by KC Burn
“Ha. If he’s built anything like Miguel, he’d snap you like a twig if you even looked at him funny.”
This conversational detour into his sex life made him cringe, especially in reference to Miguel’s little brother. Definitely time to get going. “Don’t drink too much. Jez said he didn’t have a lot of stuff in the truck, but if it’s more than I can handle, I’m calling you fuckers tomorrow for free labor.”
After Hayden stood, Jordan didn’t waste any time snatching up the untouched glass in front of Hayden’s seat.
“I’m going to go too,” Kevin said, throwing down some bills as he stood.
A few more jeers about Kevin’s balls, or lack thereof, flew around the table, but Kevin shrugged it off as good-naturedly as ever, diverting attention from Hayden’s new living arrangements. Hayden waited for Kevin, and together they headed for the entrance.
Out in the parking lot, Kevin spoke again. “You should bring Jez out sometime.”
Hayden shrugged. “Maybe. I’m sure he’s got his own friends.” Like Hayden knew if he and Jez would get along. Hell, he’d barely remembered Miguel had a younger brother. Jez didn’t even go home for holidays, at least not when Hayden had been back there.
“This isn’t his hometown. That’s seven hours north. And he hasn’t lived in California in almost a decade. He might not know anyone here aside from his brother.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” And too fucking thoughtful to put up with the rest of their lunkheaded friends. Maybe a wife did have a softening influence. Or maybe it was that characteristic that had ensured Kevin was the first one of their group to find a long-term partner. Either way, he made a good point, although Hayden hoped Jez would be so busy starting a new job and finding his own apartment that Hayden wouldn’t get stuck being the token friend.
Hayden didn’t have any idea how to be friends with someone whose life experiences were so different from his, and aside from the couple of cops who’d started out as emergency-scene acquaintances, Hayden hadn’t socialized with anyone but firefighters, and sometimes their wives, for more than a decade.
HAYDEN DROVE along the wide tree-lined road toward home. Sometimes it was altogether too quiet, but he’d never been tempted to get a roommate. He often had the guys over during major sporting events for beer and snacks, and that had helped to combat the loneliness.
Maybe—just maybe—if Miguel had gotten a job in Pasadena, they could have roomed together. But Hayden wasn’t comfortable sharing his private life with his other coworkers. Hayden understood Miguel’s reason for asking for this favor, but that didn’t make him any less wary.
Eh. How bad could it be? Miguel was his best friend. Jez needed a place to live, not a ready-made bestie, even if Hayden were in the market. Miguel could perform any required mentoring or basic friend services.
A small U-Haul cube van sat by the curb, parked askew with the wrong end toward the front door. Hayden pulled out his phone and grimaced. Shit. He had ignored a couple of calls from an unknown number. He should have known that was Jez.
He didn’t like being late. He had already been a little unsettled by the teasing at the bar, and the truck loomed like a guilt trip.
Hayden parked his truck on the street behind the cube van and got out. A few boxes had already made it to the porch, but of Jez himself there was no sign. Presumably he was around somewhere outside. Hayden had the spare key in his pocket, and he never left his doors unlocked, so Jez wouldn’t have been able to make himself at home. Miguel would have mentioned if Jez had taken up cat burglary in his spare time. Hayden frowned. This had all been set up last-minute. Surely if Jez was running from legal troubles, Miguel would have at least warned him.
Yeah. Miguel wouldn’t hide a bombshell like that from him.
He strode up the walk to his front door and found a guy stretched out on the couch on his porch, an arm draped across his face. His bright teal T-shirt had rucked up, revealing a strip of flat, toned brown belly. There was some sort of graphic on the T-shirt, but the guy’s other arm obscured it.
Whether Jez—and this had better be Jez—looked like Miguel or not, he wasn’t built the same as his brother. Jez lacked both Miguel’s height and bulk, although he appeared to be as fit as Miguel, in a different way. Jez’s black hair was fluffy or perhaps spiky, tipped with a vibrant red the likes of which never occurred in nature.
