Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Iven
I had no regrets. Zero. The kiss we’d shared had been playing on repeat in my head for the last week and a half. A steady loop of scratchy-soft beard, sharp teeth, and a thick, wet tongue invading my cracks and crevices until all I could think about was Maddox, Maddox, Maddox.
Penelope caught me daydreaming at least six different times, my fingers rubbing my lips.
I’d been so distracted by a dream that I’d neglected to wake up early enough to pick up my loaf of bread from the bakery.
Like a teenager, I’d been walking around with hard-ons. I had this undeniable thirst within me.
Awakened.
Just like some of the gay romances I’d read as of late.
Bisexual awakening. That’s what they called it when this sort of thing happened.
When you went your whole life thinking one thing about yourself—knowing one thing about yourself—and then poof.
You met the right person, and presto-bingo, all you wanted to do was figure out if touching someone else’s dick was as fun as touching your own.
It turned out that sexuality was a spectrum, and everyone’s schedule was personal.
Second puberty.
In my forties.
Who woulda thunk?
Maddox had been giving me space, which I appreciated.
He’d even gone as far as to text me to let me know he was giving me space.
That he understood, while our kiss had been delightful for him too, he thought, given the situation, it would be in my best interest to take some time to process how I felt about it all.
I’d been processing.
And let me tell you—the only thing I felt was a deep-seated urge to close up shop and rub my face all over Maddox’s beard.
There wasn’t really anyone I could talk to about it, either.
At least, until I realized that the one person I should be talking to about it was Maddox. And then, all over again, I couldn’t wait to see him next. To go to his house and get enthusiastic about all the things I’d never known I could enjoy.
Maddox: Come hungry. I’m cooking.
Maddox’s text came at exactly the right time. A bubble of laughter escaped me, startling one of my regulars. He’d been reading the blurb on the back of a book when he glanced over and gave me an annoyed look.
“Sorry, sorry,” I waved him off. “Just…” I grinned at my phone, wagging it at him.
“You know, getting invited to dinner. Again. Because someone wants to spend time with me. Because they like me.” What a novel thought.
Maddox didn’t find me boring in the slightest. Which was great, because I didn’t find him boring either.
The customer was not amused by my mania, nor was he titillated by my joy. With an annoyed huff, he turned back to his book.
“Tough crowd,” I muttered out of the corner of my mouth. Unperturbed, I flounced my way through the shop over to Penelope to tell her the good news. She’d been my emotional support youth over the last week and was far more patient than I paid her to be.
“I have a date,” I told her, wagging my phone at her.
“Really?” She blinked, setting her own phone down. She swiveled on the chair behind the register, one dark brow arched. “That was fast.” She took the phone from me, scrolling through our text thread before handing it back.
“Yes, well, apparently Maddox wants to see me. For dinner. Tonight. Alone.” Fanning my hand out in front of me, I inspected my nails for maximum drama before turning my gaze back on her with a smirk. “I’m very popular with bearded folk.”
She shook her head, amused. “Old man yaoi.”
I only knew what old man yaoi was because Penelope was the one responsible for the shelf of BoysLove manga in the back of the shop.
She picked it, I stocked it. Maybe that would be where I needed to dip my toe next?
If the fond look on her face was any indication of the genre, it was sure to be interesting.
“Old man yaoi, where both of you use perfect punctuation in all your texts. If I texted my boyfriend like that, I’d give him a heart attack. Periods are fucking diabolical,” Penelope continued gleefully.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Only because you’re, like, Jurassic.”
“Hardy-har har har.”
I didn’t find her comment about my age insulting. Forty-six wasn’t old by any means, and I knew that. In fact, I found it somewhat cute that she thought I was ancient. Kids could be so obtuse in their naive young-age.
“Stop giving me that look,” Penelope laughed.
“What look?”
“Like I’m a kid with brownie batter on my face.”
“Well, that’s oddly specific.” I adjusted my glasses. “I feel like there’s a story there.”
Penelope then blessed me by pulling up some pictures of her as a child—said brownie batter incident in particular.
And that was what actually made me feel old.
The fact that she’d had pictures taken of her on a cellphone when she was in nappies.
Jesus. When I was a kid, it was a good old film camera if you were lucky—or one of those disposable things that were probably bad for the environment.
