No Way Out

by Julie Lynn Hayes

  “Good idea,” Wyatt concurred. He was gratified to see that he was not the only one with a hard-on as Shy padded out of the bedroom and headed down the hall, Wyatt’s eyes fastened on his swaying ass. “Fresh towels are hanging up!” Wyatt called after him. He took a deep breath, rolled over, and reached for his phone, grabbing it just before it went to voicemail. Lukas, of course. Who else?

  “Did I catch you at a bad time?” his mentor drawled. “You weren’t sleeping, were you?”

  “No, no, not asleep. Why, what’s up?”

  “Just checking on you, that’s all. Seeing if you’re okay. Are you okay, Wyatt?”

  “I’m fine, just fine, Lukas.” He heard the sound of the water turning on and tried not to think of Shy’s naked body beneath the warm spray. He had a feeling if he chose to join Shy in the shower, he wouldn’t be turned away.

  To forestall such a move, he put the phone on speaker and set it on top of the dresser while he grabbed a pair of sweatpants and yanked them on.

  “I might have some news for you later. Did you have plans for tomorrow?”

  Wyatt picked out a red T-shirt emblazoned with the baseball Cardinals’ logo and slipped it on before picking the phone up again. “I don’t know yet. What kind of news?”

  “A meet and greet with some of the patrons from the Art Museum.”

  Wyatt made a face. He hated that sort of thing and Lukas knew it.

  “It’s good for your career.” Same thing Lukas always said. Of course, he was right and Wyatt knew it. Didn’t mean he had to like it.

  “I know. All right. Whatever. Just let me know.”

  “Don’t whatever me, boy.”

  Wyatt heard the chuckle in Lukas’s voice, and knew he didn’t mean anything by it.

  “Tell you what. I was thinking of stopping by and checking on Shylor. How about I do that and then come over and let you know how he’s doing, okay? I know you must be worried about him and all.”

  Wyatt made no immediate response.

  “Wyatt?”

  “Yeah, I’m here. I don’t think that’ll be necessary, you know?”

  He exited the bedroom, barefoot, and headed downstairs, taking the stairs two at a time. There was a moment of silence from the other end of the line before Lukas growled in exasperation. “Oh dear God.”

  Wyatt had already reached the kitchen. He flinched at what he perceived as censure in Lukas’s tone, but perhaps he was reading too much into it.

  “You’re going to get that boy hurt, do you realize that? Is that worth whatever’s going on between you two?”

  Wyatt shifted the phone to his left hand as he opened the fridge and pulled out the Tupperware with the leftover cinnamon rolls. He bumped the door closed with his ass and set the container on the counter.

  “He’s not a boy! And for your information, he came to me. He made the choice himself. No one forced him into it. Not Grant, not you, and certainly not me. I think that has to count for something.” Wyatt lowered his voice to a low snarl, even though he knew there was no way he could be overheard, not by Shy. “You know something, Lukas? Shy’s a grown man, and he deserves to be treated with respect. Not like Grant’s personal slave. You do know that’s illegal here, right? Ever hear of basic human rights?”

  “That’s not your call to make.”

  “No, it’s not, it’s his. I don’t think he’s ever been given a choice, Lukas. He was just stuck in a bad situation and left to rot. Why are you being such an ass?”

  “Wyatt—”

  “No, don’t Wyatt me, Lukas. You’re not much better, turning a blind eye to something you had to know was wrong. What does that make you, if not a silent accessory?” Not waiting for a reply, he ended the conversation, too angry to continue. He expected Lukas to phone right back, to pick up the argument where he’d dropped it, but that didn’t happen. He wondered if he’d just screwed himself out of a mentor.

  Couldn’t worry about that now. Today was going to be all about Shy. The rest could wait.

  Chapter Twelve

  ONE GOOD thing about Wyatt’s anger at Lukas—it served to dampen his raging libido rather handily. He pounded angrily up the stairs, taking his frustration out on the innocent steps, holding inside the scream that threatened to tear itself loose. He paused at the top and forced himself to calm down. Losing control would do no one any good.

