by Amanda Young
The grin slipped off Jake’s face. “I know a couple of men you could have wrapped around your little finger, if you wanted.”
“Oh, please. Name them.”
“You’re looking at one.” Jake winked.
Aaron’s pulse kicked up a notch at the suggestion, but he didn’t take it to heart. As tempting as the offer was, he knew Jake was only teasing. “Bullshit. One of these days you’re going to catch me in the right mood and I’m going to call your bluff, buddy. Besides, didn’t Logan tell you to stop harassing me at work?”
“Mm-hmm, but what Logan doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
“Oh, really?”
Both he and Jake jumped and swiveled around at the sound of Logan’s deep voice in the doorway. Damn, the man had a bad habit of sneaking up on them. He needed a cowbell around his neck or something.
Jake scowled and rose to his feet. “As always, you have shitty timing, Logan.”
Logan turned his gaze on Aaron and then pointedly looked at the clock behind him. “Shouldn’t you be off, Aaron? I’m not paying you for overtime so you can hang around and flirt with my brother.”
Logan’s remark stung. Somebody was certainly in a crabby mood. “Yeah. Well, I was just about to lock up when Jake stopped by.” He turned to Jake, standing beside him. “Sorry. Guess we’ll have to pick up the rest of that conversation later. The boss man might pop a blood vessel if he has to pay me more than the minuscule amount he usually does.” Logan wasn’t the only one who could be an asshole when the mood suited him.
Aaron made his way to the exit. Logan’s large frame halfway blocked the door, his long legs a shoulder’s width apart, hands curled aggressively at his sides, but Aaron didn’t let that faze him. He just skirted around the big man, careful to keep his eyes averted and not ‑‑ absolutely not ‑‑ touch him in any way. The last thing he needed to do was give his damn cock a reason to wake up and wave hi. Whatever had made Logan pissed had nothing to do with him, and he wanted to keep it that way.
He pulled the door shut behind him. The sound of voices rising in anger floated on the air behind him as he made his way out of the vestibule and into the summer sunshine. Things were getting way too weird in the office lately. Maybe it was a good thing he was leaving. Between Logan’s surliness and Jake’s flirting, he wasn’t sure how much more he could stand.
Chapter Four
Thursday was nothing to write home about. The day was interminably long, with customers calling in to bitch and complain about one thing or another all day. The rain had interrupted the outside work they’d contracted, or they thought something should be fixed that wasn’t. Though he had nothing to do with any of it, it was Aaron’s job to try and placate each and every one of them and make sure they were satisfied by the end of the conversation.
Mark, his new sidekick, was a huge help. Having someone to talk to while Logan stormed in and out of the office, gruff to the point of being downright mad the majority of the day, helped pass the time.
Mark actually had a flair for dealing with people, which Aaron lacked. While he was quick to apologize and assure compensation, Mark talked circles around them until they probably weren’t even sure why they’d called. It was only a stall tactic, because Logan would do his best to make sure each and every one of his clients walked away happy with their final product, but it took some of the pressure off the office and Aaron.
By the time he got home, it was almost six. He hurried through a quick shower and shave. Rifling from end to end inside his tiny closet for something to wear proved even harder than he had imagined. He had no idea what people wore to an art gallery or where Ross would be taking him to dinner afterward. Knowing Ross, it could be anything from the dollar menu at McDonald’s to drinks and chicken wings at Hoosiers, the gay equivalent of Hooters.
He settled on khaki slacks and a navy polo. Work wear. It was semi-casual, pretty much the best he could do short of wearing the tux his mom had bought him the year before for his cousin Betsy’s formal wedding. Nothing short of torture would convince him to wear that thing again.
A quick comb though his unruly red hair and he was ready. If Ross wanted someone sophisticated on his arm, he should have called another friend.
Aaron glanced at the clock on his microwave as he made his way into the miniscule kitchenette ‑‑ 6:35. Not bad time management there. He grabbed the green, hard plastic watering can off the floor next to his mini-fridge and set about watering his plants. He’d just finished with the last when the buzzer rang.
