Chapter 7
What Heath had almost said last night was, “Your hands are better than sex.” He’d almost said that, and what’s worse is that it might even be true, since he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had sex.
God, he couldn’t remember the last time he had sex.
He sort of remembered the last time he got off with another man, but he wouldn’t call that sex, it was more like desperate rubbing off fueled by alcohol and hope, but he never saw the guy again. He didn’t even remember the guy’s name.
Heath understood he was destined to be alone, and he’d accepted that intellectually.
He poured his thoughts and his energy into his house and into work, both things he actually loved to do.
But apparently his dick wasn’t on the same page, because Parker’s strong, warm hands had made his shoulders relax and his balls ache.
That would not do at all. That was wildly inappropriate.
This was a close friend of Skyler’s who was stranded and had nowhere to go for Christmas.
This was not a man to be getting ideas about, or to be fooled around with.
Parker was a house guest, and that was all. A house guest who was very off-limits.
Plus Parker clearly had zero interest in him and would be on his way as soon as he was ready to ride again.
They’d watched a movie and then gone their separate ways to bed, and things felt weird this morning as they drove toward Beckett and Skyler’s place. Or maybe he was just feeling weird—Parker seemed to be… Parker.
“Feel free to find something on the radio.” He turned off his road and onto the wider, but still quiet, county road.
“What do you listen to normally? I bet you’re an NPR man.”
He laughed. Was he that transparent? “Guilty as charged. All Things Considered is a staple on my commute. But I also like rock and country and a little pop.”
“Beck’s an NPR guy too. I figured y’all had stuff in common.”
“We’ve known each other a long time. He’s an excellent business partner. We make a good team.” The plow had been through here and the sun was bright today, so the road was nice and clear. “Do you ski?”
“I have. I suck at it, but it’s so much fun.” Parker turned to face him. “I’ve done cowboy days at Steamboat a bunch, and I even went to Gay Ski Week in Aspen once. Fancy.”
“Gay Ski Week is a thing? I love it.” He pictured a whole mountain covered in rainbows. “I haven’t seen anything that fancy here, but everyone is equal with skis on.”
“It’s a big deal out there—parties and all sorts of things. It’s wild.” Parker snorted softly. “Wild and way too fancy for this old boy.”
“Sounds too fancy for me, and I know I’m older than you are.” Parker looked about twenty. Well, his face did, the cowboy’s eyes seemed older.
“You think? I bet I’m older than you’d guess.”
He glanced over at Parker, then back at the road. “I was just thinking that you look about twenty but your eyes…they hold more. If you’re asking me to guess? Twenty-five. Tops.”
“Aren’t you a sweetheart? I’m thirty-one, or will be in February.”
He laughed. “Oh wow. I was just a little off, huh? And I’ll be thirty-two…in February.”
“Oh? What day?” Parker beamed at him.
He rolled his eyes. “Valentine’s Day.”
“Ha! Mine is the fifteenth. You know how much discounted heart-shaped candy was at my birthday parties?”
“Yeah, everything leftover from the full-priced shit I got at mine.” He grinned and shook his head.
“Well, I love it. You’re a year and a day older than me. That’s not hardly a thing.” Parker was laughing, so happy.
Parker loved to laugh. That was the one thing he’d learned about the cowboy in the last twenty-four hours. And laughter looked good on Parker too. Heath snorted and smoothed out his beard. “You still look like you don’t need to shave, baby face.”
Parker sighed, the sound dramatic as hell. “True that. I am not real fuzzy. I do like that in a man, though.”
No flirting with Skyler’s buddy.
He’d already made things awkward once, so he just played it cool. Or tried to. “Well, you’re in the right place. Beards are popular up here. Lumberjack-chic.” That was good. Not flirty, not pointing out that he had a beard or that adorable, baby-faced Parker was pretty much exactly his type.
Once upon a time, when he had a type.
“Good to know. Yours is hot as hell. Suits you to the bone.”
“Yeah? You like it?” That was absolutely the wrong question to ask, and yet…
Go him.
Goddammit.
“God yes. I think it suits you to the bone, and it looks soft. Gives you a jawline sharp as a razor and fits your mouth like—” Parker swallowed and pinked. “It’s good.”
He fixed his eyes on the road and pretended he hadn’t happened to glance over at the exact moment that man blushed. Timing was everything, and it was so pretty on Parker.