  Taking a deep breath, he entered his bedroom and rummaged through the drawers until he found fresh clothes, which he laid out on the bed for Shy. The thought occurred to him that maybe they should go across the street and get some of Shy’s own clothes. That might make him feel more comfortable. On the other hand, Wyatt wasn’t sure he actually wanted to enter the house where Shylor had suffered abuse at the hands of the Keeper, much less take Shy back there.

  Scratch that. They weren’t going over there today. Or any other day, if Wyatt had anything to say about it. Maybe when Shy was ready to move out permanently, and then only if he had belongings he actually wanted to get back. And at a time when Grant wasn’t there. As far as Wyatt was concerned, Shy’s relationship with Randy Grant was over.

  Wyatt paused just outside the bathroom door, listening to the steady rhythm of the water. He burned with the knowledge that Shy was standing underneath the spray, naked. Temptation pulled at him, the desire to touch Shy a growing ache in his soul.

  Resolutely, he forced himself to push such thoughts away and hurried back to the relative safety of the kitchen.

  Wyatt waited until Shy’s footsteps sounded on the stairs before he set the container with the rolls into the microwave to warm for a few seconds. He poured a cup of coffee for each of them. Not sure how Shy took his, he’d set sweetener, sugar, honey, and liquid creamer within easy reach. Removing the rolls, he set one on a small plate, which he placed next to Shy’s mug. He raised his head at Shy’s entrance.

  The hot water had obviously agreed with him. His cheeks were flush with actual color, and his beautiful blue eyes held a little sparkle. He’d found the jeans and T-shirt Wyatt had laid out for him, but had forgone the shoes. Wouldn’t matter if they didn’t go out, anyhow. Wyatt preferred to be barefoot himself.

  Shy slid into the chair opposite Wyatt’s. Wyatt took a couple of rolls for himself and set the remainder on the table, in case Shy wanted more, then took his seat.

  “Feel better?”

  Shy nodded. He examined the various items Wyatt had laid out before him, as though he couldn’t believe he could actually make his own choice. “Is the sweetener as sweet as the sugar?” he asked thoughtfully.

  “Sweeter,” Wyatt assured him. Shy’s hand snaked out toward the honey, but at the last moment snatched a pink packet instead, tore it open, and stirred it into his coffee.

  I know he can think for himself. He just needs to get away from that asshole.

  “Want to try some of that creamer?” Wyatt offered. “It’s cinnamon. My favorite.”

  That brought a definite smile to Shy’s lips, and he took less time to make up his mind, closing his hand around the bottle and adding it to his cup. He stirred that in as well, then took a hesitant sip. Then a longer one. The smile of contentment that crossed over Shy’s face warmed Wyatt’s heart.

  “You know what’s really good?” Wyatt asked. Shy cocked an eyebrow in response.

  “This.” He broke off a piece of his cinnamon roll and dipped it into his coffee, just enough to wet it, then popped it into his mouth. He loved to dunk his pastries like this.

  Shy hesitated for just a moment, then imitated Wyatt’s actions, taking a piece of roll, giving it a quick coffee bath, and taking it into his mouth. His eyes grew wider as he chewed and swallowed.

  “That is really good,” he agreed. “Thanks for the suggestion.”

  They ate their breakfast in a companionable silence. Wyatt watched Shy carefully, although he couldn’t have said just what he was looking for. When Shy finished his roll, he gave the container a wistful glance. Wyatt started to urge him to take another, then
swallowed the words.

  Let him make up his own mind. It’s time he was allowed to think for himself.

  After another minute or so of hesitation, Shy finally reached out and took a second roll. Wyatt couldn’t help but feel that this was a small, but important, victory for Shy.

  Once they’d finished eating, Shy stood and started to clear everything, but Wyatt insisted on helping, and the kitchen was clean again in no time.

  I could get used to this.

  Wyatt was surprised at his own thought. Not like he’d never lived with someone before. He had his college roommates, and he liked them well enough. But that was a temporary arrangement, born of necessity. Chances were once they all graduated, they’d fade out of one another’s lives.

  This was different. This was him and Shylor, and this was domestic, and he felt a surprising warmth he’d never known before. Wasn’t it too soon to feel that way? Seriously, they barely knew each other. They came from completely different backgrounds and mind-sets. From what little Wyatt had learned so far, Shy had experienced horrors he could not even imagine. But it wasn’t his suffering that drew Wyatt to him, it was his strength. His inner beauty. Something inside of the other young man called to something in himself, something basic and fundamental. He wanted nothing more than the chance to get to know Shy better, to find out what made him tick.

