by Zoey Marcel
“Oops.” Greg wore a guilty smile. “Sorry, Aiden. Don’t be a cop, Sean. It’s dangerous.”
“Sounds exciting,” Sean said.
“It really is.” Greg’s smile waned when Aiden glowered at him. Greg waved him off. “Lots of boring paperwork. You don’t want that.”
Aiden watched his son, wondering why he seemed so antsy tonight. Sean had a little of his mother in his features, but mostly he took after Aiden. They had the same dark-brown hair and green eyes, although Sean’s were more like the color of pistachios, whereas Aiden’s were greenish gray. Sean had more of a narrow face than Aiden and a smaller build.
Aiden’s daughter, Cara, looked like a miniature of her mother.
He noticed his son wiggling a little and staring at him. “Out with it already. What do you want?”
“I want to go to this steer-roping show that they have going on this weekend.”
“Where is it?”
Sean grimaced. “Deadwood, but Malachi will be there, and we’re only going to watch the show.”
“It’s a gambling town.”
“You took Cara and me there before.”
“That was different. I was with you.”
“I’m not gonna gamble or drink. I just want to be with my best mate and watch the steers.”
“I thought Lacy Henderson was your best mate.”
Sean stammered a little. “Well…she is. I have two. What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Easy.”
Teenagers.
Greg waved him off while stuffing his gobbing face. “The gambling isn’t a problem. There’s a lot of tourist stuff there, and the preacher wouldn’t let him go to the casinos. I just think it’s weird that Malachi asked you to go with him.”
“There’s nothing weird about two men enjoying an afternoon together,” Sean shot back. “I live with him. We’re mates, Greg.”
“Hey, hey.” Aiden touched his arm. “Cool off, young otter. He’s your uncle Greg, not Greg. Nobody was insinuatin’ anything.”
“Sorry,” Sean mumbled.
“You’re fine.” Greg shrugged. “I just meant there’s an age gap between them. It’s not like they would have anything in common.”
“Well, there’s a huge age gap between me and my da, and I still hang around him.”
Aiden snorted. “What do you mean huge? I’m still in my thirties.”
“Not for long,” Sean said with a teasing half smile.
Aiden narrowed his eyes on him, smiling a little. “Watch y’rself. I’ve got a few years left.”
Greg held up his hand in surrender. “I get it, Sean. Malachi’s like a second father to you. It’s great that you have a good role model in your life. Sucks for Aiden, though, since you spend more time with the preacher than with him.”
Aiden frowned. “Thanks a million, bastard.”
Greg snickered, almost choking on his food. He pounded his chest and cleared his throat. “Sorry.”
“We’re just mates,” Sean said, patting Aiden on the back. “I only have one da.”
Aiden flashed him a brief crooked smile before focusing on his plate again. He wasn’t great with words, and tender moments made him feel too open. Still, it meant something that at least his son thought he was a good man. He hoped it stayed that way.
* * * *
A few nights later, Sean sat with Malachi Brodie around a campfire, talking and laughing in the dark. God, he loved Malachi’s laugh. It was so manly and so fucking sexy. The man had an easy, charming smile that made his heart stop.
Sean’s fawn-colored pug, Squish Face, lay near them on her side, snoozing with a smile on her dark, adorable face. Her floppy ears had fallen just so in that position, making her look like Yoda. Her tiny snores sounded like a coffeemaker percolating.
He loved that dog, partly for her cute, sweet little self, but also because Malachi had gotten her for him as a puppy. Squishy, as he sometimes called her, was all grown now, but she still had plenty of spunk in her. Her snorting noises and manic flailing when she played with him always cracked them up and made her look like a pig gone feral.
Squishy loved affection, but she didn’t really cuddle. She seemed to have a natural, perpetual supply of caffeine in her system. Whenever Sean or Malachi petted her, she would make low whimpering noises that gradually increased in volume and sounded like playful growling. They had about thirty seconds tops to pet her while she reveled in the attention and wiggled like crazy. Then she’d lose it and bark, tearing around the living room, wagging her curly tail as she wrestled with them and brought her toys to them.
