Cloudy With A Chance Of Love

by E M Lindsey

  They were both staring at him now, and he tightened his fingers around the rough towel because Spencer and Max were still dripping wet. If Collin was good for one thing only, it was taking care of people. It was why Grant had stayed so damn long in spite of knowing he was falling out of love. It was why Collin still felt so damn used.

  “Hey,” Spencer said, his voice rough from the storm.

  Collin shook his head as he crossed the distance between them. Max watched with dark, curious eyes—a fire burning behind them which only got brighter when Collin dropped to his knees. Collin could see the hungry look on his face, the naked want, the hesitance turning into something like bravery. Collin wanted that for Max, but he didn’t know if he deserved it.

  He took a breath, then turned his attention back to Spencer who hadn’t taken his eyes away. His cheeks were splotchy with a flush, lips still too pale even though warmth had soaked into his fingertips which burned a path along Collin’s neck when Spencer reached out to touch.

  Collin wanted to lean into it, give everything just to be acknowledged by these two, but it wasn’t time for that. Not now. He carefully brushed Spencer’s hand down, back to his lap before bunching the towel in his fists and wrapping it around Spencer’s dripping locks. He squeezed, wringing out the rain before gently scrubbing along his scalp, and he pretended like his dick wasn’t twitching when Spencer let out a small sound somewhere between a sigh and a moan.

  “We talked,” Max said after an eternity of silence.

  Collin sighed, nodding. He assumed as much. Spencer was a sweetheart, but he was a stubborn bastard to go right along with it. He knew if Spencer wasn’t satisfied with what Max had to say, he wouldn’t have come back. Storm or no.

  “I’m sorry for flipping out,” Spencer said when he realized Collin had nothing to add. “I mean, I’m not sorry for my reaction, but I am sorry for putting you both in danger.”

  And that was surprisingly insightful. Spencer was no fool, but he was a spoiled brat. “Neither of us wanted you hurt,” he finally said, surprised to hear how rough his voice sounded.

  “I know.” Spencer’s voice was meek, apologetic, and Collin hated that. “I just…God. I barely know either one of you. I have no idea why I feel like this.” He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, his eyes darting between Max and Collin. “Was it like that for you two? When you met um…your exes?”

  The wound was fresh enough, Max winced, and Collin took pity on the poor sod. “I don’t know that either of us can answer that, my darling.” He didn’t miss the way Spencer’s eyes widened with the weight of the endearment, and he knew it was probably getting a bit close to a line he had no business toeing, but he also couldn’t bring himself to take it back. It felt real, and he turned warm eyes to Max to let him know the same phrase applied. “Grant and me—we were a mess, but we were a comfortable mess. It didn’t feel like this.”

  “But you…but you feel something,” Spencer pressed.

  Collin let his eyes fall shut, the towel falling in a wet pile near his feet, and his breath escaped his chest in a slow sigh. “I do.” He dared himself to look at both men. “You know I do. I wouldn’t take people into my home, into my bed, if I didn’t feel something.”

  Max’s right cheek was concave as he chewed on it. He glanced over at Spencer who looked just as lost, and he cleared his throat like he was going to say something, but the words never came.

  “The storm’s over,” Spencer finally said.

  Max rolled his eyes. “Thank you. We noticed.”

  Collin bristled a little, not wanting to encourage Max who looked on the edge—like he might start lashing out again. What they’d built, what they had, it was still fragile, and Collin was terrified that any misstep would ruin it.

  He opened his mouth to say something, though he wasn’t quite sure what, when suddenly the lights flickered. There was a pause—heavy with the weight of anticipation—and then the cabin burst back into life. Spencer jumped, Max holding him a little tight as the electric heater began to dump air which smelled of burnt toast from the vents, and suddenly the room seemed too harsh, too bright from his floor lamp.

  Collin climbed to his feet, ignoring the ache in his knees, and tried not to wince when his back graced them with a symphony of pops and cracks. He flushed, feeling old, but neither of the two men were looking at him directly. “Dunno about either of you, but I’m a bit peckish and I think I’ve enough in the kitchen for cheese toasties or beans on toast.” He didn’t give them a chance to respond, instead hurrying out. The moment just felt like too much.

