by Elle Keaton
I’m fine big brother. Thinking.
Sacha quickly forwarded the text to Mae-Lin and shoved the damn phone back into his pocket.
Back up the ladder with work gloves on, Sacha was inspecting the false ceiling and removing a few of the obviously loose pieces of plasterboard when there was a tap on the front door. Debating whether he would answer became moot when whoever it was boldly opened the door and came inside.
“Hello?” The stranger looked right and left before spying Sacha on the ladder.
He was in his late twenties, with short light-blond hair and a smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks. The gray suit and dress shoes were out of place. Suits were not normal attire in Skagit, where the dress code ran more toward clean cargo shorts and a T-shirt in the summer and clean jeans and a T-shirt paired with a flannel or sweatshirt in cooler weather. Sacha stayed on the ladder, forcing the stranger to look up at him.
“Hello!” The man repeated enthusiastically before extending a hand upward with a business card in it. “Christopher Meyer, representing the Skagit Chamber of Commerce. Wanted to give you a personal welcome.” Dammit, Sacha had been playing tag with this guy for a few weeks, ever since the sale papers had been signed. Sacha didn’t take the card. His hands were full of old plasterboard he let fall to the ground with a crash, and dust billowed up where it hit the pile of debris.
“So, uh,” Meyer continued awkwardly, stepping back from the mess, “we wanted to extend a welcome.”
“You said that. We?” Sacha looked around for evidence of we.
“We, the, uh, Chamber of Commerce.” Meyer paused. “So, what are your plans for the building? We have resources if you need anything. We are touching base today with, uh, the neighborhood. Getting the word out and all that.”
“Great,” Sacha replied in a way that hopefully made it crystal clear to Meyer that Sacha couldn’t give a shit about the Chamber of Commerce and whatever their agenda was.
“Any chance of a tour?”
Sacha squinted at him. Was this guy for real? Hell. Fucking. No. “Nope.” Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out.
With no other recourse except extreme rudeness—and the guy was not in the same league as Sacha there—Meyer turned around and left the way he’d come. Good riddance.
Peace and quiet descended. Sacha loved being in the Warrick by himself, listening to the sounds of traffic and the neighborhood along the street outside. It was soothing. If not for recurring thoughts of a slender—almost skinny—guy with tousled brown hair and matching eyes, who made Sacha contemplate things he’d pushed to the side for a very long time, Sacha might have been able to get some work done. Instead ladders, coffee, and Seth Culver hijacked his thoughts.
Six
Seth
The mattress springs whined, protesting underneath Seth’s restless body as he tossed and turned, trying and failing to find a comfortable position for sleep. He couldn’t reach that delicious edge where merely relaxing a little would allow him to fall into a peaceful dream.
Instead, his thoughts relentlessly drifted toward the man he had met that morning. Each time his eyes slid shut, images of a tall, dark-haired man with wide shoulders, a broad chest, and heavy Eastern European features, salt sprinkled through the hair on his head and on his chest, his thick eyebrows still black as night, jerked him away from sleep.
It had been a very long time since Seth had been attracted to someone outside of a club or party, where the intent was to get laid after a few drinks. Not that he hadn’t had sex, but being interested enough that the few hours they had spent together left him hoping for more? That hadn’t happened since before his aunt died. He and Sacha hadn’t even touched, except when Seth had slipped down the ladder and smacked into his broad chest. Seth was pretty sure, as he ran the replay through his head, that the way Sacha’s gaze focused on him wasn’t because he was disgusted. It seemed quite the opposite.
As cliché as it sounded, even in the privacy of his own head, it was something about Sacha’s eyes. The whole package was pretty fucking incredible, but it was his eyes. When Sacha had realized what he looked like and why strangers were looking at them funny, his laughter had changed his entire face.
It had been automatic for Seth to offer help. He had trained as an EMT, although he’d only worked for a few months in Arizona before quitting. It had been too hard after Marnie died. Everything had been too hard.