Showtime.
He patted his back pocket to make sure he’d remembered his wallet and strode out the door, locking it behind him. Jogging down the narrow stairs, he spotted Ross through the entrance door, tapping the toe of his Converse sneaker on the cracked cement landing. He was dressed in wrinkled black jeans and a faded Aerosmith T-shirt, his shaggy black hair sticking up in odd little spikes from all the wax he’d rubbed in it. Even with the casual attire Aaron had chosen, Ross still made him feel overdressed.
Must not be a fancy shindig after all. Good. One less thing for him to feel self-conscious about.
He pushed through the door, careful to make sure it closed completely behind him, and approached Ross. “You could have told me it was ‘come as you are.’ I would’ve worn jeans.”
Ross shrugged his shoulders. “Didn’t think about it. You know me, forgetful.” He pretended to look Aaron over with a critical eye. “You look fine in what you have on, though,” Ross said, already turning back toward where his fire-engine-red Mustang was parked at the curb.
“Yeah, I know you.” Forgetful and frivolous ‑‑ two words that summed Ross up well.
Aaron trailed after him. Not for the first time, he wondered how much his pal had sunk into restoring the classic car. He didn’t know enough about vehicles to guess, but he figured it probably would’ve been cheaper to just buy a new one.
Ross unlocked the doors, and Aaron opened his, dropping down into the white leather bucket seat. Ross turned over the ignition and revved it up, making the engine rumble. “Sounds like a dream, doesn’t she?”
“Uh, yeah, sure.” It sounded loud more than anything else, but the extra vibrations felt good under his bottom. Maybe that was what Ross liked so well about it. He swallowed a snicker. “So, what time does this thing start? Eight? You never said over the phone.”
“Seven.” Ross dropped his hand over the eight-ball gear shifter between them on the floor and guided it into first, pulling out onto the road.
“I hate to break it to you, Ross, but it’s after seven now.”
Ross took his eyes off the street and shot him a condescending expression. “I know. You need to be fashionably late to these things. If you show up too early, you look like you’re trying too hard, you know?”
“Oh, um, yeah. Good idea.” What it sounded like was a good excuse for not being able to tell time. Who’d thought to make it a fashion statement?
Ross guided the car effortlessly through the traffic congestion as they neared the college campus. “This guy, Dalton Kenneth, who’s doing the show, is so hot. You just wait until you see him. You’ll melt into a puddle of goo. I’ve got dibs on him, though, so hands off. God, I hope he’s queer. It would be such a shame to waste all that angst and raw masculinity on a breeder.”
God, Ross was a drama queen. Maybe coming with him hadn’t been such a good idea. Visions of standing in the corner, being ignored, filtered through his mind. He’d never made a good wingman. “Mm-hmm, a real tragedy. Good luck with the guy, and don’t worry about me stepping on your toes. I’ll do my best to resist, since you’ve got your heart set on him.”
Ross made a right and steered the car into a small parking lot behind one end of short, brick strip mall. He killed the engine and they got out. While Aaron glanced around, taking in the park across the street, where children played noisily, and the quaint cobblestone walkways between each building, he heard the beep of the car alarm being set and Ross’s footst
eps walking around the car to join him.
“Come on, time’s a-wasting.”
Aaron let his friend lead the way. He knew the roundabout location of the gallery, but wasn’t sure of its exact location. With little attention for art, he hadn’t really cared to visit the place before it’d been closed down for remodeling over the winter.
That thought stopped him in his tracks. Remodeling. Jake and Logan had both worked on the project. They were sure to have been on the guest list. Actually, now that he thought about it, hadn’t he taken a message from Jake about some kind of business gathering both brothers had to attend tonight?
Why hadn’t he thought of that before?
Shit.
Several feet ahead, Ross turned to glower at him. “You coming or what?”
“Yeah…yeah, I’m coming.” He jogged to catch up.
Ross led him between buildings and turned to the right, quickly making his way down the street. At the end of the block sat the art gallery, Evocative Art.
