Frank shook his head, but he was smiling as he did so. “Not wearing any.”
That made Tom’s cock sit up and take notice. “Then come in naked.”
Tom treaded water as he saw Frank think about it. Then Tom nearly crowed in triumph as Frank yanked his shirt over his head. Tom drank in the sight of the tanned skin being bared. His treading strokes slowed, and he dipped down in the water, coughing and sputtering when he gulped some. Frank shoved down his pants and shoes and then trotted down the ramp to the water before arcing into a shallow dive. He surfaced into an efficient stroke that passed Tom in seconds.
Tom barely caught the whistle as he watched Frank’s fluid glide through the water. The twin globes of his muscular ass were just visible as he cut through the lake, leaving a churning trail behind him. Frank swam nearly a hundred feet toward the center of the lake before turning back. Within moments, he bobbed beside Tom.
Tom raised an eyebrow. “I wanted to race you, but I think I’d lose.”
Frank grinned. “Junior lifeguard by the time I was twelve.”
Tom tried to be unobtrusive in stealing a glimpse below Frank’s waist, but their treading arms kept getting in the way.
Frank glanced around at the expanse of water surrounded by trees, rocks, and sand. “It’s beautiful out here. I can’t believe you left this.”
Tom’s smile faltered. “Well, you know, the big city has a lot to offer too.” That was a lame rejoinder. One that wasn’t nearly as convincing as it used to be.
Frank wiped a wet hand through his slick-backed hair. The sun caught the auburn highlights, making them glint red. “Yeah, nothing we have here in hicksville can compare to New York.”
The wrongness of Frank’s statement burned in the pit of Tom’s stomach. New York didn’t have Frank. Tom’s doubts about Frank were long gone, far away. After having spent days around him, fighting himself, and then losing himself in the shy eyes and rare smiles, Tom gave in. He didn’t care about Frank’s condition. He wanted him. And no one Tom had met in New York even came close to making him feel like Frank did. Like he wanted to stay.
“Don’t sell yourself short.” Tom lurched forward to land a quick kiss on Frank’s mouth. Tom’s lips clung, and then he pulled away and started a slow stroke that would put him back in the shallows of the shoreline.
Frank waited a beat before Tom heard him swim up beside him, and when Tom stood in waist-deep water on the slimy lake bottom again, Frank was right there, turning him around.
“Look, I know you’re doing this just to keep me in the play. But you don’t have to. I’ll do the play. Don’t keep—”
Tom slung an arm around Frank’s neck and reeled him into another kiss. He devoured Frank’s mouth, hands sliding in the wetness clinging to the other man’s skin. Tom pulled Frank to him, plastering their naked chests together. When they pulled back panting, Tom stared straight into Frank’s golden-brown eyes.
“Are you insane? Have you looked at yourself?” Tom’s hand slid down Frank’s side, thumb tracing the hollows of his abs. “Frank, you’re gorgeous. Why wouldn’t I want to do this?”
Because you don’t belong in Waycroft Falls anymore, Tom’s head whispered. Because you can pretend it’s only physical attraction, but you know you’re falling. Tom ignored that whisper. He was going back to New York, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have fun until he did.
When Frank didn’t answer, Tom nodded, a lump in his stomach forcing him to come clean. “Okay, yes, I’m ignoring the big gay werewolf in the room. I admit I acted badly the first time, but I apologized for that.” Tom leaned forward until their foreheads touched. “Look, I’m not trying to get away.”
Frank whimpered and grabbed the sodden waistband of Tom’s boxers to drag their hips together. Tom felt the hard length of Frank’s cock shift against his own. He wanted to grab it, but Frank had squeezed his eyes tight shut like he was in pain.
“I can stay like this. All the time.” Frank opened his eyes again, and they pierced into Tom. “When not in the play, I mean. I don’t have to manifest at all if it makes you uncomfortable.”
Tom’s stomach shook at the implications of the offer. Frank, who loved to run through the woods, who could do one of the few miraculous, unexplainable things Tom had ever seen in his life, was willing to give it up for him. And he hadn’t even slept with the guy yet. Tom fought down a chuckle. If he protested, Frank wouldn’t hear him.
