The emergency exit door opened some paces away. Someone stepped in, dressed in a T-shirt and shorts. He was muscled. He had tanned skin, a shock of dark hair, and—Ulric had been dreaming about those perfect lips.
His heart sank. Why did Gage have to show up now? He hadn’t seen Gage in weeks. He’d missed that guy. He’d missed the initial kindness Gage had shown him, he’d missed how flirty Gage had been with him at first.
He’d gone and forfeited all of that, though.
Ulric clenched his jaw, lifting the barbell to try and blend in with the other gym rats. With luck, Gage wouldn’t have noticed him. Ulric’s black T-shirt and shorts was camouflage enough... right?
He held his breath and lowered the barbell, his arms trembling with the strain. Don’t look over. Please don’t.
Gage paused mid-step. Then he turned, he looked right at Ulric, and Ulric’s stomach dropped.
Gage narrowed his eyes and strode over. Ulric felt like the greatest embarrassment in the world.
“You should get a spotter if you’re new with this,” Gage muttered.
Ulric scowled. “I’m perfectly fine.”
He did another rep, his arms trembling a little. If he managed to hit ten... maybe he could have two slices of cake?
Gage set something on the floor. Then he crowded close, leaned in a bit, and now his pecs were all Ulric could see, his thighs spread open around Ulric’s head.
It felt like something out of a weird porn game—when did you ever get an alpha like that leaning over you, strong muscles barely hidden by his clothes?
Gage curled his hands around the barbell, looking as though he might take it right out of Ulric’s grasp. Except he just waited there. “Keep going.”
All Ulric could smell now was pine, all he could focus on was Gage’s thick thighs, and the way his shorts clung to his skin. If he were to tilt his head back... he would see Gage’s cock, wouldn’t he? It was just inches from his face.
Ulric gulped, his heart pounding. He lowered the barbell as far down as he could, before raising it back up. He did three more, his muscles straining, his teeth gritted. He wanted that cake. And he wanted to prove that he could do this.
He wanted to—in his own way—somehow impress Gage.
He was on his ninth rep when his arms gave out. He struggled. Except the barbell grew lighter—Gage pulled it up and helped him fit it on the rack. Ulric’s arms felt like someone had plucked out their bones.
“Go home,” Gage said.
It sounded... a lot kinder than Ulric expected. He struggled to sit up, watching as Gage collected a water bottle from the floor. Gage began to step away, completely ignoring him.
Ulric’s chest tightened. He grabbed some sanitizing towels and wiped down the bench real quick. Pulled the weights off the barbells. Then he hurried after Gage to a staff-only area. It was a pantry, he realized. And he didn’t belong here.
Gage turned, his eyes narrowed. “What do you want?”
“You didn’t have to spot for me,” Ulric blurted. His heart thumped so fast, it felt like it would escape his chest.
Gage shrugged. “I’m a personal trainer. It’s my job.”
“But you’re off-duty.”
“Still a trainer.”
Ulric stood awkwardly, covered in sweat, just as heavy as he was before. The diet had shaved some pounds off his body. But after the initial bout of weight loss, it had slowed down. To Gage, Ulric probably didn’t look much different from before. Hell, Ulric barely looked different to himself.
Gage turned, filling his water bottle. He looked... kind of uncomfortable, actually. Was that because of how hard Ulric had gotten for him?
Why was Ulric still here, anyway? He had nothing going for him. Just a heart that still quietly longed for Gage—he was such a fool.
“I... should go.” Ulric turned. Gage probably didn’t even like alphas to begin with. Ulric should just stop kidding himself.
He was almost out of the pantry when Gage said, “Hey.”
Ulric paused, glancing back.
“About before.” Gage looked like it pained him to say this. “You still looking for a roommate?”
That took Ulric a second. Then his heart skipped. “Yeah. I am.”
“I’ll split the rent with you,” Gage said. “Fifty-fifty.”
Ulric tried to squash his burgeoning hope. “I told you. You could live with me for free.”
Gage scowled. “No. I’ll split it evenly.”