Then the guy had laughed. Genuinely laughed, and he’d gone from slightly worrisome-looking to devastatingly handsome. The laughter had awakened something in Seth that had been quiet far too long.
The whole exchange had been a kind of out-of-body experience. Not that Seth was shy in any way, but inviting a stranger to come to his home and take a shower? His common sense had fled.
Rolling onto his other side, he twitched the covers off and punched the pillow before lying back with a groan. He tried shutting his eyes again, only to be flooded with more images. The inner slide show began with the moment Sacha’s expression turned from suspicion and confusion to laughter, and his eyes had changed from a murky green to a clear agate. Seth’s heart had lurched in his chest.
When Sacha had straightened to his full height, looking Seth directly in the eyes, proving he was a few inches taller than Seth—rare enough—he’d looked right into Seth’s soul. Seth felt exposed, like he had left a hidden door to himself open without realizing it, allowing the handsome stranger a peek inside. It unnerved him. Seth stayed in control of his interactions, both social and sexual.
He shifted again. Crud, at this rate he might as well get out of bed and do something productive. Picking up his phone, he checked the time. 02:33 glared from the screen. Seth rolled over onto his stomach, pressing his face into the cool side of the pillow.
After experiencing a bizarre negative space inside himself since his aunt died, he didn’t exactly trust his reaction to Sacha…
Could a person travel from below zero to deep attraction in a few short hours? Seth knew nothing about Sacha, only that he appeared to be a history junkie like himself and had taken on the task of bringing an old building back to life.
Annnd, he was back to thinking about those eyes, laugh lines like starbursts, a smile that took Sacha’s face from being imposing to… something else, something Seth wanted to hold in his hands.
Seth became aware of an answering tingle in his groin. If he wasn’t going to sleep, he might as well rub one out. Flicking back the covers, he reached down and pulled off his sleep shorts—commando, who wanted sweaty balls? The cool night air caressed his skin as he reached down to stroke himself. His half-hard cock felt good against his palm; jerking off was always one of those weird dual experiences because both his cock and his hands liked what they felt.
A few languid tugs, a twist at the top and a thumb along the tip, and Seth was as hard as a rock. Bending and then spreading his knees a little, he reached down with his other hand and began to roll his balls around. Fuck, it felt good. Not as good as if someone else was doing it, but enough. He wasn’t going to feel the remotest bit guilty if a virtual stranger’s face helped him focus.
He wanted to draw the sensation out longer, but once he got started—the iron-hard slide of his erection under his palm, precome oozing from his slit—he couldn’t stop himself from coming and didn’t want to. Thrusting into his hand in earnest, pumping himself harder and faster, he came with a breathless grunt, spilling over his hand and onto his stomach.
He lay there panting for a few minutes before getting up and wiping himself off with toilet paper. Back in his bed, he left the sleep pants off and covered himself with the top sheet. The next thing he knew, it was morning and bright sunshine was trying its hardest to stream into his bedroom.
The sunshine was about the only thing bright. Seth logged on to check his bank account, and it reminded him that, sooner rather than later, he needed to make the rounds again giving out flyers for his budding landscaping business. Perhaps even resort t
o checking his email.
Of the trades he had tried his hand at, landscaping was his favorite. He and Marnie had gardened together, as much as they could in hot, dry Arizona. Shaking himself out of his reverie, Seth headed out to mow his front lawn. Neighborhood be damned, he would have a yard—garden—to be proud of.
Earlier in the year he’d discovered hellebore. Subtly beautiful and mysterious, its foliage and flower were often close to the same color, and the flower was a perfectly shaped bell, a perfect crown for faery monarchy. It came in a variety of shades from green to cream, purple to pink, one so dark it was almost black.
The plants didn’t like much sun; the home Seth had found for them along the side yard was perfect, and they were thriving there in the near-constant shade. He enjoyed them, picking out the vagaries of color that made them so interesting and complicated.
Several hours later, Seth surveyed his morning’s work. If he was lucky, between the night-blooming nicotiana, bee balm, Russian sage, and buddleia, he would have hummingbirds and honeybees visiting on a regular basis. If he was patient, maybe he would discover their hoard.