  And most of all, he wanted to get Shy away from Randy Grant. He’d rather see him with someone else—anyone else other than Grant.

  “If I’m keeping you from something, I’ll just go.” Shy’s voice broke into Wyatt’s thoughts. Shy stood uncertainly in the middle of the kitchen. His gaze strayed about the room, as if seeking something else to clean, but everything was immaculate.

  Wyatt’s heart ached for him. Why did he always need to feel he had to be useful simply to exist? But he knew the answer to that question, didn’t he? Randy Grant, damn his soul. That man would have much to account for some day, supposing there was an actual day of reckoning.

  “You’re not, don’t even think that way,” Wyatt replied. “I’m between classes right now. My time’s my own.”

  “Aren’t you working on… you know, art?” Shy waved vaguely in the direction of the back of the house and Wyatt’s temporary studio.

  “Yeah, but that’s not for school.” Shy’s eyebrows raised curiously, so Wyatt hastened to explain. “I’m building up my portfolio. Lukas is working on getting me a show. Well, that’s the plan anyway.” He laughed, a little self-deprecatingly. Starving artist wasn’t just an expression, it was a reality. Making it in the arts was difficult, at best. And talent was no guarantee of success. Sometimes it was all in the timing. Or who you knew.

  “You’ll do well, you’re very talented.”

  Shy’s words warmed Wyatt’s heart.

  “If you want to work, you know… I can just sit and watch. I mean, if you don’t mind.”

  Wyatt hesitated. “I’m afraid you’ll be bored,” he halfheartedly protested.

  “I won’t be,” Shy insisted.

  Wyatt turned the suggestion over in his mind. Actually, he had something else in mind, an idea he’d been loath to broach before, unsure of Shy’s reception. Maybe this was the perfect opportunity….

  “Penny for your thoughts.”

  Wyatt hadn’t realized he’d fallen silent until he heard the question, mimicking his own of that morning, Shy’s tone light and teasing. Shy was actually smiling at him, which emboldened Wyatt all the more.

  “Would you please sit for me?” Wyatt asked. “Let me paint your picture?”

  “You want to paint me?” Shy sounded surprised. “Why?”

  “Because you’re beautiful,” Wyatt blurted out without thinking.

  Shy’s face quickly pinked, but he didn’t seem upset at the comment. At least, Wyatt hoped he wasn’t. He seemed to be more skeptical than anything.

  “You’re too kind,” Shy murmured. “There are far better subjects than me. I’d hate to see you waste your time—”

  “I won’t be, I promise. And we can talk while I work.”

  “Talk?” Shy sounded uncertain. “What about?”

  “Anything. Everything. Nothing in particular.” Wyatt tried to keep his voice at a reassuring level. He just wanted to get to know Shy, but nothing he would be uncomfortable in revealing. His likes and dislikes. His dreams and ambitions. That sort of thing. He wanted to give Shy the chance to know him better as well. Assuming he was interested, which was a huge assumption on his part.

  Shy didn’t say anything, and Wyatt’s heart sank. He hoped he hadn’t upset him. Sure, he wanted to paint him, but if Shy said no, he’d be fine with it. He might still be able to draw him from memory, if that was his only option. He started to tell him so, but Shy spoke first.

  “All right,” he said softly. “I’m all yours.”

  Wyatt’s breath hitched at the words, although he knew they weren’t meant the way he wanted to take them. Still, it was a start.

  They refreshed their coffee cups and carried them to the back porch where Wyatt had his stuff set up.

  “Aren’t you going to wear a smock or something?” Shy asked. He was leafing through some of Wyatt’s sketches on one of the glass-topped wicker tables in the room. Touching them gingerly, as if he was afraid to damage them.

  “A smock?”

  “You know, to paint in. I’ve seen pictures of artists wearing smocks. I just wondered.”

  Wyatt hid his smile once he realized Shy was being quite serious. “I’m not actually painting today. I have to sketch you first, before I even think about mixing a palette.”

