Chapter 4
HOPPER
I sat Noel’s bags just inside his bedroom door, formerly my bedroom. I’d removed a handful of clothes and my phone charger, lotion, and tissues from the nightstand. I’d been in a dry spell, and a guy had to take care of his needs somehow.
Occasionally, I drove to Riverton or Omaha to hit a gay club—but there wasn’t much point to using Grindr or Thrust apps. I knew everyone around here. If they were on that app, they were probably in the closet or already in a relationship. I didn’t need that kind of bullshit drama.
I spotted the corner of a box peeking out from under the bed. Shit. My box of…tools. I should have moved that. I started into the room.
“What are you doing?” Noel demanded from the staircase. I froze and turned. “Get out of my room.”
I returned to the doorway, leaning against the jamb.
I had to play this cool. If Noel Grisold found the box full of my dildos under his bed, he’d probably laugh his ass off.
No one saw me as the guy who wanted that kind of thing, but damn it, I deserved a good dicking down as much as the next gay man, even if I was six foot three.
“Relax, I’m just dropping off your bags.”
He scoffed. “They’re right by the door. No need for you to go snooping.”
I smirked. “Noel, you’ve been gone for years. I’ve had all the chances to spy on you that I could have wanted. Turns out, you’re not that interesting.”
His hazel eyes narrowed, looking stormy with their swirl of amber and green flecks of color. “You sound like you’re proud of yourself for weaseling into my home.”
“Is it your home? I hadn’t noticed, given the fact that you’re never here.”
I brushed past him and sauntered down the stairs. He huffed loudly behind me, and the door slammed shut. I winced, cutting my eyes toward the living area. Maggie wasn’t there.
Judging by the scent of fried chicken making my mouth water, she was finishing up dinner. She hadn’t cooked much lately, given how much time she’d been devoting to Ed and the fact the poor old guy hadn’t had much of an appetite.
I wouldn’t turn down a golden, crispy brown chicken leg or three, though. I’d spent most of the day before Noel arrived cutting trees to haul into nearby towns. My body ached pleasantly with the soreness of a hard day’s labor, the best kind of workout.
I loved being outdoors, working with the trees and the land, just Cinnamon for company.
There was a peace in the country you couldn’t find anywhere else in the world.
Let people like Noel have their big cities.
I wanted the wide-open horizon, the best sunsets in the whole dang world, and cicadas and frogs singing me a lullaby at night.
I went into the kitchen and pulled down the plates to set the table. Noel entered a few minutes later.
“What is he still doing here?”
“Who, Hopper? He eats dinner with us, dear. He works right up till six. It would be rude to let him go hungry, wouldn’t it?”
“I guess,” he grumbled, shooting me a suspicious look.
I wasn’t sure what I’d done to get under Noel’s skin. We hardly knew each other in high school. We hadn’t really moved in the same crowds. Not that Noel had much of a crowd, but I seem to remember him being friends with one of those foster kids from Riverton.
It was too bad Noel seemed so set against me, because he’d really grown into his too-large ears. He was still fun-sized, topping out around five six, but damn if he didn’t look like the most adorable Christmas elf.
Granted, one giving me a death glare. If he actually smiled, well…I’d be lost. He had turned into a knockout, with strong features that made his face masculine, but soft, rosy lips that looked made for kissing.
Or…other things.
And if I didn’t stop thinking about Noel’s mouth, I was going to be sporting wood at his family’s dinner table.
I cleared my throat and carried the plates to the dining room, setting each place at the little round table where we ate most meals.
There was a formal dining room, with a much larger table, but it was too much bother for casual lunches and dinners.
Noel came into the room, and I halfway expected him to demand the full-court service. Instead, he muttered to himself, “I should have made dinner.”
I shot him a look. “Fried chicken not good enough for the fancy chef?”
He looked up, his eyes suddenly piercing. “How is my father? Really?”
The worry in his voice made me falter.
“He’s better than he was,” I said carefully. “Still…fragile. But don’t let him hear you say that.”
Noel’s lips quirked. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“You should have been here,” I said. “He needed you.”
He flinched and looked away, hands tight over the back of the chair in front of him. “I should help my mother. She’s taking on too much.”
His comment about cooking hadn’t been snobbery at all, I realized.
He fled the room, and why wouldn’t he after I’d taken a swing at him? But it wasn’t as if I was saying anything untrue.
His father had been in the hospital, his mom had been scared half to death, and Noel hadn’t been here.
Maybe he’d see now how wrong that was.
Ed ambled into the dining room, still moving slowly but upright and not as deathly pale as he’d been when he first came home. He was too thin, still, but he looked stronger.
“Smells good in here.”