Aaron stopped to admire the display window. Three white pillars, their pedestals draped with matching swatches of black velvet, each held a sculpture. Though all clearly from different mediums ‑‑ wood, some kind of metal, and clay ‑‑ they all looked extraordinarily phallic in shape. On the back wall, three black and white minimalist paintings hung at strategic spots between each pillar. He had no idea what the paintings were supposed to resemble. Did that make them abstract and minimalist? Aaron shook his head as he followed Ross inside through a stained-glass door. He’d never been able to remember the appropriate names for each type of art. It was all too confusing to him.
Inside, the humid heat from outside was instantly replaced by cool, dry air. Aaron shivered at the drastic change in temperature. It was like walking out of a sauna and plunging headfirst into a refrigerator. His arms instantly rose and folded across his chest, trying to generate a little heat.
Brightly lit, the interior was a stark white. The large, open room housed a plethora of art ‑‑ sculptures resting upon raised white stands, while colorful paintings were splashed over two of the three interior walls. The back wall was empty, a single, small door in its center. Probably an entrance into storage or something. People gathered in clusters throughout the room, whispering quietly to one another. Unlike the image his mind had conjured of snobs loitering around in evening wear while waiters milled about serving hors d’oeuvres and champagne from sterling silver trays, the majority of the people looked down-to-earth and normal. The clientele seemed to range from poor college students like himself to what he thought of as professional people, older and probably moneyed, but not showy about it.
Ross tugged on Aaron’s sleeve, pointing to a large group of people toward the back. “There. See the guy slumping against the wall, wearing all black. That’s Dalton. Isn’t he hot?”
“Mm-hmm,” Aaron replied after casting a quick glance. The man was okay, but not enough to go all ga-ga over.
“I told you he was the ultimate hunk of man candy. I just love that little goatee he’s sporting. It’s going feel so good against my ass when he’s licking my balls.”
“Holy shit, Ross.” Aaron cast a surreptitious look around them to see if anyone had overheard. “Watch your mouth. There are little old ladies in here. Jeez.”
Before Ross abandoned him to go off in search of his latest conquest ‑‑ which took all of ten seconds ‑‑ Aaron scanned the room, hoping to see a familiar face. Across the way, a throng of bodies between them, he spotted not one, but two familiar figures standing side by side, head and shoulders above the crowd of art aficionados. Aaron could only make out their profiles ‑‑ identical sloping foreheads, the straight bridge of two strong noses, thin lips, and equally square chins ‑‑ but it was all he needed to identify them.
Now they were the epitome of the term “man candy.” Separate, they were gorgeous; together, they were breathtaking. Aaron sucked in a stunned breath when an image of being plastered between them, naked and in the process of taking on both men at the same time, flittered through his imagination.
Blood rushed south, filling his cock. The thought of taking one of them in his mouth while the other fucked his ass sent a jolt of electricity through his groin. His ass clenched, the entire lower half of his body tightening.
God, why hadn’t he ever fantasized about that before? For some reason, the idea had never occurred to him. There was no getting rid of it now. His cock reacted like someone had shocked him with a volt of electricity. It ached in time to his heartbeat.
Forcing his eyes away from the twins, he turned in the opposite direction from them and walked away before he was spotted. He couldn’t take being around either of them tonight. Not when he was so desperate for companionship, so damn horny.
Some weird rendering of the Spanish Inquisition, done in black and red, caught his attention and he pretended to study it. Out of the corner of his eyes, he inconspicuously checked out the crowd.
He needed to get laid. He might not be able to have the man he wanted, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him from picking someone up. He wasn’t willing to spend another lonely night beating off and dreaming of what could never be. Tired of moping around, he decided it was high time he stopped acting like a teenager with his first crush and do something. Tonight, come hell or high water, he wasn’t going home alone.
Aaron moved slowly from one painting to another, keeping his eyes open for someone of interest. Unfortunately, by the time he’d walked around the room twice, he still had yet to find anyone who wasn’t part of a couple or obviously straight. Looks were deceiving, but he didn’t want to embarrass himself by hitting on someone who didn’t give off even a slim bit of interest.
