Purgatoire Valley was the kind of place that he could easily call home.
Chapter Seven
Brad opened the door to his hotel room, pushing it far enough open for Trace to walk in ahead of him. His dog, Airborne, whom Brad had only met moments ago followed behind his owner. The steak bone Trace brought back for him was nudged into his mouth in a death grip.
He had set it down for just a moment to give Brad the sniff test. After a few swipes of his wet nose, Airborne had finally given Brad his seal of approval by licking Brad’s hand and wagging his tail.
He’d never had a dog growing up. His parents had always claimed they were dirty and not appropriate. He’d sure wanted one though. It was nice to know that Airborne had accepted him. He had a feeling that Trace trusted three people in his life, his mother, himself, and that dog.
Their conversation at the diner had remained cordial for the rest of their meal, but it didn’t have the same awkward uncomfortable factor that he’d felt when Trace first approached him. He was happy to see it was going to continue.
Trace was obviously used to being suspicious of people until they proved to him a reason why he shouldn’t be. Brad was the opposite. He had been too trusting for far too long. That was what had gotten him into the disaster of a relationship he had with Paulo.
He was glad that he’d managed to smooth Trace’s ruffled feathers and get him to not see him as some evil enemy. He didn’t exactly relish the idea of being watched while he was in town. Knowing he was accepted as just a normal guy was nice, especially since he was thought of as anything but normal back in Manhattan.
“Why don’t you grab those beers from the small refrigerator and I’ll pull these two chairs out onto the boardwalk here. It’s a nice night. We might as well enjoy it,” Brad said.
Trace nodded and walked the short distance to the eighties-looking mini fridge. Brad watched him as he strode across the room. He couldn’t help himself when he got a look at Trace’s ass. It was a damn nice one and filled out those jeans he was wearing quite nicely.
So many of the men he knew back home had artificial behinds, those asses that were filled out with implants and thousands of dollars worth of personal training induced squats. It was pretty obvious that Trace didn’t fit into either of those categories. He was sexy all on his own. He probably was one of those men who had rippling muscles just from living life in the country. Whatever caused those nice-looking cheeks, it didn’t really matter. The results were the same and it offered Brad with one hell of a view.
His hotel guest’s movements were casual, but Brad could sense an underlying tension riding just beneath the surface. It made him wonder what someone like Trace did for work. He was obviously into honing his crafts, but they seemed to be more of a hobby than anything else.
Trace couldn’t have been more than thirty years old. If he was a day over, Brad would be shocked. His brown hair was just as scraggly as it appeared earlier that day. It was too short to be considered long, but too long to be considered short. In New York that would be a look perfected by going to some hoity-toity salon every week to get a quarter inch trimmed off the ends. That wasn’t how Trace had managed it though. That much he was sure of.
His body wasn’t lean, at least not like Brad’s was. He had a bulky and muscular build to him that stood out underneath the cotton T-shirt that stretched tightly across his chest. For a moment Brad felt frozen as he imagined spending some time exploring those pectoral muscles with his lips and tongue.
Brad shook his head and reached for the two old chairs. If Trace caught Brad ogling him the way that he was, Brad would most certainly be back on his creepy scale in no time at all. He tried to push the illicit thought from his mind, but in just those few seconds of watching Trace, Brad’s cock had already begun to react to the undeniable attraction he was feeling.
Trace bent over and opened the fridge. It had been far too long since Brad had a lover. Here he was staring at Trace’s ass like a virgin boy eager to fuck and he couldn’t seem to take his eyes of the round behind staring back at him.
He hoped a couple of beers and the cool summer’s night would be enough to turn down the heat of desire he was feeling for Trace because the last thing he needed right now was to fall for someone all over again. It had only been a year since Paulo had betrayed him, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to move on, even if that only meant a one-night stand for nothing more than physical distraction.
After Trace grabbed a couple of the beers from the six-pack Brad had purchased earlier he closed it with his leg and turned toward him. Quickly, Brad turned around so he wouldn’t be caught staring and finished walking outside with the chairs.
He was anxious to get outside and relax with a cold beer for conflicting reasons. He wanted to know who this man was who had managed to make his blood race after only talking with him a short time. He also hoped the beer would calm him down and keep his cock from growing thick and heavy under the thought of the man who was keeping him company.
Whatever happened, Brad was becoming insanely attracted to him with every passing second. Even in the moonlight Brad could see the veins cascade along Trace’s strong arms. Whether or not the attraction was mutual or not he had no idea. His body didn’t seem to care. It was reacting quite favorably to what it was seeing.
Trace walked outside to join him and handed one of the bottles over to Brad. He grabbed his and they each sat down in the leather and wood dining chairs. Trace extended his feet out and crossed his legs while his other hand reached down and scratched at Airborne’s head. The faithful pooch was eagerly gnawing at his bone by Trace’s side. Brad stretched his legs out and propped them up against the post which held up the small awning over where they sat.
They each took a swig of their beers and sat there in silence for a moment while looking up at the stars in the night sky. The solitude of the small town, mixed with being out in the middle of nowhere, made the stars brighter than Brad had ever seen. In New York there was too much city pollution to be able to see much more than the moon, much less anything as brilliant as the clusters of light which spread out over them.
