Chance to Be King (6 page)

 

"Huh. Sorry, what was that?"

 

"Ted wants to know if you've seen the man before."

Eric shook his head. "No. Definitely not. But we can give you a general description and you could run it by my agent and publicist."

Ted and Mark got to their feet. "Well, we'll look into it, Thomas. Eric, if you could give us their phone numbers?"

"Sure," Eric scrawled them on the notepad Mark handed him. Drew was going to be furious and as for Sarah… he winced as he thought of his agent's reaction. Loud wouldn't do it justice. He'd be lucky if he got let out of LA ever again.

The cops said goodbye and they'd be in touch as Thomas showed them out. Eric sat back down wondering what the hell to do next. He was still tired and his back was sore.

"Still in pain?" Eric looked up to see Thomas watching him from the doorway, a perceptive look in his eyes.

"A little," Eric admitted, trying to stretch and feeling his sore skin protest every movement.

"How about more coffee, cream for your back, a large dinner, and you can fall asleep in front of a crap movie?"

"Sounds awesome," Eric agreed enthusiastically, "Anything I can do?"

"You pick the movie. The coffee's already on. I suppose you'd like a steak dinner, too." Thomas didn't wait for Eric's response, obviously deeming it a no-brainer. He left the room, returning a few minutes later with a full tray holding two coffee cups, a large pot of coffee, and a tube of cream.

"Take your shirt off," he ordered as he placed the tray on the low table.

 

"Coffee first?" Eric tried not to make it sound like he was whining like a three year old.

 

"Take your t-shirt off and I will give you coffee," Thomas promised.

Eric complied, hearing the slight hitch of breath behind him as he bared his skin. He looked over his shoulders. "Is it bad? It just feels a little sore."

"No, not bad. Just a little red in places," Thomas' voice sounded a little strangled, and Eric looked up to catch his eyes traveling over Eric's back. Thomas suddenly realized Eric was watching him and he flushed guiltily, just like a small boy caught in the act.

Saying nothing, Eric smirked as he accepted a mug of coffee. He drank it quietly, savoring the taste, as he felt slightly trembling fingers apply cream to his back.

"You keep in good shape." observed Thomas, who'd obviously decided offense was the best form of defense.

"Kinda one of the job requirements at the moment," agreed Eric, relaxing under Thomas' soothing fingers.

"I'll bet," muttered Thomas. "So… you're Sky Davies, huh?"

 

Worried, Eric twisted over his shoulder to look at Thomas. "Is that a problem?"

Thomas looked up and caught his eye. "Not really I guess. I can understand why you kept it quiet. Ted and Mark will be discreet. They have good practice at that," he said cryptically as he patted Eric's shoulder gently. "All finished"

"Have you actually seen any of my films?" Eric asked as he put his t-shirt back on. His skin did feel soothed and he made a mental note to get some of that cream for his next film.

"Most of them, actually. I just didn't put two and two together."

 

Eric's looked at Thomas incredulously.

"What? I'm not completely isolated here. We do have a movie theatre nearby." Thomas seemed almost defensive.

"I just wouldn't have thought action films were quite your style."

"I may be queer but I'm still a guy. I like explosions as much as the next man. I suppose you think I'm into arty French films?"

No. Well, yes. But actually, Eric got stuck on queer and hadn't really moved past that. "You're gay?"

"Yes, yes I am. Is that a problem?" Thomas' voice had hardened and he sat back on his heels, a frown marring his face.

"No." Thomas didn't look convinced. "Honestly Tom, it's not a problem. I'm gay, too."

Thomas nodded slowly and his eyes softened a little. "I was pretty sure you were from the flirting, but we didn't really get that far."

"I don't make an issue of it. You know what Hollywood is like." For some reason Eric felt the need to justify himself.

"Are you in a relationship?" Thomas asked bluntly. The way his gaze focused on Eric intently made him feel like the question was significant.

Eric gave Thomas a direct look. "No, I'm not. I haven't been for a long time. I've been too busy with my career and, well, it's not easy being in a long term straight relationship in my business, let alone a gay one."

"I guess." Thomas got off the floor and wiped his hands on some tissues before sitting back on the sofa with his cup of coffee.

Eric thought it was time for some direct questions of his own. "What about you? Are you seeing someone?"

Shaking his head, Thomas said, "No, and like you, haven't been for a while. A long while. Been a few one night stands, though."

Confessions on the table, they looked at each other, a little shy now they admitted they were both free and single. Eric was about to say something when his stomach got there first. The rumble broke the uncomfortable silence and made them both laugh.

"Guess I should be feeding you that steak before your dogs get there first," Thomas got up and held out a hand to Eric. "Come on, let's feed you and then we can take them out for another walk."

Eric let himself be hauled up and then followed Thomas into the kitchen. It was a huge, oldfashioned kitchen with a range in one corner and a large, well-worn pine table in the middle. Eric found it hard to equate this family room with the solitary, immaculate man he perceived Thomas to be.

Smiling quizzically at Eric's expression Thomas asked, "Expecting lots of stainless steel?" "Was it that obvious?"

"A little," Thomas chuckled. "But I grew up here. I love this room and all its memories of the family growing up together."

