Aside from Doug’s snide remarks throughout the weekend and his attitude after their short conversation with Nathan just now, no one’s batted an eye at his and Tucker’s public displays of affection. None have been overtly sexual. Mostly just held hands or tangled ankles. A hand running across a shoulder or resting at the lower back. As if they’ve actually been a couple for the month and a half they’re claiming. Cole took Pammy’s comments to heart and has initiated most of them today. It’s easier than he expected once he’d made the effort. Tucker has welcomed them all. Now, it’s as if there are magnets in his hands and Tucker is true north. The compulsion to be in constant contact is strong, but he can’t fathom where it’s coming from.
Michael was never one much for outward demonstrations of Cole’s feelings, and Cole hadn’t minded at the time. He’d still been learning to navigate the world as an out and more-nervous-than-proud gay man. He hadn’t wanted to ruffle feathers or take a chance at inciting someone to violence. Which, looking back, might have been silly in a college town like College Station or a metropolitan city like Austin.
After losing his father, his best friend, and then Michael, Cole had given up on relationships. During his last two years of college, he picked up or allowed himself to be picked up at clubs and dive bars on a weekly basis. Looking back, he must have thought getting out there and getting laid had meant he was moving on. Being home in Ten Rigs, settled into the routine and rhythm of treating his patients, and “dating” Tucker, the extent of his self-imposed isolation comes into stark relief. It’s just sad. Having family nearby, much as he sometimes chafes at their intrusiveness, has camouflaged the extent of his loneliness.
Trying to build a rapport with a random stranger from a club in order to find enough in common to feel out a relationship had always seemed like more trouble than it was worth. So he’d given up.
Fast forward a couple of years and a random series of conversations has garnered him a pretend boyfriend for the weekend. Sharing this easy affection with Tucker has him wanting and wishing for more than he’s had in his life since Michael died, and he likes it. It feels good. So he’s going to make the most of what’s left of the weekend. Once the weekend’s over, maybe he’ll ask Tucker on a real date and see what happens.
Cole regards his “boyfriend.”
Tucker’s brown hair riffles in the breeze. He looks relaxed and like he’s enjoying himself if the easy smile is any indication. He’s out and proud and appears completely comfortable in his own skin. That confidence strikes a chord inside Cole, and the prickle of craving morphs into more of an incessant itch.
“You ever been out on the lake?” asks Cole, sitting up and running a finger down the inside of Tucker’s arm. The urge to be alone with his date washes over him like a tidal surge.
Tucker shakes his head, still smiling, his mien open and inviting. “Never been out on any lake.”
“What? Are you kidding me?” And if that isn’t just the cover Cole needs.
“No.” Large blue eyes peer at him.
“Well, come on then. There’s nothing like being out on a lake on a beautiful summer day.” Cole gets up and tugs Tucker to his feet, pressing a longish kiss to his mouth. “Let’s go borrow a boat and go for a ride. Excuse us,” he says to Rachel and Tim, who grin knowingly and wave them off like parents sending their youngsters to the playground equipment at a park.
Chapter Eleven
“You’re a boatsman?” Tucker asks as they walk down the sloping field toward the shore, clasped hands swaying between them.
Cole laughs and it feels good. Genuine. Satisfying. He hasn’t felt this carefree and light in a long time. He doesn’t know if it’s Tucker specifically or just the freedom of the weekend in general that he’s finally allowed himself to enjoy. “Not really. The only time I ever get on a boat is during these family reunions. In the interest of full disclosure, I should warn you that it’s been a long time, but we spent a lot of every summer out here, and Thom made sure all of us kids knew how to drive the boat.”
Tucker curves a hand up and around Cole’s forearm, and they walk close together down the length of the dock. A handful of various craft bob on the water, moored by lengths of rope. A large square rubber raft, a speedboat, a pontoon boat, even a catamaran. A canoe rests across the end, paddles next to it on the wooden slats.
“Are you nervous?” asks Cole.
“Should I be?”
The expanse of lake draws Cole’s gaze, which draws Tucker’s in turn.
