by Eden Winters
But it wasn’t just the farmhouse he’d miss if he left. The image of Dustin lying in his bed, looking like he belonged there, auburn hair fanned out across the pillow, testified that Seth had grown attached to much more than merely the ancestral McDaniel homestead. Yup, he’d fallen for the man who’d hold Seth if he cried, laugh with him when he was happy, and might yet skinny-dip with him again in the pond. The man who didn’t want the responsibility of leadership, but who’d take on the duty to protect the people Aunt Irene had held dear.
Seth tossed a piece of bread to a waiting duck, recalling the group picture on the mantel back at the house. Those people must be the passel he’d heard about, his aunt’s surrogate family. Could he fill her shoes? Well, not alone he couldn’t. Could he fill them with Dustin and Monica’s help and support? That remained to be seen. The only thing Seth could swear to beyond a shadow of a doubt was that he didn’t stand a chance without Dustin, didn’t want to stand a chance without Dustin.
When had the guy started meaning so much to him? He remembered Dustin’s comforting arms around him the day before his grandmother had taken him away. In a moment of silence, a small voice answered, Dusty always meant the world to you.
Seth waited until after office hours to call and leave a message on Dustin’s work phone. “Dusty? It’s me, Seth. It’s nothing against you or anything, but I’m working through some issues and need the time to get my head together, okay?” Before he could stop them, out tumbled the dreaded words he couldn’t take back, but had needed to say ever since they’d first occurred to him while feeding the ducks: “I love you.” He ended the call before further embarrassing himself.
I love you? What kind of sentimental mush was that to leave on a voice mail? He wasn’t free to say things like that, not with his future hanging in the air.
He sat on the porch of the farmhouse, idly toeing the old wooden swing back and forth, when he sensed his guest’s arrival. “I could tell it was you from the magnolia tree.”
The plump marsupial body on the bottom step hunched back on its rear paws, its blimp-shaped torso elongating, twisting, and turning until a naked woman stood in its place, skin gleaming ivory by the light of a nearly full moon. “Too close, and I wasn’t even shielding,” Monica replied. “You aren’t focusing.”
Unconcerned by her nakedness, she stalked across the porch to stand before him. Seth averted his eyes.
“Look at me.”
Seth slowly swiveled his head back in her direction, staring fixedly at her face.
“You can’t be bothered by nudity. It’s a body, no big deal. Everybody’s got one. If you’d been raised here and began turning around thirteen or fourteen, you’d be used to seeing the passel naked. To flinch or get a hard-on will mark you an outsider.”
A hard-on! Oh shit! Seth hadn’t thought about that. How could he not get hard seeing Dustin? Though he wouldn’t have that problem with Monica, he skimmed his gaze down, stopping at her ample breasts and flicking back up to her face again. “I can’t.”
“You gotta! Now quit being a child. Look at me!”
Hands balled into fists, brain turned to an off-air channel of white noise static, Seth forced himself to study Monica’s body from the braids that swept over her shoulder to brush over her backside to the brightly polished toenails.
“Nice color,” he said, staring down.
“Good. Your night vision’s getting stronger.”
Still a bit squeamish about seeing Monica nude, Seth appreciated the lesson she meant to teach, and ran his gaze up her body again, honing in on a dark spot above her navel. Was that… was that Mickey Mouse? He fought back a giggle. “Nice tat.” He’d never view drill-sergeant Monica the same way again.
Chapter 18
“How’s Seth?” Dustin hated asking; however, Monica wouldn’t volunteer the information if he didn’t.
“He’s fine. A little nervous about tomorrow night, but I’ll be there.” Monica handed over the chart for their last patient of the evening.
“I wish he’d join the passel, let us celebrate his first shifting.” Actually, Dustin would take any excuse to cross paths with the man. Only sheer force of will had kept him from turning down Seth’s driveway when he passed on his way home every day, despite the fact that he had to go past his house to get to Seth’s, then turn around.
“He’s not ready to be ridden around on people’s shoulders and praised as the next big thing. McDaniels aren’t given to public displays.”