It was a good distraction, but not good enough—because even baby-Penelope’s chubby cheeks could not divert my attention completely.
What were Maddox and I going to get up to tonight?
He’d said he was cooking. Not to be uncharitable, but I couldn’t imagine him preparing anything fancier than a reheated good ole Campbell’s chicken soup.
Did he open the soup cans with a pocket knife? Probably.
Another giddy laugh escaped as I realized I didn’t mind that.
Not one bit.
In fact, I found it charming.
You know what was also charming? Maddox’s driveway. I couldn’t help but think so as I drove my truck up the winding path and noted all the lovely wooden sculptures buried in the snow along it. I’d noticed them before, but as we’d been fresh out of a snowstorm from Hell, they’d been mostly buried.
Today had been, dare I say it, almost pleasant? The sun had shown, melting enough of the snow to allow patches of dirt road to peek through. Which of course meant that the statues lining Maddox’s private road—that’s what it was, really—had been revealed in a way they never had before.
There were dozens of different kinds. Animals, mostly. Most notably, a moose, with antlers so broad and detailed I couldn’t fight the shiver of unease. I half expected the thing to start walking, to flare its nostrils, puffs of icy breath escaping, and charge.
It didn’t, of course.
It wasn’t real.
But that didn’t mean I wasn’t left in awe as I pulled up to the little cabin right next to Maddox’s matching truck and took a moment to get myself under control.
I hadn’t been nervous all week. I hadn’t been nervous earlier when I’d gotten his text.
Hadn’t been nervous as I’d locked up shop, headed upstairs to change, and gotten into my car posthaste.
But now I was.
And it was…delightful.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this familiar flutter in my belly. Nor could I remember ever kissing someone and daydreaming about it afterward, and I’d certainly done that. A lot lately.
I hadn’t been lying when I said I’d have no hang-ups about being bisexual if that were the case. I was perfectly happy with the way my sexuality had proven to be far more fluid than expected. Bisexual Iven was in his man-chasing era.
More specifically, my Maddox-chasing era.
The only man I’d ever hunted for.
It was the good kind of nerves I felt as I slid out of the truck and my boots crunched in the snow. Patches of dirt were visible, puddles of mud left over from the day’s thaw. I avoided them as I made my way to the front door empty-handed for the first time.
Maddox opened the door before I could knock.
I could only assume he’d been watching me, which was…honestly very cute.
He loomed.
He always loomed.
Even in his own cabin, he seemed to take up every last millimeter of space within the doorway.
I didn’t know why I thought that would be different.
That at his home, Maddox would have different doorways to fit his considerable size more effectively.
Maybe because in my head, he was simply magic like that.
Special. He defied the norms, and he deserved a world catered to his comfort.
Maddox was wearing a flannel. No coat. His big chest and thick belly looked particularly lovely when dressed in red. Like sexy-rugged-lumberjack-Santa, a thought I’d had before but was wise enough not to say aloud.
He’d clearly just showered if the fact that his clipped-short hair, dripping, was any indication. Damp. He was delightfully damp. Oh boy. Lucky me.
“Hi,” I said, surprised my voice came out as evenly as it had. “You look tasty.”
It took my mind a moment to catch up with my mouth.
Maddox’s eyes widened, his dark brows rising as he stared at me for a beat before his lips curled upward.
“Good hygiene,” I reminded him. “I like that in a person.” He shook his head with an amused huff before stepping to the side to let me in.
It was the first time I’d been allowed inside, and I couldn’t help but feel flattered as I took the space in with excitement.
Maddox shut and locked the door, movements slow and steady as always.
A rather large dog greeted us both the moment we entered.
And by greeted, I mean, he lifted his head from where it was lying on the ground before flopping back down with a sigh.
He looked to be a mix of some sort, and I had to bite back my glee when I recognized a lot of Bernese Mountain Dog within him.
I’d related his owner to that same breed, and an article I read online once about people adopting animals that looked like them came to mind immediately.
“That’s Brutus,” Maddox introduced us. “Lazy old boy.” Brutus sighed again, his white and brown fur catching the firelight. He didn’t move again, aside from a few heavy breaths as he soaked up the warmth from the fire and began to quietly snore.