by Cate Ashwood
“That sounds great, but I hope you have a takeout restaurant on alert as a backup plan.”
Rosie waved her hand, dismissing the thought. “You’ll be fine. You can start by washing the herbs and chopping them up.”
She handed him bunches of greens, and he did as he was asked, rinsing them all under the tap.
“You said your grandfather tried to teach you to cook?” Rosie asked, clearly trying to make conversation.
“Yeah, he did. He was a good guy, but I am worthless in the kitchen, as you’re about to find out. He did his best, though.”
“Was he a chef?”
“No, far from it. He was a Navy guy, and I don’t think he learned much at sea about how to make a meal. Most of his lessons consisted of trying to teach me how to heat things up and more often than not, ended in the smoke detector going off at least, the fire extinguisher at worst. Somehow we always got by, but it was a wonder that neither of us succumbed to scurvy.”
Rosie laughed. “I can imagine you two, floundering around in the kitchen together. Your grandfather seems like he was a good man. Was he still in the Navy when you lived with him?”
“No, he retired to take care of me when my parents died. He loved being a seaman, but he gave it all up for me. He gave a lot up for me, actually.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. It was a long time ago. I miss him, but he lived a good life.”
“Rush is military too. I heard you met him.”
“I did.”
The sound of Rosie’s laughter made West look up from his chopping.
“You don’t have to say anything else. I can hear from your tone how that meeting went.” Rosie chuckled again.
“He’s a nice enough guy. I just can’t seem to get a read on him. He’s fine, and then I seem to keep coming up with ways to piss him off.”
“Ah, ignore his temper. That’s him. He got the name Rush for a reason. He rushes into things without thinking. He was always a bit of a thrill seeker, and definitely a hothead, even when we were kids. We grew up together, went to school together all the way from kindergarten to graduation. He seems intimidating, but he’s harmless, really. He’s a great guy and a good friend.”
West nodded. “He seems like it, but then something sets him off and I get stared down. I can see how he’d have been good in the military. Bad guys must have shit themselves seeing him barreling toward them.”
“I’m sure they did. He loved the Marines. He talks about it sometimes.”
“Why’d he retire so quickly?” West was suddenly curious. If the guy was such an adventure seeker, why settle back in a town where nothing much happens?
“No one really knows. He was gone for a few years, and then he shows up one day, buys a chunk of land on the edge of town, and takes over the Christmas tree farm. He keeps to himself a lot of the time. He really only goes out with Sebastian every once in a while.”
West wondered about Rush’s relationship with Sebastian. They seemed cozy together when he saw them at the Pour House the night he arrived in town, but nothing about their body language screamed “couple.” If it had, West would never have let Rush get as close to him as he did. For a moment he considered asking Rosie what the story was, but he didn’t know if Rush was out. He figured it would be difficult to keep secrets in a town this small, but Rosie didn’t seem to know Rush’s reasoning for leaving the Marines, so maybe his sexuality was under wraps as well. In any case, he decided it was best if he kept his mouth shut.
“How about you? Did your family instill a love of cooking in you?” West asked, changing the subject.
“No, not really. My mom was all about the casseroles. My dad never bothered at all. We grew up with simple tastes, and I really can’t complain.”
“That sounds nice, actually.”
“It was.”
Rosie showed him how to brush the chicken cutlets with the mixture of oil and herbs. Then they cooked them in a hot pan, making sure to keep a close eye on them so they didn’t burn. Next they prepared the tomato sauce, which they then spooned over the chicken, topped it with cheese, and slid it into the oven.
While that was baking, they got to work assembling the salad and boiling the pasta. West was surprised how easy it was to throw together a meal, and he felt the tiny glow of pride for having cooked for himself, even if he did have help.
Before long, dinner was ready. West ducked into the pantry and selected a bottle of wine from the rack built into the wall. He had already gone through a fair number, and if he wasn’t careful he was going to end up with a deficit in sales numbers… and a drinking problem.
