What in hell’s name had that all been about? Christ, I really needed to get laid.
Chapter 2
Rain
“MOTHERFUCKER!” I snarled as I hit my thumb for the second time. I sucked the swollen digit, tasting blood. My business partner and straight best friend, Lucas Wright, chuckled. He was a broad, short man, with shoulder-length blond hair and hands the size of hams. My dog, a black Labrador called Sheba, looked at me in disdain. She was used to my bad language when I was working in my barn. The current job was making an ornate bookcase for an elderly spinster’s “library,” a small, dingy room with wall-to-wall books on the floor.
“Rain, your mind is not on your game today, mate.” His soft West Country burr echoed in my ears. “Best you give it a miss for a while. We need to get off down to town anyway, to the Duck and Drake. That bar is going to be a bitch to build. That Simon guy is an absolute stickler for detail.”
I nodded. “He definitely knows what he wants. I had to draw that damned bar half a dozen times before he decided which design he liked. I have to say he has good taste. It’s the one I would have said fits the space the best, and the hotel. Cherrywood will look great in that room.”
I winced, putting down the hammer I’d been using to maul my thumb. Lucas looked at me, and I sighed. “Lucas, I’m fine. My mind is just a little off, that’s all.”
“Rain, getting a postcard from your ex-lover in Monte Carlo saying, ‘Wish you were here, having a great fucking time’ is enough to put anyone off their stride. Especially because we know Tommy is probably definitely having a great ‘fucking’ time—”
I growled. “Enough, already. Yes, he’s an arsehole, and yes, I’m better off without him, but I’d rather not talk about it if you don’t mind.”
I stretched, feeling the muscles in my back pull straight, my legs giving a scream of protest. Rivulets of sweat ran down my naked chest. It was warm in the barn, and I worked shirtless when I could.
“Let me go wash up and make myself more presentable. Then we can get into town. I’m looking forward to working on this bar.” I had a passion for creating beautiful things out of wood, and I was good at it. What was it my fellow countryman, Gary Player, had said? “The harder I practice, the luckier I get.” I liked the man’s style.
Picking up my shirt, I walked out of the workshop. Sheba stood up and padded after me. The sun shone, the air smelling of fresh grass. I reached my cottage a few feet away and went into the bedroom. I picked up a fresh denim shirt from the pile in the corner and sniffed at my armpits then snorted in sheer disgust. I sprayed some deodorant all over me, paying special attention to under my arms, then shrugged into the shirt. It felt very tight. I’d been doing a lot of work lately outdoors, shifting wood, using my arms and shoulders, and I’d definitely picked up some muscle. Well, that was tough. My dirty laundry basket was overflowing, so this would have to do.
Most of the tools and gear we needed to work were already packed in Lucas’s Citroen relay van, and the real heavy-duty stuff would arrive by truck tomorrow. I was already looking forward to unpacking those slabs of beautifully crafted cherrywood.
I fed Sheba, scratched her between the ears, and we made our way to town. Known as the “stone town” due to its wealth of seventeenth- and eighteenth-century stone buildings, Stamford was an idyllic place to live with its green fields and waterways, and I was glad I’d made the move here. And the month of June was one of my favorite months. Warmish, without being too hot. But the farmers were already complaining about the lack of precipitation to grow their crops of rape and wheat. It was all a person heard about when you went into the pub for a pint.
We finally parked in the Duck and Drake’s parking lot, close to the service entrance at the back. I jumped down from the van and made my way into the cool, dimly lit lobby of the hotel. It was like something out of a film set. All wood and fancy old-fashioned lighting, with one of the most elegant staircases I’d ever seen spiraling up on the right to the second floor. It was classic old English at its best. The best thing about it was the smell—wood and that vague hint of spice in the air. I walked over to the reception desk and smiled at the young lady sitting behind it. Her name badge said Tammy. She was a pretty young thing, her hair all dark brown and shiny, with a great set of boobs. I grinned slightly as I noticed Lucas’s sudden interest. He was like a pointer dog, all ready and alert at the thought there might be a pheasant in the bushes.