He’d pretend he hadn’t noticed that too.
“Well, thank you. You uh—you sound like a guy that appreciates facial hair.” Stupid. That was the stupidest thing he’d ever said in his whole damn life.
He liked the compliment though; he was proud of his beard and considered it more than looks. It was part of his personality.
“Maybe it’s envy, maybe it’s just sheer lust, who knows?” Parker’s chuckle was soft, self-deprecating. “Do you have family you’re going to see for Christmas?”
Just sheer lust. No big deal.
Unless you were crushing on the guy who just told you that.
He really hoped this house guest thing was short-lived. Parker was killing him.
“I do. I’ll go to my mom’s. My sister and brother and their families will all be there too. She actually has a condo in the same complex as Beckett’s parents. She moved there after Dad died two years ago, when the house was just too big for her to deal with.”
Parker offered him a nod. “That’s a nice complex. I helped Beck’s folks unload their moving truck. It sounds like a great time.”
“It’s a lot of company, for sure. I love it for a day. I get my niece and nephews all sugared up, and then I go home.” He laughed. Really though, they were all getting a little old for that. Last year it was a lot of ear buds and texting.
“There you go. How many do you have?”
“I have one niece and four nephews. My older sister has twin boys; they’re sixteen. My younger brother has three—the boys are twelve and ten, and my niece is seven. He has his hands full for sure.” He loved all those kids. “We’re a crowd when we all get together.”
“It sounds like it. I’m going to take Charlie out today, if she’s feeling better. If not, we still have a couple of days.”
“Cool. I won’t stay long. I’ll get right out of your hair. I have a wobbly banister calling me.” And he needed to breathe some air that Parker wasn’t also breathing. Break this spell, or whatever it was.
“Well, if you need some help… I’m handy as a pocket in a shirt, or so I’m told.”
“You are. I don’t think I know anyone I’d have asked to handle a chainsaw, but you were a pro.” Parker had handled it like it weighed nothing, which for someone his own size he understood but Parker was much smaller.
“It was fun. My muscles were all jittery and my hands were numb, but I’d do it again in a second.”
“Yeah, I don’t need to do that again any time soon.” He grinned. “That shoulder thing was real, man. And imagine how I’d have felt if I’d had to do it alone? And how long it would have taken me?”
“We’re not meant to have to do things like that in solitary. We’re social animals.”
He shrugged, then glanced over at Parker. “You think? Weren’t we just talking about all the time we spend alone?”
“We were, but it wasn’t a joyous talk, and at the end, I was able to see the cowboys.”
“True. Well, we can be joyous chainsaw buddies.” He turned onto Beckett’s road, which was bumpy and narrow and so Vermont.
“Yes, sir. Sounds like a deal.” Parker offered him a tentative smile. “Hopefully my truck made it through all the snow.”
“It might be snowed in or buried, but it’ll be there. I’ll help you dig it out, no sweat.” He pointed up the road at a house with a pitched roof, a red brick chimney and dark shutters. “Their house is so pretty after new snow, isn’t it?”
“Yes. They have a great home.” There was a deep pain in Parker’s voice, a loss.
He reached out and rested a hand on Parker’s thigh. “You’ll find yours. You’ll find it, or you’ll make it on your own terms. Just wait, you’ll see.”
Parker met his eyes, so serious. “Maybe. Maybe I’ll just be the friend who couch surfs around. Everybody needs one, right?”
Heath parked next to Parker’s snow-covered truck, then returned that look. “Some of us have a whole room to offer, and you’re welcome to it.”
“Thanks. I—Thank you.” Parker held out one solid calloused hand.
He lifted the hand he’d left resting on the cowboy’s thigh and shook. He hoped his smile was reassuring. “You’re welcome. And be warned, there are kids in snow suits coming for you.”
A snowball hit the passenger side window.
Parker’s eyes lit up. “Want to come and play?”
“You’re not dressed for this weather…”
“So? I won’t freeze. How often do you get to play in Christmas snow?” Parker winked at him. “Come on, we can take them!”
Then Parker opened the truck door and bounced out of the cab, roaring at the top of his lungs.
They had Christmas snow every year, but to be fair, it had been a long time since he’d played in it. He jumped out of the truck, following Parker’s lead.
The cowboy was definitely going to freeze.
Somebody had to look after him.