“No.” Cole’s competent enough around small engines, and his stepdad taught him proper boating etiquette and safety rules once Cole reached middle school . His knowledge was reviewed every summer after that until he left for college. Ingrained and practiced lessons like that aren’t easily forgotten.
Cole chooses a small motor boat that seats two comfortably. Tucker climbs in and Cole follows. After throwing a life vest at Tucker, he dons one of his own. He unties the mooring line and pushes them away from the dock. After looking over the motor and adjusting the levers, he tugs the starter rope and the engine sputters to life.
Cole points the craft in the direction of the open water and adjusts the throttle. It’s too loud to talk at the moment, but Cole enjoys the view of Tucker leaning backwards, hands braced against the sides of the boat, hair blowing in the wind and a huge grin on his face. Cole’s enchanted. He doesn’t know how or why, and he doesn’t care. He’s having fun.
Fun is the last thing he expected to have this weekend. Not two weeks ago when Kara called and proposed this crazy idea. Not Friday night when Tucker showed up on his doorstep. But here he is. And, right now, he wants some alone time with Tucker.
Needing a date to fool his family had been the purpose of the whole endeavor, but he suddenly wishes they were gone on some sexy weekend in the Bahamas or on a Caribbean cruise. But they’re not. They’re landlocked in the arid lands of northern Texas. They’ll have to make due with what they have.
Which are a couple of small islands on this end of the lake to explore with inlets and tiny little beaches just right for two. Little beaches with the privacy that’s lacking up at the pavilion. Cole steers the boat past the first island, around the second one, and into a small cove. The world goes amazingly quiet for a long moment when he kills the engine. Eventually, though, the rush of the wind past his ears returns, along with the slap of the water against the boat, and the faint buzz of a distant, unseen motor.
Tucker pushes his glasses to his head and looks around. “What’s this?”
Cole stands carefully so as not to rock the boat overmuch and shucks his life vest before divesting himself of clothing. The compulsion to be embarrassed is there and gone in a blink.
Tucker’s expression is one of not only interest, but of admiration.
“Skinny dipping.”
Tucker sits up and claps his hands, a gleeful expression on his face. “Why, Dr. Cole, are you trying to compromise my virtue?”
A buzz resounds in Cole’s head, and heat that can be ascribed to the summer sun creeps up his face. Some sort of vague notion of getting each other off had been on his mind when he’d suggested the boat ride, but hearing the question asked with such enthusiasm sends a surge of blood rushing to his dick, and now he’s standing there in front of God and Tucker sporting a half-chub.
Tucker’s gaze glides down Cole’s body and back up in a thorough study, his grin slipping away and his eyes growing heated.
Only Cole’s stubborn refusal to succumb to bashfulness keeps him from covering himself up or diving into the lake before Tucker’s looked his fill.
“Come on, big boy,” he says, his voice deep and catching slightly. “Debauch me.” He tears off his own clothes and slips into the water.
Cole follows and the two of them come together in a smash of lips and chins and a tangle of arms and legs. Dicks undulate and brush together beneath the surface. Cole gasps at the contact, tipping his head back and gulping in air. The sun is hot on his fac
e and shoulders. Tucker scrapes his teeth along his jawline. His hands slide along Cole’s outstretched arms, keeping them anchored together.
“God. I… This…” His brain is a jumble of sensations. All he really knows is that they’re alone, they’re naked, and he wants to come really damn badly.
Tucker nips at Cole’s bottom lip and then sucks it into his mouth. With a groan, Cole forces another kiss. It’s hard and it’s carnal, and it’s nothing he’s experienced before.
Tucker’s hand closes around Cole’s erection, pulling another obscene noise from him.
“I thought,” he pants, “I was…supposed to…debauch you.”
“We can debauch each other. Grab my cock, Cole, c’mon.”
Tucker’s gasping use of the word “cock” and “Cole” in the same breath almost shorts circuits Cole’s brain, but he does as instructed. Tucker’s dick fits nicely in the curl of his hand, long and thick, and, holy guacamole , what would Tucker feel like, taste like, in his mouth? That thought pushes him closer to the edge.
