When he’d done all he had to do for the day, he’d wander over to the shops. Most of the owners were connected to the development firm. With construction still a major part of the community and business, so far, only a trickle of the curious, they’d been grateful for the unpaid help.
A chill wind had settled in after the party. Most of the plants in the planters hadn’t survived the sudden cold snap. Few customers were strolling the street, probably because of the cold. At least that’s what Austin hoped. Shame if they’d done all this to have to close in less than six months.
He swept up the leaves from the ornamental red maple trees they’d planted in breaks in the sidewalk. His hands stinging from the cold. His gloves were in his apartment, still packed in one of his large suitcases. He’d have to remember to go through the winter clothes soon. He hadn’t expected to need this far south, or freeze.
The day had been overcast but clearing late in the afternoon. Some clouds still lingered in the sky and the setting sun painted them beautiful shades of orange and pink and every shade in between. He stopped sweeping and leaned on the broom handle to admire the view.
“Never gets old. That view.”
The voice was low, almost sensuous, and very close by. Austin jumped, and the broom clattered to the sidewalk. He glanced over his shoulder to find the sunset hottie smiling at him, his head tilted to the side almost as if he wasn’t sure of himself.
“Oh, crap, you scared me.” Austin could have slapped himself. How stupid did he sound? The guy probably already thought he was an idiot for the way he’d waylaid him the other night. “I mean. I didn’t hear you walk up. I guess I was daydreaming.”
The guy smiled and knelt to pick up the broom. He held on to it while Austin hemmed and hawed and otherwise tried to cover his gaffe.
“I can imagine,” the hottie said with a sad smile. “A sunset such as this one, always a promise of a beautiful night to come.”
Austin reached for the broom, his cold fingers grazing the warm set still wrapped around the handle. Austin had to wonder if the guy knew he’d been crushing… but that was ridiculous. He was nearly thirty years old and mature gentlemen such as himself did not crush on the first hot guy to come along in a small town of few hot guys and if there were hot guys didn’t mean they were gay. It didn’t mean this one would welcome that knowledge. Didn’t stop Austin from sighing like a schoolboy with a first crush. “And cold. It’s supposed to be a cold night. And lonely.”
And lonely? Jesus. Was he hinting? Did he hope the guy would take the hint?
“I suppose that is a problem,” the guy said, his smile still sad. Austin noticed that he didn’t wear a jacket, despite the chill. “I don’t feel the cold as much. But loneliness…” It was his turn to sigh. He tilted the broom toward Austin and took a step away. “Anyway, I must be on my way. No time to linger today.”
A shadow crept into his eyes. A moment of wishful thinking. Or a desire to stay, despite saying he couldn’t. Austin couldn’t tell. The heat of his fingers slid from beneath Austin’s, his smile turned down. His eyes filled with regret, and maybe a moment of longing. Austin was sure of it.
“How about tomorrow? We can have coffee. I’ll buy.” Tomorrow was Friday. The shops would be open later. “Or soup. The pub has a soft opening tomorrow. Their beef stew is incredible. They have Guinness on draft.”
“Sounds tempting,” the guy said, getting Austin’s hopes up. “Regrettably, I must decline.”
The sun chose that moment to bathe him in golden warmth that sent a jolt of pure desire straight to Austin’s heart. He reached out as the man moved away and took his hand. The warmth from just a few moments ago had dissipated. His hands were cold as ice. “What’s your name? I mean, unless it’s too forward to ask. I don’t mean to be rude.” He let the hand go when irritation flickered in warm blue eyes.
“Heath,” he answered, his voice tight. Almost as if he was unaccustomed to saying his name. “And you’re Austin.”
“That’s me.” Austin grinned despite himself. He’d remembered. Did that mean anything? “Austin Baylor. I’m the curator over at the museum, or I will be when the renovation is complete and there’s actually a museum to curate. For now, I’m helping where I can. Trying to stay busy.” So he wouldn’t feel so alone.
