by Sasha Goldie
A hot guy, obviously attracted to me. Why couldn't he just be a one-night stand? A fling while I stayed in Three Lakes.
That felt cheap with Ian. It felt wrong. He felt like a relationship, not a fling.
So why was that so impossible to wrap my head around?
12
Ian
Nate's sweaty chest. The image burned into my brain, I ran for my bedroom before he saw the enormous boner he'd given me. Damn it, I'd just relieved myself in the shower, finally giving in to the tension.
After leaving the kitchen the night before, I'd tossed and turned for hours. Finally, I gave in and pulled lube from my nightstand, giving myself a lackluster orgasm that didn't come close to comparing to the one I'd had with Nate the night before.
Then another one in the shower this morning, and I was ready to go again.
My mattress bounced as I plopped on it, staring up at my ceiling.
I'd slept in after being up so late, a rarity for me. My spare bedroom—Nate's room—had a squeaky door, and the creak woke me up as he left. I hadn't just watched him as he lapped the store, I'd watched him until I couldn't see him anymore, then waited for him to come back around. When he'd passed by for another lap, I finally tore myself away to shower.
Ugh. What the hell was I supposed to do with all this raging attraction? Rolling over on my side, I grabbed my phone from the bedside table after it buzzed a few times.
Emails. I got my fair share of spam, actually, it was usually all spam. And the occasional email from my mom. One caught my eye this time. A smallish auto body chain from Bend had been calling and emailing me, trying to get me to give them a chance to pitch an offer on my business.
For the first time, I opened the email. What harm was there in seeing what they had to say? I wasn't married to Three Lakes. My family was gone. Why was I so insistent on staying in the town? Sure, I had friends, but nobody really close. Not even a true best friend. If I ever needed companionship, I called my buddy Carson. He owned the brewery, though, and was always busy. I tried not to bother him. We'd flirted when he'd first moved to town, but nothing ever came of it. Our relationship was far better for us as friends.
All the gay men in Three Lakes were either in committed relationships, too far away from my own age, or it just wasn't right, like Carson. Not that there were that many of us in a town so small. There weren't really any long-term prospects for me here.
The email didn't give any specifics, unfortunately. I'd have to call them if I wanted any more information. I programmed their number into my phone, for the first time not totally angry at the thought of leaving Three Lakes or selling to a chain, even a small one.
Hopping out of bed, I grabbed clean underwear but realized I'd thrown a load of laundry in the dryer the night before. My favorite jeans were in there. Damn. Cracking my door open, I peered out into the hall. Nate was still in the shower, I heard it running.
On my tiptoes, I hurried to the laundry pantry off the kitchen and opened the dryer.
Damn. I'd forgotten Nate had thrown a few of his things in there as well. His khakis were wrapped all around my jeans, wrinkled. He'd need to iron them.
After putting on my pants, I took the rarely used iron off the shelf above the washer and pulled the ironing board from its home behind the dryer. It was covered in dust, so I took the cover off and threw it in the washer to go with the next load.
Ironing one pair of pants without a cover would be fine, I reasoned, so I plugged in the iron and started coffee while it heated up.
What if I moved to Portland? I had lots of skills, leftover from my time in the military. I'd been trained to repair tanks and had several certifications that would land me a job at a variety of places, including the airport or any body shop in the city. My job prospects weren't slim. Maybe working for someone else would be nice. Not worrying about if business was good, not fooling with taxes or insurance. Let all that be someone else's headache.
Or maybe I could open my own thing in the city. I'd get a pretty penny for selling Dad's shop. There couldn't be any shortage of business in Portland.
I smiled as I pictured Nate coming in from a long evening of closing a deal. I'd have dinner ready in our high-rise apartment, the lights of the city sparkling below us. He'd take off his suit coat and take my hands, running his smooth over my rough. "I love the feel of your hands," he'd say, taking one finger into his mouth.
"You're a tease," I'd tell him. "You know the kids are in the other room. But tonight you're mine."
