Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
CALVIN
What the fuck are you doing, Cal?
“Why are you dressed like that?”
“I…uh…I was…uh…” Micah’s voice trailed off before he answered anything. His eyes, forever downcast, never moved off their spot, staring at the floor.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-three.”
“Have you stolen from me?”
“I’ll pay you back for the water and the electricity.” He took a shuddering breath before continuing. “It might take some time.”
“Do you think that’s going to break me?” Micah flinched when the words whipped out. “I meant items, not utilities.” Other than a few sniffles, Micah didn’t speak when he shook his head.
The words I was about to utter made no sense, but they were inevitable. The most important lesson my father had ever taught me about business was to trust my instincts. Right now, they were screaming to keep Micah with me. Something about him intrigued me…something I didn’t have the time or the inclination to examine. Also not on the examination list were the irrational tendrils of jealousy every time the cop spoke to Micah.
“I have a job for you if you want it.”
“Do I have to do anything illegal?” His voice was barely above a whisper.
“Given what I’m assuming you were about to do, I’m somewhat surprised that would be an issue for you. But, no, it’s not illegal. Do you want the job or not?”
He managed to nod, but the constant bob of his Adam’s apple hinted at his struggle to maintain his composure.
“You answer when I speak to you.”
“Yes, sir,” he croaked out.
“Calvin. Then stand up and let’s go.”
No explanation would rationalize inviting this trespassing potential sex worker into my life. The boy was desperate, but there was more to my interest than altruism. When I’d stepped into the shed, the entirety of my body and brain homed in on him. And it pissed me off on a visceral level to see the state he was in. He was barely dressed, the cot in the corner couldn’t be comfortable, and I’d bet money mice had taken up residence here. He wasn’t tall but was at least twenty pounds underweight for his slight frame.
The cop was convinced I was a rich asshole ready to throw this kid in jail. I might not want someone taking up residence on my property, but I wasn’t the dick he presumed me to be, although there were plenty of people who’d argue he was correct. I failed miserably to school my features into something besides a scowl, but damned if I was going to tell Officer Hagen any of that. When I’d asked to come back inside with Micah, I wasn’t certain what I’d say to him, and now he was about to leave with me.
All of that meant I needed to figure out what job I’d offered him. Fuck . The sound was dangerously close to becoming another full-blown sob. I almost regretted my offer but wasn’t willing to rescind it. Micah needed to be with me. Period.
“Gather whatever is yours, and we’ll take it with us.” Micah nodded and gathered the items dumped on the floor. I handed him a box, and he quickly put them in it and then picked up a backpack that seemed like it had been through a war. The straps were ragged on the ends and threadbare. Micah gingerly unzipped it and poked around. From my vantage point, I saw a light-green cloth, possibly a blanket, what looked like a children’s book of some kind, and a folded newspaper, but nothing more. This kid…well, man…was living rough.
“I…I think that’s everything. My bike would be the only other thing.”
Micah’s voice barely carried across the garden shed. Whether from fear or cold, he was shivering and moved more like a man of seventy than twenty-three. In the box was an extra set of clothes and a few inexpensive toiletries. His entire life fit into a box and a knapsack.
Micah stood motionless, waiting for instructions, and that stirred my dick for inexplicable reasons I wasn’t examining in a goddamn garden shed. On closer inspection, he wasn’t motionless at all. His teeth chattered and shivers racked his body. Shit . It would only take a few minutes until we were in the house, but I pulled the threadbare blanket off the cot and dropped it across his shoulders. Micah gasped, then grasped it tightly. I picked up the box of Micah’s possessions, and he followed me out the door with his backpack tightly gripped in his hand.
“Officer Hagen, thank you for coming over, but no report is needed. It appears this was nothing more than a misunderstanding. Jonas was unaware Mr. Morgan had permission to stay here,” I informed the cop abruptly.
Now that I’d decided to keep him close, I was eager to install Micah in my home. There was no point delaying the inevitable. The cop continued to ask Micah questions and offered to take him where he wanted to go. At some point in the exchange, I realized the probing questions were because he was concerned for Micah’s safety.
“May I ask where you’re going so I can close out my report?” Hagen asked Micah.
“You can reach me through Mr. Rutledge,” he answered after a quick look and confirming nod from me.
“Okay, if I’m not needed, I’ll head out.” He paused to pull a card from his pocket and hand it to Micah before he added, “Here’s my card. If you need further assistance, please call the station.” He turned to me with a card too. “Sir, please let me know if there are any other misunderstandings. I’ll check back in with both of you in the morning.”
“Thank you again, Officer. You can reach both of us at the main house number. I believe the chief has it on file at the station. We work on several committees together for various charity organizations. If you’d like to stop by to check on everyone’s well-being, you are welcome to do that as well.”
Hagen’s nod was as curt as my own had been earlier. Jonas walked Officer Hagen over to his squad car before he jogged back to us with his hand outstretched.
