by Tara Lain
He glanced outside. Nobody beside the pool or in the overgrown yard. Glancing again at his phone, he walked back to the kitchen where he’d left his notebook. Suddenly, he turned and took off up the stairs at a trot. He walked down the long hall softly, halfway seeing that cat playing with a ball that Jerry had conjured. The master bedroom door was partly closed.
Gabe stopped outside, took a breath, and gently pushed. The door moved a little, but it was big and heavy, so he still couldn’t see in. He peered around the edge of the door. As some weird instinct had told him, there lay Jerry on his rumpled mattress, curled on his side, sound asleep.
Gabe took a step closer and stared. Angel face. His crazy cap had shifted slightly, and a lock of fair hair hung down the side of his cheek. His lashes were darker than his hair, and they shadowed his eyes like little fans. But the face. Dear God, when all the stress and anxiety were gone, that face fell into pure sweetness.
Not wanting to wake him, Gabe turned quietly and stepped out the door.
“Gabe?”
Gabe looked back. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you.”
Jerry struggled to sit up cross-legged in his too-big gray sweats, wiping a hand over his eyes like a little kid. With a slap, he adjusted his beanie, then looked up with a smile that turned into a yawn. “S’cuse me. So did you make some decisions about the house?”
“I asked the design-build firm for quotes. When we get them back, you can decide if they’re doable and interesting.”
He sprang to his feet in one smooth move. Wow. “Tell me your ideas.”
“Okay.”
Jerry stretched, showing off an inch of hard, tan belly. Kind of surprisingly hard and tan for such a recluse. Jerry asked, “Want pizza while we talk?”
“I should probably get home.”
“Oh sure. Of course.” He stared at his feet as he walked out of the bedroom into the long hall.
God, the guy seemed so alone. “I could use a few bites of pizza.”
Gabe was rewarded with a beaming smile. “Great. I’ll order right now. They know me, so they come right away.” He tapped some keys on his phone as he continued downstairs. Gabe followed.
When they hit the main floor, Gabe pointed to the left. “Let’s talk in the kitchen.”
Once they’d entered the dilapidated, cramped space, Gabe said, “I know you don’t seem to have much use for cooking, but here’s what I’m thinking. A modern house this size would have a much bigger kitchen than this, so for resale value, it would be smart to expand the kitchen.” He explained about taking over the laundry room and moving the laundry to the space closer to the garage. “Of course, we need to turn the garage back into a garage.”
“Oh yes, that would be wonderful. I’d love to have a place to park.”
“What about the kitchen idea?”
“Oh sure, fine. It will be nice not to have to go to the Laundromat.”
“Uh, we can order you a washer and dryer and have them set up in the garage space to use for now. There’s no sense in you having to haul your stuff down the hill.”
“That would be great. Thanks.”
Gabe grinned. “You want to pick your own washer and dryer?”
“What are my choices?” He looked like a kid being told he could have one candy bar.
“Well, there are top-loading washers and front loaders.”
He pulled his brows together for several seconds. “Top seems better.”
“Okay. Color?”
“Red.” He laughed. “I saw some red washers the other day when I was looking for you.”
“Red it is. I’ll order them tomorrow and have them delivered as soon as possible.”
“I can’t wait. I love red.”
“So back to the question. What about expanding the kitchen?”
He shrugged. “Sounds great.”
“I’ll make the current kitchen open concept and turn the rest into more of a scullery and prep kitchen that isn’t as open. That way, you can hide pots and pans from your guests.”
“Oh, Mimi will love that.” He nodded.
“Mimi?” He tried to sound neutral. Mimi was probably Jerry’s girlfriend.
“She cooks for me sometimes.” He pressed his hands together. “What else do you want to do?”
“Well. All the decks need to be reinforced, or in some cases rebuilt.”
“Yes, and what’ll you do with the lookout tower?”
“What’s that?”
Jerry pressed his hands to his chest. “What? You missed the best part of the whole house?”
