Long Way (Adventures INK Book 2)

by Mercy Celeste

  “Hey,” Chad said, glancing up from the book he had spread out in front of him. He smiled, and Skip’s heart did some serious skipping of its own. “I tried not to wake you. Breakfast is on.”

  “I usually get up at five. I thought I’d mentioned that last night.” He couldn’t remember much about last night. Chad coming home and waking him up in a way he’d only ever fantasized about, then a late dinner in the kitchen. Naked. Naked dinner had always been a fantasy. Dessert had been more of Chad pressing him up against the island and tasting dinner on each other’s mouths than actual dessert. He’d worked the rest of the night, while Chad entertained himself in the den at the back of the house.

  “You did. I think my internal clock is getting used to being back on west coast time. I’ve always been a morning person. Drove my mother crazy.” A timer went off and Chad grabbed a hot pad and went to the oven. He pulled out a pie pan and set it on the table. “Nothing fancy today. Just a quiche recipe I’ve always liked.” He stuck a fork straight into the yellow concoction and pulled it back out. “Looks done.”

  Skip went to the fridge and found the fancy juices Cat thought he liked. “Want milk or juice?”

  “Both is good.” Chad stepped around him and pulled out a bowl of something green and mushy. “Toast is in the toaster. Pull up a chair.”

  Skip took the juice and the milk and set them on the island. Chad brought down four small glasses and forks. He moved quickly and quietly and deftly. He already knew Skip’s kitchen better than Skip did. Of course, Skip didn’t cook and didn’t know he had a pie pan.

  “So, your something simple is a quiche and guacamole? Interesting. Simple is usually a microwaved breakfast sandwich or Froot Loops to me. But that looks good.” Skip sat on the stool he’d decided was his favorite spot in the kitchen. It was the best spot to watch Chad from.

  “Lots of protein and hidden veggies.” Chad spread the mushed green goo over the toast instead of jelly and winked at Skip, probably because he could tell Skip was thinking horrible thoughts about not getting jelly on his toast. “Try it. If you don’t like it, I’ll make you fresh toast.”

  He slid the toast over while he cut the quiche into slices and put them on plates. Skip took a bite. There was very little taste to the green mush. He hadn’t spiced it up as a guac; he’d just mushed it. Wasn’t spectacular, but Skip could eat it. “Is okay.” He chewed and swallowed a huge gulp of milk to chase it.

  “It’ll get you through the morning.” Chad pushed the egg pie over to Skip to inspect. “Eggs, some of the smoked ham you have for sandwiches, cheese, onions and peppers. Like an omelet, just baked.” He went to the fridge and came back with a plate of sliced tomatoes. Skip didn’t wrinkle his nose.

  “Smells good.” He set the toast aside and took a bite of the pie. “Is good,” he said after tasting. A slight blush colored Chad’s skin, and he smiled almost shyly. “I take it you’re not comfortable with your cooking skills?”

  Chad looked up at him, surprise written all over his face. “Cooking is women’s work,” he mumbled and stared at his plate.

  Skip reached across the island and took Chad’s hand in his. “Men eat. Men cook. I can’t cook because I have a bad habit of forgetting I put food on the stove, and have nearly burned the house down many times. I’m a writer. I write. I was told when I was a kid that only people who live in New York with college degrees could be writers. I don’t have a high school diploma. I still write.”

  Chad poked his piece of pie with his fork, and squeezed Skip’s hand. “How many people know that you’re SW Simpson?”

  Skip felt the hypocrisy clear to the bone. “Touché, Marine. Touché.”

  “Does your son know?” Chad looked at him again. Curiosity replacing the shame he’d tried to hide.

  Skip shook his head sadly. “I don’t know why I’ve never told him. I should probably tell him. No one else really matters.”

  “Did my father know?” Chad finally took a bite of his breakfast.

  “Colt is the reason I’m published. Hell, he helped me sell my first novels. He had friends in the business. Without him, I never would have let another person read my work.”

  Chad chewed, sorrow in his eyes. “I miss him. I wish I’d known him better. I wish I’d gone to school in Virginia, instead of into the service. Maybe I could have gotten to know him.”