  He took a breath to collect himself, then grabbed the bread out of the box, leaning into the fridge for the tomatoes and cheese. When he righted himself, he jumped half an inch in the air when a voice behind him said, “What the fuck is a cheese toastie?”

  Collin snorted and turned to face Max, who was leaning against the doorframe. “I think you Americans call it a grilled cheese—which is absurd since none of you use the bloody grill to cook it.”

  Max took a step closer, and there was something in his eyes—a need, and Collin was desperately trying to understand it. “And beans on toast.”

  “Exactly as it sounds.” Max was close enough to touch now, and Collin didn’t hold back. Max didn’t need hesitation right then, or uncertainty. Not after what he’d been through at the hands of his ex, or how hard Collin had been on him before he knew the truth. And he didn’t need it after Spencer had run out on him after their night together. So, he simply reached out and gathered Max to him. “Simple food because I’m a simple man.”

  “You’re definitely not simple,” Max said with a snort. “You’re…” His words trailed off, and his eyes locked onto Collin’s.

  With a breath, Collin reached up with one hand, cupping his face, tracing his thumb along Max’s soft cheek. “Spencer all right?”

  Max shrugged, his eyes darting to the side, and his voice got a little lower. “He asked for a few minutes alone. I think he gets it—the shit with the ring—but I don’t know if he’s cool with it.”

  “Do you want him to be?”

  Max dragged his bottom lip between his teeth, and when he let go, it was plumper and slick with spit. “I don’t know,” he admitted in a half-whisper. “I wasn’t expecting any of this, and every minute we spend together feels a little bit heavier.”

  Collin couldn’t help a laugh. “Ah, mate. I know what you mean.”

  “How the hell did you do this after your divorce?” Max asked, very much sounding his age—fear coating his tone. “How did you stop waking up with the feeling like someone was sitting on your chest?”

  “By doing exactly that,” Collin told him, leaning in to brush a kiss to the corner of his lips. “I woke up. Every day, I woke up, and every day, it got a little easier.”

  “And when you dated again?”

  Collin took in a steady breath and admitted with no regret, “I didn’t. I thought I was done. I thought—well, I had my chance and buggered it to hell.” He dragged his hand down to the crook of Max’s neck. “I haven’t fancied anyone in ages, and I wasn’t expecting either of you. I bloody well wasn’t expecting to shag two of my clients after we were nearly swept away in a storm, either.” He stepped close enough that Max backed into the fridge, and Collin crowded in. His face lowered, and he spoke with his lips brushing against Max’s cheek. “I definitely wasn’t expecting to like it so damn much. Enough to try and find an excuse to keep you here.”

  He felt the way Max’s swallow caught in his throat, and he closed his eyes as the younger man turned his head, slow and steady, and took a kiss from him. “I don’t know if I should be doing this.”

  “I get that,” Collin told him softly. “I’m not going to ask you for what you’re not ready to give me. And Spencer won’t either.”

  Max snorted with disbelief. “Our little sweetheart likes to get his way.”

  “Yes, but he also cares about you,” Collin countered. He stepped back and cupped Max’s
cheeks between both palms. “He cares enough to walk away if you need him to. You just have to tell him. And me.”

  Max’s eyelashes fanned out as he closed them, and his shoulders trembled with his breath. “I wish I knew what I needed.”

  “You will,” Collin said. He pressed a finger under Max’s chin and lifted his gaze. “Go find Spencer and check on him. I’m going to make us some food, and we’ll figure it out after we’ve had a bit to eat and some time to rest. There’s no rush.”

  Max bit his lip. “And if I decide I want to go?”

  Collin felt his heart twist in his chest, but he answered him anyway. “Then I’ll see you back safely.”

  Max’s shoulders relaxed, like he needed to know the choice was his—that he had an out. Collin didn’t know that he wanted to give that to him because he knew Max was still in a place where he was willing to torpedo his own life just to feel something else besides heartbreak and loneliness. But Collin also knew from his own experience that taking away his options wouldn’t do Max any good. He had to figure this out on his own.