"Son of a bitch," I muttered as my dick hardened in my jeans. "Kids?" Where had that come from?
"What was that?" Nate's voice made me freeze, hoping he hadn't heard me. Looking down, I confirmed that my jeans hid my hard-on. That was one major plus to always wearing jeans. The material was so thick if anything popped up, it would be discreet.
The khakis were crease-free, so I turned and held them out, careful to cover my groin area behind one of the legs just in case. "Just a little burn. I'm so used to burning my fingers on car parts I barely noticed it."
He strode forward in yet another pair of khaki slacks—how'd he fit so many in his suitcase anyway—and took the pants, slinging them over his shoulder and taking my hand.
"Are you okay? Do you need to see a doctor?" He searched both my hands, but of course, there was no burn.
He was concerned for me. I breathed deep, smelling my shampoo on his head. "It's already better. It was just a little scald." I looked down at Nate's head, bent over my palms. He was so concerned that I might've hurt myself. "Really."
He didn't let go but lifted his gaze to meet mine. "You're not dressed."
The tension between us was palpable, like a fog that neither of us could clear. "I came for my jeans, and saw your pants were wrinkled."
Nate blinked several times, releasing my hands. He seemed to only then realize that he had freshly pressed khakis on his shoulder. "Oh." Taking them into his hands, he looked them over. "You didn't have to do this."
His deep voice did something to me every time. Damn the man.
"Uh, no trouble. Coffee?" I avoided my emotions successfully and hightailed it to the coffee pot.
"Yes, please."
Grabbing clean mugs, I poured us both a cup, with a little cream in his. I'd watched him make his own the morning before.
He thanked me with a head nod, and we both sipped the brew at the same time. His eyes widened as I started to choke.
"Holy shit, what's wrong with this coffee?" I asked. It tasted like crap. Moving over to the coffee maker, I lifted the top.
I hadn't changed the filter or grounds. Laughing, I threw out the old stuff and poured out the nasty coffee. I really hadn’t had my mind straight since Nate waltzed into my life in his button-down shirts and dressy shoes. "Well, I can make another pot."
"Let me," Nate said with a chuckle. "You seem distracted."
He grabbed the canister labeled coffee from the counter and opened it. Turning to me with a grimace, he showed me the interior of the canister. Empty. "Have any more?"
"We still haven't gone to the grocery store. Actually..." I turned away and opened the fridge. "No eggs. No sausage. No bacon." Swinging the door shut, I turned back to him with a smile. "How about I buy you breakfast at the diner?"
"Sounds perfect, but I'm buying. I can't let you iron my khakis without a thank you omelet."
"Deal. Let me just go put on a shirt and my boots."
"You do that," he said with a little bit of a leer.
"What?" What about my shirt and boots put that expression on his face?
"I like your boots." He tugged at his collar. "They're hot."
I was never taking them off again. I'd fuck him in those boots, come hell or high water.
13
Nate
After Ian forwarded calls to his voicemail, we opted to walk to the diner, considering it would take us all of six minutes to get there at a slow pace. "The man that owns the body shop stopped me when I w
as running this morning," I said.
"Oh? The part in already?"
"No, he got word from the parts people. It'll be eight days."
Eight more days. Maybe nine or ten by the time he made the actual repair.
"Do you know if anyone around town does ridesharing?" I asked. Maybe I could find something to rent.
His knuckles brushed against mine as he spoke, and I had to focus on his words, not the feel of his hands.
"I really don't think I've ever heard of anyone doing that." He waved at a passing car.
"That's what I was afraid of. What about a cab?"
"Where do you need to go?" His voice was curious, not irritated. I was afraid he'd be offended since he'd already offered me the use of his Mustang.
"I've got an initial meeting day after tomorrow with the buyers. I can't miss it." We walked up to the diner, and I found myself curious about the inhabitants. Everyone in town probably ate there, and if they weren't having breakfast at this exact moment in time, they'd hear it from those that were. Even if there was no attraction between Ian and me, the population of Three Lakes would buzz about our having breakfast together, I was sure of it.