  There was nothing Skip could say to that. He tightened his hold on Chad’s hand and picked up the slice of avocado toast and ate it. “What are your plans for today?”

  “I was going to ask you the same question.” Chad tilted his head to the side, like a puppy trying to figure out where the ball went. “What’s your daily schedule when you’re working on a book?”

  “Not the question, Kid.” Skip didn’t want anyone, especially a lover, making his often-erratic life the center of his.

  “Considering we’re having sex, all over your house, you should probably not call me “Kid.” It’s pervy.” Chad finished his slice of pie and cut himself another. Skip held out his plate for more as well. “And, just tell me your schedule, Skip. Don’t make something out of it just yet.”

  Skip sighed and took a few more bites while the cheese was still melty, and the egg was still warm. “I usually get up at five. I spend the morning outside, unless the weather is horrible. I’m too old to run in the rain, so I’ll use the treadmill in my gym in bad weather. After lunch, I deal with the non-writing parts of writing— phone calls, emails, promotion, shit like that. If I remember to fix something for dinner, I eat. Then, I turn off the phone and the internet, and work on the manuscript until I can’t anymore. Sleep, get up, and do it all again. Maybe spend a day in town to break up the week.”

  Chad nodded along. “I thought I’d go into town this afternoon and look for a part-time job. I don’t need the money. I just need something to do. Maybe find somewhere to volunteer. Like with kids. I don’t know. Do they do stuff like that here? Your friend Cat said there’s a cooking class somewhere. I don’t want to be in your hair…” he cast a look at the top of Skip’s head and smirked. “Looks like you had too many people in it already.”

  “Ha, ha, very funny.” Skip reached over and thumped his forehead. “Asshole.” He smiled and waited for Chad to take him down. He didn’t. His smirk grew smirkier. “Just wait. One day you’ll go from having a full head of hair to… boom… gone.”

  “Looks like you still have hair.” Chad finished his breakfast and waited for Skip to take his last couple of bites.

  “I will not be one of those half-moon ponytail dudes. Not happening. Unless you buy me some black socks to wear with my Birkenstocks.”

  “Not a good look for anyone.” Chad took their dishes and put them in the dishwasher. He grabbed a sponge and wiped the stove and island down and leaned back against the sink. “Are we running this morning or biking?”

  “I thought I’d hike a couple of the harder trails this morning. I need to see if we need to post a bear warning. The one from yesterday can’t be the only one out and about. Some years we have a few. Some years we don’t see many at all. But, you know, bears do what bears want. They’re bears.”

  “I’ll get changed. Meet you on the back deck in twenty?”

  “Sure,” Skip agreed, smiling. “I’d love some company.”

  Chad nodded and pushed off the sink to head upstairs. Skip caught his arm as he walked past and pulled him back. Skip stood face to face with him, and leaned in placing a soft kiss on his lips. Chad gasped in surprise, but didn’t withdraw. Instead, he leaned in, returning the kiss. Skip started to re-think the hike, thinking maybe they could get all the exercise a body needed… upstairs, with little to no equipment. And definitely no bears. But Chad stepped away, he blinked several times, and lightly brushed his lips with his thumb. “What was that for?”

  “That was my way of saying, ‘good morning, Love,’ and thank you for breakfast.” Skip hadn’t realized he’d let the L-word slip until Chad’s shoulders relaxed out of the ramrod-s
traight military stance he always carried himself in. Skip sighed, long, and loud, and scrubbed his face. “Dammit, Chad… I… ah…”

  “You don’t have to say anything; it’s just a word, like Kid, and Marine.” The stiff, squared shoulders were back, along with the distant eyes. “Didn’t mean anything.”

  Chad started for the stairs, his stride swift and heavy. Skip knew it was something so very small, yet… “I’m falling in love with you.” He shouted to the retreating man. “I’m falling hard. And it scares the shit out of me.”

  The Marine stopped walking. He stood with his foot on the bottom step. His hand clutching the banister. The Marine disappeared in that instant, leaving a confused young man in his place. And that man looked at Skip with so much longing, and just as much fear. “Is this what love feels like? Like my stomach hurts all the time, and I can’t breathe sometimes when I want you. And not in bed. Just… like right now. Like this. In the morning with the sun coming up in the window behind you. Like this is where I’m supposed to be. And you’re the one I’m supposed to be with? Because this freakin’ hurts, if it’s not love.”

