by A. E. Wasp
Bryce laughed. “Great job if you can get it.”
Dakota squinted up at the pale blue sky and shoved his hands back in his pockets. “Come on. I’ll show you the house.”
It seemed cruel to make Dakota walk through the house that had been his second home and tell Bryce everything that was great about it. Bryce could find out by himself. “You don’t have to, Dakota.”
Dakota laughed harshly. “Do what? Turn the house and everything in over to you? Yeah. I do.”
“Fuck.” Bryce kicked the dirt up, sending a rock flying. Beezy leaped up, grabbing it out of the air, then dropping it by Bryce’s feet. “Look. I’m sorry.”
Lu dropped a stick in the dirt near Dakota’s feet. He picked it up and hurled it as far as he could. Both dogs took off towards the fields behind the house. “Yeah. Me, too.”
“I don’t know what to do here. You know that your house and farm are yours. Forever. I promise.”
Beezy came back with the sticking. She let it fall to the ground, and then stared between Dakota and the stick.
Lu came back with a half-rotten apple that he deposited by Bryce, then looked up at him with a hopeful expression in her doggy eyes. “Thanks,” Bryce said, wincing as his fingers touched the mushy flesh.
“Stop making promises you can’t keep,” Dakota said. “No one can promise forever.” He hurled the stick again. Beezy barked once at Bryce, and he threw the apple in the same direction. They watched the dogs race through the field.
“No. You’re right. But I promise you that I will find some way to transfer ownership of that part of the property to you.”
Dakota tilted his head to look at him, eyes narrowed.
Bryce wished he knew what the other man was thinking. “You’ll still have your farm and your house.”
“What about the money? I’m not going to let that drop.” Dakota looked away, embarrassed.
“You said that was your ex-boyfriend, not you.”
“Yeah, but I should have known. I let him get away with it for years.” Dakota shook his head. “I was an idiot. Everybody told me there was something not right.”
“That still doesn’t make it your fault.”
“But –”
Bryce held up his hand. “End of discussion. I’ll have my mom and money guy get together with you and go over the books and find out exactly what happened. If we have to pursue criminal charges against this guy, we will. But you are not going to pay for his crimes anymore.”
Dakota crossed his arms and stared at Bryce, his face inscrutable. Lu woofed and looked between the stick and Dakota. “Go play,” Dakota told the dog. “Go be useful.” Lu laid down in the dirt, panting, with her tongue hanging out. “Fantastic.”
Bryce wasn’t sure if Dakota was talking to him or the dog. “It will be. I really think everything is going to work out for the best. And it’s kind of fun that we’re, well, neighbors, for a little while anyway.”
A blush heated his cheeks. He didn’t know if they were supposed to talk about what had happened last night in the cabin, but he hadn’t been able to forget about it even before he’d seen Dakota again. Now with the literal man of his dreams standing in front of him, Bryce found it almost impossible to think about anything else.
Chapter Sixteen
DAKOTA
Dakota had been wondering if their adventure on the side of the road would ever come up, and now it had, albeit obliquely. He knew what Bryce was hinting at. It would be pretty easy for them to keep playing ‘how gay is Bryce’ if they lived a hundred yards apart.
Too bad that was never going to happen. A tragedy really, because Bryce looked so fucking edible Dakota wanted to drag him up the steps and onto the big couch in the front room.
Dakota exhaled and ran his hand through his hair. He had to stop doing that, or he’d be bald before he hit thirty. Remembering how Bryce’s thick silky hair felt running through his fingers and dragging across his skin wasn’t helping him stick to his convictions.
“We can’t screw around again.” He tried to sound like he meant it.
“Oh.” Bryce took a step back. “God. I’m – I mean – of course—”
He looked mortified. Great. And Dakota thought this situation couldn’t get any more awkward. Looked like he was wrong. “It’s not you. Well, I mean it is you, but because of you being you and me and this whole thing.” He waved his hand at the house and the orchard. “Of course I want to. I mean, look at you.” Oh, very nice Dakota. Well said. He resisted the urge to smack himself on the head.
