by Christi Snow
***
Stig
Stig looked down at the last text he’d received from Ryder, and his groin pulsed with want. Corrupt Ryder? Yeah, he would love to spend a while—hours, days, weeks—doing just that. He could tie Ryder up to his bed and show him just how many reasons why he should heed Tommy’s warnings.
With every interaction he had with Ryder, it became more difficult to remind himself why he couldn’t do that, that he didn’t mess around with straight guys for a reason. That way led to hard and hurt feelings. Ryder was entwined with two of the few people Stig actually considered friends, despite how Tommy had acted otherwise last night. He didn’t have enough of those in his life to risk the ones he had.
So, no, he couldn’t respond to Ryder’s tempting text. No matter how badly he wanted to push the edge of the envelope and push their flirting to the next level.
Instead, he dialed Galleon’s cell number. “I’m feeling restless. Want to go out?”
“Hell, yeah,” Galleon answered. “You’re an answer to prayer. I was about to go out of my fucking mind with the horrible satellite choices at this hotel. I was about to get desperate and watch some het porn.”
Stig laughed. “Well, let me save you from yourself. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.” Stig strode back to his bedroom to change into club gear. This would be good. Maybe he could dance off some of the tension that had settled under his skin.
***
He’d tried to resist and stay away, had gone out with Galleon the night before and had a fabulous time, but that didn’t stop random thoughts about Ryder from hitting him throughout the day. He was tired of resisting their lure of their friendship.
Stig: So, what do Friday nights look like for a young, gorgeous, inspirational speaker?
Ryder: Oh, well you know it’s just the height of what every 20-something guy dreams of. Tonight I get to spend my time speaking to a local Rotary Club. The audience will all be fifty years old or older...much, much older.
Ryder: In other words, I’ll be home by eight. Good times...
Ryder: So, inspire me, oh, deviant one. What are you doing?
Stig couldn’t help the smile or the laugh that broke out of his chest. Ryder was turning out to be a fun diversion.
Lola cleared her throat from the entryway and raised an eyebrow in question. “I don’t know what you’re reading, but I don’t remember a single one of those invoices including jokes.”
He lifted his phone to show her before grimacing at the pile of invoices that needed his attention. “No, I was procrastinating and saw a particularly cute cat video. Darn, I shouldn’t have shut the link. You could have enjoyed it with me.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Seriously? That’s the story you’re going with? Cat video?”
Stig shrugged. “Was there a reason you came in?”
She shook her head to clear her confusion. “Yes, T. Garrett is here. He doesn’t have an appointment. Do you want to see him, or should I send him away?”
Sending Tommy away was so tempting, but Stig didn’t want to be uninvited from the Vegas trip. He wouldn’t be able to avoid this discussion forever, so he steeled his spine and closed the tempting text screen on his phone like a naughty schoolboy. “Send him in.”
Fifteen seconds later, Tommy strode through the door, his countenance serious with a deep frown marring his handsome face. A face that looked so much like Ryder’s. There was never any doubt that the two were brothers. And if he had to guess, Tommy had come to give Stig the third-degree about exactly that, his brother.
Stig stood and rounded his desk. “I’m hoping you’re here to tell me you’ve reconsidered doing another gallery showing.”
The Minton Gallery had featured Tommy’s incredible book sculptures the year before, and they had been fielding requests for more ever since. Unfortunately, Tommy kept saying he didn’t have the time required to put together another full gallery showing.
Tommy shook his head. “No, with the permanent display at the library, I don’t have enough time to fulfill all the custom orders coming in. I don’t have time for anything else, and Mac would divorce me before we even got married if I tried.”
Stig laughed. “With the way he obsesses about his characters in his books, I would think he’d be more understanding about when the creative muse strikes.”
“He totally gets it, but we’ve both agreed to make our relationship a priority over our creative lives.” Tommy shrugged. “That’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make for him.”
