“I’ll ask Max if she minds you sitting in her office. I’m sure she’ll be just fine about it. Or you can come and chat with me and José.”
“You don’t mind me watching?” Aidan blinked slowly and attempted to backtrack. “Um, I mean talking to you while you work out.”
Now Patrick was smiling too and couldn’t have stopped if his life depended on it. He led the way over to the weights room, where José was already set up and lying on his back, a loaded bar on the rest above his neck. Patrick went over and stood at José’s head, ready for his workout partner to start lifting. Aidan moved to one side and leaned against the wall. He took his phone from his pocket.
The next half hour consisted of Aidan trying not to watch whenever it was Patrick’s turn to lift, and Patrick doing his best to concentrate on José, but Aidan was a distraction. The way his dark eyelashes quickly fell whenever Patrick looked his way, followed by a little peek and the slightest smile—the end of the workout couldn’t come soon enough.
“Thanks, man,” José said, giving Patrick a high-five.
“No problem,” Patrick replied.
“See ya,” José called to Aidan on his way past.
“Oh. Yeah. Bye,” Aidan stuttered out. Patrick strolled over and put his hand on the wall, peering down at Aidan’s phone.
“Hope that wasn’t too boring.”
“No. It was…great. Kinda.” Aidan wrinkled his nose and nodded. “Okay, maybe a little boring.”
Patrick laughed. “So, I live upstairs. Why don’t you come up and I’ll make you a cup of tea while I shower.” Patrick rolled his eyes at his own illogic. How does he always make me scramble my words? “I mean I’ll make a cup of tea for you to drink while I take a shower.”
“I figured. Sounds great.”
Once more, Patrick led the way back through the gym, popping his head around the door of the aerobics room to let Maxine know he was going up to his apartment. She gave him a big telling grin and a thumbs-up, but he was determined not to mess it up this time.
“So this is me,” he said, opening the door and gesturing for Aidan to go in first, which he did, looking all around him, his eyes wide and mouth open in wonder. Patrick’s apartment took up three-quarters of the top floor of the building; the remaining quarter was where the air conditioning condenser was situated, and the bathroom was tucked in next to it, making the apartment L-shaped. Next to that was the bedroom, the open door revealing a double bed roughly made up with black and gray sheets. Patrick went over and gave them a quick straighten.
“Wasn’t expecting to entertain,” he said. “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll make a pot of tea.”
“A pot?” Aidan repeated in apparent disbelief. He sat himself on the very end of the big sofa, turning so he could still see Patrick.
“Ah, yeah.” Patrick picked up the kettle and filled it with water, then put the teapot on the countertop. The delight on Aidan’s face turned Patrick’s insides to mush. Or is that moosh?
“That’s awesome. I’ve never had tea out of a pot before.”
“It’s the best way to drink it. I don’t use leaves. They’re a damn nuisance, and you have to mess about with a strainer. So I’m afraid it’s tea bags.” He picked a couple out of a jar and held them up as evidence.
“Yeah. I know what they are.”
“Good stuff.” Patrick waited with the kettle and as it came to a boil, he tipped a little water in the pot to warm it, aware of Aidan’s eyes following his every move. He swooshed the pot, tipped out the water, added the teabags and filled the pot with the freshly boiled water. “There we are. Do you have milk and sugar?” Patrick asked.
“Yeah?”
“You don’t sound so sure.”
“Well, I think I do. I might be out of milk.”
“Ah!” Patrick grinned. “I mean do you take milk and sugar in your tea?”
“Oh!” Aidan laughed and covered his mouth with his fingertips. His cheeks flushed with color. The sight sent a little shiver of desire running up Patrick’s spine. “I don’t drink much tea,” Aidan said. “So I don’t know."
“Okay. Well, I have it with just a dash of milk and a couple of spoons of sugar. How does that sound?”
“Sounds great.”
“Grand. I’ll go shower and the tea’ll be brewed by the time I get back.” Patrick went wide around Aidan and quickly got inside the bathroom before he made any more of an idiot of himself. He felt unusually out of control, particularly with the prospect of stripping naked in a room with a door that didn’t lock, with the most attractive guy he’d known in years sitting just a few feet away on the other side.
