by Lynn Hagen
But Darien had told him up front that all he wanted was sex. Still, Matthew lacked trust now. He didn’t peg Darien as the type to do some foul shit, but Matthew had been wrong before.
And that was the crux of his problem. Matthew didn’t trust his instincts anymore. That was why he was wavering with Wildfire and why he hadn’t taken Darien up on his offer.
His normally dead-on ability to read people was shot to hell.
Matthew strode to his desk, picked up the file Katie had left there, and looked it over. The legal document said he would give up his share of Wildfire for half the price he’d invested.
“Screw you, Darien Lockmere.” Matthew tossed the file into a drawer and threw himself into work, determined to forget Wildfire and the hunky construction owner.
* * * *
“Everything is coming along nicely,” Seoul said as he walked through the cottage. “I just visited the other houses you’ve already completed. I’m happy with the work.”
Darien fought against asking where Matthew was. He hadn’t seen the uptight man in over a week. When he’d told Matthew to run, he hadn’t thought Matthew actually would.
“I’m glad you like the work, Mr. Gardener,” Darien said. “We’re still on schedule and the materials for the restaurant were just delivered yesterday. The roofing crew arrived last night. They were two days late getting here, but Mr. Sheppard assured me they would be caught up in no time.”
“Looks like I picked the right man for the job.” Seoul clapped him on the shoulder. “Let me know if there’s anything else you or your guys need.”
“You’ve already done enough,” Darien said. Seoul had furnished the apartment building the crew lived in so they had a place to lay their heads—although Cory and Max had to share a unit since there were five guys and four apartments. He had even bought a television for each unit, and had stocked their cupboards and fridges.
Darien didn’t need much. As long as his basic needs were met, he was fine. He’d yet to turn his TV on, but he hadn’t let the food go to waste.
Seoul smiled. “We’ll get this town up and running in no time.”
When Seoul started away, Darien cursed his stupidity as he laid a hand on Seoul’s arm. “If you don’t mind me asking, where did Mr. Honeywell take off to?”
Seoul looked at him as if he knew why Darien was asking. “He went back to Arlington. I guess he isn’t cut out for small-town living. Not even long enough to see the project completed.”
Darien nodded but didn’t say anything else. At first, he was stunned Matthew had actually run away. Then, he shut down his emotions and shrugged to himself. Fuck it. If Mr. Uptight couldn’t handle the heat, he had done himself a favor by running from the kitchen.
“You know, I don’t usually tell anyone my friends’ business. My philosophy is, if they wanted you to know, they’d tell you. But I saw the way you watched Matthew in the tavern, and I have to ask, how serious are you about him?”
Darien was uncomfortable with the question. He didn’t like anyone prying into his personal life.
But you’re willing to pry into Matthew’s. Hypocrite much?
He shrugged. “I don’t even know him. He’s good-looking, and I’m interested. I’m just not sure how interested I am.”
Seoul nodded. “He had a bad experience not too long ago. Keep that in mind while you’re chasing him down for a quick fuck.”
Seoul left Darien standing there slack-jawed. Well damn. Talk about getting right to the point. Maybe it was best Matthew left. Darien wasn’t one for complications, and from what Matthew, then Seoul, had told him, even a quick roll in bed wouldn’t be in the foreseeable future.
To hell with it. Darien headed out of the house and hunted down Jordan. They needed to get the restaurant started so Glen’s cousin could move to town. With half a dozen houses ready for occupancy, new residents should be showing up soon. He didn’t have time to chase a man who had run as far as he could from Darien.
“You ready?” Jordan asked as he handed Darien a bottle of water.
“Yeah, let’s get this shit done. The sooner we complete this town, the sooner I can get the fuck out of here.”
* * * *
“He asked about you.” There was humor in Seoul’s voice.
“Is that why you called?” Matthew set the bottle of bourbon aside, then ran his hand over the stubble lining his jaw. He barely knew Darien, yet he was pining over the asshole. He hadn’t showered in two days, hadn’t gone into the office in three, and kept a bottle in his hand as he tried to drink thoughts of Darien away.