Even so, I held the door open for him as he spoke. "I told you, you can take my car. I really don't mind."
"I know, and I will probably take you up on that. I was just hoping to find something that would mean I didn't have to impose on you again."
The host gave us a huge grin as we walked in. "Good morning, Ian. Who's this?"
"Morning, Tyler. This is Nate. He's sort of stranded here while we wait on the part for his car to come in. Nate, this is Tyler." They definitely knew each other, and Tyler was definitely gay. I wondered what was there between them.
"Pleasure to meet you. Sit anywhere." Tyler's shrewd eyes didn't miss much. I noticed that he saw Ian touch my back as we turned to find a booth.
Tyler followed us to an open booth. "Busy morning?" I asked.
"It was when the rush came earlier. You get a late start this morning?"
Ian glanced up at the black cat clock on the wall, his face blanching when he saw how late it was. "Very."
"I'll give you both a moment to look over the menu. Coffee?"
"On the double," Ian said with a grin. Tyler saluted him and walked around the counter to get it.
"Snappy service," I said. "I guess everyone knows everyone here?"
There were only a few other patrons in there, most people probably having eaten and headed to work already. "Usually. We get a fair share of tourists in here, too, since there's nowhere else to eat besides the brewery. And they're not open until the afternoon."
"For all these tourists taking up all the space, how come the town doesn't seem busier?" I looked out the window at the fairly sleepy Main Street.
"They're all up at the slopes. We have several bed and breakfasts, AirBnBs, the like. People stay there, go up to the slopes, come back to sleep. There are only a few places to stay up there and they're really expensive."
"Makes sense, I guess." It lined up with what I'd found when I'd been searching for somewhere to stay before coming up.
Tyler returned with the coffee. "Know what you want?"
"We haven't even opened the menu," Ian said with a laugh.
"Ah. Well, don't we have a lot to talk about?" Tyler gave us a raucous grin, causing Ian's face to burn red.
"Thanks, Tyler, I'll flag you down when we're ready," Ian replied.
"Anytime." He drew out the word, fully aware he'd embarrassed Ian.
"Sorry," I said when he was gone, pulling a menu out from behind the ketchup and handing it to Ian. "He likes to tease you?"
I sipped my coffee while he rolled his eyes, a little bit dribbling on my lip. I snickered as I grabbed a napkin to blot my mouth. "This coffee is amazing." It was so rich and smooth, I didn't think I'd need creamer.
"You don't have to sound so surprised." Ian handed me another napkin. "On your chin."
"I'm sorry, I'm not normally quite so messy. I was just shocked at how good this coffee is."
"Now you're getting insulting," he teased. "You're saying Portland has the best coffee?"
"I would've said that before I tried this." I sipped more, closing my eyes and moaning. "Amazing."
"You keep making noises like that, and I'm going to drag you out of here," Ian said in a near whisper as he leaned toward me. "Then we'd really give these busybodies something to talk about."
Instead of replying, I took another long sip of the world's perfect coffee, slowly closed my eyes, and let out a quiet, deep moan. Looking at Ian again, I smiled. "Good coffee."
Ian's face was nearly purple. "You're evil."
With a snort, I opened my menu. "You have no idea."
"I hope you like the food. There's nowhere else to eat if you don't."
The menu was typical diner fare, and I found a good option in a few seconds. "I'm sure it'll be great."
"It makes dating easy," he said. "If you want to impress a date you have to take them out of town or cook for them. No other options."
"Were you planning on cooking for me again?"
He closed his menu and looked at me. "Do you want me to?"
Tyler walked up at that moment before I could reply. Ian gave his order, giving me a little bit of time to think about having dinner with him again.
The night before had been fun, amazing. I found myself smiling at him while he gave the instructions for his eggs.
"I'll have the southwestern omelet, please," I said to Tyler as he stared at me expectantly. I couldn't take my eyes off of Ian.