He set the shower running and peeled off his sweatpants, the friction against his dick enough for it to immediately spring to life. He tried to ignore it, but under the hot jets of water it was even worse. He had been replaying last night’s kiss over and again, and part of him thought that release now might stop him from doing something he’d regret. The rest of him wanted nothing more than to deliver the rest of that kiss, and then some.
Should he? Could he? Would it be fair to Aidan if he did? Or himself, for that matter. Because he didn’t just “like” Aidan, in the sense that he could hook up with him a couple of times and then move on. He liked Aidan’s company, wanted to be his friend. But, hell, he wanted to feel that fine, slender body against his, get his hands tangled in that shiny coffee-brown hair, probe those red lips with his tongue, explore every single inch of Aidan’s being with his fingers, his mouth…
And all of a sudden Patrick realized that his hand was working without his conscious control, and the urge to come was bordering on irrepressible, but he didn’t want this. Not on his own. Not with Aidan so close he could walk in at any second and catch him. No, he didn’t want this. He did want this…
Chapter Eleven:
Self- Control
“That was quick, I…” Aidan trailed off as Patrick walked into the living room. His hair was damp, the fiery red turned two shades darker. He was topless, the towel wrapped around his waist, and the exposed flesh made Aidan’s mouth go dry. He quickly turned his head, realizing he was staring. “S-sorry.”
“I forgot to grab my clothes. All I have is the dirties. I’m just going to go to my room and—”
Aidan nodded quickly, pretending he found the gray-shaded lamp beside the couch to be of the greatest of interest. He’d never seen such well-defined muscles up close before. And Patrick wasn’t lying; there really were a lot of freckles. The room was suddenly very warm.
“Can I have some water?” Aidan asked and instantly regretted it because instead of telling Aidan where the cups were and going to get dressed, Patrick walked into the kitchen in his towel. He chanced a look and had to force himself to swallow against the lump that formed in his throat. As Patrick opened the cabinet and reached for the cup, the muscles in his shoulder and back tensed.
“You sure you don’t want your tea instead?”
“Um…just water right now, please.”
Embarrassed, Aidan looked down at his lap and shifted uncomfortably. He was hard. Grabbing a nearby pillow, he hugged it to himself and tried to look natural. What was he? Sixteen? What was with this errant hard-on? He swallowed again and realized Patrick was returning with his glass.
“Thanks,” he managed.
“You’re welcome,” Patrick said. He hesitated for a moment and Aidan realized he was blushing as well. “Er…I should probably get dressed.”
“Y-yeah,” Aidan agreed, but as Patrick turned, Aidan blurted, “I know you said I didn’t ruin things last night but I’m still sorry. I…don’t want you to feel sorry for me.”
Patrick turned back. “Aidan, I don’t, really, I—”
“I liked that kiss.”
Oh Jesus, oh Jesus, oh Jesus, he’d said it. Aidan clutched the pillow tighter.
“I really wasn’t meaning for it to be a date or anything, I didn’t want you to feel obligated or—”
“Oh, Aidan. You’
ve got me all wrong. I wasn’t feelin’ sorry for you and I sure as hell wasn’t feelin’ obligated. I wanted to kiss you.” He reached out and touched Aidan’s cheek. Aidan melted. “And I want to do it again, right now. You’ve got no idea. But if I don’t put on some pants, I’m afraid—”
Impulsively, Aidan sprang up off the couch, except that Patrick hadn’t stepped away and they crashed into each other. A pillow and a towel separated their lower halves, and as Aidan shifted, the pillow fell on the floor.
“You really want to kiss me?”
He’d thought about it all night. Thought about the tender way Patrick had kissed his neck, thought about Patrick’s lips grazing his cheek, thought about their lips pressed together. He didn’t understand it, but it had been amazing, and he wanted to experience it again.
“Yes,” Patrick breathed.
“I want to kiss you, too. I-I think I’m going to.”
Patrick nodded.
