by E M Lindsey
He also looked nervous. He had his shoulders back and chin up, but Ronan could see the concave depression in his cheek from where he was chewing on it. His eyes darted around the station, then locked on Ronan, and his lips parted just a fraction.
“This is Jonas Woods,” Rene said, stepping aside so Jonas could extend out a hand.
Ronan took it, keeping his grip firm, but trying not to overtly intimidate him. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Woods.”
“Jonas, please,” he corrected.
“This is Ronan Alling, he runs…well, nearly all of it, eh?” Rene said.
Ronan fought the urge to roll his eyes, then reached behind him for one of his business cards. “That has all of my information.”
“So, you’re the one I need to impress?” Jonas asked. His voice was low, raspier than Ronan expected it to be once he’d said more than two words.
Ronan snorted. “I’m the last person you need to worry about here. You have an entire town pissed off about what you want to do.”
Jonas looked at him, his heavy-lidded dark eyes like endless pools, and Ronan was almost startled how hard it was to look away. “I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement.”
“That will take some true skill on your part, Mr. Woods,” Rene said, and Ronan noticed Jonas didn’t correct him on the name.
“I’d like to see the property,” Jonas said after a beat, then let out a sigh and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He tapped on the screen for a minute, then put it away. “Can you take me out there?”
Ronan increased the grip on his cane and momentarily regretted not letting Parker stay with him. Not that he wanted his husband’s practice shut down when they got sued by one of the old ladies for letting Eddie misdiagnose her with irritable bowel syndrome, but the support would have been nice.
“How much of it do you want to see?” he asked as he held the door open for Jonas and Rene. They pushed past him, and Ronan let the door fall closed with a hard slam, leaning heavier on his cane as he made his way down the steps. They were only a few hundred feet from the shores of the lake, but all of the property was on the other side. “You want an intimate look or…?”
“I’d like to see for myself how far it goes,” Jonas told him.
Ronan sighed inwardly, then patted his pocket to make sure he had the keys to the ATV. His heart did a funny sort of thump at the thought of Jonas behind him, but the second one was at the shop with Max, being serviced. “We’ll have to ride. The lake is seven miles, give or take, and I haven’t been able to do that on foot in years.”
Jonas’ eyes flickered down to Ronan’s boots where his orthotics were carefully concealed by the leather high up on his ankle and the thick material of his uniform. He didn’t feel judged then, just observed, and he wasn’t quite sure how that made him feel.
“I’m going to leave you to it,” Rene said. “Mind if I wait in the office?”
“Feel free to finish up those resumes for me,” Ronan said with a half-smile. He ignored Rene’s hearty chuckle and led the way toward the shed, his steps slow. “You know how to drive one?”
Jonas laughed. “No. Sorry, that was more my brothers’ thing, but they were always more reckless than I was.”
“It’s not reckless if you know what you’re doing.” Ronan dug the keys out of his pocket, then stored the cane with the strap along the side before swinging his leg over. His orthotics clunked heavily against the fiberglass, but he got his feet comfortable, then shifted forward. “Just grab on to me.”
Jonas made a small noise of nerves, but he didn’t hesitate to swing his leg over and slide right up against Ronan’s back. He was warm and trembling a little as he wrapped an arm around Ronan’s waist. “So, I don’t love this.”
“We’re not going four-wheeling,” Ronan assured him. He turned they key but didn’t start it. “Think of it like a golf-cart.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen what happens to them too, when people get drunk and stupid,” Jonas grumbled.
Ronan tried to hide his smile, but he failed. “You do know I’m not drunk or stupid, right?”
Jonas huffed. “Consider it trauma, then.”
“Fair enough, but I promise you’re safe with me.” He finally started it up, revving the engine and enjoying just a little the way it made Jonas flinch and cling harder. He took a breath, a little surprised by his reactions to this man he was supposed to hate, the man trying to ruin everything.
