Dreamspinner Press Year Four Greatest Hits

by Felicia Watson

  Nick searched her face for signs of distress, asking, “Why not?” While waiting for an answer, he mused that canceling sessions could sometimes be a good sign, a recognition on the part of a client that they were ready to move on and no longer needed counseling.

  He breathed easier when she gave him a sunny smile, responding, “I’m going home to Arkport for a visit.”

  “I think that’s a good idea. You’ve been wanting to see your folks.”

  “Yeah, it’s long overdue.” She gestured at her car, saying, “And now with this fine running vehicle, I got no excuse.”

  Nick turned to Logan. “So, what do you think? Will the Cavalier get her to Arkport?”

  “Hell, shape this car is in now, it could get ’er to Alaska.”

  After Logan started the girls on their final lesson, Nick said goodbye and moved towards the door. As he reached for the knob, Cheryl called, “Do you want me to bring the keys back for you again?”

  Impulsively, Nick called back, “Nah, just give ’em to Logan.” He looked over and caught sight of Logan’s blank face and wondered if the mechanic was surprised or annoyed. “You can lock up and give ’em to me… later, right?”

  A nonchalant air fell over Logan as he mumbled, “Sure.”

  ON SUNDAY morning, Logan arrived at Acken’s shop at quarter to nine. All the way to the city, he’d tried to shrug off the feeling that Nick bestowing the keys to the shop on him had been a big deal. He probably didn’t wanta bother Dave again, in case he’s late. His dismissive thoughts couldn’t stop Logan feeling, as he let himself in, that he’d been granted a rite of passage.

  Twenty minutes later, Logan had started feeling like Nick had given him the keys perhaps because he knew he’d be late. ’Course, he ain’t really late, I was kinda early.

  Logan used up some time by dragging a rusty, battered step stool over and forcing open the ancient window; it was hardly worth the effort, as the heavy, muggy air made little difference in the stifling garage. The humidity was so high, Logan expected it to start raining any second, and he wasn’t surprised when a clap of thunder erupted a few minutes later.

  While he listened to the drumbeat of rain on the roof, Logan unpacked the few parts the machine shop had made ready in a week. Suddenly the shop door banged open and Nick dashed into the garage, carrying a cardboard takeout tray containing two Styrofoam cups and a waxed paper bag. The tray—like Nick—was soaking wet. “Damn! It’s pourin’ out there.”

  Logan couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I noticed.” He also noticed that Nick was wearing a black T-shirt and knee-length shorts. If the clothes had been dry, they might have been unremarkable, but as it was, they clung to every curve and plane of the body they covered. Logan’s eyes took a journey that his hands were aching to follow, sliding up and down Nick’s drenched form. As he felt the stirrings of desire, Logan hurriedly shifted his eyes to the tray, asking, “Whaddya got there?”

  “Breakfast.” Nick put the cups down on the workbench, explaining, “I stopped at the Liberty Grill and picked up coffee and crullers.”

  Gladly accepting the coffee, Logan said, “Crullers. What the hell’s that?”

  “They’re these doughnut things; they fry ’em up fresh every morning—can’t beat ’em.” Nick took a twisted strip of fried pastry out of the bag and tore into it; he swallowed hastily and tilted the bag towards Logan, asking, “Want one?”

  Mesmerized by the sight of Nick’s tongue snaking out to snatch a flake of glaze from the corner of his mouth, it took Logan a second to answer, “Sure,” as he reached inside the bag, pulling out a cruller.

  Both men leaned over the workbench, chomping down the pastries and gulping the coffee in companionable silence until Nick asked, “We got a lot to do today?”

  “Nah, not much at all,” Logan said, hoping Nick wouldn’t ask what the hell they were doing there, in that case. In an effort to extend this leisure time together, he asked, “How’s your mom doin’?”

  Nick peered down into his cup before answering, “She’s okay.” There was a beat, and then he added, “I guess I should say, she will be okay.”

  “Why? What’s goin’ on?”

  “She’s in the hospital.”

  Logan thumped his cup down on the bench and stared at Nick. “What? When’d that happen?”

  Nick finally met Logan’s gaze as he answered, “Thursday.”

  It took him a moment to connect the dots, and then Logan asked, “Is that why you rushed out of class?”

