by Meg Harding
“Sure,” says Jeremy. “And thanks. Can I just ask you one more thing?”
Aaron would really prefer he didn’t. “Yeah.”
“Does it make me a horrible person for running?”
Aaron shakes his head. “No. It makes you human.”
He escapes inside before Jeremy can ask him anything else. Like whether he should purchase that ticket to go to London. That’s not something Aaron can tell him to do or not do.
Maybe… maybe Jackson was just scared. Aaron certainly was. The flare of hope that pops up in his chest is dangerous, but he’s not going to smother it just yet.
Chapter Fifteen
One Month Later
AARON CHECKS his phone, making sure he has the right address. He’s meeting a client—a Brad Seguin from Kentucky—and he has had meetings at some pretty fancy hotels before, but no one has ever tried to downplay the fact that they’re staying at the nicest Hilton in possibly the whole state. Why give him an address when they could just give the hotel name?
In order to get to Seguin’s room, he has to go to the front desk and wait for them to confirm with the guy that Aaron is supposed to be there and they can let him up. As he’s being escorted to the proper elevator, he sees an oddly familiar-looking man stroll past out of the corner of his eye. He does a double take. That was Henry Cavill. Can he cancel his meeting and try for a Hail Mary date with Superman? Too unprofessional?
Guess that explains the photographers outside. He probably should have clued in.
The Hilton employee allows him to go up to the ninth floor on his own—but that could be because there’s a man sitting on a stool in the elevator. Aaron has never understood that. He’s perfectly capable of pressing his own floor numbers, thanks very much. He stares at his reflection as he goes up, wondering if he should make polite chitchat with the man, who has to be bored out of his mind. By the time he gets around to opening his mouth to ask how the guy is doing, the doors are opening on a hallway so white it’s almost blinding.
Seguin’s in room 948, which is down the hall and around two corners. It takes him a couple minutes to find it. He knocks on the door, his free hand tucked in his slacks pocket. He’s definitely glad he didn’t dress casually for this meeting. He wouldn’t want to show up at this hotel in jeans.
The door swings open quickly, nearly bouncing off the wall behind it. Aaron’s jaw drops.
“Hi,” says “Seguin.”
Aaron rubs his mouth. “You know, you could have just called and told me you were in town. You didn’t need to do this.”
Seguin—who’s really Jackson—shrugs. “I work with actors. I’ve got a flare for the dramatic.”
“I won’t argue with that.”
Jackson steps to the side. “Come in?”
He’s wearing a black-and-white flannel with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and dark skinny jeans. His feet are covered by black socks, but he’s not wearing any shoes. There’s a watch on one of his wrists and a plain black bracelet on the other. He finally cut his hair. It’s neatly trimmed and fluffed in the front. There’s a hint of eyeliner on his waterline. Just enough to make his eyes pop. His gauges look like chunks of crystal in his earlobes.
Aaron wants to touch him. To close the distance between them as he walks by and press a lingering kiss to his parted lips. But he doesn’t. He has his suspicions about this now—his hopes—but he’s not going to do anything until Jackson makes things clearer.
He sits on the couch in the room, ignoring the glass of wine on the coffee table in front of him. Jackson sits beside him a moment later, and then stands back up about five seconds after.
He shoves his hands in his pants pockets and moves in front of Aaron. “There are some things I want to say.”
Aaron nods for him to continue. He doesn’t know if he can talk without blurting out every thought running through his head right then.
“I stand by what I said in Hawaii.” Aaron feels dizzy with disappointment. “But I didn’t tell you the whole truth.” His heart resumes its regularly scheduled beating. “I really like you. I’ve got all these emotions. And I panicked, because that was definitely not supposed to happen. It wasn’t part of my plan. And I thought about it, I really did, but I didn’t think we could work. And at the time, as it stood, I do think I was right. If I had asked you to date me for real then, all I would have been thinking was how you had to be paid to get there in the first place. About what a low point I was at. We would have never worked. I’d have never gotten over my embarrassment, and you’d always be the guy who was trying to fix his boyfriend’s issues.