And that was like a bucket of ice water over his head. Jonas seemed kind, and even a little funny, but he wasn’t there as a friend. This wasn’t Antoine. This wasn’t a stranger coming into town to make everyone’s lives better. This was a man coming to take over and destroy everything they knew.
He set the ATV into gear, then shifted forward, and kept his mind on the task at hand.
“It’s nice,” Jonas said after what felt like a good ten minutes of silence.
Ronan drove them around to the other side of the lake, then parked and rested against the seat while Jonas wandered through the shrubs. He liked having an excuse not to wander around anymore, though on his good days, he and Parker could stroll through the low brush to find a good spot to stargaze. But right now, Ronan was content to lean against the ATV and watch his guest as he meandered through his newly purchased property.
He was lanky and graceful as he took careful steps through high grass and around wild bushes. His black hair had brown streaks in it, visible in the high noon of the summer sun. There was not a blemish on him, though there was something reserved about him that Ronan picked up on after only a few minutes. But apart from that, it was easy to get lost in the round apples of his cheeks, and the way they dimpled when he smiled.
Ronan was constantly surrounded by attractive men. He and Parker had happily accompanied Greyson for the last year’s fireman’s calendar shoot to admire the shirtless men, including Fitz who bore almost all. But no one had ever stirred interest in him. At least, not since Parker. Ronan’s entire soul had molded itself to Parker’s, and there had never been anyone else.
But the way his attention focused on Jonas, the way he watched the lines of him, distracted by his mouth as Jonas chewed on a thumbnail. It was…odd.
“This is decent land.”
Ronan snorted. “That’s why it was expensive.”
Jonas turned, his eyebrows lifting behind his sunglasses, and the corner of his mouth twitched into a half smirk. “Yes, thank you. But you’d be surprised by the cost of land that is virtually unusable. The property line is far enough from the shore, though. I mean, if we wanted to look at condos or rentals…”
Ronan couldn’t stop his frustrated scoff, and Jonas turned to face him. He felt anger then, as he recalled why Jonas was there, what his purpose was. “You don’t expect me to be on your side, do you?”
Jonas laughed softly. “No. No, I don’t.”
“Good,” Ronan grunted and crossed his arms.
Jonas laughed again, then shuffled his way back over to Ronan and propped his backside against the wheel of the ATV. “Can I ask you something?”
Ronan let out a long-suffering sigh. “Sure.”
“If you were me, what would you do?”
Ronan turned to him, his brows high on his head. “If I was some rich asshole buying up small town land, you mean?”
Jonas looked sad for a beat, almost heartbroken, then he shook his head. “Personal opinions of me aside, if the land was yours, what would you build?”
“You want the truth? Or are you just looking to justify the decision to drive up the real estate cost and make this place too expensive for the locals to get by?”
Jonas bit his lip. “That’s not my intention.”
“Anyone with a business as successful as yours, Mr. Woods, is a good salesman.”
With a snort, Jonas shrugged. “That’s very true. The question still stands.”
After a breath, Ronan shrugged. “I don’t know. It never occurred to me to buy land here to build something.”
<
br /> “Would you think about it?” Jonas asked softly.
Ronan turned slightly and frowned. “Why? You do know that no one in this town is stupid enough to accept some consolation prize. You build some, I don’t know, fucking art gallery featuring all the artists in Cherry Creek, and no one is going to thank you when you throw up a bunch of Condo rentals and charge a million apiece to your east coast friends.”
Jonas smiled softly. “I live in Arizona.”
“That doesn’t fucking matter,” Ronan said, and he felt his temper rising. “We were happy here, you know. We were fine before you showed up.”
“I know,” Jonas said softly.
“So why do it? Aren’t you rich enough?”
Jonas swallowed thickly, then turned his gaze toward the lake and said nothing.