  After another swallow of coffee, Nick admitted, “Yeah.”

  “Why didn’t you say somethin’?”

  A melancholy shrug accompanied his explanation. “I don’t know. Maybe I was hopin’ if I didn’t make a big deal out of it, then it wouldn’t be a big deal.”

  “Is it?”

  “The doctor tells me no. But she looks… not good.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “She’s got pneumonia—had it for a couple weeks now, probably.” Nick slammed his fist down on the bench, exclaiming, “Damn it! I should’ve gotten her to the doctor then! I knew somethin’ was wrong, but she kept insisting she was fine, and so did Polly….”

  “Who’s Polly?”

  “She’s the aide I have in to watch my mom. She used to be a nurse, so I guess I thought she must know what she was talking about.”

  “But the doctor said your mom’s gonna be okay, right?”

  Nick exhaled forcefully before saying, “I know, can’t help worryin’ though.” He went back to his breakfast, seeming lost in thought as he stared down at the workbench.

  Logan looked over at Nick’s hunched back, longing to put a hand out in a gesture of comfort. Should I? Why not? He could show Nick that they could touch without it meaning… anything, really.

  Liar! That ain’t what you want at all. Logan couldn’t fool himself for long; he ached to touch Nick, and consolation wasn’t the reason. The sight of Nick’s muscles moving and shifting under wet cloth drew him in—an irresistible lure. Like a toddler to a hot stove, like a moth to a flame, Logan reached out, powerless to resist. When his hand finally landed, the hot skin burned him through the damp of the T-shirt, sending a streak of fire up his arm, licking across every nerve.

  Suddenly he was facing Nick, fingers still stretched across that strong, masculine—no mistaking that—back; their eyes met and held. Logan was lost in that gaze, drowning in Nick, frozen in time. He would never know how they got there—who moved first, or if they moved together, it didn’t matter, nothing mattered except he was kissing Nick and Nick was kissing back.

  A thrill shot up Logan’s spine as Nick groaned into the kiss, his vibrating tongue filling Logan’s mouth with the taste and texture of Nick—layered with an undertone of coffee and pastry, a new flavor as necessary as air. Just as exhilarating was the feel of Nick’s chest crushed against his denim workshirt, the feel of Nick’s gripping, searching hands. Logan shifted, fitting their bodies together until he could feel Nick’s cock prodding his own aching hardness. Logan broke the kiss to gasp for air before diving back in, his hips thrusting desperately, needing the contact, needing the friction, needing… oh God, needing… Nick.

  Logan felt an orgasm starting to build when suddenly he was yanked out of the vortex of desire by a shove from Nick that rocked them apart. “No, Logan!”

  Panting breathlessly, Logan asked, “What?” He was still holding on to Nick’s shirt, holding on fast as if to life itself—because it was, his authentic life, finally within reach, and he wasn’t letting go. “What the hell, Nick? You don’t wanta—” He stopped, since he hadn’t even filled in that blank for himself. Logan just knew he could go on kissing for, oh, hours, at least.

  “No. I don’t want to be the thing you regret. After,” Nick clarified as he shook his head sadly, eyes shifting away, fixed on a spot over Logan’s shoulder. “Or tomorrow. Or… ever.”

  “I won’t,” Logan gasped, reaching up to pull Nick’s face to his so Nick could
see the truth—the one Logan felt in every cell of his body. He might regret a lot, but not Nick. In fact, this dark-haired man was one of the few things in his life right then that he didn’t regret. “I swear, I couldn’t.” Logan stared into Nick’s eyes, praying, hoping, silently chanting, Please, oh please, you gotta believe me.

  He got his answer when Nick leaned in and renewed the kiss. There was no hesitation, and the passion built faster, burned hotter, more primal than before. Nick’s rough hands were biting into Logan’s ass, welding them together, and Logan was shaking with desire, wild with need, and he leaned into Nick and whispered huskily, “Where’re we gonna…. We gotta find—”

  “A bed,” Nick groaned. “I know. I know.” Logan could feel Nick’s heart pounding under his hand as he continued, “There’s a little motel… on Carson.” Logan watched Nick swallow, then add, “You can follow me there.”

  Breaking out of his stupor, Logan answered, “Yeah. I’ll follow.”

