The Growing Season

by Diana Copland

  “Hey.” Danny limped to the island, aware of Cal’s eyes as he watched his halting progress.

  “You’re hurting.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Give the man a cookie,” Danny replied testily. “I stepped on glass. Yeah, it hurts.”

  Refusing to rise to the bait, Cal set his cup on the counter and opened a cupboard, taking down a white plastic bottle. He shook two pills into his hand and crossed to Danny, holding them out.

  Danny looked at them suspiciously.

  “Tylenol. You can’t have any anti-inflammatories because they contain blood thinners.” Cal dropped the tablets into his palm. “But this should take the edge off. Coffee?”

  “No.” He grimaced in distaste.

  One corner of Cal’s mouth twitched. “Yoo-hoo?”

  Danny hooked his foot around one of the tall stools and plopped heavily onto it, relieved to take the weight off his foot. “Instead of coffee? What do you think?”

  Cal grimaced. “I think you’re out of your mind, but to each his own. You have to eat something, too.”

  “Yes, Mother.” Danny snagged a banana from the fruit bowl in front of him while Cal pulled one of the small bottles of chocolate drink from the fridge. He placed it near his elbow. “Thanks,” Danny muttered.

  “Sure.” Cal turned away.

  “Where’s Will?”

  “Outside with the crew. They decided to work on the porch this morning to keep the noise down.”

  Because of him, Danny knew, and he felt his face heat.

  “Devon went into town to pick up a package from New York. They want him to go to New Orleans.” Cal reclaimed his coffee cup. “He told them he’d think about it.”

  “He does get around.” Danny took the pills, then took a bite of the banana.

  “He said you should take it easy on that foot today.” Cal held up his hands as Danny scowled. “Just the messenger.”

  “I think sleeping until ten qualifies as taking it easy, don’t you?”

  Cal gave him an arch look, then went back to the window.

  “What are you looking at?”

  “Sam, actually.”

  Perking up, Danny stood and limped to Cal’s side. He looked out toward the raised vegetable beds and caught his breath.

  Sam was standing there, all right. He was wearing a heavy fleece jacket, worn jeans and leather gloves on hands that were propped on his hips. He was talking to Will. Their hair, Sam’s tawny gold and Will’s reddish brown, gleamed in the late morning sunlight. There was a breeze, and strands brushed their faces.

  Cal took a sip of his coffee. “Sam asked about you this morning.” Danny looked over at him sharply. “Said you fell out of one of the fruit trees yesterday and landed on him.”

  “Yeah, thought I’d try to fly. Doesn’t every man under five-nine have a Peter Pan complex?”

  Cal gave him an indulgent look. “I actually think he likes you.”

  Danny took a quick, shallow breath. “Did he—say something?”

  “No, but I have eyes.” Cal pursed his lips. “You know he’s gay.”

  Danny nodded. “I found out a couple of days ago. One of the guys on his crew was asking for advice about his prostate.”

  Cal sputtered out a startled laugh. “Seriously?”

  “Oh, yeah. You should hear the shit they talk about.” He stared down at the yellow-and-blue label on the small glass bottle in his hand. “The crew all know. About Sam I mean, and they don’t care. I don’t think I’ve ever known straight guys like that. The ones I knew always wanted to kick the shit out of me.”

  Cal’s expression didn’t change but his eyes darkened. “They aren’t all like that.”

  “No, just most of them.” Danny bit his lip. “Do you think he’s hot?”

  “Who, Sam?”

  “Yeah.”

  Cal turned to look back out of the window thoughtfully. After several seconds, he nodded slowly.

  “He is, actually. And he seems like a good guy. Will certainly likes him.” He studied Danny, almost as if he were trying to look inside of him. “More importantly, do you?”

  Danny cleared his throat. “Like him, you mean?” Cal nodded. “Sure. He’s okay, I guess. He’s a good worker, knows what he’s doing with the grounds.” He hoped the heat in his cheeks didn’t indicate that he was blushing, but from Cal’s expression, he was afraid it did.

  “That isn’t what I meant.”

  “I know what you meant.” Danny picked up the Yoo-hoo and took a large gulp, trying to buy some time. “I...can’t. Not right now. I mean, sure, he’s good-looking, and he’s friendly.” He shook his head. “I just...can’t.”