They’ve each got one hand on the other’s shoulder, the other hand on a dick not his own. Their legs paddle gently to keep them both afloat. It takes a moment to find a rhythm as they bob easily in the water, but once they do, it’s like magic.
The prickle of heat on his head and face, his shoulders. The wildfire of arousal in his gut.
The tightness of Tucker’s grip on his dick. The pulsing of Tucker’s dick in his fist.
His dick swells, his ball sac tightens.
“I’m gonna come,” Cole huffs. “God, I’m gonna—” His hips roll forward, his dick throbs, and with a long groan, he comes. He’s motionless for a moment, gathering his wits, because that was fucking amazing.
When Cole finally opens his eyes, he finds Tucker watching him. “Good, huh?”
“Oh, God, I’m sorry. I sorta dropped the ball,” he says even though he’s still got Tucker’s dick in a loose hold.
“That’s not what I meant…you just looked and sounded really into it, and it was super hot.”
Cole’s too sated to feel embarrassed any longer. Just offers Tucker a relaxed grin and says, “It was pretty damned good, I gotta say.”
“Yeah?”
“Mmm, yeah. Now you.”
“Yes, please.”
Cole takes up stroking Tucker’s dick like it’s his job. Tucker directs him to squeeze tighter and pump faster.
“So close,” he says. “Yeah, yeah, like that. Fuck, fuck, fuuuck… ” His body goes taut and his dick pulses in Cole’s hand.
Cole strokes him through a few more aftershocks before letting go, knowing some over-sensitivity might be kicking in.
Tucker clings to one arm still, but allows his body to rise into a starfish float. “Mmm…you’re right. Pretty damned good.”
They float without speaking for a few minutes.
Never in a million years would Cole’s younger self have done something like this. Leaving for A&M and going so far—like the six hours was so far away —from home had taken a lot of wherewithal. His desire to be a vet and attend the best vet school had overridden his anxiety enough to get him there and settled.
Going to class had been okay—he’d had a purpose to being there. Attending functions and events had been constant exercises in wrangling his dread. He much preferred the wide-open spaces of the ranch and he’d rather the company of animals over those of people.
Eventually, though, he’d come out of his shell and made a few friends. Still, new situations were never easy for him, apprehension always giving the jitters.
Doing something like this—getting naked and mutually masturbating another man in a lake is not something Cole’s older self would have done before this weekend. What is it about Tucker that’s bringing out this spontaneous abandon in him?
Tucker seems so self-assured and confident all the time.
Cole squints up at the bright blue sky, the lone cloud floating across the blue expanse. “Are you never afraid?”
Tucker lets his body sink and looks at Cole. “Not so much anymore. Why?”
“You seem so fearless. And I’ve lived a lot of my life afraid.”
“First let me say, fear and experiences are all relative and subjective. So it’s okay to be afraid. Me? I lived in fear of my life as a teen-ager, Cole. I’ve been homeless more times than I should have been. I’ve wondered where my next meal was coming from. Getting on a little boat with you as my captain is an adventure I’m grateful I can have.”
“That’s not what I—” Cole stares open-mouthed, his mind processing the realities of Tucker’s confession. “Oh my God, Tucker. I… That’s…horrible.”
“Mmm, it was. But it was a long time ago. I’m not that scared boy anymore. I did what I had to do to survive. I did some things I’m not proud of, but it was either that or starve or freeze to death. I chose survival. I took any opportunity to better myself and, these days, I live on the right side of the law. I barely even speed.” He shrugs and grins.
Cole stares a moment longer and then shakes his head. He can’t fathom what Tucker’s been through. Homeless and starving at an age when Cole’s biggest worry was passing organic chemistry. Shit. He’s obviously put his heartrending past behind him and worked hard to overcome whatever hurdles he’s faced.
Not only has he survived his experiences, but he’s done it without losing his positive attitude and sunny disposition. Or maybe he fought hard to keep it. Either way, he’s doesn’t need Cole’s misplaced sense of remorse on his behalf.
Tucker’s here. Successful and happy, his longing for his family aside, charismatic and fun. He deserves to be respected for all that he’s accomplished.