“Hi, Tammy. My name is Rain Engel, and I’m here to start moving my gear into the Canterbury Bar Room. Is it okay if I go ahead? I know where it is.”
“Oh, Mr. Engel. Yes, we’ve been expecting you. Mr. Winslake said you’d be by.” She batted her eyes at me, a slight sexy smile on her face. I smiled inwardly.
Sorry, sweetheart, I don’t bat for your team. But you are cute. Now my friend here, on the other hand, is definitely the right man for you….
“Please go ahead and do what you have to. I assume you know where the tradesman entrance is?”
I nodded. Nothing like coming in via the tradesman entrance. Made me feel all warm and fuzzy.
“If you need anything at all, let me know.” She batted her eyelashes again at me, and I grinned.
I heard Lucas chuckle beside me but ignored him. “I’ll do that. Thanks.” We walked down the long corridor, through a set of double doors—more cherrywood from the look of them—down past a lounge that looked like it belonged in an exclusive men’s club, then a large library which was filled wall-to-wall with books. It looked incredible, like a bibliophile’s wet dream. I stopped to peer in and heard Lucas’s knowing sigh at my side.
“Rain, if you go in there, we’ll never see you again. Come on. Let’s start getting the gear out.” He scowled. “And can you just leave the straight ladies to me? Christ, it’s no fun going anywhere with you. You give off sex pheromones like nobody’s business, man or woman.”
I raised my eyebrows at that comment, and he blushed. “You know what I mean. I don’t mean I’m affected by them, it’s just—”
I was laughing now at his discomfort, and he scowled. “Fuck off.”
He almost pushed me into the large room at the end of the corridor which spanned the whole end of the wing. The room itself was just over a hundred square meters, measuring about twelve by nine. It was a comfortable, intimate venue for a bar. I felt the usual avaricious thrill as I surveyed the area that was at my mercy. I’d noticed the service entrance not too far away. The room was perfectly positioned to come and go without disturbing what I imagined were the privileged residents of this rather luxurious hotel too much. I thought drily that Simon Winslake had probably planned the whole thing to a tee. He struck me as a man who left nothing to chance.
The next couple of hours were spent dragging equipment from the van into the bar room. Lucas and I were sweating like the condensation on an ice-cold Coke by the time we’d finished. I’d just finished straining to put down a particularly big saw blade. As I let it drop to the floor, there was a loud ripping sound, and I felt a cool breeze where no breeze should blow. Lucas broke into peals of laughter as he pointed at my back.
“Fuck, Rain, you’re showing your skin, mate. Your bloody shirt has just ripped in two right down the middle!” His hilarity was not only off-putting, it was also really not on. I was standing in the middle of a swanky hotel with a shirt on my back that was ripped in half, flapping like wings.
“Christ, what do I do now?” This denim shirt had definitely had its day. “I don’t have anything else to bloody change into.” I looked at Lucas in dismay. He was laughing so hard now the tears fell down his ruddy cheeks. I was going to get no help from him.
I growled at him. “I suppose I’d better see if I can find the manager or someone and see if they have a lost property section. Maybe they can loan me a shirt, or it’ll mean driving home to go get one. I don’t fancy that much.”
I walked to the door and down the corridor, shrugging my shirt off as I did so. I rolled it up i
nto a ball, about to throw it in a rubbish cart in the corridor on my way to reception, when I heard a soft cough behind me. I turned to find a man about my age staring at me. His right eyebrow was raised questioningly, and his face was very polite. He was well dressed in a suit and tie, his midlength dark-blond hair artfully mussed and gelled. He was lean and wiry and very bloody sexy. My groin twitched in interest. I gazed at him, and he gazed back warily.
“Sir, we don’t generally allow people to wander around the hotel shirtless. It’s hotel policy. May I ask what’s wrong?” His voice was quite deep, a mix of Cambridge posh and something else. I scowled.
“I don’t usually make a habit of walking around half-naked. Not in public in hotels, anyway.” The other man’s eyes narrowed slightly, and his nostrils flared. “I can assure you that if I had a choice, I’d still be wearing a shirt. It ripped in half, so it was no bloody good to man or beast. I was going to ask the management staff if they had an overall or something I could put on. Maybe something from lost property—I assume you have one of those?” I raised an inquiring eyebrow at him. He licked his lips. He had very nice ones, I noticed distractedly. Full and pouty, definitely good for kissing.