“Tell me you’re not drinking again.” The humor in Seoul’s voice vanished.
“What I do is none of your business.” Matthew pressed the phone tighter against his ear.
“It is when I was the one who scraped you off the floor that last time you fell into the bottle,” Seoul snapped.
“Do you blame me?” Matthew winced. His head throbbed. “Look what William did to me.”
“But you put that behind you.”
Not really. How could Matthew? The headlines no longer dragged his name through the mud, but to be accused of rape was a knife to Matthew’s honor and integrity as a man. Even Katie looked at him differently now, as if silently wondering if a monster could be hiding under his Armani suit.
“You told me to get out of town and you would handle things,” Matthew reminded him. “I’m out of town, so what’s the big deal?”
“You’ve worked too hard to destroy yourself,” Seoul argued.
“Yet you tell me I work too much.” Matthew picked the bottle up and took a swig. “Made up yer mind.”
He squeezed his eyes shut. The alcohol was finally taking effect. Soon, he would oblivious, and that was exactly what he wanted.
“Listen to you.” Seoul’s voice grew soft. “I can’t watch you kill yourself again, Matty. I just won’t.”
Matthew threw the phone against the wall as tears stung his eyes. He could walk into any boardroom and get whatever he wanted. He made deals all the time that netted him millions, that affected people’s lives and helped the men and women in uniform, yet his personal life was a mess.
He rubbed a hand over his numb face and thought about his childhood. His mother had worked two jobs just to keep a roof over their heads. His father had ditched them when Matthew was seven, heading to the store for lottery tickets and never returning.
But Matthew had turned his life around. He’d bought houses for his siblings, employed three of them, and wished his mother had lived long enough to enjoy retirement. But she’d passed away when Matthew turned eighteen. He’d hardly seen her growing up from the long hours she’d worked, but when she was home, she lavished all the love she had on Matthew and his siblings. He had nothing but respect for Claire Honeywell. A woman who raised five boys on her own deserved a goddamn medal.
“I miss you, Mom,” he whispered to the empty room. “I miss you so much.”
He wasn’t drunk just because of his mixed feelings for Darien. Coming back to his penthouse dug up ghosts Matthew hadn’t been prepared to deal with. He wasn’t even sure why he was in the penthouse he’d shared with William. After the fiasco, Matthew had moved to a brownstone he owned. But now that he was sitting on the floor, his back against the couch, old memories surfaced, and Matthew spiraled further into despair.
When his phone rang, Matthew jumped. Damn, the thing still worked? He crawl-swayed toward it, noticing the spidery cracks on the screen. He didn’t recognize the number, but in his drunken state, that wasn’t a surprise.
“Heddo?”
“Wow, you really are skunk-drunk.”
“Who dis?” Matthew tried to place the voice but came up blank. “Drake?”
“Nope. It’s your friendly neighborhood construction worker.”
“Darien?”
“Ah, he got it right. The D’s must’ve confused you.”
Matthew started to hang up, but for some reason, he couldn’t. Darien’s voice was
like a lifeline Matthew hadn’t known he needed. “I’m…I’m…I’m too dunk ta talk.”
“I see. Just tell me where you’re at, hon.”
Hon? Why did that endearment tighten Matthew’s chest and make him want to cry? “Why, you gonna stick yer dick in my mouff?”
“No, Matthew. I don’t fuck drunken men. I do have a few lines I won’t cross.”
Matthew lay on the cool floor as his stomach rolled. He waited until the wave of nausea passed before he spoke again. “I shouldn’t be her.”
“Be who?”
Matthew once again scrubbed his face. “Be here.”
“Where?”
“The penthouse. Why you so nosy?”
“Why you so drunk?”
Matthew sighed. “Ghosts.”
“Ah, I know a little about those.” Someone said something in the background, and that was when the country music registered.
“Where you at?”
“Gallagher’s. Having dinner with the boys.”