Stig schooled his face, hoping the sting of that didn’t show. That had been what had broken him and Mac up...Mac didn’t think Stig was worth that sacrifice. Even though Stig knew how good these two guys were together, that didn’t stop the edge of pain working into his psyche. Why hadn’t he been enough? Would he ever be enough for someone?
Tommy cleared his throat. “No, I’m here because I want to know what you’re doing with Ryder.”
Stig blew out a sigh. “I’m not doing anything with Ryder. We’re friends. That’s it, and last I checked, that wasn’t against the law.”
“Why?” Tommy glared across the room suspiciously. “Why would you want to be friends with him? He’s not exactly the kind of guy to run with your normal friends.”
Anger boiled under the surface on Ryder’s behalf. Did his own brother know so little about him? “Has it ever occurred to you just how isolated and lonely your brother is? He goes and does these inspirational talks, but usually, the groups he meets with are students or elderly, not exactly his peers.
“From what I’ve seen, he really doesn’t have any other social outlets. He’s isolated, and I hate that for him, because he’s a nice guy. I like him. I have fun with him. I’d think you’d be happy that he’s getting out of that apartment and having some fun, too. Hell, even his office is in his apartment, and that means he hardly ever leaves.”
Tommy ran a hand across the back of his neck. “Of course I’m happy for him to make friends, but I just never expected one of them to be you.”
Stig’s shoulder stiffened. “What the fu—” he started, but Tommy stopped him.
“I know at heart you’re a good guy. You’ve been a good friend to both Mac and I, and we appreciate that, but Stig, even you have to admit that you’re an unlikely friend for Ryder.”
“Why? Because I’m gay? I never took you to be such a homophobe, considering you’re gay, too.”
Tommy blew out a breath. “That has nothing to do with it.” He looked out the window of Stig’s office. “Ryder is different since his accident. In high school, he was one of those kids everyone was drawn to. He just had that personality. He was never alone. There was always a whole crew of friends surrounding him. They tried to hang by him after he got hurt, but eventually, he pushed them all away.
“Now, the only time I see glimpses of that person he was is when he does his talks. If the group is really engaged with what he’s saying, he comes alive. It’s a rare thing to see anymore.
“Overall, he’s become somewhat of a recluse. When he first got hurt, we tried to get him out and engaged in life again, but he doesn’t make the effort to connect with people. It’s like the brain damage took away that part of his personality. He can turn it on if he wants to and is feeling okay, but he’s not that same guy anymore. I know he’s more vulnerable now. I worry about him.”
As Stig considered Ryder’s confusion that night at the bookstore, he nodded. He wanted to rail at Tommy for not realizing just how vulnerable Ryder could become, but Ryder would never thank him for sharing that information. As it was, Ryder hated how much Tommy hovered. It would only get worse if his big brother realized how easy it would be for someone to take advantage of him.
But Stig could be there...as a friend to make sure that nothing went wrong, to ensure that Ryder was protected.
“I promise you, Tommy. I don’t plan on hurting Ryder. I like spending time with him, and I think he has a good time with me. Trust me. I won’t let anything hap
pen to him.”
Tommy studied Stig for a moment. “I need your promise that you’re only trying to be his friend. If you’ve been to his house, I know you’ve seen his art collection.”
“Yes, and I know he’s the artist.”
Tommy reared back in surprise. “He told you that?”
“Not on purpose, but he has amazing talent.”
If anything Tommy expression became even grimmer. “He doesn’t want anyone to see it. Believe me, I’ve tried to get him to approach a few galleries with it, but he won’t even discuss it. If that’s why you’re hanging out with him, you’re making a mistake. Also...he’s straight, so if that’s what you’re angling for, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
Stig clenched his jaw in annoyance. “I know it might be hard to imagine, but I like having friends, too. That’s all I want from him...friendship. Now, I think maybe you should leave before you say something neither one of us will recover from.” He couldn’t hit Tommy. Mac would never forgive him, and despite Tommy’s ideas to the contrary, Stig’s small circle of friends meant the world to him.