“Here, Mr. Rutledge, take my truck back to the house so you guys don’t have to walk. I’ll hitch a ride with Beckett,” Jonas said with a nod to the officer. He handed me the keys while Beckett Hagen waited for him near his squad car.
“Thank you, Jonas. Where do you want me to leave the keys?”
“Oh, they’ll be fine in the ignition. No one is gonna steal it from your driveway, and I’ll clear out some space in the bed and bring the kid’s bike back to the house. I’ll put it out in the garage.”
“That’s fine. I’ll let him know where it’s at. Thank you for keeping such a close eye on things around here.”
“Not nearly close enough if we just found him today.”
“Yes, well, something tells me Micah Morgan has a talent for hiding in plain sight, and that’s how he wants it.”
Neither Micah nor I spoke on the two-minute drive back to the house. I’d helped him inside the truck when he seemed wobbly and set the box on his lap. He whispered his thanks but remained mute for the duration of the trip. In fairness, I didn’t speak either. In the silence, his gasp from the passenger seat echoed around the truck’s cab when I pulled up to the house.
I had an ever-growing list of questions about how he’d found his way to the shed, but I kept them to myself. Tomorrow would be soon enough to interrogate him.
He remained glued to the seat when I shut off the engine. His owl eyes appeared more terrified than impressed. “Stay in the seat and I’ll come around for the box. You can take the backpack.”
“It’s okay,” Micah whispered. “I can carry both.”
“I don’t enjoy being argued with.”
“I’m sorry.” Fuck, he was going to cry again.
“It’s fine. Just wait.”
I slid out of the driver’s seat and walked around the other side to him. When I yanked open the rusty door, he remained motionless. I picked up the box from his lap, tucked it under my arm, and held the door for him as he slid off the seat.
“Follow me.” Micah obediently fell into step behind me. With the blanket wrapped around him, he reminded me of a street urchin, which, I guess, he was, but the idea of it didn’t sit well with me.
True to my instructions, Micah was one step behind me when we entered the front door. Without pause or a second glance, I headed up the stairs leading to the bedrooms on the second floor. I took them two at a time, but when I reached the landing, it occurred to me Micah followed considerably slower behind me. He was visibly struggling to force his muscles to move forward.
I dropped the box and retraced my steps to him. I wrapped an arm around his waist, intending to take some of his weight, but there was none. Until I put my hands on him, I hadn’t realized he was nothing but skin and bones. Even with my assistance, he struggled to walk up the stairs. That was the reason—the only reason—I led him to the bedroom next to my own. As weak as he was, I’d be the only one around to help if he needed assistance. It was a practical decision. I guided him to an overstuffed chair in the corner. Micah perched on the edge as if he were worried it couldn’t take his weight.
“You need anything right now?”
“No, sir.”
“Food?”
“No, sir, I’m fine. I’m not hungry right now.” My eyes narrowed at that bit of nonsense, but I let it go for the moment.
“Okay, I have some work to finish. If you go, please don’t take anything with you.” Fuck me . “I’ll come and check on you in a little bit.”
After my last bit of idiocy, Micah only closed his eyes and nodded.
Before I said anything equally stupid, I let myself out of the room and headed to my office downstairs. I kept a standard office over on the mainland but preferred to work from home when it was an option. I was never more at ease than when I was in this house. Built by my grandparents, it was a classic Pacific Northwest craftsman primarily made of glass, rock, and cedar. It was sprawling but always intended to be a family home.
I settled behind my desk and picked up the report I’d been reading when Jonas had contacted me about the unknown trespasser in the shack at the far end of the property. I’d read less than ten pages before I tossed it aside to fret about how Micah fared upstairs. My mind wandered to the curly-haired stranger with the pretty green eyes fringed with impossibly long lashes.
His hair was clean enough, but it was dry and brittle. His clothes emphasized his underweight status. The black circles and eyeliner gave him a haunted appearance. He wasn’t at his best, but damned if I couldn’t keep my eyes off him. I remembered enough from college psychology courses to understand sexuality was a spectrum, but another man had never interested me enough to reconsider my straight status. Micah stirred me.
His quiet politeness made me want to protect him and defile him, preferably at the same time. It sure as hell looked like it had been a while since anyone had been Micah’s protector. I could hardly claim that mantle, given a few of my comments struck far below the belt. Shit .
Reading wasn’t possible with the distraction upstairs, and I needed to take my mind off Micah before I did something truly foolish, like ignore him when he said he wasn’t hungry.
I wasn’t naive enough to think he hadn’t been about to earn some money the oldest way possible. No one dressed like that during the day unless they were about to sell something, and that something was themselves. Desperate for something to occupy my mind, I looked through the invitations on my desk. There was a never-ending stream of business lunches and charity gatherings I fucking hated to attend by myself.
“I guess Claire won’t be going anymore,” I muttered.