Ronan looked at the water sometimes and saw the memory of Antoine falling out of the boat. Fitz had dropped everything and ran like it was his own life being sucked beneath the water. That was the catalyst, the moment for Fitz. He was in love and there was no turning back.
Things had been chaos then, but settled into something soft and beautiful. Antoine swept into town, stole Fitz’s heart, and used his unique skills to save the business of some people dear to Cherry Creek. Everyone loved him, and Ronan knew why.
But Jonas was nothing like that. Even if he was just as sweet as Antoine, and maybe even more beautiful, he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Ronan ached for Parker just then, and he pushed himself up to stand. “I need to get back. My husband’s expecting me.”
Jonas merely nodded softly, and he didn’t say another word as he climbed on the back of the ATV, and held on to Ronan like he was the only thing keeping him above water.
Chapter Eleven
Parker blinked when a wad of something soft hit him on the temple, and he turned to see his office assistant lounging in the doorway, holding a roll of Coban that he was slowly unwrapping. “Dude, that is expensive.”
“Yeah, but we have like seven thousand rolls in the storage closet,” Eddie said. He tore off a strip and stretched it. “Bouncy.”
Parker rose and snatched it out of his hands. “When the apocalypse hits, this will be like gold.” He shoved it into the office junk drawer and slammed it just before Eddie slapped him across the face with the strip he’d torn away, and Parker wrinkled his nose. “How has your husband not divorced you?” Eddie was married to Charlie Motel, the man who owned the Lodge down the road, and he was one of the most quiet, amiable men Parker had ever known. It was hard to imagine how the two of them worked, but Parker had also been a witness to their wedding, and he had seen the way they looked at each other, and he knew that love intimately.
Eddie shrugged. “Same reason yours hasn’t divorced you.”
And that was fair. Parker was as bad as Eddie. Maybe even worse when he was that age. It would have been a true testament to Ronan’s love for him if they’d managed to remain married for those early adult years. Parker was fully aware that he was not only the luckiest man on the planet, but in spite of the pain it caused him to be so far away from Ronan for so long, it was probably for the best.
He got out the worst of him in fucking random men and women and drinking himself into oblivion before Ronan showed up at a bar the night Parker happened to be there. He was standing in a dark corner with an apology on his lips and desperation in his hands, and Parker was reminded then how powerless he was against him.
Parker wanted to resist, to make him suffer for cutting them all off for so many years while he self-flagellated over Fitz’s scars. But he had never been able to deny Ronan anything. And he’d never been able to tell him no.
If it would make his husband smile, Parker would move the actual universe—or die trying.
“You seem weird today,” Eddie said, sliding into Gloria’s empty chair. He kicked his feet up on the desk, and Parker would have scolded him for it, but Wednesdays were always slow, and all of his appointments had been in the morning. “Trouble in paradise? Or did you get a plug stuck in your ass?”
Parker rolled his eyes. “The only thing I’ve ever had stuck up my ass were my fingers,” he jutted his chin toward his arm which was resting on the desk. “And as fun as that was, it went into the column of never again.”
Eddie snorted a laugh. “Jesus, dude.”
Parker grinned. “Sometimes you look at me like you expect me to have shame.”
“I’ve been here for over a year. Trust me, my expectations of you are very low. I am serious, though. You seem…I don’t know, off. Is something going on?”
“Ronan was quiet this morning. He has a meeting with that land developer today, and he was stressed about it.”
Eddie’s brow furrowed. “The guy who bought all that land by the lake?”
Parker shrugged, leaning back in his chair, and he put one foot up on the file cabinet. “Yeah. They’re supposed to go survey the land and find out where his building restrictions are. It won’t be as bad as if he bought a bunch of property in town, but things are going to change.”
“That fucking sucks,” Eddie said quietly. “I like it out there. Charlie and I rented a cabin out there a few months ago, right around the last snow. It was quiet.”