This definitely was awkward, wasn’t it? He closed the small bit of space remaining between them and laid his lips over Patrick’s. There was a moment where nothing happened, and Aidan waited, growing more nervous. Was he doing it wrong? Did Patrick hate it? Maybe he’d misunderstood. And then he felt Patrick begin to ease into the kiss. Patrick moved with him and pressed Aidan down into the couch and he could tell that Patrick was as hard as he was.
Their lips moved together in a delicious, rhythmic dance—with Patrick leading. When Patrick’s tongue grazed the seam of his lips, Aidan parted them without thought. He’d fought against Ms. Ashmore’s attempts to French kiss him, but with Patrick, he accepted the meal being presented to him with the hunger of a starving man.
Patrick groaned into him and Aidan wrapped his arms around his neck.
“Aidan?” Patrick begged and Aidan made a noise he hoped sounded like acknowledgement. “I’ve got to go get those pants now or I’m going to do something we’ll both regret.”
<<< >>>
“Hi, Doe,” Aidan smiled cheerfully as he strolled into the small flower shop. The florist looked up at him and grinned, motioning to a container of peonies with a sale sign. Aidan shrugged. Maybe. Maybe not. Part of him felt like spending full price today. He tried not to think of his bank account.
Bright light streamed through the window and the floral aromas intermingled in ways that tantalized. He’d been in this place so many times, but it had never seemed as colorful as it did today. What would Nadia like today? he wondered, heading to the back. There were lilies there in a black plastic container. Not exactly cheap, but beautiful, and worth it. He had so much he wanted to tell his sister.
“You’ve made headway?” Doe asked kindly, wrapping the lilies in green tissue paper.
He thought about Patrick and the hungry kisses they’d shared yesterday in his apartment. That was definitely headway. He smiled again.
“Yep,” he agreed.
“You’ll have to promise not to forget me when all the wooing is done,” she continued. “I think you’re single-handedly setting up a trust fund for my great-grandbabies.”
Normally the comment would have saddened him because he’d be buying flowers for Nadia for the rest of his life. There would never come a time when he’d stop needing to leave the blooms on her grave. Today, though, it only made his heart thud a little heavier. He grabbed a single rose out of a bucket by the register. There was a clear plastic vial filled with water at the base of its stem.
“This one too?”
<<< >>>
“When you and Lily got together, Na-Na,” Aidan said, leaning his head against the side of his sister’s tombstone and staring up at the sky. “I never really thought much about it. I mean…I thought about it, but not the ‘you and another girl’ part.”
The midday sun beat down on his face and it was a nice companion to the breeze. Summer was slowly giving way to autumn, and soon the first of the leaves would begin to change.
“I guess I never really thought much about myself, either.” Maybe he should have. If he’d been more introspective and realized earlier why he’d always been so awkward and uncomfortable with women, he definitely wouldn’t have made the mistakes he had with Ms. Ashmore. “When Patrick and I kissed, it felt right. You know?” He supposed she did know. Wherever she was now, whatever afterlife his sister had moved on to, he truly believed she understood what he was going through.
Even if she hadn’t ever been with Lily, even if she’d preferred the company of men, she would have understood his heart. She always understood.
“I like him so much, Na-Na. I know I’m moving too fast. I know he’s my first friend since you died. I know he’s my first, well, relationship. But I woke up smiling today.”
The wind blew stray petals across the neatly mowed grass and he caught one as it tumbled by, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. It wasn’t dry yet, and its vibrant yellow had not faded.
“It’s been so long since I felt good. But I guess you know that, don’t you?”
He took in a lungful of air, offered his twin a silent prayer of peace, and exhaled.
Gathering himself and his rose, Aidan walked along the other side of the cemetery—the section he’d yet to explore. This time, though, he kept to the path instead of stopping to look at the headstones. He had a mission—find Patrick. And if he didn’t see the other man working, then maybe he could find some sort of groundskeeper’s house. They had to have a place to rest on breaks and use the bathroom, right?
Up ahead, he saw an older man in coveralls, crouched down next to a marker which leaned to one side. He flicked ash off the end of the cigarette into the gravel path. Definitely not a mourner.
“Excuse me,” Aidan said, as he approached. “Do you know where I can find Patrick, sir?”