“So. I should have told you the whole truth then. But I didn’t, so I’m telling you now. And I know that you might not feel the same way, or that maybe you did but you’ve since moved on, but well, it’s a little too late for me to go back and tell you sooner. So this is the soonest I could do it to keep it from being any later. And if you’re not opposed to the idea, I’d like to take you out on a date. Today. Right now if you’re free, actually. I’d have given you more notice, but I’ve got to work tomorrow, and I don’t know what my schedule’s going to be like just yet, and I honestly didn’t want to wait.”
It’s not the politest reaction by far, but Aaron starts to laugh. Because Jackson’s rambling, and he missed that so much, and he missed Jackson so, so much, and he’s so, so happy. He reaches out, grabbing Jackson’s wrists and tugging him in.
“I’m sorry,” he says, wanting to get rid of the hurt look on Jackson’s face. “I’m not laughing at you. I’m just happy. And I missed you.” He pulls him down, till Jackson’s straddling his lap. He peppers kisses all over his face. “I would love to go out on a date with you. But, once I can make myself stop laughing, I do want to say something important.” He’s going to be damned if he doesn’t explain himself to Jackson. It took two of them to mess things up. He’s not going to let Jackson shoulder all the blame.
It takes him a couple minutes to sober up.
He moves so he can make eye contact with Jackson while he fesses up to his own share of the craziness. “I was going to end things when you did. For pretty much the same reasons you gave me. I thought it was just a fling to you—it wasn’t anything close to that for me—and you did start out as a job. Even if that only lasted for five seconds. I wasn’t trying to fix you. I was trying to help you figure out how to express what you wanted. I don’t think I’m ever going to stop doing that, if I’m honest. Our situation wasn’t—still isn’t—in some ways conducive to a relationship, but I was running just as much as you. And I’d very much like to give us a chance. We can work things out. As for this date business, I know I lost the archery competition, but I’d like to take you on a one-of-a-kind date. I’d like to see that idea through. After your date, of course.”
Jackson’s staring at him with wide blue eyes. “I need a minute,” he says, waving his hand, “to process all that.” He rests his hand against Aaron’s cheek, doesn’t stop looking at him as the gears in his brain clearly put themselves to work. Finally he says, “You’ve got time to keep that promise. Hopefully lots of time now. But I want to start this a certain way. So I’m going to get up, and you’re going to get up, and we’re going to start over.”
Aaron doesn’t know what that means, but he stands when Jackson does and waits for him to explain himself.
Jackson sticks his hand out. “Hi. I’m Jackson Carlisle. I’m twenty-seven, and I do people’s makeup for a living.”
Aaron smiles, shaking his hand. It may be crazy, but it does feel right. “Hey. I’m Aaron Wilkes. I’m thirty-three, and I pretend to date people for money.”
Jackson grins at him, still holding on to his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Aaron. May I take you out?”
“You may.”
BECAUSE HE was half expecting a rejection—and who’s he kidding, he’d probably have done this anyway—Jackson excuses himself to the bathroom to call Bastien and maybe cry for a minute. He’s been bottling up a lot of stress
over this, okay?
Bastien screams in his ear, congratulating him, yelling for James in order to tell him the news too. “You need to get back out there,” he says. “I’m glad you let me know it worked and all, but I’m not the one you should be talking to right now.”
Jackson laughs wetly. “Right. Okay.” He giggles. “I’ve got a date.” He hangs up and splashes water on his face. Another minute of practiced breathing and he feels like he’s ready to go out there. The hard part is over. He spewed the tough feelings part all over Aaron, and now it’s on to the next bit. Where hopefully his feelings won’t be so angsty and ulcer inducing.
He’s a little nervous about the date, but he’s pretty sure Aaron’s going to like it. It’s a pretty great idea if he says so himself.
That doesn’t stop him from shaking a little as they ride down in the elevator together.