The steer-roping show in Deadwood had been lots of fun, but he’d sort of left out the part about camping with Malachi this weekend when he’d asked his da for permission to attend the show. Sean wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t want Da to feel replaced, or if he was more worried that Aiden would suspect there was something between them.
There wasn’t, even if Sean felt explosive chemistry just by being around Malachi. The older man had guided him and treated him right, but he’d never made a move on Sean. It was respectable, really…and downright frustrating. He loved Malachi so much it hurt, and God, did he ache for him in other ways.
Malachi was so perfectly masculine it was almost suffocating, so charismatic Sean was in awe of him. He stood at six feet tall compared to Sean’s five foot eight, and everything about his mature face was mesmerizing. Lines bracketed his mouth, carved from a lifetime of laughter, but they’d been barely noticeable before. They’d become slightly more pronounced since Sean had walked into his life.
Crow’s-feet fanned out at the corners of his lids, crinkling when he smiled and making Malachi’s steel-blue eyes somehow even more beautiful. There was so much depth in them. They had the ability to pierce the darkness with their light and were somehow penetrating in a way that Sean felt deep in his loins.
Malachi’s face was clean-shaven with an attractive flesh-toned mole on his right cheek, and his light-brown hair was parted on the right side with the front sweeping to the left.
His solid medium build was currently clothed in a red plaid flannel shirt and jeans with a black belt. He sat on the ground with his legs outstretched, heavy brown hiking boots on his feet. Such simple, casual attire, but God, he looked fit.
Sean sat next to him, but not so close as to arouse suspicion. He wore jeans and sneakers with a white T-shirt beneath a completely unbuttoned blue plaid flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up his arms.
They drank Coca-Cola from glass bottles. Malachi had always told him Coke tasted better that way than drinking it from a plastic bottle or a can. He was right. The glass bottles seemed to be something of a novelty now, though.
“I used to come up here with Carsten and Heath sometimes when they were kids,” Malachi said, gazing into the flickering firelight with a contented smile. “They loved it. They’d run around like animals and get so filthy you could hardly recognize them.”
Sean grinned. “I bet they were sweet kids.”
“They were adorable. Used to get into everything, though.”
“Well, you know what they say about pastors’ kids,” he teased.
Malachi chuckled. “They’re the worst. It’s true.” He took a drink from his bottle. “At least Carsten settled down. He’s got a good wife and kid.”
Sean’s smile waned a little. He knew the story. Carsten was gay. Malachi had tried everything he could to change that. Carsten had eventually married a woman and moved to Kansas. They had a baby boy together.
Sometimes Sean wondered if Malachi actually believed that Carsten was no longer gay, or if deep down, the man knew that his eldest son still was.
Heath was straight as far as Sean knew, but from what Sean had heard of him long before having met him, the guy had sounded like a self-righteous ass. However, in person he seemed like a nice guy. Maybe he’d changed since the rumors of his past had started.
Either way, Heath had kept his secret, so
in Sean’s eyes, the guy was a good apple.
Carsten wasn’t Malachi’s biological son. Malachi’s deceased wife had fathered him with someone else before she met Malachi.
Heath was his.
Malachi never talked about his exact age with anyone, but he’d told Sean that he was in his forties. Long before he’d gotten involved in the church, Malachi had knocked up a young woman years ago when he was a teenager. Several months later Heath was born.
Years after her tragic death, he’d met Carsten’s mom, and they eventually married. She’d been dead for twenty years now.
All that happened before Sean ever came to live with Malachi. It was just the two of them living together in that house with Squishy, and he liked it that way. He didn’t like to think about all the crap that had happened with Malachi’s sons. The preacher was different with him. He treated him like family, yet even better than he had his own sons. Surely that meant something.
