by Parker Foye
“Oh.” Teddy couldn’t imagine Jim in the city, but obviously he hadn’t been a leather-wearing Prince of Darkness all his life. He’d probably even been practically mundane once upon a time. “Why’d you stop?”
“My father died, and I had to come home.”
Damn.
Teddy set down the spice rub he’d been holding and turned to Jim. “I’m sorry.” He gave the collar of his plain black shirt a playful tug and put on a smile for him. “Believe it or not, I do try not to put my foot in my mouth when I can help it.”
Jim picked up his hand and bussed his lips across the back, and Teddy’s hand shook at the casual caress. He wasn’t used to spontaneous touches that were for plain acknowledgement and not stimulation. Seemed chivalrous, but chivalry was supposedly dead.
Maybe I didn’t know where to look for it?
“It’s all right,” Jim said. “Dad died over a decade ago. Doesn’t hurt so bad anymore.”
“I miss my dad. Were you close to yours?” Taking back his tingling hand, Teddy picked the spice back up. “And is that even okay to ask? Some guys don’t like that.” The guys he’d dated hadn’t. They hadn’t liked telling him much of anything, and that should have been another warning sign for him. Teddy had been the perfect archetype for the naïve Midwestern farm boy. It was a role he never wanted to play again, even if he were on the stage.
“You can ask me whatever you want, and I’ll answer if I can,” Jim said, “and yes, Dad and I were close. Probably nobody would have expected it of an alp—” Jim shook his head hard and closed his eyes. He swallowed and took a breath. “A... Type A guy like him. No one would have expected him to have such a goofy side. He was always getting us in trouble with my mom.”
Teddy waited for him to open his eyes before he said anything else. Jim had said the hurt had dulled, but he didn’t want to drag anyone’s pain back out into the open. With the way Jim’s sentence had faltered, Teddy worried he’d deployed a conversational land mine, and he didn’t know Jim well enough yet to have developed instincts for soothing him the way he needed...if he needed soothing at all.
Jim opened his eyes and pulled a bag of caramel chews forward. “Shit’s bad for your teeth.”
“Yes, and addictive.”
“You’ll have to excuse me if I groan while you eat them. Anyway. There was this one time after this huge rain that Dad decided we should go roll around in this big wet pit on the farm, and—”
Teddy tugged Jim’s belt loop. “There’s a farm? You never said anything about a farm.”
“Oh.” Jim shrugged. “Yeah. My mom has a farm. Goats and stuff.”
“You didn’t tell me that. Maybe I would have liked you sooner.” Maybe Jim had had his own naïve-farm-boy years.
Jim scoffed. “Well, maybe you can make up for your negligence by having an even bigger crush on me now. How’s that sound?”
Teddy pulled a large plate down from the cabinet to put the raw steaks on. “I’m willing to negotiate. So, you were rolling around in a mud pit?”
“Yeah. I admit that maybe we got a little carried away. Dad was so excited, and it was just fun, you know? Being so uninhibited out in the dirt and for a little while, not worrying about any other responsibilities.”
“I take it you tried to take all that mud into the house, huh?”
“Bingo.” Jim chuckled and grabbed the cereal boxes. He carried them into the pantry. “She was so pissed at him, and he couldn’t stop laughing. She turned the water hose on both of us and made us stay on the porch until we stopped dripping.”
“I adore her already.”
“Good. She extended a special invitation for me to visit tomorrow so I can snake a shower drain. Is that love or what?”
“Oh, you’re griping now, but I bet you’d never say no to her.”
“Damn right about that. I’ll admit that I’m a mama’s boy when it suits me.”
“I like that.”
“Good. So, what do you want me to do while I tell you the very obvious reason why I’m single?” Jim leaned against the pantry door and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Teddy didn’t know how he managed. His jeans weren’t quite at the painted-on stage, but close enough to it that Teddy could see where all his good stuff was.
He looked away. There had to have been some rule about thinking about cocks in kitchens.
“You can scrub the potatoes.” Teddy rooted through one of the unpacked grocery bags and found them. “So...tell me.”
“Okay.” Jim fondled the phone he’d pulled from his pocket and stared at the ceiling for a few beats. “I’m single because I’ve got the itch to settle down, and I can’t ignore it. I’ve been holding out for the right person.”
“And you...think I’m that person?” He knew better than to assume. Assumptions so often ended in disappointment.
“All signs point to yes.” He took the vegetable scrubber from Teddy and shoved his phone into his pocket.
Me? “You must be joking.” But Teddy didn’t think he was joking. His posture was too relaxed. His expression too neutral.
He’d meant what he’d said. He wanted something permanent with Teddy.
Teddy’s heart rate kicked up, and his head felt empty as a balloon. “Why me?”
“Maybe because you make it hard. That’s the only way I can explain it.”
“I have to make it hard, do you understand?”
“No, but you were going to tell me why. That’s what we agreed to before you took your bag upstairs.”
Teddy moved slowly to the sink, scratching his head. There was no easy way for a person to explain the things that had fucked them up. He picked up a potato, took the brush from Jim, and scrubbed the skin. He needed to be doing something. “I...made a lot of bad choices when I was in college. I moved from a place where no one else was gay, or at least pretended not to be, to a place where I had too many options.”