“You okay?” asks Aaron, resting his big hand in the middle of his back.
“M’fine,” says Jackson. “Really,” he adds at Aaron’s skeptical eyebrow raise. “It’s just a lot. I was nervous. All the adrenaline is doing what it does.”
“Doing what it does,” repeats Aaron, laughing quietly. “You missed your calling as a doctor.”
“I did want to be a doctor once,” admits Jackson, bumping into Aaron’s side lightly. “The Doctor, though. Like Doctor Who. Not a medical doctor.”
“Well, that’s a noble profession. Saving the world and all.”
Jackson grabs his hand long enough to squeeze it once. “I’m glad you understand.” He looks around the street, at the many parallel-parked cars, realizing that Aaron probably drove to meet him. “Did you want to drive? I don’t have a rental yet. I can drive yours, if you want to keep everything a sure surprise. Or I can get a cab?”
“You can drive if you want,” says Aaron, steering him the opposite way he was walking with the hand on his back. “Do you like sports cars?” He stops beside a sleek Jaguar.
Jackson looks from the car to him. “I’m not driving that car,” he says. He’d love to. No doubt. But he’s not going to drive his date’s Jaguar in California. The drivers here are crazy, and he’s not going to risk doing damage to a mint-condition sports car. That’s way too much first-date pressure. Maybe he’ll drive it on the tenth one or something. “I’ll give you directions.”
“Are you sure? I wouldn’t have offered if I minded.”
Jackson puts his hand against his forehead and peers inside the tinted windows. “Is this a stick? I can’t drive a stick.”
“It is,” says Aaron. He hip checks him gently out of the way. “I can teach you how to drive a stick.” He winks.
Jackson laughs, shoving away Aaron’s jokingly leering face. “Not if you use lines like that,” he promises. “I require more tactful approaches.”
“Like this?” Aaron opens the passenger door for him, holding it in place and sweeping his hand in a forward gesture. “May I escort you to wherever it is we’re going?” Aaron’s smile is amused, little crinkles branching out from his eyes.
He can’t help but kiss him quickly before sliding into the car. “Much better,” he says, trying to keep from ruining his prim expression with a smile. Aaron doesn’t look like he’s buying Jackson’s act for even a second, but he plays along, dramatically bowing before shutting the door and crossing to his side.
“So, Maestro, lead on,” says Aaron. “What adventure are we off to?”
Jackson laughs, fiddling with his phone and waving it a little to urge the maps to work. “One second. Directions take time in the twenty-first century. All right, you’re going to go straight and make a left on West Bay Street.” Their destination is half an hour away, probably longer with the California traffic, but it’s totally going to be worth it.
As so often happens with maps, they get lost a couple of times. Jackson directs Aaron to turn left at a street, when really it’s the next street or the street before, and there’s a period of ten minutes where they’re going the wrong direction on a one-way and can’t manage to turn around. It should be frustrating, but it leads to a lot of laughing, a lot of cursing of GPS systems, and several radio sing-alongs. Jackson can belt out Taylor Swift like nobody’s business, and Aaron laughs so hard at one point that Jackson pauses in his singing to suggest he pull over for a minute. Aaron has an odd affinity for Katy Perry and an amazing ability to replicate Adele. Jackson might take a video or two.
They do reach their destination eventually. It’s a sprawling beige house, on several acres, with high fences keeping the large backyard from view and no other homes near it. Jackson instructs him to pull into the drive.
Aaron looks at him dubiously. “I honestly have no idea what to expect. Should I be scared?”
“Anything but. Trust me.”
Aaron goes for the doorbell when they reach the stoop, but Jackson grabs his hand. “No. I’m texting her we’re here.”
His eyebrows go up, but he doesn’t question Jackson.