Still, he couldn’t have Italian food without wine. He selected two appropriate glasses from the cupboard and poured a glass each for him and Rosie. They sat down to a meal that looked like it could have been ordered at a high-end restaurant—or at least the Spaghetti Factory—and dug in. West was pleasantly surprised to discover it tasted as good as it looked. He hummed his appreciation around a large mouthful of pasta.
“This is delicious,” he said once he finished chewing.
“And easy. I told you,” Rosie boasted.
“You did. Thank you,” West said sincerely.
“You’re welcome. My services are available anytime.”
“I might take you up on that.”
They finished their dinner, the conversation flowing as readily as the wine. West found himself having fun with Rosie, but in the back of his mind he kept wondering what it would have been like if Rush sat across from him instead. He knew he should banish all thoughts of it from his mind. It was never going to happen. But the more he drank, the more vivid his imagination became.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Rush was in a foul mood. He couldn’t explain it, but his sleep had been fitful, and now he was cranky. Casper whined and pawed at his leg, seeming to understand his mood. He trudged to the kitchen, grabbed the coffeepot, and poured himself a large black mug. He regretted volunteering to go back to help West, and he wondered how easy it would be to call and cancel.
He shook his head. He was doing this for his parents, and the sooner he showed West the ropes, the sooner he could step back out of his life and hopefully never see the man again. He showered and dressed, choosing an old, worn-in pair of jeans and a ratty shirt from his drawers. It wasn’t difficult to find something appropriate to wear for manual labor. It was his default manner of dress.
When he was washed and clothed, he called for Casper and headed to the door. He didn’t bother with breakfast. If West hadn’t eaten, he’d throw something together for them both again, and if he had, he’d scrounge through the kitchen for something for himself before they got started on lawn mowing and soil tilling. It was going to be an exciting day.
Rush rolled his eyes at his own internal sarcasm and climbed into his truck. Casper bounded into the seat next to him, and they were off.
They arrived at West’s place a few minutes later, and for some reason Rush’s mood dipped even further the closer they came to the property. He really should have canceled and climbed back into bed instead, but he was there now, so he’d make the best of it. He parked and stepped out, then crossed the short distance from his truck to West’s front door.
He banged on it, a little more forcefully than necessary, and waited for West to answer. When the other man pulled the door open, Rush couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“What in the holy fuck?” he barked.
“Could you keep your voice down, please?” West said, his voice gravelly.
“Why? You got a fucking hangover again? I told you I’d be here to work today, but you spent the night on a bender or some shit? Well, maybe you should check yourself into AA and leave me the fuck out of it.”
“Quiet,” West hissed. “It’s not—”
He hadn’t finished his sentence when Rush noticed movement over West’s left shoulder. He had no words. Ambrose Hennessy padded past, wearing nothing but an old T-shirt that barely c
overed her ass. Her hair was swept up onto the top of her head, but it looked like she slept in the eye of a tornado and came out the other side.
A growl bubbled up from Rush’s throat, but he tamped it down before it could escape. His grumpy mood transformed into full-on rage as he watched the blush slowly creep across Rosie’s face.
“Umm… I should go,” she said, darting back down the hall. Rush stood there, wordlessly fuming, and adding fuel to the fire was West’s calm demeanor. He stood silently in the doorway, his hands on his hips. A few moments later, Rosie emerged, fully clothed, her purse cradled in her arms.
“Thanks for having me,” she said to West as she tiptoed past. She paused to press a kiss to his cheek, and then she was gone.
“I should go too,” Rush said, barely holding it together. He had never been as angry in his life, and understanding the reason for his anger pissed him off that much more. He shouldn’t give a fuck who West slept with. Rosie was a nice girl, and gorgeous. He couldn’t exactly blame West for taking notice, but goddamn did it sting.