“So, how long do you plan on staying in Purgatoire Valley?” Trace asked him.
“Truth be told, I don’t really know. I headed out for a cross-country trip last week with no intended destination in mind. In fact, I didn’t even know I was coming through here until early this morning. I saw a sign on the highway that said thirty-nine miles to Purgatoire Valley and I drove this way on a whim. The name intrigued me. Thought it might be worth a day or two.”
“Bet you didn’t think you’d end up buying yourself a classic car like you did,” Trace added with a chuckle.
“Yeah, that was a twist all right. Seriously though, thank you for letting me buy it. The second I saw it, I thought of Granddad. It brought back some really good memories. I don’t have too many of those from my younger days.”
Trace shrugged. “No problem. My childhood wasn’t all sunshine and roses either, so I understand.”
“Are you kidding? With a mom like that? I used to dream of having that type of mother. I would have given anything if she’d acted like yours does for even just one day,” Brad told him.
“Oh, Mom’s great. She always has been. But my dad on the other hand, he was a different story. He was a drunk and had a temper. I’m sure you know the story from there. Mom though, she’s something else. A real gem. I don’t know where I’d be without her. She’s my rock. I don’t go a day without letting her know how much I appreciate her and all she’s done for me.”
“That’s sweet of you. I bet that means a lot to her.”
“Yeah well, if I don’t do it who will? Lord knows my sister won’t.”
“You two aren’t very close I take it?”
“Meh.” Trace downed another gulp of his beer. “Janet’s all right I guess. She’s not a bad person, she just moved away to go to college and never really came back. She’s married with three kids now, living in
Montana. She’s only been back to visit Mom once in the past three years. They have the money, she’s just too caught up in her own life to stop and say thanks to the woman who raised her.”
Brad gave him a sympathetic nod of his head. “That’s too bad. A mother like yours deserves to know how important she is.”
“I know right? But hey, it’s Janet’s world and we’re just all here living in it.”
They both laughed at Trace’s joke, but Brad had a feeling he held more bitterness toward his sister than he let on. The atmosphere between them was still casual, but Brad’s libido was causing him angst. Even discussing something as simple as his sister and mother was driving him crazy. It took everything he had to not reach over and make a move on Trace. He wasn’t sure if after a year he was just so damn horny he couldn’t help himself, or if there was something more about the man who sat beside him that drew Brad to him. He couldn’t ignore his unexplainable and abrupt decision to get off the highway in search of this mere dot on the map.
Desperate to get his mind out of the gutter and onto something more laid-back, Brad asked, “So, I know you like to build models. What else is it that you do?”
“Well for now, that’s all I really do. I haven’t really found my place in this world yet. At least not since…”
Trace’s voice trailed off and he didn’t finish his sentence. Brad struggled with whether or not to push the issue, but he wasn’t sure if he should. Deciding to play it safe, he compromised with a less intrusive question.
“What did you used to do?”
Trace lifted his T-shirt sleeve and showed Brad a tattoo. It was blue and red with two of the letter A in the center of it. White wings outlined it and spread across his bicep. The image itself looked familiar, but Brad couldn’t place where he’d seen it.
“Military?”
“Army, 82nd Airborne out of Fort Bragg.”
“How long were you in for?”
“A little over ten years.”
“Sounds like more than just a job then.”
Trace gulped down the last of his beer and set it on the wooden boards beside him. “It was my life. I would’ve done it my whole life if they would have let me.”
Brad watched as Trace reached down to his thigh and rubbed at it. “If they would have let you?”
Trace laughed. “Would you look at me? Damn, I just met you and I’m already sitting here telling you about shit I don’t even talk to my dog about.”
“If it helps at all, you really didn’t say too much.” Brad tried to assure him.
“Only because I stopped myself.”
Trace looked over at him and each of their stares locked on the others. Brad was glad that Trace was feeling comfortable with him, but he didn’t want it to stop. He was starting to sense something between them. There was a fire brewing in the chocolate brown eyes that looked back at him and Brad wanted to stoke it, spreading the embers and fanning the flames.
“If you want to tell me more, you can,” Brad told him while placing a hand on Trace’s shoulder. “I lived most of my life wishing someone would care enough to listen to me. If you need an ear, I have two good ones.”
The moment that his hand touched Trace caused an electric charge to course through his body. He wished that he’d had the courage to allow his hand to linger just a bit longer. He was having a hard time reading Trace, and he needed something, some sort of physical connection to gauge whether the attraction he felt was mutual.
Trace let out a sigh and got up from the chair. “Want another beer?”
“No, I’m good. Thanks.”
Trace went back inside and Brad took a swig of his beer. Airborne was still sitting beside Trace’s chair, his attention focused solely on the steak bone he was chewing on.
“I got hurt.” Trace spoke quietly as he stood in the doorway holding a beer.
“Bad?” Brad asked.
“Bad enough to end my career and label me as permanently disabled.”