A blonde-haired woman in yoga pants and a blue tank opens the door after a few minutes, a big smile on her face and her hair in a messy bun on top of her head. “Jackson,” she says, “I put everyone in the backyard so they wouldn’t try to attack you at the door.” She kisses his cheek as he walks in, and gives Aaron the same treatment. “You must be Aaron. Jackson’s told me a lot about you.” She holds out her hand. “I’m Fawn.”
She leads them through the house—strewn with numerous dog toys and beds—and onto the back porch. The porch has a large pool that opens onto the massive backyard, which currently contains several dozen dogs—ranging in size from miniature to small horse.
“I’m making lunch,” says Fawn. “I’ll leave you two out here. Just come in when you want, and you can let them in with you.”
Once she leaves them, Jackson turns to Aaron, who still looks confused. “Fawn rescues dogs. And you love dogs, so I thought it would be a good idea to take you somewhere you could play with a bunch of them. They definitely need the attention and love. And I’m going to take one home too. James said he and Bastien would be happy to take care of him or her when I’m gone, so now when I am home I’ll have a kid to spoil and they’ll spoil it while I’m away. Or you can. You know, if we reach that point.” Aaron’s just staring, and it’s making him nervous. How can he make himself stop talking? “Not that I’m putting pressure on you. I just… it’s just a future suggestion, if things work….”
Aaron kisses him midsentence. Which shuts him up finally, so he guesses that answers his question. When he pulls away, he frames Jackson’s face, resting his thumb on Jackson’s lower lip. “I love the suggestion. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t like the idea of a future. This is a fantastic idea, and I love it. The only flaw in your plan is I don’t know how you expect me to pay you any attention once we get out there and I’ve got all those dogs to distract me.”
Jackson presses up on his toes to brush Aaron’s lips. “It’s cool. I’m not going to be paying you any attention either,” he teases. “I’ve got a secret for you.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m that guy at parties that steals the dog and pets them the whole time.”
“My kind of guy,” says Aaron, lips moving against his. “We’ll get along great.”
Later that night, they’re curled on Aaron’s couch watching TV. They’re surrounded by five dogs. Two more than were there when Aaron left. Much to Jackson’s amusement, Aaron was unable to resist bringing a dog home with him. And Jackson was unable to resist the charms of an adorable blue pit bull—he’s still working on a name, though he’s leaning toward Maxwell.
Aaron tells Jackson that it was hands down the best date he’d ever been on, but to maybe save it for super special occasions (like him buying a ranch or something) ’cause he’s running out of room for all the dogs. And obviously he can’t stop himself from bringing them home when he sees them.
He blurts it out halfway through Jackson telling him about the film he’s working on, and ends it wi
th, “But if you want to keep doing that for dates, I’m cool with that. We can give your whole family dogs instead of letting me take them.” Jackson resolves to make any dates involving going to shelters a rarer occurrence. James will kick his ass if he ends up having to watch everyone’s pets when they inevitably leave town for work.
And then as Jackson’s leaving for the night, back to his hotel and his empty bed—Aaron wants them to wait, to do more than one date because he’s a massive romantic tease—he leaves Jackson seething with anticipation with three simple words: wait for yours.
Chapter Sixteen
THREE FANTASTIC dates later (a week real time), the perfect idea for the date hits Aaron. It’s been on his mind since Jackson’s stellar, unreal date idea. It’s not a game. He doesn’t want to one-up Jackson. But he wants Jackson to enjoy whatever he comes up with as much as Aaron liked the date Jackson took him on. It’s pretty hard to compare anything to playing with a bunch of dogs for several hours. It doesn’t get more awesome than that.
He’s walking through the mall after a client meeting when he sees a store that looks like a wine cellar and a Michaels painting section had a baby. There’s some type of class going on inside, and he approaches, curious. Couples are sitting side by side, painting on canvases and drinking wine. Soft classical music plays in the background.
What if he did something like this—but with a twist—for Jackson? He kind of already has, but it wasn’t really a date or anything close to it. And Jackson loved that. How much would he love to do something specifically catered to his interests?
A little work with Google and Aaron has a few new destinations to go to before he heads home.