"Indeed," the sassy waiter said, finally drawing my eyes away from my non-date. "Coming right up." He smiled at me, his eyes twinkling. "He's a good one," he stage-whispered. "Be nice to him."
Ian's face was nearly purple again. I stifled a laugh as he glared a hole in Tyler's back. "He's right," I said.
The color drained from his face. My own face felt a little warm. What had possessed me to say that? I had no desire to put down roots in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere. Ian was a great potential relationship, and I was damn sure attracted to him, but that didn't mean I wanted to live as he did. I didn't think he really wanted to live as he did.
"So, where would you take a date if the diner wasn't an option?" I squirmed, trying valiantly to ignore the tingles. Chocolate pudding. Hairbows. Backpacks, puppies. Chrysanthemums, anal lube. Damn it!
"Usually Bend. There aren't any towns close by, so you have to be sure you're willing to spend a significant amount of time in the car with your date. Sometimes it's easier to just cook for them."
"Being cooped up in a car with someone you barely know can go two ways," I agreed.
The food came quickly, which was a good thing considering I was pretty sure we were the only ones actively waiting for food. The other few tables were already gobbling down their breakfasts.
My omelet was amazing, of course. I'd known it would be. A diner in a small town wouldn't stay afloat with mediocre food.
An older, robust woman in a Hollywood-grade diner uniform banged open the door from the kitchen as we finished up. "Ian!" she bellowed.
"Hey, Daisy," Ian said. "I wondered how long it would take you to come out."
"Who is your friend, darling?" Daisy walked around the counter with the coffee pot. "Tyler hasn't even refilled your cups, has he?" It didn't matter that he'd filled them twice. I glanced over at Tyler, cutting up a pie behind the counter.
"Hush, Auntie," he said good naturedly.
"Your food is delicious, Daisy," I said as a way of introduction.
Ian made the official introductions, then I interjected. "When I leave Three Lakes, please tell me you'll give me your coffee supplier's name? I've never had a brew this good."
"Oh, honey, it's plain old Folgers. Tried and true. The magic is in my secret ingredient." She patted her black hair, perfectly coiffed in a mini beehive hairdo.
"And I don't even know that," Tyler called out.
"You'd make a fortune selling the recipe to a chain," I told her. "I could broker a deal for you if you ever want it to happen." I fished a card out of my wallet. "Here," I held it out.
She laughed but took the card. "Honey, I'm not interested in making a mess of money on my secret ingredient. When I'm ready to pass the diner on, the secret will go with it, but not a moment before."
Tyler slapped his hand on the table. "If you don't pass this diner to me, I'm going to make your retirement hell, old woman."
"You'll get nothing, you ungrateful brat!" She winked at me before whispering, "I'm leaving it to him, but if he knows that he might not work as hard." She leaned across the table and grabbed two to-go cups. "Here. One for the road."
My eyes lit up at the large cup she handed me. "You're my favorite Three Lakes resident, Daisy. It's official."
"Hey, now," Ian said in mock outrage. "I'm hurt."
Daisy patted Ian on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Ian, that happens all the time. Cost of doing business when you're around me, I'm afraid."
I glanced at the clock, then nodded my head at Ian. "We really should get going," I said. "I've got to figure out how to get to Bend."
"Give me the check, Ty," Daisy said to her nephew. He handed it over and she offered it to Ian, but I snatched it from her.
Her raised eyebrows prompted me to explain. "He doesn't want to accept thanks for his hospitality. The least I can do is pay for breakfast."
"Hmph, well, I agree with that." She turned her shrewd eyes onto Ian. "You let this boy thank you properly."
"Yeah, Ian," I said in the most ironic voice I thought I could get away with in front of Daisy. "Let me thank you properly." Giving Ian a deadpan stare, I hoped he picked up on the hilarious innuendo.
Oh, he picked it up, if his red-again face was any indication. So did Tyler. He chortled behind the counter. "Get back here, Daisy. Let them leave."