Matthew curled his lips in, refusing to tell Darien that he wished he were there. He’d done nothing but complain about Wildfire since setting foot in the town, so why the hell did he miss the place?
“Cory’s talking about buying one of the homes, and Seoul agreed to sell at a fair price.”
“Who?”
Darien chuckled and the deep laugh vibrated through the phone as Matthew clung to the broken hardware. “The little scamp who thinks he’s my adopted son.”
Matthew frowned. “How old you are?”
“Thirty-seven.”
That shocked Matthew. Darien didn’t look a day over thirty. He burst out laughing. “You’re old.”
“I can still run rings around you any day, sprite,” Darien said, chuckling. “How old are you, anyway?”
Matthew had to think hard. He knew he was wasted if he couldn’t even remember his own age. “Twenty-five…I think.”
“Hon, you need to lay off the booze. It’s killing your brain cells.” His voice grew husky and deep. “I’ve got something much better you can press against your lips.”
Matthew’s cock hardened. He rolled to his back and closed his eyes, begging the images of sucking Darien off to go away. “Hard ta do when I’m all lost four dunder miles away.” Matthew yawned, suddenly drowsy.
“Why don’t you get some sleep? I promise to call you tomorrow.” Darien whispered, “No more booze, hon. Promise me.”
* * * *
Darien waited for Matthew to answer, but within seconds all he heard was snoring. He cursed as he hung up and moved from the corner of the tavern.
Seoul glanced at him from across the room and Darien shook his head. Seoul had asked him to call Matthew. He’d had no idea why until he heard how wasted Matthew was.
He wished Seoul hadn’t asked the favor. Hearing Matthew’s slurred speech only reminded Darien of how many nights he’d poured his father into bed after his dad’s binge drinking.
That was a road down Memory Lane that Darien tried hard not to travel. He joined his men, pushing his beer mug away as he stared at his plate of fried chicken.
“Something wrong?” Cory asked.
“Nothing.”
The other members of his crew continued to talk among themselves, but Darien noticed the sideway glances they gave him. He turned to Mo’s loud table and wished the roofing crew would quiet down. They worked all day and partied all night, just as Darien knew they would.
Cory patted his leg. “Why don’t you go back to your apartment? You look like you could use the rest.”
The problem with that suggestion was that Darien would think nonstop of Matthew. He pushed away from the table and moved toward Seoul’s. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Dagger and Glen looked between him and Seoul, but Darien didn’t know them well enough to say what he needed to in front of them, and what he had to say was private, anyway.
“Sorry I put you on the spot,” Seoul said when they were out of his friends’ hearing. “I was hoping you could get through to him.”
“Why me?” he asked. “I told you I’m only interested in fucking Matthew.”
Seoul shook his head. “You say that, but your eyes tell me a different story.”
Darien rubbed the back of his neck. He wasn’t sure why he was about to ask Seoul the question but couldn’t stop himself. “I want to fly to Arlington. Matthew doesn’t sound like he needs to be alone. Would you mind if I took off for a few days?”
Hope sprang in Seoul’s dark eyes. “I’ll pay for your flight.”
“That’s not necessary. Matthew said he was at his penthouse. Do you know where that’s at?”
Seoul cursed. “No wonder he’s drinking again. You’ve got to get him out of there.”
“Why?”
“It’s not my place to tell you, but get him to a hotel or something. Anywhere is better than the penthouse.” Seoul moved to the bar and borrowed a pen from Halo. He grabbed a cocktail napkin and scribbled on it.
Darien took the napkin. Seoul then dug into his pocket and extracted his keys. He pulled a key off the ring and handed it to Darien. “It’s to his penthouse.”
An address was on the napkin along with five numbers Darien assumed was the security code. “You trust me this much?”
“I’m a pretty good judge of character.” Seoul handed the pen back to Halo. “And even if all you’re looking for is a fuck, I’m sure you’re decent enough to pull Matthew from the bottle before you two do anything.”
“Like I told Matthew, I don’t fuck drunken men.” Darien shoved the napkin into his pocket. “I’ll get him back here, but then he’s your problem.”