  Cal leaned his hips back against the sink. “Okay.”

  Danny’s eyes went back to the bottle in his hand. “It’s just...I have seriously bad taste in men.”

  Cal continued to study him with the calm, enigmatic expression. “If you find yourself attracted to Sam, maybe your taste has changed.”

  Danny chewed his lower lip. “Maybe.”

  Even as he wondered, his instincts were shutting down the train of thought. How was he supposed to get close to another man when everything in his experience had taught him that feelings of attraction, of love, weren’t to be trusted?

  * * *

  His foot was throbbing in heavy concert with his heartbeat by the time the sun began to set, but Danny remained in the garden shed. Sam’s truck was still in the driveway, and Danny didn’t want to limp past him to go into the house. It had been embarrassing enough that morning as he’d hobbled across the drive.

  Wondering why the hell Sam didn’t leave, he decided to check the trays again to see if any of the seeds had begun to sprout.

  A cold breeze crept around the edge of the open door, and Danny shivered as he made a microscopic inspection of the perfectly smooth, compact soil in each tiny compartment of the trays.

  “You’d be warmer if you went in the house.”

  Danny jumped, his heart bouncing into his throat, and turned awkwardly. Sam was in the doorway, palms braced on the frame, leaning forward. His dark eyes were steady as he studied Danny.

  “Hey.” Danny hated that he sounded breathless.

  “Hey, yourself.”

  They stared. Finally, Sam glanced at the trays under the grow lights. “Anything yet?”

  Danny shook his head, and Sam grunted. The wind whined around the small structure and rushed through the pines behind it, the sound like water rushing over rocks. The breeze lifted the hair brushing Sam’s brows, and a cold tendril slipped around Danny’s ears. He clenched his teeth so he wouldn’t shiver.

  “Listen, Danny.” Sam took a step through the door, letting his arms fall to his sides, and the height and breadth of him made the small interior feel even smaller. Danny looked up into his eyes. “About yesterday—Jose didn’t mean anything. That was more aimed at me than at you.”

  Danny arched a brow in disbelief, balancing on one foot. “‘Princess’ was aimed at you, was it?”

  “Well, yeah.” He shifted uncomfortably. “I seem to have a tendency to act like—” He stopped and exhaled roughly. “It doesn’t matter. He certainly didn’t mean to offend you. He was just messing around. You’ve heard how they go after me.”

  Danny looked away from his searching eyes, nodding. “He didn’t offend me.”

  Sam stepped closer still. “Then what was that? For a minute, you looked like you’d seen a ghost.”

  Danny fought the urge to laugh. Did hearing one count? “I just—it was dumb. Tell the guys not to worry about it.”

  Sam took another step, and instinctively Danny took a matching step back. His foot sent a shaft of pain up his calf, and he gasped, quickly lifting his foot, hopping back a step. When he realized he couldn’t retreat any farther, that his spine was against the workbench, he stiffened, his mouth going dry.

  “What’s wrong with your foot?” Sam asked, looking down in concern. “Did you sprain your ankle or something?”

 
Danny shook his head, his hands going behind him to grip the bench. “Stepped on glass.”

  Sam frowned. “Do you need stitches or something?”

  “No, it’s fine.” It was getting harder and harder to talk around his heart, which was lodged in his throat.

  “Danny—” Sam’s large, work-roughened hand lifted, hesitated near Danny’s side. “Can I...”

  Say no, say no, everything in Danny chanted, but he couldn’t make a sound. He just looked up into Sam’s eyes.

  They stayed steady on Danny’s face as his palm pressed against Danny’s side.

  Danny took in a startled breath and closed his eyes. He could feel the warmth of the broad palm through his shirt, and the mingled aromas of rich soil and pine-scented wind clung to Sam’s clothes. Danny wanted to lean forward into his space, revel in his heat and strength, but he held himself rigid.

  “Danny,” Sam repeated, softer. Unable to resist the gentle command in his tone, Danny opened his eyes and looked up at him. What he found surprised him. Sam—tough, hard-edged Sam—was looking at him with a tenderness that took his breath. “You scared me.”