So Tom kissed him again and slid his hands down Frank’s back to cup his buttocks, letting his lips and his body do the talking for him.
Tom lipped at Frank’s chin, running teeth along the strong curve of his jaw. Frank whimpered, hips canting up to rub against Tom’s hip.
“Oh look, the lake’s deserted. Even the sailboat’s gone home. And there’s a big thick blanket laid out behind that rock.” Tom tugged Frank up the shore out of the water.
Frank knelt as Tom skinned off his boxers and threw them to the side. Frank dived for him then, his mouth latching on to Tom’s cock with a greediness that surprised Tom. He groaned, the pleasure curling from his toes to the top of his head at the enthusiastic suction that threatened to swamp his senses.
Tom steeled himself to inch back from that decadent mouth, the sight of Frank’s lips red and glistening making his cock bounce.
“Let me—” Tom joined him on the blanket and guided Frank to lie down on it. Tom positioned himself facing Frank upside-down, their bodies a perfect sixty-nine. Frank resumed his licking on Tom’s cock as Tom opened his lips eagerly to take Frank’s hardness. Tom loved this, the push-pull of trying to give pleasure while experiencing the tantalizing ache of his own cock’s need to come in a waiting mouth. Tom panted, pulling off Frank’s rod. It was so hard it bruised the back of his throat. Tom watched it bob as he closed his eyes, the ecstasy building in his groin, the want spilling over into rapture. Tom seized in pleasure as Frank nursed him through his orgasm. Tom swallowed Frank’s cock as his own spasmed, his mouthful muffling his cry as he licked and sucked his way through bliss. Almost before his body had come down from its peak, Frank stiffened in his mouth, his cock giving up its salty prize for Tom to swallow, satisfied.
Tom dragged his spent body around to face the same way as Frank, gathering the sweaty man in his arms to place a kiss right at the base of his neck.
“God, that was good.”
“Yeah.” Frank gulped in huge breaths, staring unseeing at the sky before he rolled his head to look at Tom. The contented expression on Frank’s face made Tom’s stomach turn over. It made Tom yearn for simple things, a day at the lake, a lover without complication, a life without an endless stream of auditions and rejections. No noise save the crickets in the grass, the birds whistling overhead, and the sound of waves lapping against the shallow boat dock.
Tom sat up, the sun now a little too warm on his skin. He gazed out over the empty lake, but his thoughts were still on the man spread out unashamed beside him.
Don’t see a view like this in New York City, he told himself, wishing it didn’t hurt so much to say.
Frank turned over on his side, propping up on an elbow to see the lake. “So are you planning to leave after the run of the play to return to New York?”
“Yes. Although it’s still dreams I’ll be returning to. I was a tiny fish in an enormous pond.” Tom lifted a hand to shade his eyes from the setting sun.
“But I thought Annie said—” Frank’s puzzled tone spoke volumes.
“Annie doesn’t know.” Tom stretched to grab a rock and chucked it toward the lake, hearing it drop with a satisfying ploop.
“But—” Frank sat up, blocking out the dying rays of the sun. It put him in near shadow, but at least Tom could read his face now.
“You know how they say if you can make it there, you can make it anywhere?” Tom waited until he saw Frank’s slow nod before he continued. “Well, I couldn’t.” He climbed to his feet and dusted himself off. He slid his gritty legs into his jeans, feeling them chafe a
gainst his skin.
“You could stay.” Frank scrambled to his feet beside him, his hand covering the bony knob of Tom’s shoulder
“And do what?” The irrational anger with himself for failing at his dream burned in the pit of Tom’s stomach. “Work in the bookshop?” Tom regretted the words the instant they left his mouth.
Frank dropped his hand.
“Look, I’m sorry.” Tom reached for him, but Frank scooted back and shook his head. He shifted to his wolf form and then loped away toward town.
“Dammit.” Tom jerked his shirt on.
He gathered Frank’s clothes and their picnic utensils, slamming them onto the seat of the empty passenger seat of the pickup before he got behind the wheel and peeled out toward town.