He spotted Jim’s nod in his periphery before continuing.
“I attracted toxic men, and I guess I had a habit of becoming codependent. Maybe I can blame the farm boy in me. I wanted to fix and nurture things, but not everyone can be or wants to be fixed. By the time I graduated, I couldn’t trust anyone. I decided that since I couldn’t figure out who the users might be, being single was easier.”
Teddy waited for the patronizing nod or the murmured assurance that everyone went through those phases, but Jim didn’t make either.
He stuffed his hands into his pockets and peered up at the clock mounted over the stove. “Thank you for telling me. I know how hard it is to admit ignorance.”
“Yeah.”
There were some nights Teddy couldn’t sleep because he was worrying about those years, choked up with anxiety over how stupid he’d been and fixating on how things could have been different.
Setting the scrubbed potatoes aside, Teddy grabbed the remaining grocery bags of non-perishables and carried them into the pantry.
Change the subject.
He didn’t want to dwell on that shit anymore. Jim was in an entirely different class than those men.
“I’m usually off work most Thursdays and Sundays,” he called out to the kitchen. “On Thursday nights, I clean my apartment. On Sundays, I basically sit around wishing it were Friday, because you really can’t get shit done on Sundays.” He set pretzels and granola on the shelf he’d organized for snacks and hung the first of the emptied bags over the hook that also held the broom. “But there’s a reason so many actors and musicians work in the foodservice industry. You can negotiate your hours a little better than if you were working in an office or something. If I need to get into the city for an audition and don’t think I’ll be back on time, I can switch shifts with someone.”
“I made you the offer. You could work for me. I’ll write you up a con
tract and everything if you’re worried about being paid on time.”
Teddy set peanut butter on a shelf. Somehow, he avoided the compulsion to sweep all the crap Jim had in his pantry into a giant trash bag and set it out at the curb for the garbage guy. Jim could afford real food, and he should have been eating it.
Teddy curled his lip up at a bag of cranberry bagels that had been dyed red and sweetened with high-fructose corn syrup. Growling, he swiped the bag and tossed it out of the small room.
“Hey!” Jim objected. “Pretty sure those were expensive.”
“Which makes them even worse.” Teddy poked his head out.
Jim was pouting down at the bagel bag.
Aw. Poor malnourished baby.
“There are people who don’t have a choice but to eat that stuff because it’s the only thing available or they can’t afford better. You can. Maybe the stuff without the added junk doesn’t hit your taste buds the same way, but you’ll get used to the changes.”
“You’re not gonna make me go vegetarian or anything, right? I have to have meat.”
Teddy smiled. “Me, too.”
Jim’s pout transformed quickly into a smirk. “Not what I meant, but I can arrange for you to have all the meat you want.”
“I’m busy.”
And not just at the moment. Teddy was going to reorganize that pantry, and maybe Jim’s life, too, if necessary. He tossed a box of sugar cereal out toward the bagels.
Jim huffed. “I think you like my pantry more than you like me.”
“Put those potatoes in the oven, will you? On four hundred.”
Jim harrumphed.
Teddy heard the clatter of a tray, the opening of the oven, and then the slamming shut of the same. Then Jim darkened the doorway of the pantry and watched Teddy empty the last of the bags. “I bet you rarely even eat at home,” Teddy said. “If you did, you’d have better stuff.” He picked up a box of expired pudding mix and held it out to Jim accusingly.
Jim sighed and flicked the box toward the trashcan. “No need to be cruel.”
“You need a keeper.”
“I told you that. You keep changing your mind about believing me, I guess. You offering to be my keeper now?”
Am I?
Teddy thought he might have been. Unlike the men in his past, Jim could admit that he had flaws. That made him so much safer, by Teddy’s standards, but he couldn’t let himself get comfortable enough to believe he’d stick around.
Teddy edged around him, being very careful not to skim his body against Jim’s. He wasn’t worried about Jim getting ideas about the things their bodies could be doing, but him.
He searched the drawers until he found a good knife and got to work trimming the asparagus.
Jim’s phone made a howling sound, and he strode away before answering it.
All Teddy could hear was his low voice in mumbles from several rooms away. He shrugged and whistled as he worked.
He wasn’t used to having so much space. The kitchen—or kitchenette, rather—in his apartment had about one square foot of free surface that he could put a cutting board on or a toaster or a coffeemaker...but not all three at once. “Could get way too used to his,” he muttered. He’d always thought he was a low-maintenance kind of guy, but the idea of a big, beautiful house to fret over appealed to him almost as much as the man who owned it.
Getting so attached would likely turn out to be a dangerous thing for him, but he didn’t see how he couldn’t be. Jim was different than what Teddy had thought, and he acted as though he really wanted Teddy there.
Teddy wasn’t used to sharing space with people, or his stories, and rarely his body. He was giving up to Jim what he hadn’t wanted to give to anyone else.
Why?
Teddy found a grill pan for the asparagus and set it atop the six-burner stove.
And why am I so reluctant to see what could happen if I say yes?
Well, he knew the answer to that.