“I’ve seen pictures of your grandson,” Sean said. “He’s a cute little guy.”
“He is,” Malachi agreed warmly.
The man’s mellifluous voice was smooth like honey with a sultry masculinity that gave Sean butterflies when he heard it.
Sean’s heart raced nervously as he scooted closer so the sides of their bodies touched. He laid his head against Malachi’s chest. He’d done that before, but he was concerned that the intimate nature of cuddling in the dark next to a campfire would put Malachi on alert.
It didn’t. Sean wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. On one hand, Malachi didn’t seem to suspect that Sean was gay.
On the flip side, the fact that the man was comfortable putting his arm around Sean while they sat like that probably meant that Malachi didn’t see him as more than a friend.
Sean pushed the depressing possibility from his mind and soaked in the heat that emanated from the fire and from the other man’s body through his clothes. The flannel felt thick and soft against his cheek, and the gentle rising and falling of Malachi’s chest as he breathed in and out soothed him.
The compelling fragrance of Malachi’s cologne was the essence of everything male and carnal. Sean breathed in the woodsy scent that lingered on Malachi’s shirt, dizzying his senses with an erotic medley of fiery black pepper, warm leather, and wicked notes of smoky tobacco, the piney smell of gin, and an herbaceous hint of patchouli.
Sean was torn between falling asleep in his arms while listening to the sound of his heartbeat and staying awake to take in every word Malachi said.
“I have a confession to make. Don’t get mad, though.”
Malachi looked down at him as Sean sat up.
“I went in that trunk by your bed.”
Malachi pulled his arm away, appearing displeased but not hideously so.
“You’re not mad, are you?”
He set his bottle down and picked up a stick he proceeded to poke the burning logs with. “No. I’m not mad. You were curious. I understand.”
“Can I ask what the stuff is for?”
“What did you see?”
Sean gave him a guilty, apologetic smile. “Whips, floggers, chains, gags, everything.”
Malachi cleared his throat. “Before I was involved in the church, I lived a very different lifestyle.”
“BDSM?”
“Something like that.”
Sean grinned. “That’s dynamite.”
Malachi smirked, giving him an “I see how it is” glance before prodding at the ashes again. “I liked it a little too much.”
“I bet the ladies liked it, too.”
His affable expression faded as he set the stick down and planted his ass back on the ground, exhaling loudly. “I haven’t gone there in a long time.”
Sean definitely wanted to go there with him. “With your wife?”
Malachi took a long drink of soda before answering him. “No. She wasn’t into that kind of thing.”
“Was it hard to give that up?”
“I gave up a lot of things,” he said wistfully while staring into the fire with a look of dark longing in his eyes.
“Do you ever think about taking it up again?”
Malachi hesitated before offering a reply. “I’m a new man.”
Well, damn.
“You can be in the church and still do S&M,” Sean said.
“A pastor shouldn’t be a sadist.”
The term intrigued him, made him hard. “Are you then, a sadist?”
“I was. I gave it up long ago.”
“Why?”
“Inflicting that much pain on someone, drawing blood and reveling in their cries…” Malachi shook his head and took another gulp of soda. “It’s diabolical.”
Sean got even more turned on. “As long as the person gives their consent, what’s wrong with it?”
“People consent to a lot of things they shouldn’t. Ever heard of assisted suicide?”
He quirked his features and nodded with an amused smile. “Right, I think whipping somebody who agrees to it isn’t quite the same thing as killing someone.”
“You know what I meant. Only psychopaths enjoy the suffering of others.” Malachi’s tone mellowed with a hint of what might have been regret. “I have to be better than that.”
Sean frowned in sympathy and touched his arm, facing him from where he sat on the ground. “You’re not a psychopath just because flogging people gets you off.”
Malachi blinked at this and looked away. “Sean, please. I shouldn’t even be talking with you about this. You’re young and innocent. I wouldn’t spoil that for anything.”
Yeah, not so much. Inexperienced, but hardly innocent.