Frank ran. He didn’t want Tom to leave town, but he knew Tom would after the play. Frank was no one’s reason to stay. He didn’t know why he’d offered to remain human, forgo the shift that made him feel alive and free. A momentary lapse of reason, maybe. Or just lust. Other people had short-term relationships and parted ways. He could do that. Think of it as a holiday fling. He needed to get out of his rut. His breath burned as it sawed out of his lungs, his heart aching. And he ran faster.
He ran toward town in a nearly straight line, unhampered by the twists and turns of the county highways and back roads. But still, it was nearly night by the time Frank slowed upon seeing the apartment building at the end of the woods. Frank circled the building and came to a stop in the dense azaleas at the side. He panted, body cooling.
Tom was sitting on the steps of the porch when Frank stepped out of the bushes.
Tom had his elbows planted on his knees and his hands in his hair, staring at the concrete steps like they held the answers to next Saturday’s lottery.
Frank trotted up to Tom, snuffling into his hair until Tom looked up. Tom tunneled his fingers into the thick pelt at Frank’s neck, pulling Frank’s wolf closer to him in a hug. Frank whimpered.
He shouldn’t have run away from Tom. He should have stayed to talk it out like an adult. But he’d always run when everything overwhelmed him. His wolf was his curse and his escape.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Tom whispered the words like a benediction over Frank’s head. Frank couldn’t stand to hear the pain in Tom’s voice, so he lapped at his hand in forgiveness. But could Tom forgive him?
Tom sniffed and stood up, wiping at his upper lip with the sleeve of his shirt.
“I guess you’re ready to get back into some clothes. I brought them. They’re in my apartment.”
Tom unlocked the building, and they jogged up the stairs.
He’d just unlocked his apartment when Mrs. Anderson stomped up behind them.
“Thomas Allen Davidson, I told you when I rented you that apartment there were to be no dogs.” She wheezed as she reached the second-floor landing.
“Yes, ma’am. But I’m just dog sitting.” Tom flashed her his New York City famous smile. But he wasn’t famous, Frank remembered. Tom just acted like he was. Frank skittered around behind Tom as Mrs. Anderson lurched closer, the soles of her slippers never leaving the floor as if they needed to polish the hardwood while she walked.
“Nonsense. You’re a rule breaker. You’ve always been one, even when you were in diapers.” Her strident voice grew stronger as she caught her breath. “I won’t stand for it. You need to leave.”
“What?” Tom’s megawatt smile dimmed. “I swear he’s not mine.”
Frank backed down the hall. No. He’d never belonged to Tom.
As if sensing Frank’s thoughts, Tom caught himself and glanced toward Frank. Their eyes met. “Well, I mean, I want him to be, but—”
“Have your apartment vacated by tomorrow, or I’ll get the sheriff down here to uphold the eviction.” Mrs. Anderson snapped her finger in his face. Then she turned and grabbed hold of the handrail to begin her descent to the first floor again.
“Oh God.” Tom’s hands shook as he forced open his door, and he and Frank both spilled inside. Frank shifted and grabbed a couch pillow to put over his lap.
“I’m sorry. I’ll go tell her it was me.”
Tom waved away his offer, dropping to the couch in a dejected heap.
“Don’t bother. She might be mad enough to throw you out too. There’s no reason for both of us to be apartment hunting.”
Frank lowered himself to the couch, hyperaware of his lack of clothes next to Tom’s fully clothed body.
“Where will you go? I’d offer to let you stay here…” But that wasn’t a possibility since he was only across the hall.
Tom shot him a heated look, and Frank crushed the pillow in his lap.
“As tempting as that offer is, it probably wouldn’t fly with Mrs. Anderson.” Tom rubbed a hand down his face, scratching at the golden five o’clock shadow that had darkened his jaw. “Probably with Annie and John until I can get in one of the shoeboxes near the interstate.”
Frank remembered their layout from when he’d considered moving there for a minute and a half. Apartments with postage-stamp kitchens and large living rooms. One tiny bedroom and bath. Fine for a bachelor, the real estate agent had said. They’d made Mrs. Anderson’s building look like a palace.
“I feel responsible.” Frank rubbed at his neck where a smidge of sunburn prickled.
