22. Shawn
Shawn
I wake up slowly, in stages of awareness, as if swimming up to the light from a deep dive in the Gulf of Mexico. I’m not alone in my bed—there’s a lump of human near me, but not touching. I register Blaze holding himself still, as if he’s been lying awake, waiting for me to open my eyes.
“Hey.” I’m overly conscious of my morning breath, of the new, slightly disorienting intimacy of waking up with a man in my bed.
“Hey,” Blaze says. The sheets rustle, and he sits up.
He’s smiling, his hair smooshed flat on one side, sleep sand crusting one eye partially shut.
He rubs at his eye, revealing the dark hair in his pit.
He’s shirtless, his powerful hairy chest on display, and I get an unexpected jolt of arousal.
I don’t know what it is about him, but I just can’t get enough of him, his body.
Morning breath be damned, I launch myself at him and steal a messy, sour kiss.
The sourness fades away as Blaze kisses back. He smiles against my mouth.
“Good morning,” he says when I pull back because it’s either stop kissing him or not stop until we’re both panting through our orgasms, and I don’t know what’s on his morning schedule.
“Morning. Is it early? It feels early.”
“Yeah, it’s early. I should get going, though,” he says, sounding regretful. “Work and Misty and stuff.”
“Can’t Brooke take care of Misty?” I scoot closer, wanting to put my head on his chest, but I don’t.
“Yeah, but I have to change. I’m leading a hike this morning. And later there’s a staff meeting.” He winces at the mention of the meeting.
“Are we going to be an item on the agenda?”
He shakes his head. “Hopefully not. You worried?”
“Are you worried? I hope they don’t give you any shit.”
“We’ll see. I’ll be discreet.”
“I know you will, but if you have to, you can throw me under the bus. Your job is more important than anything I have going on.”
Blaze looks offended. “I’m not going to throw you under the bus,” he says hotly.
“No.” I smile at him, feeling a ridiculous little flutter under my sternum. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would never,” he says seriously. “And my job is fine. We’re both consenting adults, aren’t we?”
“Last time I checked.” I don’t lay my head on his chest, but I give in to the urge to kiss him on the edge of his beard, right under his ear.
He makes a happy noise, so I kiss him again and don’t hear what he says next. “Hmmm?”
“What are your plans for the day?”
“I—oh shit.” No more kissing. “What time is it again?”
He reaches for his watch. “Almost seven.”
Not too late then. “I’m going to join the crew again today, but I don’t have to be at the site until eight.”
His eyebrows become one. “You don’t have to, you know.”
“I want to. Leo’s going to teach me to lay subflooring. And it’s going to be a beautiful day. Maybe a little chilly.”
“Wear layers,” Blaze says, because he can’t help it.
“Okay,” I answer, not teasing him because I kind of like the fuss. “What are you doing for dinner?” There’s a pause that goes on for too long. “What? Got a hot date?” I joke stupidly, feeling oddly nervous.
“No, I was thinking I should probably hash some stuff out with Brooke. But I want to see you, too.”
“No, you’re right, you should do that.” His relationship with his sister is important, though I’m bummed I might not get to see him until tomorrow.
“If I have time, I’ll stop by the construction site later.”
“Okay.”
Even though we both have to get our days started, neither of us moves. Finally, I crack a smile. “I guess we better go. I need a shower.”
“Yeah, me too,” he says.
Our gazes lock and Blaze bites his lip suggestively.
“Maybe we should share one,” I say. “Save some time?”
“And some water?”
“That, too.”
So we race each other to the shower. Not much water or time is saved, but we don’t give a damn.
“This needs an inch cut off,” Leo says, handing me a slab of the waterproofed plywood we’re using for the subflooring in the upstairs primary bedroom. I’m used to the table saw by now, and I go through the safety checks, don my goggles, fire it up, and slice off the requisite inch.
Luis is standing nearby when I finish. “What’s the plan for tomorrow?” I ask since the day’s edging toward the finish line.
“We’ll keep on with the subflooring, then hopefully get the interior drywall up. Windows are coming in this week, too,” he says.
“Is it me, or are the windows huge?”
“All custom,” Luis confirms. “Blaze wants his sister to have the best view in Maine.”
I nod, because it’s clear Blaze hasn’t mentioned anything about Brooke’s plans, and it’s not my place.
But as I follow Leo’s patient instructions and lay down more plywood, careful not to step through the gap we’re slowly filling in, I wonder what Blaze will end up deciding.
It’s going to be a fine house. Luis and his crew aren’t slapping up something quick, something that’ll look nice but have no staying power.
This house is being built to last. It’s going to hold up through long winters and harsh springs, be a haven during the buggy summers and a gorgeous place to admire the beautiful autumns.
I can imagine getting used to this much beauty all year round.
Between the hard physical labor and absorbing every detail I can about how to pick the right board for the right spot, how to read the plans, and how to choose between a screw and a nail, I don’t have much bandwidth left over to think about Blaze.
To think about how much I like him. About how being with him makes me happier than I can remember being in a long time.
About how, when he’s touching me, it’s more exciting than anything I’ve ever experienced.
I guess I should be having some crisis about my sexuality or something, but I can’t be bothered.
Out here, cut off from everything I used to know, my old life of practice, game, rest, repeat, feels more like a dream than anything else.
This—the wood under my fingers, the memory of Blaze’s body pressed against me in the shower—that’s real.
That’s something I can wrap my arms around, figuratively and literally.
The best-case scenario was I’d come to Sanctuary Lake and find myself. I didn’t expect to come here and find love.
Because isn’t that what this is? Two people brought together due to random events, seeing something in each other and liking what they see.
This isn’t just friendship—or sex. But it’s still a kind of experimentation.
Because I’ve never felt like this about anyone before, and I have no idea how it’s going to play out.
When my overprotective agent wanted to save me from myself and sent me here, I needed something to keep my head above water.
Blaze has been that for me, but I’d like to think that even if we’d met under different circumstances, I would have seen Blaze for the catch he is—smart, kind, funny, sexy. Kind of perfect for me.
Or am I deluding myself that any of this is real at all?
Maybe I’m only playing at being a different person, trying on the hats of a construction worker, a woodworker, a guy who has sex with men.
I glance sidelong at Leo. He’s not bad-looking, slim but strong, medium height, a nice face with regular features, and a kind of sexy scar on his left eyebrow where he caught a piece of cinderblock on a construction job in Portland a few years ago.
He told me the story to impress upon me the importance of always wearing my safety gear.
He’s single, too, late twenties. What if I’d run into him before Blaze?
Would I be having these same feelings for him?
“What’s up? You need a break? We’re almost done for the day,” Leo says, as if he senses me staring at him like a creeper.
“No, I’m good,” I say, putting my head down and getting back to work.
I’m not going to overthink this. In baseball, I trusted my instincts, and nine times out of ten they didn’t let me down.
I should do the same here. Who knows how long this reality will last, but I don’t care.
If all we have is right now, then my right now is pretty damn good.