  Sitting in the parking lot of a Motel 6, Logan remembered absolutely nothing about the five-minute trip there except Nick’s parting words. “If you decide not to show, it’s okay.” Nick had given him one last chance to back out, an option Logan had no intention of taking. He watched from the cab of his truck as Nick walked out of the motel office swinging a key, oblivious to the rain, not looking at Logan, fixed on his destination. He quickly unlocked the door and slipped into Room 9.

  Nine it was; Logan put a hand to the dashboard and took a deep breath to quell his nerves. This is it—you go in that room and you’re gonna… you’ll really be… with a man… with Nick.

  Ten seconds later, he was knocking softly on a weathered brown door that opened quickly. A strong arm yanked him into the room and right into Nick’s embrace. Logan felt his back hit the door and then knew nothing else except Nick, who was all over him, who was pushing against him, who was as frantic as Logan to kiss and lick and bite and thrust.

  No words were spoken or needed; they seemed to be of a single mind, both pursuing the mutual goal of skin on skin. Logan hardly noticed Nick unbuttoning his damp workshirt, so occupied was he in ripping off Nick’s T-shirt and shorts. When Nick pushed Logan back onto the gaudy bedspread and pressed him into the bed with his welcome weight, when Logan felt their bare bodies lined up, felt Nick grinding and pumping against him, when their naked cocks met at last, Logan felt pleasure burning through him, intensity bringing it near pain, didn’t even know he could feel like that, didn’t think anything could feel better—until Nick reached down and gripped their dicks with his hand.

  Nick started pumping slowly, then faster; Logan had to look at Nick, glad to see his eyes open, see dark fire blazing back, wanted to say—to tell him… what? He didn’t know, too lost in the overwhelming sensation. Logan knew he was close, could feel the tightening low in his groin, gonna come… so fuckin’ close… yeah, Nick, just like that, oh God….

  And then he was shooting all over Nick hand’s, relief and release shooting out of him, pulling out of him all that hidden longing, all that tamped-down, blocked-up desire, free at last, and goddamn it, nothing had ever felt so good. He was thrilled to feel Nick join him seconds later, thrilled to see Nick’s face mirror his own elation. ’Cause of me, ’cause of us, what we just did, he looks like that.

  Gulping air like he had broken the surface after a long time undersea, Logan stared up at Nick and felt no regret but was shocked to see Nick suddenly frowning down at him. “What? What’s wrong? Wasn’t that—”

  “The best sex… ever?” Nick interrupted archly as he rolled off Logan. He propped himself on one elbow, explaining, “Yeah, but wasn’t ’xactly smart.”

  “Smart?”

  “Yeah, we should’ve talked some, maybe even gotten some condoms.” Logan was still processing that idea when Nick put a hand to Logan’s chest and added, “It’s okay, what we did was pretty safe, and I’m clean—you should know that. I’ve been tested.”

  Oh, that. Logan gripped Nick’s hand, though he shifted his gaze to the curtained window. “Umm…. Yeah, me too. Clean, I mean.”

  When Logan peered back at Nick, he saw a full-force smile aimed his way. “Good to know.” The smile faded as Nick continued, “But I’m still sorry. I should’ve—”

  Logan rolled on his side, leaned into Nick and stopped him with a quick kiss. “Nah, playin’ it completely safe don’t seem right for us.”

  “No?”

  Grinning widely, Logan teased, “Nope, you’re the most dangerous man I know, Nick Zales.”

  “Likewise, I’m sure,” Nick shot back with a yawn.

  “You tired?”

  “Yeah, I ain’t been sleeping much.”

  Logan felt an answering yawn pulled out of him, too. “I know what you mean.”

  Having at long last given his body what it craved, Logan was rewarded with loose muscles, relaxed nerves, and a quiet mind; he felt himself drifting off as Nick did the same. He took a second to acknowledge that when he awoke there would be questions, problems, maybe even awkwardness, but for now, there was only the sound of rain against the window and Nick’s warm body snug against his.

  Chapter 10:

  A Man’s Errors

  A man’s errors are his portals of discovery.

  —James Joyce

  NICK’S EYES blinked open, slowly focusing on the ugliest curtains he’d ever seen. The brown, orange and pink-flowered cloth put to shame even some of the ruffled monstrosities his mom used to hang in their house in Kittanning. His mind skipped from contemplation of the curtains to his present location. Where the hell am I? A soft snore from the other side of the bed sent a wave of memories crashing through his mind. Logan! What the fuck did I just do?