“Yes, the old house is looking almost like new. I’ve watched the progress with interest.” Heath’s gaze flickered toward the house. “My apologies, Austin, I’m running late today. We’ll speak again tomorrow.”
He didn’t wait for Austin to pull him back into the conversation. He walked away, his broad shoulders slumping as he neared the corner. He glanced over his shoulder as he turned. Austin waved. Heath did not. He disappeared around the corner as twilight fell.
~
Sunrise. He could feel the chill in the air. Funny how he hadn’t noticed until the young man with the broom and pretty face had pointed out the need for a jacket. The street was as quiet as the grave.
The old house was dark and as empty as ever. The paint was so fresh he could smell it this morning. A clock perched in the middle of the square. It might have been there all along, but Heath had never noticed it. It ticked now. The wrought iron post gleaming black in the early light. A light shone inside the coffee shop, but no one stirred.
He had to get to work. He would be late if he lingered. He couldn’t afford to be late. The pretty curator with the broom wouldn’t be up and about yet. Not that Heath expected to see him. He didn’t have time for a dalliance. But oh, how sweet he would smell.
He heard his ride arriving around the corner. He was late. So very late. And cold. He’d wished he remembered to bring a coat. And gloves. The promise of a publican opening with beer and a stew to warm his belly appealed. It had been some time since he’d had the luxury to entertain the notion of stopping in for a meal and a brew.
The children had to have warm clothing to get them through the year. They grew so much faster than he expected. There were bills to pay. And mouths to feed. No… a dalliance would not do.
He raced to meet his ride before he was left behind. He had no transportation of his own. One day he’d have the money saved. One day he’d be able to… what? The pretty face in question would not free him from this trap. He would ensnare him even more. The curator. Austin. He should not have stopped the day before, but the mere sight of the man with his face awash with the gloaming, so carefree and alive that Heath wanted to latch on to his warmth and forget the commitment he’d made. And the girls, what would become of them if he abandoned them for a moment of carnal bliss?
He cast one look over his shoulder as the sun came over the horizon. A lone figure, dressed in tight clothing, emerged from behind the old house. He ran toward Heath. His warm breath a mist in the cold air as he ran past Heath without ever seeing him.
Heath sighed, his breath a cloud of mist in the air. He turned the corner, continuing on his way to work as he did every day and would for the rest of his life.
Chapter Three
Callaghan’s Pub, crawling with people, was standing room only. Austin had planned to grab a table on the patio and watch for Heath to stroll past. He’d tempt him with a huge bowl of stew and a fresh pulled Guinness. It had been a long time since he’d had a chance to get out like this. Not from lack of trying, but because he’d interned in the back of beyond and then came here of all places. There wasn’t a decent bar on this side of town, much less an honest to god Irish Publican.
Rory Callaghan greeted him at the door with a tired expression on his darling face. Rory had been Austin’s best friend in college, and when Austin had called him up with a business proposal for Big Mick… well, his friend was here, and along with him was the nectar of life that had gotten Austin through school. A big fucking pot of Irish stew, just for him, and with a wink, Rory shoved a stainless-steel tumbler in his hand. “Don’t open that until you get behind locked doors or we’ll lose our liquor license. And holy fuck, man, we weren’t expecting half the tow
n to show up for dinner and dance music.”
“Told ya.” Austin looped the handles of the insulated bag over his wrist and hugged Rory, trying not to spill his contraband Guinness. “I’ll bring the dishes back in the morning. Tell me there’s cornbread in here? The good stuff.”
“Would I forget the cornbread? What kind of friend do you take me for? Come back later when the dinner rush dies down. We’ll talk then.” Rory hugged him back and abandoned him to be swallowed whole by the swarm of people jockeying for a seat.
Austin ignored the baleful glares of those waiting on the sidewalk to get inside and hurried across the street. The sun was setting, and so far, Heath had been almost like clockwork. He scanned both directions, there was no dark-haired broad-shouldered world-weary working man as far as the eye could see.