  “I’m sorry.” Danny forced his voice through his throat and his whisper held almost no sound at all. “I didn’t mean to.”

  Sam cautiously lifted his other hand and ran the backs of his fingers down Danny’s cheek. It caused a shiver to slip over his shoulders. “What had you so spooked? Can’t you tell me?”

  Danny wanted to but he couldn’t make his lips work. He bit down on the lower one, and shook his head.

  Sam was disappointed. “I wish you’d let yourself trust me.”

  “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Sam,” he whispered. “I don’t trust anyone.”

  “Not even Calvin or Devon?”

  Danny made a rough sound and shook his head, thinking of the night before. Thinking of the words that clogged his throat, the fear that if he let them out they’d change everything. His brothers would know how weak he was, how pathetic.

  “Why?”

  “I just—can’t.”

  “It sounds lonely to me.” Sam leaned closer, and Danny watched his face approach, the surface of his skin alive with nerves he hadn’t even known he had.

  Sam was so much taller, and broader. Danny felt him all around, blocking the light, stealing the air. The warm touch of fingers on his face and the intensity in Sam’s eyes made him want things. Things he’d convinced himself he didn’t need and couldn’t trust. But he was having a hard time remembering why. He licked his lips.

  “It’s safe,” Danny managed finally. “It may be lonely, but it’s safe.”

  “I’m safe.”

  Danny’s eyes dropped involuntarily to his mouth, and he laughed roughly. “You are anything but safe.” He tried to pull away, but Sam slipped an arm around his waist and tightened, pulling him in against Sam’s body.

  “Sam—” Danny started, the dream of the night before slipping into his mind. He put his hands on Sam’s chest, prepared to push him away, when something unforgiving pressed into his belly, something behind Sam’s fly. He was hard, and there was no mistaking it. Danny’s heart began to pound.

  The firm arc of Sam’s erection triggered Danny’s, and his cock filled in a dizzying rush. He braced his hands against Sam’s chest, wanting to shove him back, but he couldn’t make his body follow the demands of his head. Beneath the flannel work shirt he could feel the square slabs that were Sam’s pectoral muscles, and he wanted to cup them in his palms, rub over his nipples. Sam tightened his embrace, and Danny was pulled up onto his toes. When Sam brushed his lips along the curve of his jaw, Danny let his head fall to the side and his fingers curled, clinging to Sam’s shirt.

  “Maybe you’re right, maybe I’m not safe. But I care about you, Danny.” Sam’s jaw brushed against his cheek, hard, covered in stubble. Danny’s desire ripened. “And I want you. I have from the moment I saw you.”

  Danny laughed weakly. “It didn’t sound like it.”

  “I hid it well.” There was a smile in Sam’s voice. “Believe me, I wanted you. I still do.” He pressed his groin more firmly into Danny. “I think you can tell.”

  Danny inhaled harshly, filled his lungs with the tantalizing scent of Sam, and his resolve crumbled to ashes at his feet. “Yes, I can tell.”

  “If I kiss you, are you going to knee me in the junk?”

  A small smile pulled at the corner of Danny’s lips. “Only one way to find out.”

  “I think it’s worth the risk.”

  Instead of replying, Danny surrendered and offered his mouth.

  Sam took it.

  He tasted like peppermint, and Danny wondered dimly if he’d popped one on his way to the shed, this being his plan all along.

  The first kiss was tentative, just enough for Danny to realize that he liked the feel of Sam’s mouth—a lot. His lips were soft, and the stubble on his chin brushed Danny’s face. His stomach tightened—he loved that rasp of whiskers on his face, and his body. Sam took a soft nip of Danny’s lower lip and leaned back just enough to look into his eyes.

  “No knee,” he whispered. “That’s encouraging.”

  “Not yet, anyway.” Danny’s heart was racing. “Feeling lucky?”

  The smile Sam gave him was heated. “I’ll take my chances.”

  He sealed his mouth over Danny’s, and this kiss wasn’t tentative at all. It was firm, and skillful, and Danny fell willingly into a slow, spreading pleasure. Sam Ignatius knew how to kiss.