Christ, Rain, get a grip, man! Stop ogling the staff. I was twenty-eight years old, but I was acting like an adolescent kid.
“I see.” He moved forward and extended a hand. “Toby Prentiss. I’m the general manager here. I’m sure we can find you something to wear, Mr.…?” He raised his eyebrows again, looking very alluring, and I gave a mental groan.
It has definitely been too long since I’ve gotten laid.
“Rain Engel. I’m here to build the new bar you guys ordered.” I shook his hand. A slight electric current ran through my palm as he touched it. He pulled his hand away quickly. He tried hard not to stare, but his gaze seemed hypnotically drawn to my hairy, bare chest. I suppressed a grin. This could be fun. I felt the thrill of the chase. My instincts at spotting other gay men were normally spot-on.
“Rain? That’s an unusual name.” He swallowed as I moved a little closer to him. I wanted to test my theory.
“It’s a long story. My name is Reinhardt. It was shortened to Rhine, mostly. But my last boyfriend didn’t like it. He said it was too Germanic. So he called me Rain, and the name stuck.”
I knew I smelled rank, but I could still see his pupils dilate slightly. He nodded. He’d definitely noticed the word “boyfriend.”
“You have a slight accent too. Where’s that from?”
I moved a little closer, watching his lips. He seemed mesmerized by my slow dance forward. “South Africa. I was born in Durban, then moved over here when I was ten. Eighteen years ago. I never seem to have lost some of the accent, though.” I cocked my head at him. “Are we done with the inquisition? I’m getting a little cold.” I looked down pointedly at my nipples, which were indeed hardening—but not from the cold. He cleared his throat as his eyes were drawn to them, and his pale cheeks grew rosy. He looked absolutely fucking adorable. I felt the stirring in my groin and smiled slightly.
Chalk one up to me.
“Of course. Let me try and find you something to wear. I don’t think we have any overalls, but I do have a lost property section with some tee shirts and such. But if you’re worried about wearing someone else’s clothes, perhaps I might have something that will fit you….” Toby’s voice trailed off as I shifted my shoulders. His face fell, and he shook his head in resignation as he realized we really weren’t a match.
Not in that way, anyway.
“No offense, but I’m not sure your clothes would fit.” I shrugged. “Lost property will do just fine. Let’s see what you’ve got.” I wasn’t sure whether he took the double entendre in my words, but I think he did. He stared at me, nodded, and motioned at me to follow him. It was a good move. His arse was a really great fit in his fancy pants, tight twin globes that moved with every step he took. I enjoyed the view. I spotted his face in the mirror as we passed down the hall. He was smiling.
My first thought was, shit, he’s seen me watching. My second one was, God, he has a great smile.
“Are you ogling my backside?” Toby asked in amusement. “I kind of think you were.”
I gave the only comeback I could think of. “It’s a nice backside. Who wouldn’t?”
He looked back at me and grinned as he reached a wooden door in the hallway. He took a bunch of keys off his belt, chose one, and inserted it in the lock. The door swung open. The room was dark and musty. He flicked on a light switch and entered, muttering to himself as he checked shelves.
“I know there was a sweatshirt and a bunch of tee shirts that some guy left from the wine-tasting convention we had here about a month ago. And then there was a suitcase that was left behind which had some really good stuff in it.” He sounded envious. “It was all Pierre Cardin and designer wear. I don’t know how anyone could just leave that behind. Where the hell is that bloody stuff?”
I listened to him ramble, thinking I’d never heard anything so completely cute. Although Toby might have boxed my ears for describing him as “cute.” He gave a sudden exclamation of satisfaction and pulled out what looked like a dark-green tee shirt and a large red hoodie, turning to me with a flourish.
“Eureka. I thought….” His voice trailed off as I moved forward, closer to him, and breathed in his ear.