“Uh, I guess so.”
“Well come with me, my deprived friend, and I—”
The front doorbell rang.
Gabe snorted. “It works!”
“Yes, one of the few things.” Jerry took off toward the door. Good to know he didn’t kid himself about the condition of the house.
Jerry walked back a couple minutes later with a large pizza box that smelled like cheesy, tomatoey heaven and a big handful of napkins. He set them on the island.
Gabe said, “So what about the, uh, what did you call it, lookout tower?”
“Come with me.” Jerry led him back down the hall to the staircase and started up. Gabe trotted behind him. At the top of the stairs, Jerry stopped and pointed to a polished-wood ladder that spanned the stairwell and seemed to disappear through a hole in the ceiling. “Go on up and look.”
“Uh, okay.” Gabe frowned but took off up the ladder. It wasn’t a hard climb if you didn’t look down. Below was the open stairwell that fell two stories. A trapdoor blocked his way at the top of the ladder. He grasped the handle, pushed, and it rose easily. Brilliant light flooded around him. As the trapdoor fell away, he rose into a square room surrounded on all sides by windows, with a door that led out to a small deck. He stepped off the ladder onto the floor of the room and was greeted by the best view in the whole house. All around, he could see the mountains and the trees of the Oregon forest.
A big flat box slid onto the floor, and Jerry emerged through the trapdoor. “So what do you think?”
Gabe gave a little laugh. “It’s amazing.”
“Yeah.” He nimbly sprang to his feet and stood beside Gabe. Interesting. Gabe was nearly six-three, and Jerry was only maybe an inch shorter. He just seemed so—frail. But nothing about his physical presence supported that impression. It must be his extreme shyness and awkwardness that made Gabe feel like he had to protect Jerry. Jerry turned in a circle. “It’s a big reason I bought the house. I mean, where do you ever see a room like this? I want to sleep up here.”
“I’ll bet there’s a way to create a staircase to make it easier to get up here.”
Jerry shrugged. “Maybe. But I think the ladder’s part of the fun.”
“But will you feel that way when you’re eighty?”
Jerry raised one shoulder. “I don’t know how I’ll feel when I’m thirty.” He grinned. “Let’s have pizza.” He folded onto the floor as graceful as a dancer and sat cross-legged in front of the box. He flipped open the lid, closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply.
Gabe managed to get his big body to the floor and into a sitting position. He didn’t match Jerry’s catlike grace, but maybe didn’t look like a water buffalo. “So you really like this stuff, huh? Not just a matter of convenience since your stove doesn’t work?”
Jerry scooped up a big slice on a napkin and handed it to Gabe. “I’m working on proving that man can live on pizza alone.”
Gabe bit into his pizza slice. It had been a while. He didn’t like to suggest to Ellie that pizza was a substitute for real food, so they only had it as an occasional treat. “Have to admit it’s good.” He chewed. “So how long until you’re thirty?”
“What?” Jerry cocked his head as he licked oil from his lips with a quick pink tongue.
Gabe dragged his eyes away from Jerry’s shiny mouth. “You said you don’t know how you’ll feel when you’re thirty. I just wondered when that is.”
“Oh. July.” He took another bite and chewed, then grinned. “Four years from now.”
“You’re a baby.” Gabe smiled tightly.
“I am? Why, how old are you?”
“Thirty-three.”
“That’s young.”
Gabe snorted. “Not the way I did it.”
“What do you mean?”
Why did I bring this up? He almost never talked about himself. Still, sitting in a tree house eating pizza took him back to a childhood he’d hardly had. “I have a sixteen-year-old daughter.”
Jerry stopped midbite. “You’re kidding. Wait, that means you were a dad when you were—”
“Not quite seventeen. Right.”
“Holy crap.”
Gabe just chewed.
“Wow. That must have been so hard. I can’t even imagine.”