“No, they’re not.” Damn the luck!
Monica’s voice softened. “He misses you.”
“Then why won’t he let me help him?”
“Until some decisions are made, he can’t be seen to play favorites. For a loser and a wuss, he’s now got a pretty good handle on which way the wind blows around these parts.”
Dustin twitched up one corner of his mouth. “He should, you’re guiding him.”
“Yeah, yeah. Flattery will get you everywhere. Now go home and get some rest. Tomorrow is the full moon. I’m sure between wandering Tiffany, the Johnson Boys’ Three-Ring Circus, and keeping Junior’s knife out of your back, you’ll have your hands full.”
Another reason to want Seth and Monica with him—to help watch his back. “You have a gift for understatement. You going to Seth’s tonight?”
Monica studied her fingernails. “I’m staying there. For now.”
“Oh?” She’d been sleeping under the same roof with Seth and hadn’t killed him yet?
“It’s the safest thing.”
Safest for whom? Dustin and Monica had been friends for years, but even he wasn’t immune to her acid tongue if she thought him deserving of being ripped a new asshole. “You like him now?”
“Your words, not mine.” She wouldn’t meet his gaze. Interesting.
Dustin couldn’t help goading her a bit. “Why are you working with him?”
“Because I like you, and owe Irene. Besides, he’s got Irene’s cookbooks and isn’t afraid to use them.”
A likely story. But at least one of them was keeping an eye on Seth, though Dustin would have preferred to do the honors himself.
Dustin tossed and turned, chasing elusive sleep. No use. He sighed into the darkness. Regardless of how tomorrow night turned out, things would change, for him, for Seth, for the passel. He’d longed for the mysterious McDaniel to suddenly reappear and take the burden from him; now he feared for Seth’s survival.
A bap sounded against his bedroom window, probably a wind-borne acorn. He listened to the night, sensing a disturbance outside he couldn’t identify. Only one person in the passel besides himself shielded completely enough to create a void where their presence should be. But why the hell would Monica sneak up on him in the middle of the night? He hadn’t pissed her off lately, had he?
The bap! came again, which he now realized might be a rock hitting the window frame. Seth used to throw rocks to get Dustin’s attention when he sneaked over to visit after bedtime. Dustin left his pillow-covered haven behind and trudged to the window to raise the glass.
“Seth?”
A dark blur launched itself at the window; Dustin moved out of the way in the nick of time. The blur landed on the floor, righted itself, and then launched another attack. Dustin found himself flat on his back on the bed, pinned in place, his mouth being devoured.
After an initial moment of shock, he brought his arms up around Seth, returning the man’s eager enthusiasm. “Oh, Seth,” he murmured against his lover’s mouth, “damn, but I missed you.”
“Shh… don’t talk. Just feel.”
Seth shimmied out of a pair of shorts; Dustin slept in the nude. Seth latched his mouth onto Dustin’s neck, bathing the skin with his tongue and scraping with his teeth enough to shoot an arrow straight through Dustin’s libido. Seth ground an impressive erection against Dustin’s rising hardness.
Grasping Seth’s backside with both hands, Dustin rocked up, meeting desperate stroke with desperate stroke. Suddenly Set
h rolled them, pushing and pulling until they lay lengthwise on the bed, face to face on their sides. Seth brought his leg up and hooked it around Dustin’s thigh, anchoring their bodies together. He wrapped a hand around their joined cocks, thrusting hard into his fist. “Tomorrow night, things may change. Tonight, we’re equals,” he said. “Fuck me.”
Dustin squirmed to free himself, but Seth tightened the grip with his leg. “Where are you going?”
“Supplies are in the dresser, remember?”
“Find my shorts.”
Dustin rolled away enough to pat the floor, located the discarded garment, and rummaged through the pocket. He unrolled the condom over his ready length. “What about…?”
He swore he heard a grin in Seth’s voice. “It pays to plan ahead.”