“Sir? Good Lord, son. Call me Arthur,” the man said, looking over his shoulder at Aidan. He slowly stood, taking a long drag off his cigarette and blowing the smoke away from Aidan. “Yer lookin’ for Paddy, y’say?”
Paddy. Aidan tried not to grin like a fool. He liked the nickname and wondered what Patrick would think if Aidan dropped the name while they were kissing. Paddy…
Finally remembering that a question still hung in the air waiting to be answered, he said, “Yes, I’ve got this…” Mechanically, he raised the flower and had almost held it out to the other man when he froze in mid-movement.
He’d come to the cemetery with a bright red rose adorned with a ribbon, and was preparing to hand it off to Patrick’s, what? Coworker? Employer? He didn’t know this man from Adam, didn’t know what he’d think about Patrick doing the things he’d done with Aidan yesterday. Maybe he was the sort that got angry at the thought of a man bringing another man a rose. Stupid. Aidan should be more careful. “My mom sent it for him.”
Arthur cracked a smile, making his sunburned cheeks rise. “That right?”
“She just wanted to say ‘thank you’ for the other night. I was coming out here to visit my sister, so I said I’d bring it. Could you give it to him?”
“He’ll be back in twenty if you want to wait. Thank him yourself. For yer mam.”
“N-no,” Aidan stuttered. “No, it’ll be enough for Mom that he gets it.”
After another moment, Arthur took the rose and promised to pass it along.
Aidan’s lunch hour, which had started so high, had quickly begun to crumble under the weight of guilt and self-doubt. He stopped by Nadia’s grave once more as he was leaving and said, “I don’t know what I’m doing, Na-Na. I thought I did, but I don’t. I’m all gushy-hearted over two kisses? Stealing things to impress him? And lying to people? What a mess.”
The carnations he’d brought her on the day Lily called him—over a month ago—were now wilted and brown. Was Patrick protecting the site for Aidan? There was a sign at the front gates with the rules of the cemetery. In addition to respecting the property, and the seasonal closing times, there was a notice stating graves would be cleared of dead flowers periodically. By all accounts, Nadia�
��s grave should have been cleared long ago.
Slowly, Aidan picked up the bouquet of dead carnations.
What would his sister say if she were next to him? Why couldn’t he hear her heart any longer?
Chapter Twelve:
Sugar is Sweet
The Grand Heights was indeed very grand. With its Art Deco façade and shiny marble lobby, it was even more splendid in the daytime than it had been in the late evening. Patrick’s reflection off the newly polished floors was as vivid and real as he was, and looked equally out of place. He envisioned that even a room under the stairs of a building like this would be quite spectacular—unless it was a broom cupboard, like Harry Potter’s bedroom. He pushed that thought away immediately; he didn’t like to think of his Aidan enduring nights crushed in a broom cupboard, though whatever his living quarters were like, it was The Grand Heights crushing him. Every time the conversation switched to talking about the place, Aidan seemed to shrink in Patrick’s arms.
Can I try it with just a little more sugar?
Patrick smiled as the echo of Aidan’s request danced around his mind. By the end of Sunday he must have been having half a pound of sugar in his tea.
“Afternoon, sir,” the doorman said, stepping aside to let Patrick out again.
“Thanks very much,” Patrick replied, keeping his smile to hide his disappointment. He’d hoped Aidan would be there—Murphy’s Law, wasn’t it? That Aidan’s break should coincide with his own. Nothing for it, he mounted Arthur’s rickety old bike to ride the half-mile back to Oak Wood Cemetery. It was another lovely late summer afternoon, perfect for getting on with clearing the newly consecrated section and prepping it for the turf to be laid—come the wetter weather—and he was looking forward to it, if only to burn off some of his frustration.
Luckily, Patrick’s temper cooled as quickly as it flared, and while he was still angry, it wasn’t the same burning fury he’d felt on Saturday night when Aidan told him about those women. That it should be there in his mind when he awoke on Sunday morning was all the confirmation he needed of the strength of his feelings for Aidan. And then to spend those few hours with him—his kisses were so…hungry. Patrick couldn’t find another word for it, for every time he tried to pull away, Aidan was on him again, and it took a hell of a lot of willpower to not go beyond kissing and cuddling.
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