“Toby, you are the sexiest thing I’ve seen in months. And I really want to kiss you.” I hoped my gaydar was right, or I could be about to get decked or arrested for sexual harassment. His breathing deepened. Toby was about six foot and I was six three, and I found him looking up at me a real turn-on. His lips parted slightly, and I took that as a yes. I moved in quickly, pressing my mouth against his, feeling the warmth and softness as he sighed slightly and leaned into me. I forced my tongue against his lips, parting them roughly, sliding my tongue in to touch his, slicking it against the underside of his as he slicked back. In that small room, with the smell of unwashed clothing, my sweat, and his cologne, time seemed to stop, and there was only the taste of this man in my mouth and the hardness of his cock against my groin. I felt like exploding. It had been too long.
Toby tasted like coffee and warmth and pure sex. His breathing into my mouth drove me crazy with sheer want, and the movement of his lips and tongue on mine was expert, teasing. I cupped his backside in my hands, pressing him against me, feeling his body shudder against mine. Lost in the moment, I groaned when he pulled away, his lips wet, his eyes unfocused. I reached out a hand to pull him back, and he moved away.
“This is fucking crazy,” he muttered hoarsely. “I’m at work in a bloody storeroom making out with a stranger. I must be completely certifiable.” He thrust the tee shirt into my grasping hands, pushing me out into the corridor. A maid walked past with eyes that just asked what was going on. Toby raised a hand at her as he locked the door. He still held the red hoodie in front of him, no doubt hiding the erection I’d felt against my own, which was chomping at the bit to get out of its very restrained environment.
“Good morning, Joss. I was just helping this gentleman find a spare shirt in lost property. His got ripped.” His face flushed as he realized that might have sounded worse than saying nothing. She was now probably wondering how that had happened—in the throes of passion, no doubt. I made a small sound of amusement, and he glared at me.
“No problem, Mr. Prentiss. I understand. It happens to the best of us.” Joss gave a throaty laugh and moved off down the hallway.
Toby looked after her with complete consternation. “Christ, she’ll tell everyone she saw me in the storeroom with a half-naked man. Hell, what have I done?” He turned to me in anger. “Did you have to do that?”
I stepped back in surprise. “Hey, you didn’t seem to object too much. That tongue of yours could be classed as a dangerous weapon. It’s like a bloody rapier.”
He flushed. “Could you cut that out? I’m being serious. I can’t have people thinking I’m canoodling with the h
ired—”
He swallowed his words, but the damage was done. My face heated up, and I glared at him. “Canoodling with the hired help? Is that what you meant, Mr. General Manager?”
I heard footsteps coming down the corridor.
“Jesus, Rain, what the hell are you doing? You’ve been gone ages, and we have work to do.” Lucas sounded pissed off. I turned to see him barreling up the hall toward me.
I lifted the tee shirt over my head and pulled it on. “This kind gentleman was just finding me something to wear, Lucas. We’re done now. I can get back to work. The massa has spoken.” My voice was sarcastic, and Toby flinched. Lucas saw the expression on my face and wisely kept quiet. I strode past him, into the barroom, and picked up my hammer. I had no idea what I was going to do with it, but I really needed to hit something. Lucas came in behind me.
“Jesus, Rain, what was all that about? Did you find some nooky in the corridor and give it one? Was it that posh-looking guy I saw you with?”
“No. It was nothing. He was just finding me something to wear.” I pretended to look at the plans of the design, although my mind was elsewhere. My cock was rock hard in my jeans, and it was extremely uncomfortable. “Now can we just forget that twink and get back to work?”
It was only after I’d said the words that I noticed Toby Prentiss standing in the doorway. His face was pale, and he looked as if he wanted to hit me. Perhaps he was taking exception to the word “twink.” But fuck him.
“Mr. Wright?” He moved into the room, pointedly ignoring me. “The owner, Mr. Winslake, says to please order your lunch and drinks at the Baronet Bar and put it on a bar tab. We’ll sort it all out afterwards. He also said he’s very pleased you’re here. He’s really looking forward to having this bar built.”
Lucas nodded uncertainly. “Uh, thanks. But it’s Rain here that’s the boss. Perhaps you should be talking to him.”
Waiting for Rain Page 3