Finding someone at the gallery was hopeless. He glanced about, looking for Ross to ask if they could split early and go somewhere more interesting. Unable to spot his friend, a glimmer of dread crept down his spine. He made a hasty retreat out of the gallery and jogged back to the spot where they’d parked. Ross’s car was gone. A tiny red Honda was in its place.
Shit. Fuck. Damn.
Ross had abandoned him there in exchange for a piece of ass. The bastard could have at least said he was leaving. The worst thing was that this wasn’t the first time Ross had pulled this kind of stunt. Aaron should’ve expected it, but hadn’t, which made him feel gullible and stupid.
He slumped, his shoulders tucking inward, and walked across the darkened lot toward the park across the street. There, he chose a swing and plopped his butt down on it, toeing the pressed dirt and grass at his feet.
Dusk was giving way to night, the sun only a tiny pink crescent lingering over the horizon. Having forgotten to wear a watch, Aaron had no idea what time it was, but judging by the sun’s progression, he guessed it was somewhere near nine. Summer in full swing, darkness came later and later.
His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since lunch. In a moment, he would get up and walk home. His apartment was only about five miles away, so it wasn’t that big a deal. He didn’t particularly like to walk long distances at night, but the buses quit running at six, leaving him little choice. Once home, he could change into something more comfortable, eat a quick bite to tide him over, and walk down to the Irish pub two blocks from his building. It wasn’t a gay bar, but a lot of students frequented it and he’d gotten lucky there a time or two before. With a little good fortune, he would run into someone compatible there again. He wouldn’t know until he tried, though. Which meant he needed to get up off his ass and start the long walk home.
“Now why doesn’t it surprise me that you’d prefer a playground over a perfectly good party?”
Chapter Five
Aaron jerked back, his gaze flying from his feet up to the man ‑‑ Logan or Jake, though he couldn’t tell which ‑‑ who stood a couple of yards away. The sudden movement caused him to overbalance in the swing. The seat shot forward, while his torso went backward. His back hit the ground, startling him, but doing no re
al damage to anything other than his pride.
The man appeared above him, the wry twist to his sinfully shaped lips automatically identifying him as Jake. Logan was much too serious most of the time. “You okay?” He held out his hand.
“Yeah,” Aaron replied as he accepted Jake’s hand and allowed himself to be hauled to his feet. “Haven’t I already told you to quit sneaking up on me?” Aaron wiped bits of grass off his clothes as he glared at Jake.
“Uh, no.” Jake frowned. “And I didn’t mean to surprise you. It’s not like I was hiding in the bushes and jumped out yelling ‘Boo.’ Besides, you wouldn’t startle so easy if you would just relax a little. You’re too damn high-strung.”
“Fuck you,” Aaron responded defensively.
Jake chuckled, the deep, husky sound going right to Aaron’s balls, the fickle bastards that they were. “About time.”
“Huh?” Maybe he’d conked his head harder than he thought ’cause Aaron had no idea what Jake was talking about.
“I’ve been waiting for you to drop that proper little façade you wear around the office all day and be yourself. I just knew you’d be a spitfire as soon as you learned to let go a little.” Jake’s arm extended and his fingers brushed over the side of Aaron’s face. Aaron’s gaze widened at the touch. Jake shrugged. “You had a bit of grass on your cheek.”
Jake’s touch lingered, and Aaron had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from moaning, or worse. When Jake’s thumb grazed the corner of his lips, a tremor ran down Aaron’s spine. Jake’s scent surrounded him, wrapped him in its musky essence, a light hint of spicy cologne teasing his nose. He wanted to close his eyes and lose himself in the moment, but couldn’t allow himself the pleasure. Showing his absorption in something as simple as a gentle touch would be way too telling about his feelings.
A voice in his head spoke up, warning him that it wasn’t Jake he was attracted to. He was only responding so strongly because of the resemblance to Logan. Wasn’t he?