  He leaned in and breathed a little easier when Max willingly—eagerly—kissed him back. They broke apart after a moment, and Max dragged fingers along the cut of Collin’s jaw before taking a step back and breaking their contact. And then he took another, and another. He stood in the doorway one last, lingering moment before he turned to leave, and Collin went back to the food. At the very least, he could do this.

  Chapter 23

  Spencer and Rusty

  When the power came back on, it chased away the magic which had woven around them. Spencer felt their bubble burst like a rubber band snapping against his heart. He was glad he knew about the ring, about what Max had gone through, because now he didn’t see it as Max and Collin trying to get rid of a third wheel. They were both men who had more experience than him. Of course they wouldn’t want to saddle themselves with some spoiled brat who couldn’t understand their pain.

  When Max returned to the living room, he went to Spencer. Spencer let Max gather him back into his arms because their time was running out, and he’d take whatever he could get. And maybe he was being too pessimistic. Collin had said they meant something to him. He called Spencer his darling. And while he wasn’t stupid enough to think it really meant he belonged to Collin, it gave him hope that one day he might, if he gave it half a chance.

  Spencer had never loved anyone. No one liked him enough to let him try. He was too weird. Too spoiled. Too addicted to giving happy endings to old, bedraggled cats. Too uppity, too uptight. Not fun enough. Not man enough. Not enough, period.

  But Max and Collin had never made him feel that way, even when they called him “your highness.” He thought it was because maybe they liked him that way. Maybe they liked that they had to take care of him a little more.

  Spencer had grown up spoiled by money, but not by love. He’d grown up with detached parents who thought money was the best thing they could give him, and a shitty uncle who spent all of his time making Spencer feel pathetic. So yeah, he never wanted for things, but he couldn’t remember a time when he felt like he had a family.

  Until now. Until he’d almost died on a river with Max and Collin. The storm had tried to finish the job, but Collin had taken them in and sheltered them. He knew the storm couldn’t go on forever, but a big part of him wished it could.

  Spencer pulled away from Max and quietly approached Robert who was still curled up with his duck. “Do you think Collin has anything to feed Dudley? He’ll need his strength if he’s going to recover.” Spencer thought the same about himself, but he didn’t say as much.

  “I’m sure he has something,” Max said. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

  Spencer felt his cheeks heat, but he didn’t try to hide his blush. He wondered if there would ever come a time when Max or Collin calling him sweetheart didn’t make him want to preen like he was worthy of the title.

  “Tired.” Spencer answered after a long pause. “The storm had my anxiety pretty high, and I think it wore me out.” Spencer shot Max a sly look. “That, and other things.”

  Spencer hoped the comment would show Max that Spencer was still very much interested, but Max turned his head toward Collin who was carrying three plates out to the living room. He handed one to Spencer, and the other to Max, before taking a seat.

  Spencer tucked into his food, more to keep his big, fat mouth shut and less because he was hungry. Their time together was ending and, yeah, he was being dramatic, but he felt like the world would end with it. He was still a little salty about the whole painted goat thing, but Collin was too perfect to stay mad at. He’d taken in a three-legged goat and gave it a home. He rescued a duck from certain death. Being here with them felt like Spencer was being rescued, and despite his cats back home, he wasn’t ready to leave yet.

  Max finished his food first. “I’m going to look outside and see if I can find any of my gear.”

  Collin nodded, but didn’t say anything, and Spencer stared at his plate. All the joy he’d felt in the past few days, even amid the terror, felt like the most real thing he’d ever had. But that was just him, obviously. Because Max was hunting for his stuff and Collin wasn’t arguing. He seemed content to let them both walk away.

  “You all right, darling?” Collin’s rough voice and his accent would never not be sexy, and Spencer shoved a bite of food in his mouth to avoid answering. He nodded and barely made eye contact because he saw goodbye written there.