“Okay.” Tommy turned to leave but hesitated. “I hope you realize that none of this is reflective on you or your lifestyle. I just can’t see my brother hanging out in the BDSM club with you.”
“Yeah, sure, I get it.” Stig just needed Tommy to leave. “I promise I won’t be dragging him to Eclipse anytime soon, but beyond that, I make no promises. I plan to do what I can to show him a good time...both here and in Vegas.” He needed to lay that out now, because he didn’t want to ruin the trip for Tommy and Mac if Tommy planned to throw a bitch fit when he took Ryder out on the town.
“Okay.” Tommy didn’t look thrilled, but it didn’t look like he planned to argue with Stig about it anymore, either.
When the door closed behind Tommy, Stig blew out a breath. He’d considered trying things again with Galleon tonight, but now... He tapped the back of his cell phone, thinking. He hated being told what to do. He’d always been like that, so he needed to carefully consider this. Was he just reacting to Tommy’s heavy-handedness or was this something else?
He opened the text box that held Ryder’s messages. He reread that last one. So, inspire me, oh, deviant one. What are you doing?
Tommy had unknowingly just pushed him into doing what he’d been trying to resist. He typed his response.
Stig: You tell me if my plans will pan out. I’ll pick you up at 8:30?
Ryder: Seriously? Hell, yes. What should I wear?
Stig: Go casual. Jeans. Dress warm. Question...is it a cane or wheelchair day?
Ryder: Cane right now, but probably crutches later. Will that work?
Stig: Yeah...plan to bring the wheelchair just in case. I don’t want to wear you out.
There wasn’t another answer for a good five minutes, but finally another message came through.
Ryder: K
Stig’s shoulders drooped with relief. For a little bit there, he thought Ryder had planned to change his mind. That idea bothered Stig a hell of a lot more than it should.
Chapter Fourteen
Ryder
Ryder checked his reflection in the full-length mirror one more time, hoping he’d achieved a moderately casual, but still decent-looking appearance. He wore brown corduroy jeans topped by an oatmeal-colored Henley under a blue and green plaid flannel shirt and then a matching brown leather coat. The hiking boots were in deference to the snowstorm that had dropped a couple of inches of snow earlier in the day.
Right now, he was surprisingly still doing okay to walk, but depending on what Stig had planned that was very likely to change.
What did Stig have planned? A rush of anticipation zinged through him. It had been so long since he’d gone out simply for fun.
A knock sounded at his door. He took a deep breath and then went to open it. Stig stood there, looking so handsome it took Ryder’s breath away.
Shit. What did that mean? Was he gay?
He didn’t have time to examine it right now.
Stig wore a pair of dark black jeans, a plain white T-shirt under a red, button-down shirt left untucked and unbuttoned. A black leather, motorcycle-style jacket and black combat boots finished the outfit. He looked like a really hot, fashion-forward biker.
Stig’s eyes lit up when he got a good look at Ryder, but he wasn’t sure if that was because of the way he looked or simply because Stig was happy to see him standing. The wheelchair could be a bitch to try to get around with.
“Hi,” Ryder said in greeting. “Is what I’m wearing okay?”
“Yeah,” Stig answered. “It’s perfect. I’m surprised though. No cane, crutches, or wheelchair?” He tilted his head in question.
“I’m actually feeling pretty good. The cane is there simply as a precaution for balance. I just didn’t think to grab it when I answered the door.” He was too flustered with excitement about the coming night.
Also, he’d taken a nap this afternoon after they’d made plans, but there was no way he’d cop to the fact he had to take a nap to be able to go out at night. That sounded way too reminiscent of a toddler. He hated that, but had learned to accept it. His brain glitched less when he was well-rested.
“Do we need to take the wheelchair just in case? I brought the gallery’s delivery van so we have plenty of space for it.”
“You left the Aston at home?”