Claire had been my buffer date for several years until she realized we were never headed toward anything permanent. I’d always been clear, but she held on to the possibility of changing my mind. After she realized I wouldn’t, she cut her losses, and I wished her well. Her moving on had left me with an empty arm at social events, which was unfortunate. With a groan, I leaned back in my chair. Going solo to these fucking events was such a pain in the ass.
Inspiration hit when I realized I didn’t need to find someone when I had a perfectly good option upstairs. As the CEO of our family’s tech investment firm and foundation, my hours weren’t set by a location or a clock, so it wouldn’t seem odd that no one knew him. Micah seemed to be quiet and polite, which meant he wouldn’t be a social butterfly who expected me to flit around with him. It might raise a few eyebrows, but obnoxious as it sounded, I was rich enough that I wasn’t too concerned. People would make assumptions, and it didn’t matter a single fuck to me. Problem solved.
#Calvin: Hey, Pop. How’s the life of a pirate?
Pop: Ahoy matey! It involves more buffets than I expected and a lot fewer wenches.
Calvin: I’m shocked the ladies aren’t into older men cruising with caretakers.
Pop: Your parents go to bed before I do because they want to have their nightly argument early so they can hit the gym before it gets crowded in the morning.
Calvin: Don’t you think it’s weird two people who get along so well like to fight so much?
Pop: Yes, but what do the kids say? Do something loo? I think I messed that up?
Calvin: Do you, boo.
Pop: That makes no sense.
Calvin: And do something loo does?
Pop: Bah. What’s the matter?
Calvin: There has to be something wrong to say hello?
Pop: In the middle of the afternoon when I know you’d normally be hidden away in your office? Yes.
Calvin: What do you do when you know the thing you want to do is selfish, but it helps someone else anyway?
Pop: You want the okay to use people and pretend it’s for their own good?
Calvin: It’s not like that.
Pop: Good, because that would be pretty underhanded.
Calvin: Love you. Enjoy the pillaging.
Pop: The buffet doesn’t stand a chance. Love you too.
Everyone needed to eat, which was the only reason I knocked on the bedroom door with a food tray. From the other side came noises that sounded suspiciously like more tears. I knocked and then waited a reasonable amount of time, at least ten seconds, but no answer came from inside.
“May I come in?”
Micah didn’t answer, which I took as permission. I stepped into the room and found him exiting the bathroom. I set the tray on the coffee table in the room’s sitting area. “I know you said you weren’t hungry, but I wasn’t sure when you last ate.”
Micah’s eyes were more red-rimmed than when he arrived this afternoon. I was surprised he hadn’t changed and the worn blanket was still on his shoulders. His box of personal items remained on the floor, with his backpack piled on top. He hadn’t moved anything. More odd was that it appeared nothing was disturbed. The pillows and duvet on the bed were completely smooth, and the throw pillows on the couch hadn’t been disturbed.
“Have you been in here the whole time?”
“Yes, sir, I haven’t left.”
“Do you have clothes to change into?”
“Uh, I have another set, but I haven’t had the money to wash them, so I’ve been doing it in the sink.”
“So why not change into them?” Micah lowered his head, and a bright-red flush colored his cheeks. He remained quiet. “Answer me,” I said softer this time.
“Because they are too dirty to wear in your house. This room won’t hide any dirt, and I can’t afford to fix anything I ruin.” Micah’s voice cracked at the end of his explanation, and his chin wobbled as he fought to maintain his composure. He was close to losing the battle.
“Where are you sitting in here?” I glanced around for a hard seat that wouldn’t show dirt. Micah didn’t answer. “The carpet?” Micah remained silent. “The fucking bathroom?” Micah nodded.
“Absolutely not.” I strode over to the box with his items. There was the barest sliver of bar soap and a seemingly empty shampoo bottle. “Why did you bring an empty shampoo bottle?”
“There’s a few more washes in it if I fill it with water,” Micah answered in a barely audible voice.
“Why didn’t you wash up?”
“I didn’t know what towels to use.”
“What towels…? What’s wrong with the ones in the bathroom?”
What was I missing ?
“People have really strict rules about towels. Sometimes, there are show towels and real towels, and sometimes, they have regular towels and company towels. I wasn’t sure what your rules were, so I didn’t use any of them.”
I swallowed the curse that clawed in my throat, turned on my heel instead, and headed toward the bathroom.
There were always extra hygiene products in the linen cabinet, so I pulled out shampoo, conditioner, and body wash and set them on the shelf in the shower. I grabbed a packaged toothbrush and toothpaste from the vanity and put them on the counter. When I exited the bathroom, Micah remained affixed to the same spot he’d been in.
“Use the towels and the products that are in the bathroom. There’s a bathrobe hanging behind the bathroom door.”
“Yes, sir.”
“When you’re done showering, eat dinner and go to bed. You sleep in the bed. Not on the couch, the floor, or in the bathroom. I want you in the actual bed. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
I hoped like hell I hadn’t made the mistake of my life. I hadn’t known Micah for a day and was already losing my mind.