“I like to think that we can talk to each other about anything,” Sean said quietly.
“We can. The topic isn’t appropriate, though.”
“There are no inappropriate topics between us. Be real with me, please.”
Malachi looked at him, countenance softening. “Sean.”
That was all he said for a long moment. His hand brushed Sean’s cheek affectionately, and Malachi gazed at him in silence, eyes drinking in his features. Sean almost purred when the man’s thumb glided over his skin.
All too soon the hypnotic spell of warmth was broken. Malachi became withdrawn and moved his hand away.
“You should get some sleep. I’ll be there as soon as the fire dies down.”
“Okay.” Sean stood up slowly and stretched. He started toward the tent before recanting his steps. “Come with me, please. You could pour water on the fire and sleep sooner.”
Malachi paused and then smiled at him. “All right.”
Later in the tent after Malachi fell asleep, Sean wriggled over to him stealthily in his sleeping bag like a giant caterpillar of the night. He needed to be near him, to feel his chest move with each breath he took, hear his heartbeat, absorb his body heat. He laid his head on the man’s chest and nuzzled close to him.
Heaven.
* * * *
The next morning Sean woke up in Malachi’s arms. He lingered there a while, full of adoration for the man. He wanted so much to hold Malachi’s hand and show affection for him in public, surrender to him behind closed doors. He hoped the preacher slept a while so he could stay like that.
Malachi stroked his arm and stirred as he awoke.
“Good morning,” he said groggily.
“Good morning.
Sean kept his head on the man’s chest, feeling a soul-deep pull toward Malachi’s left hand that rested on his stomach. Sean’s fingers lay on Malachi’s torso, only inches away from his hand. They begged him to do it, pleaded for contact with that priceless hand. Malachi’s hands were large with long, broad fingers. He’d seen those hands flex with strength during labor and exercise. They were macho, but he’d seen those same strong hands be gentle when blessing children and petting animals.
He was a good man, the best.
Sean almost extended his fingers to whisper over the other man’s hand. Curli
ng his fingers, he held back, denied himself, like he always did. Losing the long-standing friendship he had with Malachi would be so much worse, for as bad as aching for him in secret was.
“Did you sleep well?”
Sean savored the calm rumble that vibrated against his face when the man spoke.
“I did.” Reluctantly, he lifted his head and propped himself up. Gazing down at Malachi’s face made up for the loss of physical contact. “You?”
Malachi nodded and rubbed his eyelids before getting up. “I’ll make us some breakfast.”
After dressing and brushing his teeth, Sean watched Malachi standing over the portable green cookstove, making pancakes and scrambled eggs. His heart glowed with fondness over the older man. There was no flaw in him, or if there was, Sean sure couldn’t see it.
The congregation loved him, as did most of the other religious sects in Stone River.
Those with secular lifestyles didn’t like him so much. Some of them hated him. It pissed Sean off whenever someone said anything against Malachi. The man was flawless even with his shortcomings. In Sean’s eyes he could do no wrong.
There were times he wasn’t sure where he fit in. The church thought he was straight, so he blended in okay, but it made him uncomfortable whenever someone spoke out against gays.
He fit in nicely with his gay friends and the guys he fooled around with, but they weren’t religious, and some of them made it known how much they disliked religion of any kind.
Sometimes he didn’t know if there was a place for him.
Regardless, he belonged with Malachi.
Sean stood there quietly admiring him cooking breakfast. His chest hurt when he looked at him. He got choked up at the thought of never being with him in the way that he wanted to, like they were a happily married couple.
Malachi noticed him staring. “What’s on your mind?”
You.
Sean shrugged, leaning over the table his folded arms rested on. He kept his attention on the food to prevent giving away too much about his feelings. “I was just thinking about how much you mean to me.”
God help him, he had almost said those three forbidden words.
“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” His eyes transferred to Malachi’s handsome face. “I’m glad I know you.”