Time was moving fast. It would be dark soon. He’d missed him. He was sure of it. Probably while he was crushed in the lobby at Callaghan’s waiting for Rory to bring his order. And to top it off, there was a storm brewing off in the distance. Heath would be around the corner and on his way to safety by now.
Austin waved his thermos at Maggie as she locked up. And jumped sky-high when Heath slipped up behind him near the courtyard gate. The one that ran between the businesses and the museum grounds where they’d shared ice cream the first night.
“That smells heavenly,” Heath, hunched against the wind, said. His hands shoved in his pants pockets.
“You forgot your jacket again,” Austin said for lack of anything better to say. “It’s getting cold. And there’s rain coming soon.”
“It wasn’t cold when I left this morning,” Heath replied. His gaze drawn to the insulated tote bag that held the pot of stew. “Looks like you have enough to feed an army.”
“I had hoped to dine in but my friend Rory couldn’t hold a table while I waited for you to pass by. He did the next best thing and offered to feed me for the entire weekend.” Austin held up the heavy pot with a groan. “I have cornbread.”
“It’s been a while since I’ve had cornbread. I can’t cook it. It always ends up tasting like sawdust.” There was longing in his eyes. All for the contents of his stew pot.
“Well, my mama always said the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” Austin hadn’t meant to say that. He should have kept his mouth shut. Just because he was attracted to Heath, didn’t mean the feeling was mutual. And this was a small city deep in the Bible Belt. His attempt at levity might be taken the way he meant it, but not in a good way. “That’s not… I mean… don’t take that wrong. It’s just a saying. One I botched.”
Heath took the heavy bag from him and opened the gate and held it for Austin. He hesitated for just a second before following Austin through. “Did you not mean to invite me for a meal… as…” Heath paused, his hand clenching the gate. Austin wondered if he should run. Or call for help. The heavy pot with scalding hot stew inside a free-swinging tote bag would make a great weapon. Too bad he’d relinquished it to the very man who might— “A date? Or did I misunderstand?”
Austin let out a relieved breath. The man had held the gate for him. The path to his apartment was just past the employee courtyard. “No.” He heard the word rush from his mouth in a burst of jittery nerves and some lingering fear. He swallowed hard. “I was. Yes. A date. I was… hoping… it’s just dinner and…” he held up the large insulated tumbler filled with beer. “Guinness. Not sure if it’s supposed to be in a thermos, but I have beer, stew, and corn bread. I have no idea what I’m saying right now.”
Heath smiled, almost shyly. He didn’t look down the street toward the hastily fading sunlight. “Are there utensils in this bag?”
“Is that your way of saying yes?” A fat raindrop landed on the lens of his glasses. “Always. Unerringly. Every time it rains, right in the eye.”
Heath laughed, the sound so deep and sensual it went straight to Austin’s… whoa Nelly, down boy… it’s just stew and beer with a hot man.
“I haven’t dated a man in a very long time,” Heath said, the laughter in his eyes disappearing as quickly as it came. “I… my father wouldn’t accept it of me.”
Austin understood. He did. He’d been there. “It’s just dinner. With a new friend.”
Heath looked at the sky and the tables with a scowl. “It’s about to rain.”
“My apartment is just down that path. We can make it. I have a fire going in the kitchen fireplace. It’s cozy.”
Heath looked at the sky again and nodded. “I’ll follow. For the cornbread.”
“That’s probably cold now.” He should really learn to stop talking.
“We’ll heat it up.” Heath winked.
Austin turned and almost fled in his hurry to get this man back to his apartment before his body betrayed him.
~
The path led through another gate and onto a stepping-stone path through a garden he’d nearly forgotten existed. Years of neglect had left the property overgrown and decaying.
“I used to run through here as a child, the fences were all rotten, even then.” Heath stepped gingerly onto the stones, remembering the meandering path from the house to the buildings out back. They’d not called them servants’ quarters when he was a child. The implication was always there. His father often scolded him for running barefoot through the grounds after he’d gotten a rusted nail in his foot. The snakes were more of a concern in the summers.