What sort of role had Jez landed that would require that hairstyle? Miguel had been vague, although he had been adamant Jez was moving to California for work. Whatever Miguel had or hadn’t said, Hayden suspected a bit of desperation behind Jez’s move. Acting was a hard business, and maybe Jez was trying a different coast in a bid to make it somewhere. It might have been more the dream of a job than actual employment that had brought him back across the country.
Without a mortgage, Hayden could afford to float Miguel’s brother for months, rent-free if need be. If Miguel needed him to.
“Jez. Hey, Jez.” Hayden didn’t yell, but his gruff, impatient tone startled Jez awake and he swung upright immediately, blinking and looking slightly lost.
For all of a second or so. Long enough for dread to curl around Hayden’s belly, sending despair through him as he stared at the hottie swan, former ugly duckling Jez. Breathtaking, even if Jez wasn’t his normal type. Hell, he wasn’t supposed to find Miguel’s little brother attractive. But no matter how his brain screamed out in denial, the sudden dampness of his palms, the increase in heart rate and breathing, and a twitch in his groin told the truth.
Then Jez scowled and leaped to his feet with an unexpected grace. He was shorter and slighter than Hayden and almost at the opposite end of the spectrum from his brother. If Miguel got the mass, Jez got the looks. Not that Miguel was ugly, but wow.
Was Jez maybe a little too graceful? A little something? Then Hayden noticed the graphic on the tee. A unicorn with a rainbow mane, shitting rainbows. Fuckity fuck fuck. The last thing he needed was an effeminate gay guy rooming with him. When the guys met him, the teasing would be relentless, and Jez wasn’t even his damned type.
“About time you got home. Can you let me inside already?” Jez snapped.
Hayden bit back a growl and stepped around a couple of scattered boxes to unlock the door. After pushing it open wide, Hayden turned around to find Jez standing right there, a large cardboard box in his arms.
“Let me help you with that.” Hayden reached out to grab the box, but Jez swung it away with a yelp. “Did you hurt yourself? I can take that for you if it’s heavy.” He was careful to modulate his tone so he didn’t freak Jez out again.
“No, it’s fine. I can take this. I’m not weak, you know.” If tones could literally be venomous, Hayden would be convulsing on the floor.
“Okay, okay.” Hayden backed into the house, giving Jez enough room to pass through the doorway.
“Where should I put my stuff?” Jez’s prickly voice didn’t ease up much, but it became more conciliatory as he brushed past Hayden.
“Up the stairs, last door on the left. You want to do it all yourself, or am I allowed to touch the other boxes?”
Jez, already partway to the stairs, paused, his shoulders slumping.
Guilt swept through Hayden. Jez had driven by himself across the country in a matter of days to move to a city he’d never lived in, in a state he hadn’t returned to—at least to Hayden’s knowledge—for the better part of a decade. He had to be exhausted, and although he’d sniped first, Hayden should be apologizing for being late rather than sniping back. If his gran could hear him now, she’d be terribly disappointed.
“Sorry. This one’s fragile. If you could please help with the others, I’d appreciate it.” Jez didn’t look back at Hayden, but he sounded sad.
Hayden took a deep breath, determined to start fresh. “No problem. We’ll have your stuff unloaded in no time.”
To give them both time to regroup, Hayden headed out to the truck to see if he’d been lying about how long things would ta
ke to unload or if he was going to have to call in the army of free labor, even if his prickly new roommate might object.
One glance was all it took. Jez didn’t have a lot of stuff, and there didn’t seem to be any furniture. Good thing Hayden’s spare room had a bed.
JEZ BOUCHET gently placed his cardboard burden on the bed, then spun around, leaped for the door, and slammed it shut, panting like he’d just run a marathon.
Hell, this wasn’t how he’d wanted to renew his acquaintance with Hayden. He’d been such a bitchy ass, but he’d been driving for fucking ever, and he didn’t have just himself to think of anymore.
Jez cocked his head, listening for Hayden’s approach. The stairs had creaked enough that no one would be sneaking by, ever, and Hayden was bigger and heavier than Jez. But the stairs were silent.
The lock on the door looked like a forceful jiggle would open it, but Jez flipped it anyway, then approached the precious box on the bed. Pressing the flaps back, he peered inside.