  “That was good, thank you.” Spencer shoved himself to his feet and took his plate to the kitchen. The disappointment churned in him, frothing into anger, but he pushed it down. He couldn’t be angry that their fling didn’t turn into something more. Max had already found and lost Mr. Right, even if he was a twat. And Collin had been single since his divorce. There were a million reasons to let them go.

  Max came back inside and set his tattered backpack on the floor by the door. “Do you want to hike down and look for your stuff, Spencer?”

  Spencer shook his head. “It’s nothing that can’t be replaced.” He pushed past Max and found Collin’s washer and dryer. Spencer’s wet things had been hung up in the laundry room on one of those fold-out drying racks. They were still damp, but they’d do. After all, it was all he had left from this trip. His camera with the pictures had been left by the river. He had nothing to take with him but memories.

  Spencer stripped out of Collin’s sweats and forced himself into the damp clothing. It would make for a hellish ride back, but he was beyond caring. This whole trip had been the best and worst time of his life and now, everything good that might have come from it was slipping through his fingers. He just wanted his bed. And his cats.

  In the kitchen Collin and Max stood silent and awkward.

  “Are we ready?” Collin asked, reaching for his keys. “The road is going to be a bloody nightmare, but there’s no helping that.”

  “Let’s go, then.” Max said and slipped out first. Collin tried to make eye contact with Spencer, but he looked at his feet.

  As quickly as they’d come together, they’d fallen apart. But Spencer held on to the hope that maybe they’d want to exchange numbers before they parted ways. They could talk and keep in touch, and maybe one day, they could see each other again.

  Spencer held on to that daydream all the way back down the mountain to the parking lot where they’d first met.

  Collin parked the truck, cut the engine… and a deafening silence followed.

  “I usually have a little speech I give people at the end of the journey. I try to get them to come back, but this was the last run, and it didn’t really go as planned. It hardly seems appropriate, and… bloody hell,” Collin exhaled. “I don’t know what to say to either of you.”

  “We should keep in touch.” Spencer blurted. It was now or never. But he could already see the rejection on Max’s face. “We can trade numbers and talk. We don’t have to say goodbye. We could maybe meet up again sometime in the fu
ture.” Spencer babbled, going for broke.

  His hands shook and he reached for the seat belt even as Max shook his head.

  “Okay. Okay. I get it.” Spencer flung his door open and shot out into the parking lot. He headed for his car, just a few spaces away, but too far to stop Collin and Max from catching him.

  “Spencer, wait,” Max called after him, his hand brushed Spencer’s arm and he swung around out of Max’s reach.

  “Don’t. Either this meant something to you and you want to keep in touch, or it didn’t and you don’t.”

  Max’s expression went dark. “It’s not that easy.”

  “It’s exactly that easy. I’m not asking for the moon, Max. But Collin called me his, and you said I meant something and I just… fuck. Never mind.”

  “Come on, Spencer. Don’t be like this.”

  Spencer clenched his teeth. “Like what? Dramatic? Newsflash, that’s who I am. And you were fine with it up there on that mountain.” Spencer’s hands cut through the air. He felt how unreasonable he was being, but he didn’t care. He didn’t feel like calming down for people who were going to dispose of him anyway.

  “What about you, Collin? Do you want to keep in touch?”

  “Of course I do, but…”

  Spencer flinched like he’d been slapped. “But nothing. It’s fine. I get it. I really do.” Somehow during his dramatics, Spencer managed to fish his car keys out of his pocket. He unlocked the door and climbed in the driver’s side and pulling the door shut.

  He was vaguely aware of someone calling his name, but he started the car and after making sure he wasn’t going to run anyone over, he backed out of the parking spot and drove away. It wasn’t the goodbye he wanted, but it was the one he deserved. He immediately regretted leaving the way he did. If he’d been reasonable, he could’ve gotten one last kiss.

  But he didn’t want kisses that tasted like goodbye, coerced from men who probably hadn’t wanted him to begin with. Not really. He was a convenient distraction. They’d gotten caught up in the moment and had a storm of their own inside the walls of Collin’s cabin. It was an illusion and he’d been an idiot not to see it.