for Grant to come home.”

  “Your loss,” Richard said and then added, “Wait a minute.”

  The phone was muted which evidently meant Richard was speaking with someone else in the room. He finally heard him say, “There are fresh towels in the linen closet.”

  There was a muffled response and then kissing sounds which Colton tried to ignore. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said, not even trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

  “Not a problem,” Richard said. “I’ve already had my shower.”

  A brief, surprising jolt of excitement slid up Colton’s spine when he realized it had been ages since he and Grant had showered together. Then, for some reason, the image of Lincoln filled his mind, his hair wet, his belt unbuckled. He pushed those thoughts away and said, “I called to remind you about dinner this evening. I’ve already invited Lincoln and he said he would come.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Richard said as if he’d forgotten all about it.

  “You didn’t forget, did you? Richard, this is important.”

  “Um, no, no I didn’t forget.”

  “I told Lincoln to be here at five. Would you come earlier?”

  “Sure,” Richard said but he sounded distracted again.

  “I think you two are going to hit it off just fine,” Colton said.

  “Don’t get your hopes up, Colton. It may be too soon for him to even want to make new friends or anything else,” Richard said.

  The call ended. Colton took a shower and double checked to make sure he had everything under control. This evening had to be perfect - both to get Richard and Lincoln together and to prove to Grant that his matchmaking plans could be taken seriously.

  At four when Richard had still not arrived, Colton called him. It went to voicemail, so he assumed Richard was on his way, perhaps driving.

  At precisely five o’clock, there was a sharp rap on the door and Colton opened it, smiling when he saw Lincoln standing there. He wore well-fitting jeans and a dress shirt, open at the collar with the sleeves rolled up, exposing powerful forearms. The shirt was a light blue, contrasting beautifully with his tanned skin.

  “Please come in,” Colton said, opening the door wide to invite his neighbor inside.

  “Thanks,” Lincoln said, stepping into the space.

  Even though Colton thought their apartment was pretty big, it felt like Lincoln filled up the whole space with his presence. His cologne, light and woodsy, teased Colton’s nose. Suddenly he remembered the little spark of desire he’d felt when Lincoln touched his shoulder on Friday night.

  “I’m afraid my other guest hasn’t arrived yet but, please, have a seat and make yourself comfortable,” Colton said, motioning toward the contemporary, cream colored sectional that dominated the living room.

  “Thank you,” Lincoln said, perching on the edge of the sofa as if he might leap to his feet and escape any moment.

  “I hope you like wine.”

  “I do,” Lincoln said.

  Colton smiled. “Good. I’ll get you a glass.” Crossing to where he had set up sort of a makeshift bar, Colton poured the dark liquid into a glass and handed it to Lincoln, careful to make sure their fingers did not touch.

  Lincoln took a sip and nodded. “I like it.”

  Colton beamed. So far, so good. “Great.”

  About that time, the oven timer went off and Colton headed for the kitchen. He hated leaving Lincoln alone in the living room. It was rude. Where the hell was Richard? He checked his cell to make sure he hadn’t missed a call or text or something. He had not.

  Once Colton had the bread out of the oven and onto a cooling rack, he grabbed the small plate of appetizers he’d prepared and returned to the living room. “I suppose we should wait a little bit on my friend, Richard, before we start the steaks. I hope you’re not too hungry.”

  Lincoln shook his head. “Really, I’m fine. I just assumed your partner would be here for dinner. I’ve seen him around a few times.” He had relaxed somewhat but was still perched on the edge of the sofa.

  “No, unfortunately Grant is out of town on business. I invited a friend, Richard, to join us for dinner,” Colton explained.

  Lincoln nodded.

  “I’ve already started the grill and everything else is ready,” Colton said. “As soon as he gets here we can get the steaks going and dinner will be ready.”

  “That sounds good,” Lincoln said, taking another sip of wine. The smile he gave Colton didn’t look as forced as before but was still tentative.

  One more quick check of the kitchen to reassure himself that everything was under control. Colton refilled their glasses and then took a seat on the sofa next to Lincoln.

  “I hope you didn’t go to too much trouble,” Lincoln said.

  “Oh, no. I enjoy entertaining and don’t get to do as much as I’d like. This was the perfect excuse,” Colton replied, picking up one of the crackers and topping it with a piece of cheese. He was starving.

  The silence grew between them, not necessarily uncomfortable,
but a silence nonetheless. Where was Richard?

  “So, we saw you playing basketball with some boys on Saturday,” Colton said.

  “Yeah, I enjoy those pick up games as much as they do,” Lincoln said.

  “Is it some kind of program?”

  “Nothing formal. Just a little impromptu game that started by accident right after I moved in. It’s become a regular Saturday morning thing and the boys don’t let me forget it,” Lincoln said,

  Colton noted that he was beginning to relax more and he loved the way Lincoln’s eyes lit up when he talked about the boys.

  “The exercise is good for me and I hope it helps the boys, too. I get the feeling that they don’t have much of a male role model in their lives.”

  “You might be right about that,” Colton said.

  Again, a brief silence between them. Colton surreptitiously checked his phone. No communication from anyone.

  “So, where do you work?” Lincoln asked.

  “I’m in IT,” Colton said.

  “I’m a teacher,” Lincoln said.

  “Yeah, what grade?” Colton asked.

  “Third,” Lincoln said with a little smile. His gaze landed on the letter opener Colton had left on the coffee table. “That’s beautiful.”

  Surprised, Colton picked it up and offered it to Lincoln. “It was my grandmother’s. She loved getting cards and letters—” That reminded Colton of what had happened a few nights earlier and he snapped his lips shut.

  “Handwritten letters are a wonderful thing,” Licoln said, holding the letter opener tenderly while he examined it. “I make my class write me one every Friday telling me about their accomplishments for the week. And I answer them the same way. We even have a mail box in the classroom.”

  Colton found himself relaxing as he listened to Lincoln talk about his class and some of the children in it. The man’s voice took on a gentle, husky mesmerizing quality and he could imagine Lincoln telling the children stories around a campfire.

  “I’ve thought of trying something else but not sure what I’d like to do,” Lincoln said.