“Hey, baby. Just a little longer.”
Mournful brown eyes looked up at him from a furry, wrinkly face of fawn-colored fur—a mute objection to being trapped in the pet carrier. His adorable pug pup made Jez want to scoop him right out and cuddle, but he didn’t dare. Not yet.
“Don’t worry. We’ll find us a pet-friendly apartment faster than you can clean your dish.” Which was fast. For a little bit of a thing, his pup could vacuum up food like nothing he’d seen. Jez didn’t know Los Angeles at all and hadn’t wanted to run the risk of accidentally committing to an apartment, sight unseen, only to discover it was in a shitty part of town where he’d have to worry about getting bashed, or that the apartment was in worse shape than online photos indicated.
Miguel had assured him Hayden didn’t mind putting Jez up for a couple of months, but Jez hadn’t told him about his puppy; Miguel’s apartment was pet-free, and Jez was all too aware that Hayden didn’t like dogs. At all.
Jez partially unzipped the duffel bag–style carrier and stuck his hand in the opening, letting his puggy baby, Fang, slather his hand in kisses.
“I know, I know,” he whispered. “You’ve been so good, but I can’t let you out yet.” He could maybe give his baby a little more room to move, though.
Extracting his hand, he assessed the size of the closet. Much larger than the closet in his Brooklyn apartment. Jez shifted the cardboard box into the closet, grabbed a puppy pad from the pocket in the carrier, and spread it out inside the box, surrounding the carrier. Then he unzipped the rest of the flap, and Fang barreled out and jumped toward Jez on his stubby little pug legs.
“There’s my big tough boy. Good Fang.”
Fang’s curly tail didn’t just wag, his whole puppy butt wiggled.
“You be a good boy now. Not much longer.” Next step would be sneaking in Fang’s food and water bowls; then Fang would be fine until they got the rest of the truck unpacked. Afterward, Jez could claim exhaustion—which wouldn’t be a lie—and retreat to his room, letting Fang out. He’d been such a good sweet baby on the drive from New York, although he’d also been in his carrier on the seat beside Jez and was able to see Jez the whole time. Jez had pushed through the last couple of hours, desperate to make it to Hayden’s before the end of his shift so he could get Fang into his cardboard Trojan horse, but then Hayden hadn’t come home right away. Jez had fallen asleep in the cool afternoon breeze on Hayden’s porch, but as soon as he awoke, he’d freaked, worried about Fang. It could have been hot as Satan’s nutsack if he’d moved in the summer.
Jez was also super lucky Fang hadn’t developed a proper big dog bark. The only noises he made were a snuffle-grunt that might one day evolve into a bark, and quiet whimpers, neither of which should—hopefully—be loud enough to draw Hayden’s attention through a closed door.
God. This was such a fucking mess. Jez’s life was a fucking mess. The only silver lining, aside from Fang, was the unexpected job offer that allowed him to ditch the life he’d been building in New York without a backward glance and flee for the West Coast.
He only wished it had sunk in earlier, when Miguel had first described the incredibly small size of his apartment. Jez had been so sure he’d be able to crash at Miguel’s place, but Miguel had gone and made arrangements with Hayden.
Then again, it was possible that Miguel was more interested in not letting Jez get in the way of him getting laid than he was worried about having nowhere for Jez to sleep.
Nah. His brother could be a dick, but that seemed more asshatted than normal. Besides, even if Jez had a place to sleep, he had a half-grown pug pup that would have to be hidden from the landlord, and he needed someplace to stash his stuff.
Jez was thankful for the sanctuary at Hayden’s house. But that didn’t change the fact he’d never be able to fully relax, never be able to breathe properly. Not until he got a place of his own.
As he shut the closet door, he took a glance around the guest room. For a house as old as this one was, the room was almost devoid of character. It did have a bed, at least. Initially he’d had no idea what to expect, but from what little he’d seen so far, Hayden had the bones of a great place. It was also large enough that he and Hayden wouldn’t be on top of each other. His cheeks heated at the double entendre. Jez might have been only twelve the last time he’d seen Hayden, but he’d sure remembered him later, during his teenage years. And as much as he didn’t want to like Hayden, it was a little embarrassing to recall how many times during his restless, hormonal puberty he’d imagined Hayden on top of him.