He’d gotten accustomed to men disappointing him and had come to expect being used in some way. Jim wasn’t simply one more man. He was one Teddy could actually imagine being at home with every night. If the relationship went south, Teddy would be more convinced than ever that he was fated to be alone.
He didn’t want to be alone anymore.
Chapter Eleven
Jim set down his fork and stared across the table at Teddy, who was chattering with Jamie in some conversation thread Jim had lost track of five minutes prior. He was in his own head, worrying about the phone call he’d gotten.
Worrying about Teddy.
Jim planned to maim Carter the next time he saw him.
He stared at the remnants of potato skins and asparagus stalks on his plate and ground his teeth.
The phone call had been from the pack’s parliamentarian. Coyotes didn’t have many major rules, and what rules they had were simple. But, every now and then, some stickler would go rooting around in the docs looking for loopholes, or justifications with which to push for some privilege.
Jim didn’t know what Carter’s endgame was. Carter had asked Lenny what would happen if the pack’s alpha never took an “appropriate” mate. Lenny, being a curious sort of asshole, called Jim—either to instigate or else dig for intel.
Jim hadn’t given him any. He’d thanked him for his continuing knowledge of the bylaws and had disconnected.
“—right, Jim?”
Furrowing his brow, he glanced up at the voicing of his name and realized the query had come from Jamie. “I’m sorry, what?”
“You’re so distracted tonight. I said that Teddy doesn’t want to work for you because he doesn’t think the job would be busy enough, and I guess he doesn’t want to get paid for doing nothing.” She cast Teddy a scolding look.
He shrugged. “Blame my upbringing. I need things to be fair.”
Jamie looked back to Jim. “I told him that definitely wouldn’t be a problem. You have plenty of work for him, right?”
Closing his eyes, he nodded. “Plenty.”
“Starting with finding you a new maid, probably. There’s got to be someone in the pa—”
Jim’s eyelids sprang open from fear.
“The network,” she quickly amended. “There’s got to be someone in the network who can give a referral.”
Nice save.
“Maybe he doesn’t really need anyone as often as the last one was coming,” Teddy said. “Get someone in for deep cleaning and handle the rest yourself. I mean, you’re one guy. How much mess can you possibly make when you’re only living in a fraction of the house?”
“You’re telling me I should do my own cleaning, huh?”
“I’ll help you. Once it’s clean, keeping it clean is a matter of a few minutes of maintenance every day. Anyone can load a dishwasher and push a vacuum for fifteen minutes. Also, you need to change the oil in your truck. The windshield sticker said you were supposed to take it in two months ago.”
Jim rolled his eyes. “I keep telling myself that I’ll do it this time as soon as I have a couple of hours of daylight, but I haven’t had a couple of hours.”
“And I’m sure your neighbors wouldn’t appreciate you doing the work in your driveway where all could see, anyway. I can take it to the shop tomorrow if you tell me which.”
Jim propped the side of his head against his fist and grunted. “Nah, I’ll take it. I’ll make an effort to get up on time tomorrow.”
“That means you have to go to bed on time, too,” Jamie said.
“May as well. I have to go snake Mom’s drain tomorrow. I’ll go do that first and then wait on the truck.”
Teddy pushed pack from the table and gathered up the dishes.
Jamie squinted at Jim as soon as Teddy turned his back.
/>
What? he mouthed.
She twined her fingers atop the table and narrowed her squint even more.
“What?”
She raised her phone to her face and worked her thumbs over the screen.
His phone buzzed. He read her query of What’s with you tonight? and gave his head a shake. It’d take him too long to type it out, and, besides, he didn’t want her stressed over the news. She had a bad habit of internalizing other people’s problems.
She texted, If you’re having pack problems, you may as well go ahead and tell me.
Nothing important. Don’t let my mood ruin dessert.
Dessert was brownies topped with some hippie brand of ice cream Jim had never heard of before.
After sliding a dish in front of Jim along with a spoon, Teddy sat. “Spending other people’s money felt super weird. I can’t remember the last time I went through a grocery line and didn’t hold my breath while swiping my card.”
The average person might have said, “I know what that’s like,” but Jim had never been average.
Grunting, he rubbed at a stain on his shirt and decided that by doing what he’d done to Teddy, he’d earned the crown for being the most colossal asshole of them all. He’d never struggled. Papa had always kept the bank accounts padded, and Teddy earned barely over minimum wage. Jim could have been taking care of him in small ways by actually respecting his labor instead of teasing him.
All because he hadn’t known how to come right out and ask, “Hey? You wanna go out sometime?”
Idiot.
Teddy was watching him when Jim looked up, probably waiting for Jim to say something, but Jim was out of words for the moment.
“The food was amazing, Teddy,” Jamie said. “Feel free to spend Jim’s money whenever you’d like if you’re going to cook for me, too.”
Teddy turned his focus toward her and spooned ice cream between his lips. If he’d noticed Jim’s hesitance, he didn’t speak about it. “The offerings won’t be quite as grand after I hand the credit card back.”
“Keep it,” Jim found himself saying without looking up. Teddy could bleed him dry, and he wouldn’t care. Maybe he owed it to him.