Part of Ulric wanted to point out that the rent might still be too much for him, even when split. The other part just wanted to tell Gage it was some small amount, just so Gage didn’t have to hole up in his car anymore.
As an alpha, he knew other alphas didn’t take kindly to being belittled, or thought of as incapable. So Ulric lied, “I got the place for cheap. It’d be $800 a month, your share.”
To be honest, it should be more than twice that, but that was a secret Gage didn’t have to find out.
“Fine.” Gage narrowed his eyes, holding his hand out.
Ulric shook his hand—Gage’s palm was warm, solid, and it sent tingles racing all over his skin.
Gage was coming to live with him.
It sounded like a dream and a nightmare rolled into one.
Ulric looked for a scrap of paper. But there was no pen in the pantry. So he pulled out his phone. “Tell me your number. I’ll text you the address. You can move in anytime.”
His hands shook—he tried to bite down his smile, he tried to tell his heart to stop pounding. It’s not real until he moves in, he tried to tell himself.
With a wary glance, Gage told Ulric his number. Ulric saved it and typed his address into a text message. Then he hit Send, and something else buzzed in the room.
“I work from home, so I’ll be there most of the time,” Ulric said. “Feel free to move in tomorrow or something.”
“I’ll think about it.”
Ulric didn’t linger—no chance of fucking up if he disappeared. He hurried out of the gym, grabbed his duffel, and it was only when he’d shut his car door, hiding his face against the steering wheel, that the most glorious smile burst across his face.
Gage Frost was coming to live with him. It didn’t mean anything. But Ulric would get to see him and smell him, and... that had to be enough.
7
Gage Moves In
Gage read the text from O’Neil about five times. Meadow Street, was what O’Neil had sent. Eight hundred bucks a month.
This place didn’t cost $1600 to rent. Nowhere even close. Gage had frowned when he’d entered this neighborhood—it was all nice houses with sprawling front yards, houses with large French windows for their living rooms and double doors—double doors—as entrances.
Some of them had exquisite landscaping. Others had fancy rustic-farmhouse facades. Hell, Gage had seen someone riding a horse a couple blocks down.
What sort of people could afford horses? In expensive southern California?
He pulled up just outside the house O’Neil supposedly lived in, feeling like he’d been played. Eight hundred bucks? O’Neil clearly didn’t think Gage could afford much more.
Truth be told, he would be right. Were Gage in any other circumstance, he would’ve driven off and ignored every message O’Neil sent.
Except Gage’s supervisor at the gym had said, We can’t have you camping in the parking lot. Your car gives our clients a really bad impression.
Gage had protested that he’d been parking behind the building. His boss had pointed out that the back was for overflow parking. Now that the weather was starting to warm up, they were getting more guests at the gym. Which meant that Gage couldn’t park anywhere in that area.
Besides, he was getting really, really tired of sleeping in his car seat all night—it fucked with his back. He missed sleeping in an actual bed, he missed poaching eggs and frying steaks and just... having his own kitchen.
And this house promised a large kitchen, space he could re
ally work with. He could install his own exercise machines instead of using the ones at the gym. He wouldn’t get gym regulars recognizing him, and asking him to spot for them when all he wanted was to get some water and go back to bed.
The only drawback was that he’d have O’Neil as his roommate.
O’Neil, who had been struggling with the barbell last night. O’Neil, who had fought with Gage at the park, and that fight had somehow aroused him. O’Neil, who, despite those awful insults that day, had not offended Gage any more.
Gage didn’t understand that man. But O’Neil got on his nerves for a reason he couldn’t explain. He’d been wondering why the hell O’Neil had been doing bench presses with more weights than he could handle. He’d wondered if O’Neil had still been working on the bike machines. He seemed to have lost a bit of weight since Gage last saw him.
We’ll give it a try, Gage told himself. A week. He could get a bed moved in, he could get out just as quickly if he needed.
He left his car and crossed the wide driveway, pressing the doorbell.
It took so long for O’Neil to answer that Gage almost thought he’d fallen asleep.
“Hi?” O’Neil opened the front door, looking flustered. He was barefoot, dressed in a worn T-shirt and shorts. “Sorry, I didn’t think you’d show up.”