  Skip clutched the edge of the granite top of his island to keep from falling. “Yes, that’s exactly how this feels. Like watching you walk away would be the worst thing to ever happen. Like I could give up everything, just to…” he gasped for breath and held on tighter. “Make you happy.”

  “I’m too young for you,” Chad added, swallowing hard. “People will talk.”

  “People will always talk. It’s what people do.”

  Chad nodded and took the next step up the stairs. “And your son?”

  Skip had no idea what Brian would think. He cared. He didn’t want to lose Brian. But he didn’t want to lose Chad either. “He’s a grown man with a husband. He’ll get over it.”

  Chad nodded again, swallowing hard. “Okay,” he said, and darted up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

  Skip didn’t follow immediately. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do now. He wanted to follow and keep him… Chad… his lover… His love, naked in bed the rest of the day. That wasn’t love. That was lust. If this was love, it would survive outside the bedroom.

  It had to, or there was no such thing as love, and it was all just sex.

  He resisted the urge to follow, instead going to the sink to look out the window at the sun rising over the valley. This felt right. He picked up the sponge and wiped the already spotless sink, hoping to give Chad time to change into his BDUs. He had five minutes. Five minutes to get dressed, or Skip was undressing him to the dog tags. He wiped the sink again, and the counters, then the island. He’d be using that island when they got back all sweaty and hot and hungry after a walk in the woods.

  He looked at the clock; about a minute had passed since Chad had pounded up the stairs. “Lust is good. Love needs lust to survive, doesn’t it?”

  He put the sponge down, and started for the stairs. The phone in his office rang just as he neared the bottom step. There would only be two people calling at this hour. His editor or his son. And his son would use his cell number. “Fuck.”

  Casting a longing glance at the upper landing, he went to answer the phone.

  * * * * *

  Skip was on the phone when Chad made it back downstairs. He tried not to eavesdrop, as the call sounded like business. Skip sounded frustrated. Chad stepped into the office to let him know he was ready. Skip looked up at him, raising a single finger as if to say hang on. His gaze raked Chad’s body from his boots to his hair. The emerald blazed to life in his eyes. “Okay. Yes. I know. I’m two weeks behind. My son got married and my best friend passed away. Yes. I’m on schedule. Yes… when have I ever missed a deadline? Yes. I will. New York? Yeah. I’ll be there. You too.”

  He hung up and stared at Chad with open lust in his eyes. “Nice legs,” he said whistling.

  Chad looked down at the brand-new cargo shorts he’d bought yesterday. He felt naked out of his BDUs. The shorts and the shirt were new and felt weird. He’d tried to wear the hiking boots he’d bought, but they felt too clumsy. He put on his uniform boots. And now he felt extremely self-conscious standing here with the man openly ogling him. “It’s supposed to be in the seventies today. I didn’t want to overheat.”

  “Smart man,” Skip chuckled, and set the phone in its cradle, and dragged his gaze away from Chad’s knees. “Okay, five minutes. Give me five minutes. My editor just called having a fit. My agent told her I was going to miss my deadline… I swear… okay, five minutes.”

  Chad watched as the man moved past him and bolted up the stairs, taking them two at a time. “Old, my ass.”

  Skip wasn’t old, not in the way he thought he was old. Chronologically, yes, he was considerably older. And maybe his taste in music was seriously out of date. But there was not one damn thing about Skip that was old.

  Or Chad had an older man kink.

  He shouldn’t have a kink at all.

  Hell, he shouldn’t even know what a kink was, or how to recognize one.

  He’d lost his virginity last night.

  That thought floored him.

  He leaned against the wall, gazing up the stairs to the landing, watching for Skip to come back down. He’d put his dick inside another person… last night… a couple of times. He wasn’t a virgin anymore. “Fuck me!”

  “If you had said that before I just broke the sound barrier getting changed… or just come upstairs and gotten naked… but, if that’s a request, we can certainly take care of that before going out.” Skip stood at the top of the stair strapping a gun to his thigh. He pulled the weapon out and chambered a round before heading down the stairs.

