Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
By the time Dawson got to California, he was ready for a couple of days off. He was sick to death of the corporate bullshit, he was sick to death of sponsors, he was sick to death of politics. And a couple of guys had gotten hurt at the last event, and he and his boys felt responsible for that.
Not that they always were when somebody got hurt.
Sometimes an act of God happened. Sometimes people were careless, and it wasn’t them.
Sometimes a cowboy just got up and ran the wrong damn direction.
But still, nobody wanted one of the guys to end up with a concussion, and that was what had happened.
So when Les picked him up at the airport and drove him to Seamus’s house, he was more than ready to pamper his lover a little bit.
He couldn’t bring himself to call Seamus a boyfriend.
That was so juvenile-sounding, but maybe that was what he was.
Who knew? One way or the other. His man.
And he wanted to hang out with him for a few days and enjoy being just guys together.
Jess was there at the door, and she met him with a grin. “Nice to see you, man. Seamus is snoozing and Aaron is at puppy training with the dragon dog, so I thought I’d let you in.”
Seamus wasn’t the world’s biggest napper, and Dawes’s eyebrows drew down in a frown. “Is he okay?”
“He’s fine. He’s hurting a little bit. You know, the third day is the worst and all that.
So I think he’s just super sore and had a problem sleeping last night.
He’s dozed off in his chair waiting for you.
” Jessica tossed her head, her perfectly coiffed ponytail bobbing.
“He insisted on taking a shower and getting clothes on and finding the appropriate pair of jeans that he could put over his boot. I think Nick might kill him.”
“Oh, that would be problematic.” He had flown across country to get to Seamus after all.
“Yeah, well, as long as it’s not me.” She winked at him.
“Can I get you anything? I’m heading out.
Topher is here, of course. I’m not sure where Nick is.
He may be out at the grocery store, and I know that Shay is planning something for you for dinner, some sort of fancy thing.
Please don’t let him go out and clomp around yet.
He’s not ready. If something hits that ankle, he’s just gonna lose it in public.
That’s the last thing he needs. The paparazzi are already hunting him. ”
“I do know. I’ll keep him here or something. Maybe he’ll get food delivered. He’s pretty smart.” Hell, the man had a nutritionist and a cook. Dawson held out his arms, and she walked into them, giving him a hug, which was really nice. They were getting on that kind of a friend level.
“He can be pretty dumb about you. That’s okay, it’s cute.
” She kissed his cheek. “All right, I’m out of here.
There’s beer, Cokes, and iced tea in the fridge, and there’s all sorts of your kind of snacks in the cabinet next to the fridge on the right.
Nick stocked it, but he didn’t tell Seamus, so don’t eat Swiss cake rolls in front of him. ”
“I promise I will consume them late at night when he’s asleep.” It was such a lie. He would totally share his sweet Swiss cake rolls with Seamus. They could just work it off. Even with a bad foot, he was sure he could find physical activity Seamus could do to get his heart rate up.
She waved and headed out, locking the door behind her.
He dropped his bag in the entryway and then went to find Seamus in the den area. It was like a funny man cave thing where his foot was up in the recliner, the boot covered with a fuzzy blanket.
Weirdo.
Dawson went over and pressed a kiss to Seamus’s forehead, not wanting to startle him, but wanting him to know he was right there.
Seamus blinked, his eyes opening, a smile crossing his face when he saw Dawson. “Hey!”
“Hey, baby, how you feeling?” He stroked Seamus’s hair back off his forehead, noticing how sunken his eyes looked and how tight his mouth was. Jesus, poor baby.
“I’m okay. Especially now that you’re here. I hate how much the foot is throbbing, and you know I don’t like to take anything.” Seamus reached for him, and he took Seamus’s hand, raising it to his lips.
“I know. You should at least take some Tylenol.”
“Says the man who muscles through pretty much every injury with just a beer.”
“Not every injury, but I have my moments.” He studied the whole recliner situation, then glanced over at the couch. “I don’t suppose you want to move.”
“Well, if I do, I think we should move to the bedroom because you can help me hobble along without putting any weight on it. That way we don’t have to worry about getting up again.”
“Jess said you had arranged some sort of thing for dinner. Are you going to have to get up for that?”
Seamus shook his head. “Uh-uh. We can eat in bed.”
He let a slow smile spread across his face. “That sounds damn good, honey. I just need to change into something once I get you settled.”
“We can wait and grab your bag for a while, and we can snuggle, right? You’ve got to be tired.”