Gage shrugged. He didn’t have much choice. “Mind if I move in today?”
O’Neil’s eyes widened. He stepped back, waving Gage into the house. “Sure. Go ahead. Here, I’ll show you your room.”
Gage followed him upstairs. There were about three regular-sized bedrooms on that level, not including the master bedroom. That particular room had its door ajar, and it smelled like honey oak in there. Next to it was the study. Two empty rooms sat on the other side of the hallway.
“Pick one. Or both.” O’Neil shrugged. “Do you need help moving your stuff?”
Gage shook his head. “I’ve got it. Thanks.”
O’Neil shoved his hands into his pockets, glancing at the empty bedrooms. Then he looked at Gage for a second, before tearing his gaze away. Was it Gage, or had O’Neil’s entire face turned pink?
This didn’t have anything to do with his getting hard... did it?
“I’m heading out to make you a set of keys,” O’Neil said, turning away. “Text me if you need anything. You know my number.”
“Thanks.”
O’Neil hurried into his bedroom. Then he shut his door, and Gage breathed in the honey oak scent lingering throughout the house. He made his way downstairs, glancing around the spacious living room—just one couch in front of a big TV—and then the kitchen. That was fully-equipped; Gage didn’t even need to unpack his cooking appliances, maybe.
O’Neil hurried out of his room a few minutes later. Except he wasn’t dressed in the way Gage expected. O’Neil had brushed his hair and styled it, he’d put on a button-down shirt that fitted him pretty well, and... It felt like he’d dressed up for a semi-formal event.
He cleaned up well, actually. He looked different.
Gage had a bit of trouble tearing his eyes away. “I thought you were going to make some keys.”
“Uh. Yeah. I’ve got a couple more places to go.” O’Neil straightened his shirt collar, looking uncomfortable. Then he strode out of the house and drove off.
Gage unloaded his car, picking the room across from O’Neil’s study. He put away what little he had, took a quick shower, and then checked the fridge to see how much space he’d have for his own groceries.
An hour later, O’Neil returned with bags of stuff. He set them down in the kitchen and handed Gage a set of keys. “That’s for the front and back doors. I also got some food—I hope you’re okay with steaks and spinach.”
Gage blinked. Those steaks were expensive. Did O’Neil expect Gage to pay him back for them? “No, I’m fine. I can get my own food.”
O’Neil winced. “Are you a vegetarian?”
Gage didn’t want to say I can’t afford to eat entire steaks every day, but he wasn’t sure how he could put it across in a way that wasn’t awkward. “I prefer chicken.”
“Oh.” O’Neil looked sheepish. “I’ll get some chicken—”
“No, it’s fine. I can do it myself.”
A frown creased O’Neil’s forehead. “I can—”
“I don’t need you to wait on me,” Gage growled.
O’Neil stiffened, his face turning red. “Oh. Yeah. Okay. I’ll just—just put this away. You’re welcome to it, if you want.”
He fumbled a little, shoving the food haphazardly into the fridge. Then he took the last box with him—it was a clear package with what looked to be two slices of cake, along with a Ben’s Buns logo. O’Neil grabbed a fork and hurried out of the kitchen, retreating upstairs.
Guilt crept into Gage’s chest. He hadn’t meant to make O’Neil feel guilty. The guy was being nice. Why the hell had he dressed up, though? If he was just coming back home to eat some cake?
A thought struck Gage, one he’d briefly entertained but shoved aside: Maybe Ulric O’Neil... liked him.
It explained the erections. It explained the red faces. And the offer to let Gage be his roommate.
He insulted you. He could pull that crap again. You can’t trust him. Except Gage couldn’t help trusting that flusteredness, a little bit. You didn’t get flustered around people you didn’t like.
Gage left the house, heading to his self-storage place to pick up his mattress. He tied the mattress to his car, grabbed a few more things, and made it back to Meadow Street.
Halfway through maneuvering the mattress through the front door, O’Neil came down the stairs, frowning when he saw Gage. “You need help?”