Seven
Sacha
Sacha stood back, surveying his handiwork. About a third of the false ceiling lay on the wood floor, and Seth was right, the tin tiles were gorgeous. Each one was about the size of his hand, and the center stamp was a stylized green-man emblem surrounded by a frame of leaves. Absolutely worth the effort to clean up and restore.
His stomach rumbled loudly, expressing its displeasure at being ignored since before lunchtime. Circling around the first floor, he dragged the day’s debris into a pile against one wall. Then he made an attempt to clean up using the hand sink, digging around in his duffel for a semi-clean shirt. No point in playing zombie again.
There was a bar a few blocks away; he’d driven past it several times, taking note of the sandwich board on the sidewalk advertising the daily specials. It was as good a place as any to escape his thoughts… or brood, more likely.
Work on the Warrick, while physically demanding, was mindless, giving him far too much time to think. Sacha had spent more than a few hours over the past week wondering if he had misread Seth’s interest. Wondering about him in general. Obviously Seth was a nice guy; maybe he always invited strange men home for showers? Made them breakfast? Pretended to be fascinated by endless construction projects? Maybe Sacha had confused interest in the Warrick with interest in him. The thought depressed him.
Seth was probably gay. He was at least bi. There’d been a few too many appraising glances when Seth thought Sacha wouldn’t notice. Sacha hadn’t been a US Marshal for twelve years only to be the least observant person on the planet once he retired. And he was done trying to fool himself about his attraction to men. Because the gay bars he went to and men’s beds he ended up in were by accident? In the military he’d been able to claim it had been convenience: a hole was a hole. That excuse didn’t hold any longer.
Out on the street, the sunshine felt overly bright and new, shining into corners previously populated by shadows. His truck sat waiting. For a moment Sacha considered walking but, fuck it, he hadn’t changed that drastically.
He stopped short at the entrance to the Loft. There was a little rainbow sticker in the corner of the front window. He felt stupid for not noticing it before and hesitated a beat before pushing the door open. Then he felt like a shit. Wasn’t he trying to change, to accept himself? Hadn’t he moved to Skagit with the intention of not hiding anymore? Of at least hoping to quit living in the closet and fucking men in the dark? The door swung slightly ajar, and cool air from inside washed over his skin. He took a deep breath and entered.
He wasn’t struck by lightning. Only the bartender noticed him—and since that was the guy’s job, Sacha didn’t think he suddenly had a sign around his neck proclaiming his gayness.
The place wasn’t full. It was still early and a weekday. Which one was to blame, Sacha didn’t know. He plopped down at the end of the bar near the servers’ station. He couldn’t stand sitting at a table by himself.
“Hey.” The bartender greeted him, sliding a coaster across the bar. “Can I pour you a drink?” If Sacha wasn’t mistaken, he was being eyed appreciatively.
“A pale ale?” A little discussion and Sacha was given three local ales to choose from. Taking a long, satisfying sip of something with cascade hops and a citrus flavor, Sacha shut his eyes for a moment, enjoying the bitter flavors on his tongue.
“Long day?” The bartender was still watching him. Sacha couldn’t tell if it was out of boredom or something else. “You want the food menu?” He was a younger guy, younger than Sacha was comfortable with, but he was good-looking, with curious, greenish eyes and a mop of auburn hair. What he wasn’t was a rumpled, tall, tangle-haired guy named Seth with a smile that made his entire face light up.
“Yep, to both.” He was being scoped. There was no stopping his grin from forming. He might still be working a few things out, but it always felt nice to be appreciated.
“Are you new to the area? I haven’t seen you here before.”
Sacha took another sip before answering, “I recently relocated, but I, uh, did some business here over the last couple years.” By business he meant undercover as a Russian human trafficker. Another reason why he was reluctant to tell the people he did know in town that he was here. He felt weirdly exposed. Before, he’d been undercover with a script to follow; now he was plain old Sacha, struggling with life choices.
“I’m Cameron.”