  He didn’t plunder. Instead he caressed Danny’s tongue, curling his around it, coaxing it gently into participation. Sam slowly seduced his mouth, and Danny opened further in response, his arms lifting of their own volition around Sam’s neck. Sam grunted.

  Danny loved to kiss. At one time, he could spend hours making out with someone if they knew what they were doing. He loved sex as much as the next man, but more than that he loved to be kissed. He remembered the first time he’d seen Gone With the Wind, and Rhett Butler had told Scarlett O’Hara that she needed to be kissed often, and by someone who knew how. He’d been all of ten years old, and he’d wanted Clark Gable to bend him over the arm of his parent’s ugly leather sofa.

  He loved for a man to take him in his arms, hold him against a hard body, and kiss him. And that’s exactly what Sam did. Forgetting everything he’d told himself earlier in the day, everything he’d told himself for months, Danny pushed the nagging voice in the back of his mind away, opened up and let him in.

  The arm around his waist tightened, lifting Danny and pressing his now aching hardness into Sam’s hipbone. Danny wanted to grind himself there. He wanted to wrap his legs around Sam’s waist, open fully to the heat and the hardness. He wanted Sam to touch him, and when his arm left Danny’s waist and his hand slid down over the curve of his ass, Danny pressed back into the touch, making a soft, welcoming sound. He tightened his arms around Sam’s sturdy neck, and it took what little self-control he had not to climb him like a spider monkey.

  “Oh. Whoops.” Sam stiffened and took a step away, releasing him.

  Danny fell back to his feet in a rush, and he made a soft, pained sound when his arch contacted the floor. “What...?”

  Sam reached out to steady him but Danny sidestepped him, looked around Sam’s shoulder and saw Devon standing in the doorway.

  Devon sent Danny a sheepish smile. “Sorry to interrupt. I was just coming out to make sure Danny was all right. Which it appears he is.” He cleared his throat, his long, blunt fingers caressing his own jaw. “Nice to see you guys have let go of your animosity.”

  Sam glanced at Danny with a small, rueful smile. “So it would appear.” He reached out and touched Danny’s arm. “I, um—I should get home.”

  “Sure.” Danny nodded, his face so hot he thought it must be glowing.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Sam’s eyes held Danny’s, searching. Danny gave him a slight nod, and he saw the relief on his handsome face. Sam caressed Danny’s upp
er arm briefly. “Good to see you, Devon,” he said as he passed.

  Devon smirked. “You, too, Sam.”

  Sam’s footsteps crunched on the gravel. Devon and Danny didn’t move until they heard the sound of them fading, of the truck starting. The headlights switched on and bathed the shed as the vehicle backed down the long drive.

  “Sooo.” Devon had an unmistakable twinkle in his eyes. He leaned against the door frame, casually hooking his thumbs in his belt loops. “You like older men, huh?”

  All the stiffness went out of Danny’s body, and he fell back against the bench, rubbing his face. “What the fuck am I doing?”

  “Well, it looked to me like you were having your tonsils examined.” Devon’s smile widened. “From the inside.”

  Danny groaned, running his fingers roughly into his hair. “This is stupid. So fucking stupid.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?” Danny dropped his hands and looked at Devon. “It just is.”

  “And again I ask—” Devon straightened and took a step into the shed, “—why?”

  Danny couldn’t believe that Devon could be so thick. “Well, for one thing, he’s City Councilman Bernard Fucking Ignatius’s son.”

  “That must look nice on the letterhead.” Devon shook his head. “So what? After what went on out here a few days ago, it’s pretty obvious there’s no love lost between them.”

  “No, but we don’t need the added hassle. I don’t need the hassle.” Fear began to rush back in. “Devon, I suck at relationships. I—don’t do guys anymore.”

  Devon’s dark gaze sharpened. “Why?”

  Danny shook his head. “It isn’t important.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “No.” Danny glared at him. “It isn’t. And I’ve been fine. But now this guy kisses me and I’m ready—” He stopped, his hands clenched into fists.

  “Ready to what?”

  Danny growled in frustration. “Ready to land on my back with my legs spread, okay? Ready to do something stupid.” His voice softened as panic tightened his throat. “Ready to forget everything I learned the hard way because something feels good.”