Why did that seem so incredibly sweet? Stig was one of those guys. Everything he did created a perfect appearance. He was always impeccably dressed, drove a hot car, his hair always perfectly styled. Appearance meant a lot to the guy. For him to voluntarily drive an ugly delivery van kind of blew Ryder away.
Stig shrugged. “The Aston isn’t exactly known for its trunk space, so it was either that or have a taxi take us everywhere. We could do that if you’d rather.”
“No, I’m good with the delivery van. Maybe next time, we can just plan on taking my car. It might make it easier.” Was it presumptuous to assume there’d be a next time?
“That would work.” Stig nodded. “You ready to go?”
“Sure, just let me grab the crutches in case I need them for later and my cane.”
Ten minutes later, they parked in an area of downtown near Stig’s home. There were a lot of cars parked on the street, but Ryder couldn’t see why. Most of these buildings held offices that had closed down hours ago. “Where are we going?” he asked as he peered through the windshield.
“That’s a surprise.” Stig had a mirthful glint in his eye that intrigued Ryder even more. “Do you want your crutches?”
“No, I think I’m good.”
“Well, if you need them at any time, just tell me. I can come out and get them.”
They walked about a quarter of the block and then came to a stoop with several steps going up under a black awning that said The Kitty Cat Club on the side of it. Instead of going up, Stig led them around the wrought iron fence to another set of stairs going down into the basement. They entered into a dark foyer where coats and hats were hung on pegs covering the walls. But there weren’t any other hints about what was to come besides a big, black, solid-panel door blocking the way to the next room.
Stig shed his jacket and nodded at Ryder to do the same. They hung them up, and Stig opened the door. Acoustic music floated out the opening, and they stepped into a retro bar that looked like someplace Holly Golightly would have visited. More stairs led down into the room.
The bar was dark with black walls and muted lighting along the edge of the ceiling molding. Three levels of seating held small round tables that could only accommodate two people easily, although there were several larger groups who’d clustered tables together. Each table had a squat glass globe illuminated by a lit candle. In the corner, two guitarists sat on stools, providing live music.
Stig led the way to a free table off to the side and up one level. They had a clear line of sight to see the performers.
Waiters and waitresses wandered throug
h the tables, the waitresses wearing black and blue can-can skirts, corset tops, and bowties. The waiters were bare-chested and wore only black pants with a matching blue pinstripe bowties and suspenders. And of course, everyone carried the wooden trays hooked around their necks.
He looked over at Stig in surprise after he got a good look at what was in the trays. “This is a marijuana bar?”
Stig laughed. “Yeah, it is, but if you want to smoke, we have to go into one of the other rooms with special ventilation. Personally, I come for the music and ambiance in this area, but I certainly won’t judge.”
“Um, thanks, but no. My head is messed up enough without adding mind-altering substances to the mix.”
Stig nodded. “I will tell you they make a mean martini and some fabulous cappuccinos, too. They have a special menu for both drinks with a lot of choices. Those are their specialties. It just depends on what you’re in the mood for.”
“A cappuccino sounds amazing.”
One of the male waiters stopped beside their table. “Did I hear you say you were interested in the cappuccino menu?”
Ryder looked up at the waiter and just about swallowed his tongue. The guy looked to have some Latino heritage with his dark tan skin and black hair, but he had vibrant turquoise eyes that matched the blue in his uniform. If Ryder had to guess, he was pretty sure that this guy spent every other waking hour outside The Kitty Cat Club inside of a gym. His muscles had muscles. He also didn’t manscape, so the dark hair on his chest just seemed to highlight the dips and shadows.
“That sounds great,” Stig answered. The humor in his voice made Ryder turn to look at him in question. Stig’s gaze skittered from Ryder to focus in on the waiter. “It’s Evan, right?”
The waiter’s grin grew wider. “I’m flattered you remember, Mr. Minton.”
“Of course. I never forget an exceptionally gorgeous and talented waiter who’s taken care of me in the past.”