Dawson loved that. He adored how Seamus asked for what he wanted.
How he knew exactly what he needed and wasn’t afraid to go for it.
“Yeah, I can totally wait. There’s nothing in there that I need.
What I really want is you. And it doesn’t have to be acrobatic or even sexual. I just want to be with you.”
“Well, see? Then we’re totally aligned.” Seamus held up his arm so Dawson could lever him up off the chair. They put down the recliner foot first and then got Seamus up.
“Don’t you touch that foot to the floor. Boot or no boot.” He saw the crutches sitting over next to the chair, and he knew Seamus wasn’t supposed to be putting any weight on it at all yet.
“I’m not. I’m going to use you like a walker and just hold it up. You’re way more solid than the crutches.”
“Well, I am used to throwing cowboys out of the arena or pushing bulls out of the way. Gotta have some good muscles.”
“You have the best muscles, darl. How did the short-go go?” Seamus chuckled softly. “Go, go, go, go.”
“Dork.” He levered Seamus around and grabbed the crutches.
One way or the other they were going to need them at some point.
“Eh, it was fine. We had a couple of bad injuries, and I hate that, but we’re getting to the point in the season where guys are getting hurt.
They’re tired. They’re pre-injured for their own convenience. ”
“‘Pre-injured’.” Seamus looked at him as they hopped along. “Man, so I bet that they’re riding bulls with broken ankles.”
Dawson did not answer that, because what was he supposed to say? Sure they were, but then they were desperate for money, some of these kids. On the other hand, Seamus was worth a shit-ton of money and needed to be able to walk.
“So you fell off a stage you said?”
“Yep. I just slipped right off. It was so stupid.”
He shook his head. That was why they called them accidents, right? “Did you get all of the shots you needed before you fell?”
He got an arch look, Seamus beginning to pant a little bit. “I’ll have you know I worked until we got all the shots, and then I went to the hospital.”
“Oh babe, that had to have been awful.”
Seamus nodded. “To be honest though, I was so embarrassed and so pissed, it took a little while before the actual desperate hurting happened. So we just wrapped it up really tight, and I got those last shots done.”
Dawes stared. His man was crazy.
“I did! You’ll laugh. I did one where we were in hold, and it was a close-up, so I had one leg on a rolling chair because they were shooting from the waist up.”
Dawson snorted, “You are a magical animal, aren’t you?”
“I am!” Seamus was sweating by the time they got to the bedroom.
“You need to hit the head before you lie down, baby?” He knew he’d switched from honey to a more serious love word, but dammit, hurt Seamus was an awful thing, and Dawson wanted to take care of him.
“I ought to while I have you to help. Topher is great, but Les is a wee bit embarrassed when he has to assist.”
“I bet.” He chuckled. “And Nick is fluttery, one assumes.”
“Oh, my God. He just wants to make me collagen smoothies and stuff to help me heal.”
“Collagen smoothies.” He winced. “That sounds like hell on earth.”
Seamus shrugged at him. “It’s really no big deal, believe it or not. They don’t taste like anything. I mean, they just taste like smoothies.”
“Uh-huh. Do your thing, man.”
Seamus sat on the pot after pushing his sweats down, and Dawson headed to the bedroom to—unpack? Grab some shorts?
Grab some shorts.
“It’s not as bad as you think—bone broth, collagen stuff. It’s just food.”
He made himself busy while Seamus did his business and then helped him into bed.
“So what is this supper that you’ve got planned?”
He got a grin. “Tacos. I got a bunch of different taco type things, you know? Protein, protein, protein. I like this place because not only can you get good corn tortillas, but they also make this neat ass taco shell-type thing that’s shredded cheese melted up and formed into a taco shell.
So it’s got the crunch, but no one’s going to yell at me about eating it because there’s no carbs. ”
“It’s also pure cheese,” he pointed out.
And Seamus’s grinned at him. “I know right? But there’s no carbs, so that’s a thing.”
“I love how sneaky you are with the diet.” Seamus held to the letter, but often not the law. Still, the guy had what? Three percent body fat? It was wild how actors had to be so ripped and unnaturally skinny.
Luckily, Seamus was a big guy, so he didn’t look skinny at all.
“Mmm. Get in here with me.” Seamus patted the bed.
Dawson had on the soft shorts and no shirt now, and he slid into bed with Seamus, who frowned at his chest, then reached out to touch.
“That had to hurt.”
“Hmm?” He squinted down at his chest. Oh. Bruises. “I’ve been banged a lot.”