“What do you mean?” Bryce frowned.
Dakota stepped closer to Bryce. “In your head, what do you see happening between us in the next hours, days, whatever?”
“Well, first I thought I’d get changed and then we were going to get lunch.”
Bryce’s hesitant smile and hopeful eyes made Dakota want to punch someone. He settled for shoving his hands deep into his coat pockets, tilting his head back, and exhaling up at the sky. “Why couldn’t you be the asshole you were supposed to be? Can’t you just go away and let me try to be angry again?”
Bryce took a step towards him, standing close enough that Dakota had to tilt his head up to look him in the eye. Dakota fought the urge to step back.
A strong gust of wind scattered dead leaves across their feet and rattled the bare branches of the raspberry bushes lining the driveway. Dakota pulled his coat tighter against himself.
Bryce’s eyes flicked down. “That’s a really nice coat.”
“Look who’s talking.” Sure Dakota knew his black leather shearling-lined coat looked good. He’d spent enough on it, it should.
But Bryce wore a long black overcoat over his dark gray suit. It came down to his knees, and, like the suit, was tailored to fit perfectly across his broad shoulders and enormous biceps. He looked rich, Dakota realized. Everything about the outfit screamed money.
Bryce’s sweet nature and propensity for blushing made it easy for Dakota to forget that Bryce was ten years older than he was, a multimillionaire, and, oh yeah, a famous professional athlete with his own freaking line of merchandise.
Every part of Bryce’s world was so far removed from Dakota’s normal life that his brain refused to retain the information. Except the being older thing. Dakota had plenty of experience with older men, and none of it was good.
Okay. So maybe Dakota had googled Bryce last night. He’d found him pretty quickly. There weren’t that many pro-hockey players named Bryce. He may have even watched some highlight videos.
Goddamn, the man could move. He was sex on skates, somehow even hotter when he was body-slamming another guy into the side of the rink. And Dakota had been the lucky bastard who’d been the recipient of the man’s first blowjob. If only he could go back in time and tell his teenaged self what he had to look forward to.
Dakota had spent some quality time with his hand thinking about what they had done and what they might possibly do in the future.
Then Bryce had walked into the lawyer’s office looking like everything Dakota hadn’t even known he’d wanted and everything changed.
And now he was offering Dakota the world on a plate. Keep his farm, keep his house, save the orchard, and, if Dakota knew men, hot and cold running sex.
The fallout from when that all came crashing down would be nuclear.
“How much was that coat anyway?” Dakota asked.
“What?” Bryce blinked at the non-sequitur. “Dakota,” Bryce said then trailed away as if he didn’t know what to say next.
Dakota stopped pacing. “I googled you last night.”
Bryce sighed. “Yeah?”
“You’re kind of a big deal.” He knew, theoretically, that pro athletes were kind of celebrities, but finding the Bryce Lowry Fan Club had really driven it home.
Bryce shrugged. “I worked really hard at one thing. I got really, really good at it, and people decided to pay me a lot of money to do it. It’s not all I am.”
“Still. I can buy
things with your face on them. I could walk around with your name on my back. That’s not normal.”
“You’d look really good in one of my jerseys,” Bryce said with a grin as if he were picturing Dakota in the jersey and nothing else.
It was so hard to think around Bryce. Once he’d learned who he was, Dakota knew even a friendship between them came with an expiration date.
What could they even be to each other? Bryce was older, richer, and more together than Dakota would ever be. He was also Dakota’s landlord-slash-boss.
And once he figured out how to handle being gay, either by coming out while he’s still actively playing or waiting until he retires, it would only be a matter of time before Bryce ended up with some rich, gorgeous boyfriend. Dakota would be reduced to a part of his coming out story.
He wished he had half the confidence Bryce did that any of this was going to work out.