Had it been hard? Funny how he barely thought about it. “I guess. I was kind of never a kid, so when I found out I was going to be a father, I just went with it.” He smiled. “Ellie’s so great. It gives me the willies to think I might not have had her.”
“So she… uh, Ellie’s home with your wife?” Jerry grabbed another slice.
“No. No wife.”
Jerry gave him that sideways glance he had. “Aren’t females usually required?”
“I was married for a few years, but we knew from the beginning that it was about Ellie, not about us as a couple.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
Gabe shrugged.
“Do you and your ex get along well?”
“Yeah, although she shifts her attitudes based on who she’s with at the time, which gives me whiplash.” He leaned back against the wall.
“You haven’t remarried, though.” Jerry didn’t meet his eyes as he chewed pizza.
“No. Taking care of Ellie’s full-time. I started working as soon as I knew she was coming. That didn’t leave much time for dating, or schooling either for that matter.”
“But you know so many things.”
“Glad you think so, but master of none, I guess. Anyway, I ended up with a great life.”
“Thirty-three’s hardly the end.”
Gabe laughed. “And that brings the conversation full circle.” He wiped his fingers on the paper napkins. “I better get home. Let me help maneuver the box down the ladder.”
Jerry looked up through his lashes. “I usually throw the boxes off the deck and then pick them up in the yard and put them in the trash.”
“Creative, but maybe we at least need to rig up some kind of dumbwaiter to your tower so you can transport stuff up here more easily.”
He spread his hands. “I’m open to all modern conveniences.”
“Even if the modern conveniences date from the nineteenth century?”
“Especially then.”
Gabe maneuvered down the ladder and grabbed the box that Jerry handed him, then tried not to stare at Jerry’s butt as he climbed down.
When Jerry was back on solid ground, Gabe said, “I haven’t had a chance to assess the master bedroom closet or bathroom. Maybe I should take a quick look before I go.”
“Sure. It’s not much.” He paced down the long hall.
Gabe followed at a fast clip. “That’s a problem right off, because master baths are another one of the big selling features in a house. So unless you plan on staying here until you’re eighty, we probably should focus on resale value, at least a little bit.”
“Okay. How come you never remarried?”
Gabe stopped. Then he barked a laugh and kept following Jerry. “Never met the right person. I just haven’t focused much on a social life since—I guess ever.”
“I’d think you’d be a great catch.”
“You’re joking.” They walked into the big bedroom with its beautiful light and view of the treetops and mountains beyond. “Wow. I mean seriously, this room deserves to have a fabulous bath and closet and the full deal.”
“Yeah. I’m not joking.”
“What?” Gabe went down the little narrow hall beside the sleeping area and into what might make a good dressing room if it was fixed up. He took note of the peeling drywall and the broken light fixture.
Jerry leaned against the wall. “I’m not joking about you being a great catch.”
Gabe peered into what must be the master closet—a long narrow room with a couple of rods and a makeshift shelf. It was a mess compared to what it needed to be in a house like this. “We’re going to need to figure this area out.” He walked through the other door into a smallish bathroom with a big shower but no tub and broken tile and peeling drywall everywhere. The one interesting thing was a door leading out to a deck. Gabe threw it open and looked out. “Aha!”
“What?” Jerry stuck his head under Gabe’s arm and peered onto the deck. A wave of heat and that scent like some kind of spice Gabe loved in apple cider filled his nose, fogged his brain, and dove like a spark of electricity to his balls.
He stepped back and cleared his throat. “Uh, if you wanted, we could think about expanding this bathroom out onto that deck. The roof already extends over it, so it wouldn’t be too costly to do it. That could give you a big bathroom with a tub and double sinks, plus a separate room for the toilet. We could probably expand the master closet by stealing some of the next bedroom. That would really increase the home’s value.” He could feel himself getting excited and took a breath. “Of course, you don’t necessarily want to overvalue the house for the area.”
Jerry pressed his hands together. “Oh, I’d love a bathtub. A great big one.”