  Rolling gently to his other side, he was presented with the sight of Logan, sound asleep on his back. Despite the surge of shock and dismay he was fighting through, Nick took a moment to admire the masculine beauty of his bed partner, contrasting with the dowdy bedspread crumpled underneath them.

  The blond-haired man, body open and face softened by sleep, looked more at peace than Nick had ever before seen. The realization made his breath catch in his throat. He reached out, unable to resist the urge to run his hand lightly over the supine body. As Logan stirred slightly beneath his touch, Nick tried to ignore the rush of tenderness in his veins, stubbornly calling it desire and jeering at himself. Whaddya want, Zales? Another quickie before he runs back to his wife? Wife! Shit—I’m an adulterer…. Great, can add that to my long list of sins.

  Nick paused briefly in his mental tirade, trying to remember how it worked. Was he an adulterer? Or was it just Logan? Sunday school was too long behind him for Nick to be sure. Bet my mom would know. Great idea, I can ask her at the hospital, that will sure perk her up. “So, Mom, I slept with this married guy. Did I commit adultery or what?”

  He couldn’t help smirking slightly at that imaginary scenario, though the thought of his mom left Nick wondering about the time. He slid off the bed and went in search of his watch. Collecting his clothes from random spots in the small, musty room, Nick checked the time, gathered his things into a ball under one arm, and scooted quietly into the bathroom.

  When he emerged a few minutes later, dressed in his still-damp clothes, Nick saw Logan yawning wide enough to crack his jaw, his eyes fluttering open. Feeling suddenly awkward and confused, Nick murmured, “Hey, you awake?”

  Logan closed his eyes again and stretched while answering, “Yeah. Umm, what time’s it?”

  Trying unsuccessfully not to stare at Logan’s muscular body arching off the bed, Nick answered, “Little past one.”

  A frown clouded his face as Logan muttered, “Hell, I slept like the dead.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and flicked the bedspread over his groin, saying, “Sorry ’bout that.”

  “For what, fallin’ asleep? It’s okay, I been out, too. Just woke up a few minutes ago.”

  Nick thought he detected a blush as Logan nodded and rose to his feet, quickly slip
ping on his discarded boxers. The pink was heightened as Logan hurriedly gathered the rest of his clothes before disappearing into the bathroom.

  Nick was still tying the laces on his sneakers when he heard the door open; he looked up to find a fully-clothed Logan standing in the bathroom doorway, hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans. “Ready to get to work?” Logan asked.

  Nick assumed the question was directed at him, though Logan seemed to be asking the bedside lamp. “I’m afraid I can’t.” He watched Logan’s frown deepen, so he hastened to explain, “I gotta get to the hospital.”

  “Oh yeah, your mom.” Logan seemed to relax a bit and met Nick’s gaze as he offered, “Don’t worry ’bout it. I can take care of what little bit needs doin’. You go on and see her.”

  “Thanks.” Nick rubbed the back of his neck as a thousand questions jockeyed for position in his mind. The unlikely winner turned out to be, “So… how’re you feeling?”

  “Good,” Logan answered in anything but a convincing tone. “You?”

  “Great,” Nick laughed, finding Logan’s solicitous inquiry surprising. Ain’t me that just had sex with a man for the first time. At least he assumed it had been Logan’s first time; there was so much he didn’t know about his companion. Nick stood up, saying, “I really hate to run off on you, but… we’ll talk more next time, okay?” When Logan’s only response was a sharp intake of breath, Nick immediately amended with a sinking heart, “That is, if you want… if there’s gonna be a next time.”

  If the pause that ensued wasn’t pregnant, it was at least trying to conceive. “I… yeah….” Logan swallowed before clarifying in a murmur, “I do want… um… want… that.”

  “Good.” Sure about that, Zales? Ignoring his doubts, Nick suggested, “I gotta be at the hospital next couple nights…. Why don’t we just meet right here next Sunday mornin’?”

  Logan chewed on a hangnail before saying, “Can’t, I’ll have my girls next weekend. Pickin’ ’em up on Friday night.”