Dakota searched for the words. He’d already done more talking in the last twenty-four hours than he normally did in a week.
“I’m really not trying to be a dick, and I’m not saying I won’t sleep with you just out of spite.”
“Then why?”
Dakota exhaled in exasperation. “Bryce, how do you imagine this going? You swoop in, throw money around and fix everything. You figure out how gay you are with me and make up for lost time. We have great sex for however long you stick around for, and then you get on a plane and fly back to your celebrity life and back into the closet while I live a hundred yards from your mother and try to get on with my life.”
Bryce reeled back, hurt on his face.
Dakota reached for Bryce, running a hand down the lapels on his coat. “I can tell you’re a good guy. And you want to do the right thing whatever that is. But the truth is, this is my home and my life. And I need to protect it, it’s all I have.”
Bryce put his hand over Dakota’s. “I know. And I would never take your home from you.”
What about my heart? Dakota thought helplessly. He couldn’t lie to himself. As ludicrous as it was, Bryce had stolen a piece of Dakota’s heart the second he’d seen Bryce’s gorgeous, terrified face.
That alone was reason enough to walk away.
“This situation is already so complicated, Bryce. The last thing we need to do is add sex to it. You’re my boss and my landlord. How can that be anything but a disaster waiting to happen?”
He dropped his hands and paced a small circle in the dirt. Lu and Beezy jumped up and circled around him, barking like the insane canines they were.
Bryce broke the silence between them. “Come on. I’m just a guy who can’t change a tire, doesn’t know the first fucking thing about how to manage a fucking apple orchard, and didn’t realize he was gay until yesterday.”
Dakota stopped pacing. “What about the will?”
“What about it?”
“I know it’s a longshot, but what if that other will shows up? Are you just going to give me everything back and walk away? What happens then?
Exasperated, Bryce ran his hands through his hair. They caught on the elastic band holding it in place, and he yanked it out, throwing it on the ground. The wind whipped his hair around his face.
“Look,” he said. “Can we talk about this inside? I’d like to sit down and get out of the wind.”
“Where’s your brace?” Dakota asked.
“What? I have a thin one under my pants. I don’t need the big one all the time. Now, please. Can we go inside?”
Dakota looked at the house he had spent so much of the last twenty years in. The house Tommy had died in. The home he’d spent the last few weeks dismantling.
Then he looked back at the gorgeous man who had crashed into his life like his worst fears and deepest desires all rolled up together.
And he couldn’t deal with it right now. Any of it.
“No.”
“No?”
“I can’t. I’m sorry.” Dakota pulled his key chain out of his pocket and worked a ring of keys off it. He held it out and dropped it in Bryce’s hand.
“Here are the keys. It’s not locked. Walk around, drive around. You’ll see the paths. Your car should fit, or you can take one of the ATVs from the barn.”
“Dakota…” he said, voice deep.
Dakota didn’t meet his eyes. “Watch out for the beehives. The bees should be quiet because of the cold, but just in case.”
“Bees?”
“Are you allergic?”
“No. I don’t think so. But…”
“Okay. Good. Good.” He dashed to the truck and was inside the cab before Bryce could say anything. He backed up quickly, carefully maneuvering around Bryce. The dogs ran alongside the truck. Dakota looked in his rearview mirror and tried not to notice how lost Bryce looked.
Chapter Seventeen
BRYCE
Gravel crunched under Bryce’s feet as he picked his way carefully down their shared driveway towards Dakota’s house. Clouds hid the moon, and the only light came from the cell phone he held out in front of him. Maybe he should have taken a flashlight. Who knew it was so dark at night in the country?
Unseen animals scurried through the dark fields lining the road, and off in the distance the pinprick of headlights climbed into the sky as a lonely car made its way up the hill. His breath fogged the air, and he wished he’d grabbed a jacket.