Then Jez grimaced. No TV. His own had broken shortly before he moved. Would Hayden let him watch the few shows he considered do-not-miss? Still, this was more luxury than he’d expected. Maybe more than he deserved.
The distinctive creak of the stairs alerted him that Hayden had finally run out of patience with Jez’s temper tantrum. It had been uncalled for, and Jez probably owed Hayden an apology. However wary Hayden made him, Jez was exhausted and desperate for a place to crash and didn’t want to make an enemy of Miguel’s best friend. In a few days, after he’d recovered a bit, he’d start figuring out how to build a new life. Whether he needed legal assistance. Scope out his new workplace. He had another two weeks before the job started, which should be enough time for him to find a new place to live.
Hayden’s footsteps drew closer, and Jez lunged for the door, unlocking and opening it in a single swift move.
Hayden grinned at him over another cardboard box, and Jez was finally forced to acknowledge the alterations in Hayden’s appearance. Worry about Fang and grogginess from his interrupted nap had let him ignore Hayden’s attractiveness earlier, but now it hit him like a blow. He’d half convinced himself that the Hayden he remembered from his preteen years had been a fantasy born of innumerable wet dreams. The Hayden who’d left their small town at eighteen—while a closeted twelve-year-old Jez mourned—was now obviously a man. The Hayden who stood before him had been fired by the kiln of adulthood into something infinitely sexier and more appealing, however impossible that was. Dark hair, mossy green eyes, skin susceptible to burning. And lickable all over, damn him.
Why couldn’t good things happen to him? A Hayden with a beer belly or thinning hair might be easier to resist. Then again, that stupid, sexy, heartfelt smile would be Hayden’s into his old age, and it was that smile that set Jez’s heart thumping.
Hayden’s expression didn’t change, which meant Jez’s thoughts hadn’t shown in his expression. Thank fuck for small favors.
“Ready for some more boxes?”
Chapter 2
A FEW hours later, Jez surveyed his room. He needed to get the truck back, but before he did so, everything had to be set up for Fang. Afterward, he’d unpack a few essentials like toiletries and clothes and towels.
Food and water dishes in the closet—check. He’d have to rig something up to ensure Fang didn’t manage to accidentally close the door, but that was a concern more for once he started working. Unti
l then, he’d be around enough that Fang wouldn’t starve to death.
Doggie bed tucked away in the corner, with dresser blocking the view from the door—check. Pet carrier on the top shelf in the closet, pushed all the way back—check. Puppy stairs… in the closet for now. He’d bring them out when he went to bed so stubby little pug legs could get up and down from the bed easily, but until Jez was on his own, Fang was going to have to forgo sleeping on the bed when Jez wasn’t around. Emergency puppy pads laid out in the closet—check. The nail on the wall inside the closet made a perfect spot to hang a leash and poop bags.
If Hayden stumbled in, Jez’s room didn’t have any obvious and immediate clues that this space also housed a not-yet-full-grown pug. Not that there would be any reason for Hayden to enter Jez’s private space, but he wasn’t about to take any chances.
Jez rescued his sleepy pup from his carrier and gave him a snuggle. Fang licked his face, and Jez straightened the adorable plaid bow-tie collar he’d ordered a mere week before he’d been obliged to pull up stakes. He’d have to switch it out soon to the plain purple one, because Fang would try to chew at the bow tie, but the purple one was fun too.
At least he’d had Fang long enough to get him mostly trained and housebroken, but a glance at his watch told him he needed to smuggle Fang out to the backyard soon, although it could wait until he got back from returning the truck. He settled Fang on the doggie bed, then slipped out of the room, making sure to close the door firmly behind him. Unpacking the rest of the boxes could wait until later. Or not at all, depending on how soon he found a suitable apartment.
He wished he had a lock for the door, but hopefully he could trust Hayden to not be a giant dick.
Jez had almost made it to the front door before Hayden called his name and he froze, reaching for the handle.
“Yeah?” His heart rate picked up. Had Hayden discovered Fang? Surely not. Jez had been so careful.