“You don’t have to—”
“Well, clearly you have other priorities, so how about you give me a call when you’re done fucking your way through the female population of Canyon Creek, and we can get to work.”
Rush watched as West’s expression changed from one of calm to one of fury.
“Fuck you, Rush. You sure like to make assumptions rather than getting the facts first, and I’m fucking sick of it. You think I’m rich and spoiled, fine. You think I’m sleeping with Rosie, fine. But when you throw those assumptions in my face, like I have something to be ashamed of because of it? Well, that makes you an asshole.”
Rush saw the punch coming, and he couldn’t say why he didn’t react. West’s fist collided with his cheek, throwing Rush backward with the force of it. Even in the blur of anger, Rush had to give the guy credit. He didn’t think he had it in him. Rush’s cheek throbbed, but he was only going to let West get one hit in. When Rush saw him pull back, prepared to strike again, he grabbed him, threw him against the wall, and pinned him in place.
“You are rich and spoiled, and are you going to tell me you didn’t fuck Rosie? I show up here this morning, there are empty wine bottles on the table, and she walks out of your bedroom naked. What other logical conclusion should I have come to? You say I’m the asshole? You’re the asshole. I can’t fucking stand you, you fucking prick. Get the fuck out of town. Go back to where you came from and leave us all the fuck alone.”
Rush released him and took half a step back. He needed distance to catch his breath. West’s eyes narrowed, and he grabbed Rush’s hand, yanked him forward, and shoved his palm against the front of his soft cotton sleep pants. Instinctively, his fingers curled around the hard ridge of West’s erection.
“That feel like I’m after the female population?”
Rush blinked once, then came to his senses. He slammed his mouth down on West’s with a deep growl, crowding him against the wall and trapping him in place with his strong body.
He kissed him hard, his hands roaming everywhere. West pulled him in, both hands planted firmly on his ass as he ground their cocks together. The friction was maddening, Rush’s erection caught against the thick denim of his jeans.
West was making the sweetest sounds, and it was all Rush could do to keep from tearing his clothes off and taking him right there against the wall. His tongue dipped into West’s mouth, taking, tasting, and the strangled noise West made when Rush finally pulled away was his undoing. He grabbed West by the hand and pulled him forcefully down the hallway toward the bedroom. The bed was rumpled, the blankets and sheets bunched and messy. For a moment, Rush had a flash of West and Rosie together. He contained the growl that threatened to burst forth and pushed West onto the bed.
West sat perched at the end, watching with a hungry look as Rush tore his own belt open with nimble fingers. He slipped the button through the hole, then lowered his zipper in one smooth motion, moving the fabric aside just enough to allow him to pull his dick out. He was intensely hard, precome already gathering at the tip. West looked up at him with a wicked expression, then licked his lips, like he knew exactly what was coming next.
“Fuck, you’re huge,” West said.
“I’m proportionate.”
“Yeah, you’re huge.”
Rush stepped closer, and wrapping his hand around the base of his cock, he angled it up toward West. West bent forward, swirling his tongue around the head. Rush hissed at the sensation. It had been far too long since he had a blowjob, and he wasn’t about to take this one for granted. He moved his hips, urging West to take more of him in. West opened obediently for him, accepting Rush’s cock all the way down the back of his throat. Rush caved forward, his fingers spearing through West’s sleep-mussed hair, holding his head still as Rush slowly began to fuck his mouth.
“Just like that,” he urged, his voice already strained with effort.
West pulled off and smiled at him as he buried his face against Rush’s balls, taking one into his mouth and sucking just hard enough. Rush bent forward, sliding his hand around West’s throat, angling his head up to kiss him. Slipping his tongue inside, he could taste himself on West’s tongue, and it made him want West even more. The fire that ignited in his gut the moment West forced his hand against his groin erupted, consuming him.