“Yes,” Parker said softly. It was quiet. And it was home. It was where he’d experienced some of the best nights of his life—and some of the worst. It was where he’d gotten his first hand-job, but also where Fitz nearly burned to death. It was where he dropped down on one knee and gave Ronan a new ring on their three-year anniversary and asked him to renew their vows so their family and friends could attend.
It was where he presented Ronan with the key to their new house he had built which adapted to everything Ronan would need as his disease progressed. It was where he was standing when he found out his mother died. It was where Ronan kissed him until he felt like he could breathe again.
Cherry Creek was everything, but that lake was home.
“What’s he going to do about it?” Eddie asked, his voice interrupting Parker’s trip into his older, deeper memories.
With a sigh, Parker pushed up to his feet and grabbed his arm off the desk. “Nothing. The land already sold. Gwen closed on it last fall. All we really can do is hope he doesn’t ruin everyone.”
Parker got the SOS text in the middle of his last appointment. Luckily, it was just Mrs. Hodges, who used to run the corner store, and she came in like clockwork every six months to have him check her moles and run a panel on her to make sure she was the town’s most healthy eighty-seven-year-old woman.
He adored her.
She reminded him of Levi and Simon’s grandmother. Bette and Mrs. Hodges been old friends, actually, and every time Parker snuck into the Chametz, Mrs. Hodges was usually there, leaning on the counter and gossiping away. It was only a matter of time before Mrs. Hodges’ doctor visits grew infrequent, and only a matter of time before they stopped, but Parker was hanging on with his one hand and two feet.
“Beautiful as ever,” he said, setting the vial aside and pressing a cotton ball to the crook of her arm. He slid the needle out and tossed it into the sharp’s container before wrapping some Coban around and securing her bandage. “You want a lollipop?”
Mrs. Hodges laughed. “No, son. Why don’t you go check that phone you keep eyeing. I can assume it’s that husband of yours.”
Parker felt his cheeks heat. This many years, and it was still a thrill to hear anyone call Ronan his husband. This many years of loving him—no, adoring him—and it filled him with the same excitement he felt on the day they stood in front of the judge.
Ronan: Can we meet? I’m by the Rugelach.
Parker: How bad?
Ronan: I don’t know yet. Just need you.
Parker saw Mrs. Hodges to the front, then went to his office and dropped his arm by his chair before slinging his bag over his shoulder and heading for the door. It was barely swinging shut with the back of Mrs. Hodges, so he turned to the desk and got
Eddie’s attention.
“Lock up after me. I gotta run.”
Eddie saluted him, and Parker headed out, bypassing his car since Levi always parked near the fire station. It was a food truck, and Levi did occasionally change locations if he was feeling it, but Cherry Creek was small enough and in the habit of getting used to things once they developed a routine.
Parker wasn’t sure who bought the benches with umbrellas, or the trash cans, or the signs for the truck, but they were always there now. Just like the table where he could see Ronan and Fitz hunched over and talking in low voices.
He made quick time, crossing the distance, and he tipped Ronan’s head up, kissing him soft and slow before straddling the bench to sit.
“Seriously,” Fitz groaned.
Parker smiled at him. “You want one too, babe?”
“If you want to hand your balls over to Antoine, sure,” Fitz said. He crossed his arms and looked entirely too pleased with himself. “He’s possessive.”
Parker hadn’t been sure he’d ever see the day Fitz handed his heart over to another man, and in specific, one like Antoine. On a good day, the pair antagonized each other to the point of full-blown arguments, but Fitz was always quick with the gentle touches, and Antoine was always quick with the affirming words.
It worked, for whatever reason, and Parker couldn’t have been happier for it.
“Talk to me,” he said, leaning into his husband. He laid his hand on Ronan’s thigh and allowed his fingers to feel the heat coming off him. “Was he as bad as we all thought? Is he one of those weird eighty-year-old men with balls hanging down his trouser leg?”
“What is wrong with you?” Fitz demanded as Ronan sighed.