Seoul nodded. “Fair enough.”
Chapter Four
Matthew groaned as he blindly reached for the bottle, praying the hair of the dog would cure his ills. When he kept grabbing air, he slowly cracked his eyes open.
Oh crap. He was drunker than he’d thought because there was no way Darien was lying next to him on the bed. Wait. How had Matthew made it to his bed? The last thing he remembered was passing out on the living room floor.
He poked at the illusion of the handsome construction owner. Damn, he felt real.
Darien batted at his hand. “Stop poking me. I’m still tired from the plane ride.”
Matthew jackknifed and instantly regretted the quick move. He rolled over and emptied the contents of his stomach onto the floor. Oh fuck. That was just nasty. He spat a few times as Darien placed his hand on Matthew’s back.
“Sorry, but I’m not in the mood to suck dick.” Matthew wiped at his mouth. He needed a toothbrush with a scouring pad attached.
“As cute as you are, I’m not into the smell of vomit.” Darien got up and pulled Matthew from the bed. He helped him to the bathroom and cut the shower on.
Matthew shouted when Darien stepped them under the blasting spray with both still wearing their clothes. “It’s cold!”
“I know.” Darien held on to him as he stripped Matthew. “You smell like shit and look just as bad, handsome. Although I find a five-o’clock shadow sexy, yours chaffed the shit out of my neck last night.”
Matthew glanced at Darien’s neck and saw how red and irritated the skin was. “I can shower myself.”
Darien threw Matthew’s pants outside the stall. They landed with a splat. Next went his shirt, underwear, and socks. Matthew shivered from the cold water as he struggled to stay upright.
“You can barely stand on your own.” Darien grabbed the shampoo and lathered Matthew’s hair. As the water heated, Matthew went limp, allowing Darien to wash him from head to toe, secretly reveling in the gentle care.
He hardened when Darien scrubbed his bits and pieces, but Darien didn’t linger. It was as if he were on autopilot. He made no comment about Matthew’s hard cock or the fact his hole clenched when Darien ran the cloth over the sensitive spot. He simply shut the shower off and dragged Matthew out of the glass-encased stall.
“I’m gonna lean
you against the counter. Let me know if you think you’re gonna fall.”
Matthew leaned there transfixed as Darien stripped out of his sopping clothes. He had no tan lines, which meant he sunbathed in the nude. His body was chiseled to perfection, and the hard lines of his muscles bunched and flexed as Darien reached for some towels on the overhead rack.
He wrapped one around his narrow waist, then wrapped one around Matthew. “Try not to toss your cookies again.” Darien lifted him off his feet and carried him into the living room. “I’ll make some coffee.” He placed Matthew on the couch.
“Why?” Matthew blurted.
“Because the strong brew should help.”
Matthew shook his head. “No, I mean why are you here?”
For the life of him, Matthew couldn’t figure out why Darien had left the job in Wildfire and traveled four hundred miles to take care of a drunken fool.
“Hell if I know.” Darien wandered into the kitchen.
Matthew tried to stand and swayed. He swallowed a few times, fighting not to get sick as he wobbled into the kitchen. He dropped into a chair next to the floor-to-ceiling windows. The sun was too damn bright. The glare made his head hurt worse than it already did.
“I would’ve brought it to you.” Darien searched the cupboards and found the stock of K-Cups. “Coffee machines have come a long way. I’m still using my one-cup brewer and a thermos.”
“You’re an enigma wrapped in a paradox,” Matthew said.
“How so?” Darien snapped the lid closed and placed a mug under the dispenser.
“All you’re interested in is getting a blowjob, yet you fly out here to take care of me. Please tell me why.” Matthew prayed it wasn’t for money. He wouldn’t be able to handle it if all Darien wanted was a sugar daddy. He still didn’t think Darien seemed the type, but his judgment of people had been wrecked.
“Because where I come from, you help out a friend without wanting something in return.” Darien turned to face him, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “And stop looking at me as if I’m going to drain your bank accounts.”