In his current state, Gabe did not want to think about Jerry’s lean, graceful body reclining nude in a big bathtub. “Okay. We’ll see what it costs to make that happen.” He hurried back into the bedroom and came face-to-face—uh, face-to-memory-foam—with the mattress covered in messed-up blue sheets. A light comforter—it shone like silk—had been kicked into a heap. The whole scene took his breath away.
Trying not to look at the bed, Gabe rushed through the room, hurried along the long hall and down the stairs, and was nearly at the front door before he even considered what his speed must’ve looked like. He turned as Jerry caught up with him. “Sorry, I just realized Ellie must be expecting me.”
“Bring her with you next time.”
“Oh, really?” Jerry seriously wanted someone else around? “Yeah, maybe so.”
Jerry extended his hand. “Thank you, Gabe. This whole thing is fun now that you’re in charge. I was dreading it before.”
Gabe couldn’t help the real smile. “It’s fun for me too.” He swallowed. “I mean, not everyone gets to work on a house like this.”
Jerry glanced down at his feet. “I’m glad you like it. I couldn’t stand to pass it up.”
“Okay, so see you.” Gabe opened the front door and trotted down the porch stairs. He’d be fine when he had a little space.
“Gabe?” Jerry’s voice came from behind him, and Gabe stopped and looked back.
“Yeah?”
“I don’t care what you think. You’re a great catch.” Jerry grinned. “Good night.” He closed the door, and Gabe tried to close his mouth.
Chapter Five
BRAIN EXPLOSION imminent. As he attempted to maintain the speed limit on the way home, Gabe tried to focus on changes he wanted to make to the house, but that led him back to how can a guy sleeping on a mattress on the floor afford a new washer and dryer, much less the enclosure of an upstairs deck, and that made him think about that mattress, which brought him back to Jerry lying asleep on that mattress with his long body wrapped around that comforter, and that… was driving him nuts!
Just get home. Actually, he needed to think about maybe having a date like Ellie kept suggesting. Hell, if he kept popping wood every time he saw his new client, maybe finding a one-night stand would be better. Less complicated. It had been years and years since he’d had his cock sucked in an alley or fucked somebody up against a wall in a dark club. He was too worried about being r
ecognized and having that kind of story get back to the court or to Tiffany, which was the same thing.
He pulled his truck onto his street with the close-together houses and campers parked in the driveways, and slowed because the kids loved to play and ride skateboards in the street.
As he got close to his house, he frowned. As if he’d conjured her, his ex-wife’s Camaro was parked in front of the house, and where Tiffany went, Irving likely wasn’t far behind. Technically, Tiffany could visit with Ellie whenever she wanted. They had joint custody, although the judge had allowed Ellie to live with Gabe because she requested it and judges gave lots of weight to kids’ preferences. The fact that Ellie had made that choice didn’t please Tiffany, but at the time she’d been engrossed in trying to establish her second marriage, so she hadn’t objected. Now she was on relationship three, and for some reason, she’d gotten superfocused on Ellie and the entire custody issue. The whole thing gave him shivers.
He pulled into the driveway and was out of the truck practically before the engine shut off. Someone must have heard him coming because the front door opened and Tiffany and that idiot Irving walked out. Tiffany said, “Bye, dear. So good to see you.” She looked at Gabe as if she hadn’t known he was there. “Oh. Hello, Gabe. We were just having a lovely visit with Ellie.” Her singsongy voice could have been an ad for a 1950s floor wax.
“Tif, what’s with you? You don’t even sound like yourself.” He glanced at Irving, who stood rigid as a stick, staring into space with a smile plastered on his face.
Tiffany said, “Of course I sound like myself.” She slid her arm through Irving’s. “I sound like Ellie’s mother.” She marched down the porch stairs, dragging idiot Irving with her.
Gabe rushed into the house. “Ellie! Ellie, where are you?”
The guest bathroom door opened, and Ellie walked out. “Here, Dad.”
He took her arms in his hands. “Are you okay? What was that all about?”