He released West, pushing him back onto the bed. He stripped out of his clothes, then knelt on the floor, lifting West’s shirt over his head and making short work of the soft cotton pants he wore, tossing them behind him. West was bare underneath, and Rush took a moment to appreciate his body. He was tight and toned in all the right places, his cock straining against his muscled abdomen. Rush didn’t bother taking his time. He grabbed West’s erection, then, angling it up, swallowed him down.
His reward was the cry West let out as the tip slid along the roof of Rush’s mouth and into his throat. Rush loved being in charge, but giving head was one of his favorite pastimes. Concentrating on taking West right to the edge, he hollowed his cheeks and sucked hard while teasing him with his tongue. He could feel West’s body tensing beneath him, signaling him without words. Not wanting him to come too soon, Rush pulled off and worked his way down, manipulating West’s body with lips and teeth and tongue. He slid his hands along West’s legs, pushing up behind his knees to open him up.
He licked at West’s entrance, loving the incoherent murmuring coming from him as he worked him. He added one finger, then two, opening and stretching him until he was open and relaxed. West canted his hips, encouraging Rush to fuck him with his fingers, and Rush had to admit he was more than enjoying the show.
It was amazing to see the buttoned-up, sophisticated businessman coming undone beneath his touch. Rush had never been so impatient to get inside someone in his life. Slowly, he withdrew his fingers and reached over to the bedside table, where he hoped he’d find everything he needed. Thankfully, West was well stocked. Rush grabbed the bottle of lube. He added a liberal amount to his fingers and finished slicking West, making sure he was good and ready, because he would be damned if this was going to be gentle.
After rolling a condom onto his sensitive cock, he positioned himself against West’s ass and pressed forward, giving a gratified smirk when West’s head fell back against the pillows, his eyes rolling back. This was his second favorite part—watching as the initial sting transformed into radiating pleasure. Pulling back slightly, he thrust forward again, testing the waters. There were no signs of pain, so he let loose, driving into West with everything he had.
West cried out, but his hips rose to meet Rush with each advance, matching him thrust for thrust. Sweat collected on Rush’s brow, dripping onto the pillow beside West’s head. He was getting close. He could feel the tension building, his balls pulling up as he increased his speed and force. The headboard smacked against the wall with a dull thud, but it was barely audible over the grunts and moans coming from West.
Rush could
n’t get enough of those noises. He wrapped his fist around West’s cock, jacking him in time to his rhythm. Before long he could feel West tense beneath him as he cried out and spilled over Rush’s hand. Rush’s steady tempo faltered, and he followed West over the edge, stalling as he came hard inside him.
He collapsed forward, his breathing labored. Their sweat-soaked skin cooled rapidly as they lay together, letting their heart rates return to normal. Rush pulled out and rolled to the side, his arm landing on the pillow above his head. He stared at the ceiling, not really sure what should come next. He fucked West. Hard. And he loved it.
It was a lot to take in.
“That was…,” Rush started, not really sure how to finish the sentence.
“A hell of a way to start the day?”
“Definitely that.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
What the fuck had he done?
West rolled off the bed. “I’m going to hop in the shower,” he said, stalking into the bathroom. Yes, maybe he was hiding in there. He let Rush fuck him. He hardly ever bottomed. Usually he didn’t like to give up that much control. He was so gone with lust he didn’t even think about it. He wanted it. And it was fucking amazing.
He turned the water on and stepped in, then scrubbed the scent of sweat and sex from his skin. He needed a few minutes alone to clear his head. He’d never been a part of something so messy before. Until now all his romantic entanglements were civilized, refined. They met through friends or through business contacts. He even tried Internet dating once or twice, but all were at upscale restaurants or bars, where they split the check, took a cab back to his place, then had neat and tidy beige sex.
Sex with Rush was anything but beige.
The volatility and sexual tension had all come to a head, and West had never felt anything quite that potent in his life. Even thinking about it now—the way Rush’s eyes narrowed on him until he felt like the only person on earth—he could feel the stirrings of want starting up again in his belly.