Cole subjugates his sorrow and plasters on a sunny smile. “We’d better get back in the boat and get dressed. I can think of at least three laws we’ve broken today. Wouldn’t want you to get arrested for falling under my evil spell.”
Tucker laughs. “Maybe you’ve fallen under my evil spell.”
“Maybe…” Maybe, just maybe, Cole thinks, that’s not such a bad thing.
Chapter Twelve
The rest of the afternoon passes in widespread languor. No one moves much from their claimed locations except to follow the shade or make trips to the restroom or to grab a quick snack. Even dinner is hit or miss; everyone makes a plate as hunger strikes.
Someone had the foresight to bring some classic board games and the kids take over the picnic tables to alternate between games of Monopoly, Sorry!, and Trouble. Tucker helps Misty and Nathan aids Patty in a game of Go Fish.
Eventually, the western sky bleeds orange and fuchsia into indigo and dark blue to the east. Families and couples stake out spots on the slope down to the shore with blankets. The large square rubber raft bobs gently in the shallow waves, held in place by a rope wrapped around one of the boulders. Ben, Scott, and Misty enjoy their floating bed. The under-twenty set litter the dock, chattering quietly amongst themselves.
The gathering reflects the family. Tight-knit, affectionate, welcoming. It’s cozy and mellow.
Cole unzips a thick sleeping bag and tosses it down at the top of the slope, on the opposite side of the kids on the dock and behind everyone else. Murmurs of conversation ripple in the warm evening, but Tucker and Cole are comfortably silent. They’ve each got a bottle of water and they lie propped up on their elbows and waiting for the fireworks show to begin.
Ever since the skinny dipping and the mutual masturbation earlier, Cole has stuck close to Tucker, and the number of kisses between them has increased about threefold since this morning. Not that he minds at all, but it’s as if someone flipped a switch inside of Cole. No one’s said anything although Tucker’s seen more indulgent smiles, rolling eyes, and approving nods than he expected throughout the afternoon and evening. Even Granny Evie had nodded and winked.
A large boom thunders overhead.
Tucker startles a bit, his heart taking off in a mad dash scramble.
Moments later, thre
e bursts of colorful lights bloom and crackle over the water in conjunction with less powerful reverberations. “Oohs” and “aahs” sound from those gathered in front of them.
“You okay?” asks Cole, reaching out again.
“Yeah, just not expecting it, silly as that sounds,” he says. His mind is so full of Cole and the events of the day. His body aware and aflutter. The waves of want still coming off Cole buffet Tucker’s own desires. They’re out in public, though, with Cole’s family, not at some club where a certain amount of groping and grinding is expected, where blow jobs happen in the bathrooms. This is much better, by far, even if nothing can happen.
The next barrage of noise and color flashes across the sky. The golds and reds and blues reflect off the water and tint Cole’s face. He’s smiling and carefree. Seeing him like this releases Tucker’s remaining restraint. He scoots closer and plasters himself along Cole’s long, lean form. Cole curls one arm around Tucker and slides the other beneath his own head.
Cole alternately slides his hand up and down Tucker’s arm and makes shapes on his shoulders with his fingertips. They’ve reached new levels of boyfriendy and Tucker’s glad. Tucker feels safe and wanted here in Cole’s embrace and it’s a mixed blessing. After all the men he’s dated, it’s nice to know there’s still someone out there who can engender that in him. On the other hand, the fact that Cole can and Tucker does is causing Tucker to rethink his life plans. Namely getting out of Ten Rigs.
Until this weekend and after getting to know Cole, in so far as hanging out and sleeping together could be considered getting to know someone enough to contemplate a huge life change, Ten Rigs has been nothing more than a charming stopover on his way to bigger and better things career-wise. He’d given up on finding personal happiness about five years ago.
Enter Cole Reid, stage left. Handsome, charming if a bit dorky, but good and kind and accepting. Lonely and wounded by love. A man who doesn’t use others to get what he wants. Okay, this weekend notwithstanding—but that had been Tucker offering his help and Cole accepting. They’d both entered the weekend with eyes wide open. As far as Tucker knows, though, Cole doesn’t want anything past the weekend.
Only for the Weekend Page 7