“Well, don’t.” Tom dredged up a smile, but it looked halfhearted on his face. “Just help me make this play the best thing this town has ever seen, so I can go back to New York and not feel like a failure for once. It shows in my auditions. My ego could use a little stroking, and directing won’t look bad on my résumé.”
Frank nodded even though the reminder that Tom’s stay was temporary made his chest hurt. But Tom had a life elsewhere. This romance Frank had concocted in his head was just a seedy short-term hookup masquerading as a good time.
“I will. I’ll do my best.” Frank’s heart gave a forlorn thump.
“I know you will. And you did great today.” Tom dropped a hand on Frank’s naked thigh and squeezed. “It means a lot that you’re willing to work hard like you did today. By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll be a grade A actor.” Tom’s Broadway smile was back in full force with that statement. His hand rubbed Frank’s thigh again. “Let me get your clothes. Hey, do you want something to drink?”
Frank watched him puttering around the kitchen, recognizing the sick feeling on Tom’s face as deflection—when you don’t want to think about an unpleasant future. Tom must hate it here. Hate being stuck in small-town America when everything he’d ever wanted was waiting in New York.
But Tom would go back soon, to Broadway, and not look back. And without checking his pockets to see if he was carrying Frank’s heart with him.
Chapter Thirteen
When it rained on Friday, Frank clocked in to the sound of hammering and the buzz of saws overhead. John’s construction crew couldn’t work on the new rec center for the senior citizens until the rain stopped, so the full crew had crowded into the third floor of the bookshop to build the bones of Tom’s set. Their footsteps sounded like an army marching across the ceiling beams. It had been a stroke of genius on Tom’s part to make his brother-in-law his production/stage manager. John had dived into his position with gusto, even appointing his own assistant stage manager, Marcie. Or so she’d told Frank when she arrived at the bookshop with her dad after school.
Frank spent most of the day explaining what the noise was to the customers who braved the bad weather to pick up a new book, pointing them to the poster Annie had behind the counter and taped to the door announcing the play and the planned performance space. They always commented on his name listed prominently, Frank Braden, as the playwright. They’d have a ten-minute conversation about how his Beauty and the Beast play differed from the Disney version. Then he offered to sell them tickets. Frank had talked a few patrons into coming. There would be at least a smattering of an audience to see them.
Around twelve o�
�clock, the crew all trooped down the stairs, laughing and talking as they exited. The bell overhead jangled in rhythm as the door passed from hand to hand.
Annie nudged his shoulder. “Go take a look and report back.”
Frank hadn’t seen Tom since Mrs. Anderson kicked him out, save for the cheerful wave he’d given this morning when he’d climbed the bookshop stairs. Frank had wanted to help Tom move, but Tom had left by the time he’d come home from work the next day, and the vacancy sign was back on the lawn of the apartments.
Frank skirted around the counter and walked up the stairs. His steps echoed, and the reinforced banister felt cool under his hand.
He poked his head into the performance venue, the smell of sawdust and wood tickling his nose. The sunlight filtering in the big windows looked hazy. The risers for seating were all in place now but unpainted, the stage built waiting for actors and decoration.
And high in the back row of the risers was Tom, surveying the landscape and making notes in a spiral-bound notebook. Since the wooden folding chairs hadn’t arrived yet, he sat on the unfinished wood, his knees nearly knocking into his chin. He looked up as Frank entered.
“Frank, I’m glad you’re here.” Tom rose and trotted down the stairs at the side of the risers. He held up the script. “I’m trying to block the tango for the second dinner scene. Do you have a moment to help?”
Frank took a step back. “Um, maybe?”
Tom laughed. “Maybe? Come on, I know you know the basics.” Tom grabbed Frank’s hand and wound it around his waist. “You’ll need to lead, so keep your posture up.” Tom thumped him between the shoulder blades, making Frank straighten up.
“Uh, there’s no music.” Frank felt his heart kick up a notch at being so close to Tom. All Frank could think about was how he’d felt in Tom’s arms at the lake. Tom’s lips were right there. All Frank needed to do was lean in.
Tom let go of Frank to fish his phone out of his pocket. He tapped it a few times, and then Latin music poured from the tiny speakers.
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