Brad was shocked. Other than seeing Trace rub at his leg, he didn’t see anything about the man that looked to be injured. From where Brad was sitting, Trace looked to be pretty damn perfect.
“I’m sorry, Trace. I don’t know what to say. That must have been hard for you.”
Trace tilted his head back and drank three big gulps of the golden beverage. “Fuck it. Nothing I can do about it now. Feeling sorry for myself won’t change a damn thing. I just need to move on and figure out what I’m going to do with my life.”
“I know what you mean. Sometimes we just have to find our path in life. Whatever that path may be.”
“Sounds like someone’s speaking from experience,” Trace added. “What is it that you do?”
Brad didn’t miss how quickly Trace had switched the conversation over to him. It intrigued and perplexed him that such a sexy and seemingly strong man could be labeled as disabled.
“What do I do?” Brad chuckled at the question. “That’s a damn good question. For the longest time I’d answer that with one word. Live. Now though, I realized I wasn’t really living at all. I think I was more or less going through the motions in an effort to keep up with the Joneses and anyone else who set the status quo.”
“Yeah? Where are you from?”
“If I told you, you probably wouldn’t believe me,” Brad answered.
“Maybe, maybe not. There’s only one way to find out. But, perhaps this isn’t the time for it.” Trace finished the remainder of his second beer and set the empty bottle beside his other one. “Anyway, it’s been a long day. Maybe I should head back on over to my room.” Trace walked out onto the boardwalk and started to walk past him.
“You sure? I still have some beer and it’s a nice night. I don’t mind sharing.”
Trace stopped and turned toward him, asking again. “Where are you from?”
“I’m from New York, specifically Manhattan.”
Brad wasn’t sure why he’d bothered to give him that last bit of detail. He still wasn’t able to tell if the attraction he felt was mutual or if Trace was just a nice, albeit a drop-dead sexy, man.
“You’re right. I didn’t see that coming. Your clothes and old truck don’t exactly scream Manhattan. Obviously you have money though if you live in such an upscale and expensive city. So, what else do you do? You into anything illegal?”
Brad couldn’t help but smile. He heard Trace chuckle as he asked the question. It was obvious he was only kidding and it was nice to see that side of him come out. Trace wasn’t giving him too many clues about what it was they were doing, but the humorous side to his personality gave him a little bit of hope.
“No, nothing illegal. I just invested wisely and knew how to move my funds around to best suit me. My expertise is in trading, but I also know how to invest in some things that may not pay off big at first, but prove to pay out in the long run.”
Brad stood up and stood beside Trace, who suddenly turned. They were instantly face-to-face. Their mouths were a mere inch apart as they stared at one another.
“Look, I don’t normally do this. In fact, I never do. And I know we’ve only just met, but I can’t help but feel as though—”
“I should go,” Trace interrupted him.
Brad had never been so torn. He wasn’t ever the aggressor in a relationship, but damn if he didn’t want to reach out and grab onto Trace to keep him from leaving. He was sure this method would probably be frowned on by someone as serious as Trace, still he couldn’t help himself from wanting to try it, try something, try anything. There was something about the man who stood before him that he couldn’t, or didn’t, want to deny. Unless he was completely crazy, the leer in Trace’s eyes told him there was something there between them. With only the moonlight to cast a dim light over them, he could still see something.
“Are you sure?” Brad reached out and gently trailed his fingertips along the outer part of Trace’s arm. “You can stay if you’d like.”
Brad had no way of knowing what his touc
h was doing to Trace, but for him it was maddening. There was an electric charge that emanated off this man, something that made his fingers tingle from even the slightest touch.
“I don’t think that would be such a good idea. Look, it’s been great talking to you, but it really has been a long day and truth be told I’m not great company once I get tired and cranky. But, thanks for the beer. I’ll see you around. Come on, Airborne.”
Brad watched in disappointment and disbelief as Trace all but ran for his hotel room door. For a single moment, he was sure that their attraction was mutual. He’d felt a spark between them. Even though it had lasted for a fleeting moment, it had been real. Sadly, just as quick as he had felt it, it was gone.
Trace went into his room and slammed the door so hard on his way out that it shook the picture on the entire wall. To say Brad was frustrated was an understatement. He hadn’t felt this turned-on by a man since the last asshole who had screwed him over.
He bent over and picked up the empty beer bottles. He didn’t know what in the hell just happened. The chemistry between them had been real. He hadn’t imagined it. Had he?
As he brought the chairs back inside, Brad considered that maybe Trace wasn’t openly gay or even bisexual and not entirely comfortable with his body’s reaction to another man. His instincts told him it wasn’t either of those things. Trace Jennings struck him as a confident, “take no bullshit from anyone” type of man. He doubted that Trace would care what others thought of him at all.
Just as he closed his hotel room door he heard a knock. He turned in surprise, not realizing anyone had been standing so close behind him. Looking through the peephole he could only make out a fuzzy figure, but there was no mistaking who it was. Trace had come back.
Brad opened the door and saw a troubled look on Trace’s face. There was something he was struggling with. He just wished he knew what it was so he could help him through it.
The Philanthropist and the Paratrooper (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove) Page 6