“Sacha.” They shook hands across the bar, and Cameron grinned at him. There was no denying he was attractive. He had the same kind of open smile Seth did. Unreserved and unabashed.
The hum of the bar increased, and Cameron turned away to help a few other customers who had wandered in. When he came back, Sacha was ready for another beer and ordered a burger and fries. It felt good to be sitting and listening to the swirl of conversations around him as other customers came in for a drink or a meal.
“You don’t seem like our usual type.” Cameron was back in front of him.
“Whaddya mean?” Sacha cocked his head at the young man. “Explain.”
Cameron polished an invisible speck off the bar top, obviously embarrassed that he’d broached the subject of Sacha’s appearance in the Loft. “Um, geez, I told Sterling I wasn’t ready for prime time.” Sacha waited for him to continue. “I, uh, am usually pretty good at telling, you know, and…well I haven’t seen you here before.” A blush crept over his face, and his words halted. Sacha turned to see what had caught his attention. Cameron’s gaze was glued to a very handsome man around Sacha’s age. His hair was almost completely silver, with a little dark sprinkled throughout.
The man looked over at the bar area, spotted Cameron with his tongue practically hanging out of his mouth, and quirked a black eyebrow before changing course to go sit in the dining area. Cameron muttered something under his breath. It sounded to Sacha like “Arrogant motherfucker,” but he couldn’t be sure.
“Friend of yours?”
Cameron’s blush deepened further once he realized Sacha had witnessed the exchange. “He thinks I’m too young.”
“Oh. Um, how old are you?”
“Twenty-two. Ira’s,” Cameron waved a frustrated hand in the other man’s direction, “I dunno, your age? Maybe a little older. I heard the lady at the Booking Room talking about his birthday being a big one, so he’s probably going to be forty soon.” Cameron sighed, his eyes still on the mysterious Ira.
“Well, I guess you’ll have to convince him you aren’t too young.” And how did he end up at a gay bar giving advice to the bartender? Weren’t there rules about this sort of thing? Maybe there was a good reason Ira thought Cameron was too young.
“He won’t even look at me, much less talk to me. How am I gonna convince him?”
Sacha considered Cameron’s words. “There’s that old saying: actions speak louder than words. Maybe he needs to see you doing some
thing else, not only being here. Are you in school or anything? What else do you do?”
A customer tapped on the bar, and Cameron went to take their order. On his way back, he picked up Sacha’s burger from the kitchen. The tantalizing scent of grilled beef and melted cheese had Sacha’s mouth watering before Cameron set the food down in front of him. Sacha took a huge bite, chewing while waiting for Cameron’s answer. The burger practically melted in his mouth, and the fries were cooked in some sort of fancy truffle oil. Delicious.
“I’m kind of still getting on my feet. Sterling let me work as a busboy before I turned twenty-one. Now he’s giving me a few bartending shifts, so I’m making more money.” Cameron’s gaze shifted inward. There was more to this story, and Sacha had a feeling he wasn’t going to like it. He already had a soft spot for the kid. Young man.
At twenty-one Sacha’d been in the military kicking ass overseas, pretending to be an adult. He’d had to make adult decisions daily and live with the consequences. Looking back through a lens of experience, yeah, he’d been young, but he hadn’t been innocent.
“My parents threw me out of the house when I came out. I’d like to do more, but I’m still working at making sure I can pay the rent and buy groceries. Plus I have some medical bills I gotta pay,” he mumbled.
“Hey.” Sacha reached out, surprising himself, covering Cameron’s smaller hand with his own. “Don’t beat yourself up. Look how far you’ve come. If this Ira guy can’t see that you’re an adult, you either gotta show him or quit moping about it, because that shit won’t change anything.”
Cameron grinned back at him, seeming to have regained his earlier good humor. “Yeah, screw that.”
Hell had frozen over. Sacha had given advice to a gay man and had dinner in a gay bar without the earth swallowing him. The world hadn’t ended. As he finished his burger and fries, he allowed himself to think about Seth and whether they would meet again.