“Actually, yeah.” Especially when it was something bulky like this.
They brought the mattress upstairs into Gage’s room. O’Neil’s biceps flexed. Gage had bigger muscles, but... O’Neil didn’t look too shabby. Even if he’d struggled with beginner-level weights.
He was trying. Gage liked that about him.
“Do you need help with anything else?” O’Neil asked.
Gage shook his head. So O’Neil turned to leave, except Gage stopped him. “How was the cake?”
O’Neil’s ears turned pink. “It was fine.”
“Just ‘fine’?”
O’Neil frowned. “What am I supposed to say?”
“Ben’s cakes are some of the best around.”
The alpha stared. “You sound like you know him.”
Gage shrugged. “It’s a small town. You’d be missing out if you haven’t had his buns.”
For a second, O’Neil looked as though he’d been punched. Then Gage remembered—maybe O’Neil liked him. And this talk about Ben made him jealous. Even though Gage was talking about Ben’s confectioneries, instead of his bottom.
It made Gage wonder, though—how riled-up could he make O’Neil?
“He’s a pretty sweet omega,” Gage said mildly, his instincts rumbling. “Did you meet him when you went? He’s kinda pretty.”
O’Neil tensed, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Maybe? I don’t know.”
Gage put a bit of fondness into his voice. “You’ll recognize him. He’s about this tall, blond—”
The alpha scowled and turned, heading for the door. Yeah, he was jealous, all right.
Gage wasn’t sure how to feel about that. He wasn’t into alphas. He’d never dated them, never slept with them. But this felt like a challenge somehow.
He followed O’Neil into the hallway, his pulse thumping in his ears. “You like me.”
O’Neil spun around so fast, he surprised Gage. But the look in his eyes—that stopped Gage in his tracks.
Gage expected many things of other people. But he hadn’t expected Ulric O’Neil to look so brittle in that moment, scared and vulnerable and defensive.
“No, I fucking don’t,” O’Neil snarled.
Then he stalked away and slammed the door to his own room, and for the longest moment, Gage cou
ldn’t move.
8
Why Does Gage Have To Make The Perfect Breakfast, Too?
“Let’s be friends,” Gage said, surprising Ulric the next morning.
Ulric almost dropped his spatula. “What?”
All he’d intended was to fry up some bacon, scramble eggs for his breakfast, and retreat upstairs. He’d thought Gage had left for work. He should’ve put on some decent clothes. And styled his hair. And shaved.
Gage stepped into the kitchen wearing his gym trainer clothes, a towel slung across his shoulders. His hair dripped from a recent shower, and... well. He looked as handsome as always. Ulric wanted to taste the water droplets trickling down his neck.
“Friends,” Gage said. “You know, we become bros. We watch TV and have game nights and everything.”
Ulric stared suspiciously at him. Surely Gage had discovered Ulric’s feelings after yesterday’s outburst. Why wasn’t he scrambling the hell away? “You already have friends.”
Gage shrugged. “I can make more friends, right?”
“With me?”
“Why not?” Gage glanced at the coffee machine on the counter. “Mind if I grab some coffee?”
“Sure. There’s plenty of mugs.”
Gage peeked into the cabinets, his gaze locking onto the mug that stood out against all the rest—the one with rows of little cartoon ducks all the way around it. Ulric’s favorite.
For a moment, Gage looked as though he might grab that mug. Ulric stopped breathing and just stared, wondering if he wanted Gage to use it. Wondering if he wanted Gage’s lips on where Ulric had put his mouth.
Gage glanced over his shoulder, meeting Ulric’s eyes with a smile. “Nah, I won’t give you a heart attack.”
He took the next mug instead, but Ulric’s heart had stuck on that quick thump-thump-thump. He watched as Gage poured himself coffee—black, no sugar. Gage gulped some down, his eyebrows lifting. “This is good stuff.”
Ulric shrugged. “It’s freshly-ground beans.”
“No, like. It’s expensive stuff.” He took another sip, his throat working. “I’ve had this once before. At a fancy restaurant. It cost twenty bucks a cup.”
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