“The landscapers did their best to restore the grounds. They had a few pictures to work with, but it wasn’t much. Mostly, it was clearing out the weeds and scrub trees and figuring out what had been smothered out and bringing it back to life. They found so many planters in the outbuildings we could design the square to match. It’s been a long process.” Austin walked slightly ahead of him on the path. He tripped once or twice, his gaze not on the path that was fading from view as the storm moved in to cover the last of the sunset. There would be no twilight tonight.
Heath felt the pull of duty. He focused on the path… and the here and now. Willing himself to ignore his responsibilities, if only for an hour.
What could happen in an hour?
“They’ve done a brilliant job,” Heath said, stepping over the oak root that Austin tripped over, and grabbed his elbow to keep him from falling. “Maybe you should watch where you’re walking.” Another fat raindrop splattered on the back of the hand that gripped Austin. He could feel Austin’s body heat through his layers of clothing. He felt so… alive.
“Maybe I should.” Austin’s voice broke, and he coughed. He looked guiltily at his feet, the blush on his face gleaming in the dim light from a nearby lamppost. “It’s not far now. Just a few more yards. I have the first apartment. When the renovation is complete, the other apartments will be for staff or interns from the university. For now, I’m on my own… I shouldn’t have said that.”
“You have no reason to fear me.” Heath didn’t miss the implication. His size had always intimidated people. His brooding countenance could as well. He very rarely let anyone matter enough to let down his guard anymore. “I’m a little rough around the edges now, but I’m not violent. Or a threat to…” he waved his hand in the orange-tinged lighting, wanting to wave away the specter of their mutual inclinations. “I don’t, how do the young people say, put out, on the first date. Or force myself on a fellow just because I’m bigger.”
Austin cleared his throat. It sounded suspiciously like he was choking. “That’s good to know,” he wheezed as they came into the courtyard behind the manor. “The one with the light on.”
Heath followed him to the heavy wooden door that would have been original to the building. It had been restored and painted a green so dark it almost appeared black in the dim lighting to contrast with the weathered brick of the old building. “I love what they’ve accomplished.” He ran his hand over the restored brick while Austin opened the door. Light and warmth rushed out to greet them. The heavy bag… weighing on him.
He removed his hand fro
m the brick and swiped it down the back of his neck to quiet the unease that wanted to settle in.
“It’s been years in the works, even before I finished grad school. I’ve seen the photos of the old place before reconstruction. So sad what happened to a lovely old dame of a house.” Austin held the door for him.
His skin prickled uncomfortably in the heat. At least that’s what he told himself. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t want something he could never have. Austin deserved—
“Set the pot on the table.” Austin swept his hand toward an old farm table with chipped legs and a few mismatched chairs he’d seen in other rooms in the old building when he was a child peeking in the windows.
Heath paused at the threshold, fighting the urge to flee. He wasn’t supposed to be here. What if something were to happen to Austin because he ignored his responsibilities? He lifted his foot and took the step, his leg heavy as lead. The second step wasn’t much lighter. The short trip to the table may as well have been a journey of a thousand miles. Heath sweated with exertion and maybe from the battle with his inner demons. He’d ignored his baser needs all his life. Yet here he was…
“I’m not sure I should stay,” he said latching onto a chair to fight the wave of vertigo that came with rebellion. “My father…” he didn’t want to speak of a man he hardly remembered. “Would not approve.”
Austin, having shed his winter outerwear, bustled around the kitchen opening cupboards and drawers. He walked over brick floors in his stocking feet that were once covered with dirt from so many bygone eras. “Yeah, my father had a fit when I came out. He tried to disown me. My mother threatened to divorce him if he did. It’s taken a few years, but we worked through it. Of course, they live in Tennessee, and I do not. So it works out.” He set two shallow bowls on the table, along with a checkered linen napkin and eating utensils. “And this isn’t… I mean, it doesn’t have to be a date or anything. We just met. We’re having an early dinner after a rough day. It’s cold. There’s a storm moving in. I’m sure he’d understand.”
Into the Gloaming Page 2