  “Oh, okay.” Shy seemed satisfied with his answer. “How did you want to paint me? What should I wear?”

  There was that anxious look again. Wyatt hated to see him distressed for any reason. He hadn’t thought beyond the question of asking Shy to pose, much less formulated any actual plan of action, such as where or what or how.

  “Do you want me… to take my clothes off?” Shy’s eyes were fixed on the floor, and his body had tensed suddenly. Much as Wyatt wanted to paint him au naturel, he wouldn’t risk making Shy uncomfortable in order to do it. Maybe that would be a painful reminder of the times he’d been forced to put himself on display for the assholes at Randy’s club. Lukas’s club too, he reminded himself. Did that mean Lukas had seen Shy naked? He pushed the jealous thought aside, focusing on Shy. On the here and now.

  Maybe it was time they got certain things out in the open. “Shy, sit down, please.” He waved him toward the sofa. Shy hesitated for only a moment before doing as Wyatt requested. His fidgeting hands, which writhed in his lap, betrayed his uncertainty.

  Wyatt started to pace the room, but stopped abruptly and dropped to his knees in front of Shy, putting them on a more even level. He carefully refrained from touching him, though, Lukas’s admonition still ringing in his ears.

  “Shy, I like you. I like you very much. I have ever since the first time I saw you, when you were washing—” He grew momentarily tongue-tied. He wasn’t about to say that man’s name if he could help it, so he slipped over it. “—the car,” he hastily amended. “I wanted to get to know you, find out more about you. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think you’re very attractive and very sexy, but there’s more to you than that, and that’s the part I want to get to know. I want to be your friend, if you’ll have me.”

  Suddenly shy, and unexpectedly exposed, Wyatt paused for breath. He’d never bared his soul like this before, was surprised he even had it in him. He dropped his gaze to the floor, feeling rather foolish for being down on his knees like this, but unwilling to move away from Shy. Not yet. He hoped he hadn’t screwed himself with Shy. He’d just wanted to be honest with him.

  “I’d like that,” Shy said so softly Wyatt could barely hear him. “I wanted the same thing when I saw you too.”

  Wyatt slowly raised his eyes to find Shy’s gaze fixed intently on him.

  “Friends,” Wyatt repeated, and was gratifie
d at Shy’s nod.

  “You aren’t obligated to me for anything,” Wyatt continued, feeling emboldened by Shy’s acceptance, at least so far. “I won’t ask you to do anything you don’t want to do. Ever. If you don’t want to, then you just say no. Okay?”

  Shy nodded again.

  “As for your question…. Maybe someday, when you’re ready, I’ll be more than happy to paint you in the nude. I think you’d make a great model. But only if that’s something you’d feel comfortable with. Right now, I want you just the way you are. Does that make sense?”

  Shy hesitated for a moment, then nodded. A wave of relief washed over Wyatt.

  “Would you like me to do something?” Shy asked.

  Wyatt was momentarily confused by the question. “What do you mean?”

  “I dunno.” Shy shrugged. “I thought maybe you’d want me to pose a certain way, so it’s not just me sitting here looking stupid.”

  Good question. Most of Wyatt’s experience with drawing live models came from his classes, where he had no choice of what pose the model assumed. This was another matter entirely.

  Wyatt glanced around the room. He could get a piece of fruit out of the kitchen, but that sounded like a stupid idea as soon as he thought it. Most painting poses were stiff and unnatural in Wyatt’s eyes. Then he remembered something they’d done together the first night Shy had slept here.

  “You want to read while I paint?” Brilliant idea. It would make for a relaxed pose, and maybe even get Shy to relax himself, if he was caught up in the book.

  “I like that idea,” Shy admitted.

  “How about Alice?” Wyatt suggested. He was gratified to see the smile that lit Shy’s face. When Shy started to rise, Wyatt stopped him, placing his hands on his knees. Shy stilled instantly.

  Cursing himself inwardly for his mistake, Wyatt hurriedly removed the offending hands and rose, as if nothing had happened. “I know where it is. Drink your coffee, I’ll be right back.” He winked at Shy, hoping to set him at ease, and hastily left the room. The book sat where they’d left it. He snatched it up and brought it quickly back.