Dustin probed an experimental finger at Seth’s opening and found it already well-lubricated. He groaned, his cock hardening further. Damn. Just damn.
“I didn’t want to waste any time.” Seth rolled to his back, his legs falling open.
Dustin was on him before he stopped moving, sinking in and huffing out a breathy, “Oh fuck, that feels good.” A slick, hot tightness slowly yielded to his entry, wrapping around him and stealing coherent thought. Seth. Here. Under him. Opening for him. Nothing else mattered but Seth’s fingers exploring Dustin’s shoulders, Seth’s mouth upon Dustin’s own.
Dustin lost himself in the moment and his lover’s body, surging forward and back, angling to hit the perfect spot and make things good for them both. Moans, groans, and whimpering cries filled the room, joined by the heady scent of cologne, sweat, and sex.
Seth dug both legs into Dustin’s thighs, urging him on. Dustin plunged in again and again, desperate to reach the finish line. The part of his mind still functioning fought the release, determined to cling to the moment and Seth for as long as possible. No telling what tomorrow would bring.
Faster, harder, deeper, he drove, until Seth panted a steady chorus of, “Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah….” The muscles gripping Dustin fluttered. Seth threw back his head, every muscle seizing. “Ah…,” he cried again.
Dustin raced to catch him, faster and faster, burying himself completely in Seth’s body, his cry of, “Oh my God!” mingling with mindless, wordless shouts of release.
Breathless, sweaty, sated, Dustin crumpled beside Seth and drew him nearer. Their racing heartbeats sounded like thunder in his ears.
“I love you,” Seth said.
Dustin wasn’t sure whether or not he replied, for he lost consciousness a split second later. He awoke with the dawn, alone and needing a shower.
Seth rolled his eyes. “Not another one!” A buff hunk wearing a bad-boy smile stood on his doorstep, holding a vase of gladiolas and smelling faintly of something that brought to mind a fox. His nametag proclaimed him, “Levi.”
“Is there a nursing home on your route, by any chance?”
“No,” the delivery man said.
“Hospital?”
“No.”
“You got a mother, aunt, wife, or girlfriend?”
The man grinned, appearing more wolf than fox. “I might.”
“Good! Now take those”—Seth nodded at the flowers—“to whoever. Just get them the hell out of my sight, okay?”
“Thanks? Umm… how about tomorrow’s delivery?”
“If they’re from Junior Timmerman, you can have them. The Johnsons asked me to please stop feeding their goat.”
The young man returned to his truck, an added bounce in his step. The phone rang a moment later. Shit. Michael. While Seth appreciated the man’s determination to still be friends, between renovating the house, working with Monica, fending off a wealthy, older, would-be suitor, and worrying about Dustin, he didn’t have time to spare at the moment. A wealthy older suitor? Inspiration struck. “Hi, Michael! How’s it going?”
“Fine. I’ve come up with a few ideas of what to do next and wanted to talk them over with you. Are you free for lunch?”
If Seth’s plan worked, he might get a few moments’ peace. “I know a silver fox, loaded to the gills, and available. How about it? Want to meet him?”
Michael didn’t immediately answer. Finally, he said, “Is that a trick question?”
Seth huffed out a breath, running his fingers through his hair. Monica would arrive shortly for his possum lessons, and he hoped to avoid distractions by occupying the two biggest obstacles to his concentration—with each other. “Is that a yes?”
“You’re kidding, right? Of course it’s a yes.”
“Be at the Pitted Pig at one o’clock, out on the back porch. The guy’s name is Junior.” Seth hung up, grateful for a respite and also for the fact that it hadn’t bothered him at all to fix up his ex with another man. Had he gotten over Michael so quickly? Or had there truly been nothing real between them to begin with? Should he feel guilty about throwing Michael at Junior? Nah.
Junior called five minutes later. Instead of letting the call go to voice mail, Seth picked up on the first ring. “Howdy, Junior.”
“Did you get my flowers?”
“About those flowers. Seems I’m allergic to gladiolas.” He faked a sneeze for good measure.