“Sure does. Maggie made fried chicken and mashed potatoes.”
“Damn, I do love that stuff.”
“I baked you a white chicken breast, dear,” Maggie said as she came into the room, carrying a plate made up for Ed.
Noel followed with a platter of golden fried chicken in one hand, a large bowl of potatoes in the other.
He placed the serving dishes in the center of the table, then returned to the kitchen for corn on the cob and a basket of dinner rolls.
Ed gazed down at his chicken breast with a forlorn sigh. “Can I have gravy, at least?”
“No, you may not,” Maggie said. “Too much sodium.”
“I’m going to die of starvation,” he complained. “It’s the bland food diet.”
“Oh, I could spice those up for you!” Noel jumped out of his seat and grabbed his dad’s plate.
“It has to be healthy!” his mom called, following him into the kitchen.
“I know,” Noel said, his voice trailing away to a quieter murmur.
Ed looked at me. “Well, god knows what that boy will try to feed me now. Probably those awful mashed cauliflower things.”
I snorted. “You reap what you sow.”
“Yeah, yeah…an old man should be allowed to bitch about his heart-healthy food. It’s not natural.”
I smiled, used to Ed’s moaning. “Your heart says differently.”
“Are you on their side, too?”
“Of course not,” I said. “A man deserves a pound of salt with dinner.”
“Damn right!”
Noel emerged quicker than expected, and Maggie followed, a nervous smile on her face. What had Noel done? I leaned forward, eager for the show, though wincing internally for poor Ed.
He eyed the plate. “Is that gravy? I thought I couldn’t have gravy.”
“Healthy version,” Noel said.
Ed wrinkled his nose, then cautiously took a tiny bite. He cocked his head in thought. “It’s not terrible.”
Noel’s expectant smile drooped. “Well, it’s better than nothing, I hope.”
He returned to his seat and started dishing up food.
Ed took another, larger bite. “Hmm. What is in this? It’s actually not bad.”
Noel’s lips twitched. “Do you really want to know my tricks or just enjoy the magic?”
Ed chuckled. “Fair enough. So long as you teach them to your mom before you leave.”
I leaned over toward Ed. “Is it really any good?” I asked under my breath.
“Well, it’s not cream gravy and a pound of butter, but it’s not bad. Try it, if you like.”
I surreptitiously took a spoonful and stuck it in my mouth. Huh. It tasted like…broth and garlic. Savory and flavorful. Definitely not bland.
I glanced across the table to find Noel’s eyes boring into me.
Right. Eating the food he prepared for his ailing father. Probably not the wisest move.
I retreated to my plate. “Maggie, you’ve outdone yourself tonight. This chicken is delicious.”
“Now you’re just being mean,” Ed complained as he cut a small bite of white chicken breast.
Noel raised one eyebrow, and I could perfectly read the thought going through his head. Does Hopper even know how to be nice?
I lowered my eyes to my plate, cleaning it of every bite and having seconds. Maybe I hadn’t given Noel the warmest reception. But he hadn’t exactly given me many openings for kindness. Maybe when he asked about his dad, I could have been more sensitive…
But no. What was I doing? Noel had been sharp and prickly ever since I greeted him at his car. He’d refused to let me help with his bags. He’d shot me the dirtiest looks I’d ever gotten from a guy who wasn’t an ex-hookup.
He didn’t want me here. That much was clear. I just didn’t know why.
I helped clear away the dishes, pack up leftovers, and wash up. Noel went upstairs as soon as dinner was over, probably tired from traveling all day.
I followed soon after, ready for a hot shower and sleep. I went into the guest room across the hall, still smelling musty from being closed up with nothing but a stack of old boxes for months on end.
I stripped down to my boxer briefs and grabbed my towel that I’d slung over the duffel I’d packed for the few days Noel would be here.
I stepped out into the hall at the same time as Noel. He paused, eyes wide, hair slightly messy as if he’d been lying on it in bed.
His flannel pants clung to him in all the right ways, but the scowl on his face ruined the attraction a bit.
“What the hell are you still doing here?”
“Again with the glaring,” I drawled. “Is my presence really so difficult for you?”
“Your presence is confusing.” His gaze dipped from my face, landing somewhere in the region of my pecs. He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing, as his gaze slipped lower and lower.
Somewhere around the time he locked onto my half-hard dick, I remembered that I was wearing only underwear. I shifted my towel in front of my waist.
“Eyes up top, sweetheart.”
He jerked his gaze up, cheeks blazing red. “Go the fuck home, Hopper.”
“Sorry to tell ya, Noel, but I am home.”
I left him gaping at the doorway behind me with a horror-struck expression.
If I couldn’t play nice, I’d just have to play dirty.