  The hairs on Chad’s head stood on end. The sound triggering an impulse he’d left behind. He reached for the weapon that should be on his thigh, and came up empty-handed. He didn’t take his gaze off the weapon in the man’s hand until he holstered it. He clenched his fingers over his thigh, as if he could magically pull a weapon from thin air.

  “Chad?” His name sounded far away. Like he was underwater and someone was screaming at him. Yelling obscenities at him. Calling him…

  Chad ran, he didn’t know where he was going. Somehow, he found a place to throw up. A sink. He saw the sun shining through trees that were starting to show some traces of green… and pines. So many pines. He could smell the pine in the crisp air. He threw up again. Holding onto the edge of the sink for support.

  “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t stop to consider that… I’m sorry,” the voice said, it was masculine and soothing. “Can I touch you?” And patient.

  He felt his head nod. He didn’t think about nodding or speaking or anything. He just did it. The sun was pretty in the pines. The scent of cold air… wasn’t desert.

  The touch, when it came, made him jump, but he didn’t react after that. He knew it was meant to comfort. He leaned over the sink and breathed in and out. A man’s hand reached in front of him and turned on the faucet. Chad spit into the sink and cupped his hand under the cold water. He gulped in two or three handfuls and spit it back out, then rinsed his face.

  “I’m okay,” he said when the world was clear again. “I’m okay,” he said, more to convince himself than anyone else. There was a glass of water floating in his line of vision. He took it and drank slowly. His hackles smoothed and he felt his shoulders slump. He forced his brain to work and think about what had happened, and what he’d seen this time, and what was real. He cleared his throat, “Bears?”

  “Bears,” Skip said softly next to him. “I’ll leave it behind this time. I’ve never had to use it. But I don’t like to go too deep into the woods without one.”

  That was logical. Very logical. The bear yesterday hadn’t seen them, didn’t mean the next one wouldn’t. “No… keep it. I’m good now. The sound echoed. I don’t know. I’ve never reacted like that before. I don’t carry anymore. I… can’t.”

  “Understood,”
Skip spoke evenly, calmly. He still rubbed circles on Chad’s back.

  Chad nodded again. The sun was getting higher and he was standing there acting like a damned baby. He pushed off the sink and drained the rest of the water and set the glass in the sink to wash later. “Okay… let’s go.”

  He couldn’t look Skip in the eye as he walked past him to the back deck. Skip followed him, carrying the two hydration packs they’d used yesterday. Skip found a long, curved stick, and offered it to Chad. Chad shook his head; Skip kept the stick, and led him off the deck, and down a landscaped path heading toward the mountain incline.

  “This path is about six miles from here, up to the ridge and back to the street. Are you up to it?” Skip asked when they came to a fork and the landscaping veered off to the left. The path straight ahead wasn’t the slightest bit landscaped. Or tame.

  “As long as it doesn’t snow this time. I’m up for anything.”

  “Just don’t fall behind, Marine.”

  “Don’t make me carry your ass down the mountain, old man.”

  “Oh look. He blushes when he says the bad words.” Skip grinned at him, his eyes sparkling in the sunlight. “Maybe there is some hope for him after all.”

  “Think you can make a man out of me?” He had no idea why he said that. He’d heard it enough in boot camp, and in the year or so after.

  Skip turned to face him, his grin growing wider, teeth showing. The emerald of his eyes going as dark as the trees around them. “Honey, I already did that… last night,” he said in a husky voice that did wicked things to every part of Chad’s body.

  He stumbled over a root as his brain unfroze. Skip laughed from up the trail; the smug sound echoing back only to fade away as he headed out of sight.

  Chad scrambled over the exposed roots catching up in time to hear Skip humming a familiar tune; the words coming in his husky bursts as he climbed. “Sex is natural… is best when it’s one on one… cccc come on.”

  Chad tripped over another root, this time, falling on his ass. Skip stopped to wait for him to brush himself off. Asshole just grinned and went back to singing, while Chad watched the roots instead of Skip’s ass. And tried not to blush every time Skip yelled ‘I want your sex’.