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Can I make it up to you, say, by taking you to lunch?”
Ah, the man played right into Seth’s hands. Perfect. “I’m kinda busy right now, but listen. I got a friend in town, and I’d appreciate it if you’d keep him company out at the Pig around one o’clock. That work for you?”
“A friend, you say?” Junior’s suspicion came across loud and clear.
“Yeah. And you’d better hurry.” Seth tried his best not to laugh. “Poor guy can’t go anywhere without having to beat off men and women. Says it’s a curse to have been born so beautiful. I hate not being there to defend his honor and would take it as a personal favor if you’d keep an eye on Michael for me.”
“Beautiful, you say?”
“Like a Greek god.” The Greeks had a god for needy exes, right?
“Because you asked nicely, I’ll do it. For you!” For the first time in memory, Junior hung up first.
Seth was still smiling over his matchmaking when Monica arrived. “Why’re you so damned happy?” she asked, removing a cage from the passenger seat and placing it on her Silverado’s tailgate.
“Oh, nothing. Just got Junior off my back for a little while.” He couldn’t help bragging a little.
“Off your back is exactly where you want Junior Timmerman.” Monica waggled her brows. “C’mon over here. I want you to meet somebody.”
“Where’d you get him?” Seth stared through the sides of a metal dog crate at a rather fat example of possumhood. It yawned, revealing a multitude of spiny teeth. Seth chuckled. “You’re not impressed with me one iota, are you, little guy?”
“This here is Petey the Possum, mascot for the Thurman County High Fighting Possums football team. I’m taking him to Dr. Coleman, the vet, for his annual checkup.” Monica dropped a cricket in the cage. The insect didn’t even hit the bottom before becoming a possum snack.
Seth stepped away from the cage, overwhelmed with sympathy for the poor jailed beast, and for the cricket. “It’s cruel to keep him caged.”
“Points for correctly guessing he’s male. Look closer.” Monica pointed at the beast’s backside.
Seth studied the possum from one end to the other. “Oh.” A scar wound up one hip.
“Yeah. A teacher found Petey on the side of the road as a joey. His mother was crossing the road with her babies on her back and got hit—an occupational hazard, I’m afraid. Only Petey made it. With his bad leg, he wouldn’t survive in the wild.” Monica stuck a finger into the cage, rubbing an ear. “I wouldn’t worry about him too much. The kids treat him good. It’s an earned honor to be given possum-feeding duty. Now, you’ve probed my mind in animal form. Try seeing into Petey’s.”
Seth stared at the creature’s beady eyes, sensing nothing but hunger, mild curiosity, and the need to�
�� oh crap! Seth jumped back when Petey pissed.
Monica giggled. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist. Now this is a regular possum. How can you tell?”
“No human thoughts. Just base instinct.”
“Good. Newbies like Tiffany feel somewhat like Petey, here. You have to be careful to watch out for them. They’ll get away in a flat minute and wreak havoc.”
“Like my mom did,” Seth whispered.
Monica lifted her hand to massage Seth’s shoulder. “Yeah. After that tragedy, Irene began asking more nonshifting carriers to stand guard. We haven’t lost anyone since, although we have had the occasional injury due to a dog attack. Now, try to get Petey to turn around. The secret is to make him think it’s his idea. Don’t try this on other animals, though. It’ll only work on the type of animal you shift into.”
After a few unsuccessful attempts, Petey dutifully turned round and round in his cage at Seth’s mental commands. Monica grinned. She appeared much less frightening now that she displayed facial expressions other than scowls. “Seth, I believe you might be a McDaniel after all.”
A pile of barbequed ribs sat on a platter between Seth and Monica at The Pitted Pig. Seth breathed a sigh of relief when Junior and Michael left without noticing them, or, apparently, noticing much of anything but each other. Their cooing and goo-goo eyes threatened to sap Seth’s appetite, and Monica periodically glanced in their direction and made gagging noises.
“The annual convention is a real hoot,” she said, brandishing a well-gnawed rib bone.