Showing up uninvited on Dakota’s doorstep in the middle of the night probably wasn't the smartest thing Bryce could be doing. Texting Dakota before leaving his house had crossed his mind, but that would make it too easy for Dakota to tell him not to come or just not reply. It was much harder to say no to someone face to face.
Bryce owned Dakota an apology. He would deliver it in person. Dakota could accept or tell Bryce to fuck off. He really hoped that didn’t happen.
Underneath his noble intentions lay a more personal reason for his late night stroll. He ached to see Dakota again, physically ached for the man’s touch.
Bryce wished his knee was healed enough that he could run again. Running a couple of miles would go a long way towards clearing his mind. It made no sense to crave something he’d had so little of. Maybe this was how addicts felt. He’d never tried any hard drugs because deep inside he was a little afraid he might like them too much.
Dakota should come with a warning label. Warning, exposure to this hot, sweet guy with great eyes may cause addiction.
Even from the outside, Dakota’s house felt like a home. Gardening tools, dog toys, and flower beds filled with dead leaves were scattered around the yard. Bare vines twined over and through the trellis that arched across the front door.
Inside, there would be dogs and books and maybe a cup of tea. Dakota was in there, too, with his kindness and his blue eyes and hard muscles covered with soft skin.
Bryce looked through the window on the front door into a darkened front room and part of a hallway. Soft light spilled from an open doorway further down the hall.
Pulse speeding, he knocked.
There was no answer or sound of any kind. Bryce peered through the window. The light spilling into the hallway flickered as if someone was moving in the unseen room.
He knocked harder.
Dakota appeared in the hallway, book in hand. Lu and Beezy barked as they pushed past Dakota into the hallway.
“Hush,” Dakota told them, stepping around them.
Bryce stepped back from the front door.
Dakota opened the door, face blank. He looked warm and sleepy in his soft flannel pants and old faded t-shirt with a picture of naked people standing in a river and holding signs that read 'Save the Poudre.'
Bryce clenched his hands to keep from reaching out to touch him. “Hey.”
“Is something wrong?” Dakota asked, brow furrowing.
“No. I just wanted to talk to you.”
“You couldn’t call?”
Lu slunk between Dakota's legs and rubbed against Bryce. When Bryce bent down to pet her, she waggled her back ha
lf so hard she almost bent in half. “I wanted to talk in person.”
Lu’s front paws came off the ground as if she wanted to jump but was restraining herself.
Dakota absentmindedly petted Lu. “It's after eleven. Can't it wait until tomorrow?”
“I’d rather not. But I can be quick.” Bryce didn’t want to be quick, but he could be.
“Okay. What do you want?” Dakota asked, voice flat. He didn’t move out of the doorway, and his hand clenched on the door as if he expected Bryce to force his way in.
Bryce’s heart sank, but Dakota had a right to be mad at him. That’s why he was here. “I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”
Dakota looked surprised, and his grip on the door relaxed. “Really? For what?”
Bryce took a deep breath. “I was wrong to just jump in and tell you how things were going to be, even if I had the best intentions. I’ve been told I can be a little pushy. A lot pushy. And I’m sorry I let my excitement hurt you. This day had to have sucked enough for you without me pretending like I have all the answers. I don’t. I don’t know what I’m doing at all, and I don’t know what is going to happen. I hate it.”
Dakota stared at Bryce and rubbed a hand across his mouth. With a deep sigh, he pulled the door open all the way. “Come on in.”
Bryce followed him down the hallway. An arched entrance on his right opened into a kitchen with a large wooden table. The low ceilings and narrow hallway felt cozy rather than confining.
Framed photographs, posters, and artwork lined all the open wall space. More frames leaned against the wall as if waiting to be hung. That explained the empty spots on the walls in Bryce’s house.
A photo of Dakota with his arm around a tiny dark haired young woman in a fringed vest holding a shotgun caught Bryce’s eye. He stopped to look at it more closely. “Are these all pictures of your family?” he asked.