"Do you see your family a lot?" Thomas hadn't mentioned them all that much but Eric wasn't sure whether they were still in contact.

"Not much," admitted Thomas, "They're settled in England. I don't think they'll be back until Dad retires. Alex even has an English accent now."

"You never wanted to move with them?" "I did," Thomas stopped, his lips pursing together. "Ah, let's figure out the dinner."

Recognizing when a subject was closed, Eric nodded in acknowledgement. "Can I help cook dinner?"

"Not if you want to live." At Eric's raised eyebrow, Thomas said, "I'm not good at sharing my domain."

Eric laughed. "Ah, a diva." At Thomas' glare he said, "That's fine with me. I'm a hopeless cook. I'll sit here and stay out of your way."

"Better still, take the dogs out for a quick walk. But stay away from the cottage."

 

Confused, Eric asked, "Why's that?"

Walking over to where Eric was standing, Thomas laid a hand on his arm. "I don't want you to think about it too much today. Just walk the other side of the lake, please?" His blue eyes held Eric's in a serious look and Eric realized he liked the fact Thomas seemed to care about his feelings.

"Okay, but I'm a big boy now, Mom."

 

Thomas flipped him the finger. "Get outta here before I decide to feed your dinner to the beasts."

"No! Please don't do that, Thomas. I'm really hungry." Eric begged. "I'm going, honest… if I knew where my sneakers were."

"In the hall closet with your jacket," Thomas informed him as he started getting out the pans to cook dinner. "Be back in half an hour."

Eric was so hungry he almost whined at the delay. Thomas must have seen his expression because he threw Eric a carrot.

"A carrot?" he whimpered.
"Well, if you don't want it…" Thomas began.

Eric took a large bite. "Numf, 'S finme," he mumbled, even though he'd rather be chowing down on the steak.

Thomas shooed him away and he went, grumbling under his breath. The dogs had retreated to the conservatory again to bask in the sunshine but when they heard the sounds of Eric rummaging in the closet they came to investigate. The sight of Eric putting on his sneakers made their tails wag furiously. The next few minutes were a mixture of him cursing as the dogs stepped over his hands as he tied his shoes and doggy breath as they noisily encouraged him to hurry it along.

The late afternoon sunshine was warm enough not to need a jacket and the dogs bowled ahead of him as he finally got some fresh air. They seemed to know where they were going without his assistance, and in lieu of anything better to do, Eric followed them.

A minute later he could hear splashing and he cursed as he realized who would be rubbing down stinky, wet dogs very shortly. Jeez, would Thomas even let him back in the house? Perhaps he wouldn't send Eric away without his dinner. He could always eat it on the doorstep. He wasn't above begging.

He reached the lake just as the dogs decided they'd enough and bounded out of the water. Eric was covered head to foot in lake water when they shook themselves thoroughly as close to their owner as they could manage. Eric was convinced they did it on purpose.

"You evil, mangy mutts!" he yelled at them, and then chased them along the sandy beach. Toby and Millie raced ahead, barking loudly in excitement as their owner swore he would skin them and render them down for fat. The three of them ended up in a wet, stinking heap on the sandy ground, Eric laughing hysterically as Millie panted in his face and Toby shoved his wet muzzle along the bare skin of his stomach.

Eric lay back as Millie planted her paws on his shoulders and he laughed until the tears streamed down his face. The mirth died away to hiccupping sobs as he realized that if he hadn't brought his dogs with him he would have died in the fire. Eric clutched onto his pets, ignoring their wet fur as he sobbed, shuddering in horror of what might have been.

Sitting up, Eric stared across the lake to where the skeleton of the cottage remained. Thomas had asked him not to go and look but he wanted to see for himself what he'd escaped from.
Just not today,
he thought, as he curled round his pups on the sand.

Seeming to sense his change in mood, the dogs snuggled in close as though they were comforting him. He only sat up, one dog on either side, when Thomas came into view.

"Hey, steaks are done if you're ready." Thomas rolled his eyes as he caught sight of the state of his house guests. "Been having fun?" he asked mildly. "Guess you'll be needing some more clothes, then."

Eric looked up at him and Thomas' face changed as he caught sight of Eric's expression.

"Come on," he said. "Don't think now. You're fine, the dogs are fine. Just eat and sleep." He held out a hand and Eric allowed himself to be pulled up, Thomas placing a hand in the small of his back. It rested there, warm and comforting, as they walked back to the house, the dogs walking soberly on either side of them.

As they arrived on the front doorstep Thomas looked at his guests and gave a short bark of laughter. "There's no way you're coming in my house in that state." At Eric's dismayed look he said, "'Round the back to the kitchen, all of you."

Eric and the dogs followed the path around the back of the house and found a well-worn wooden door, open, with Thomas holding two large towels in his hand. He handed one to Eric and they rubbed the worst of the muck and water off the dogs.

"They're going to need a bath," Eric said mournfully, thinking of his steak getting cold.

"Yeah," agreed Thomas, "but you need to eat first. We'll do it later. They can stay in here while we eat."

Eric got to his feet and looked at the mud and sand adorning his own clothes. "I don't think I'm any cleaner than the dogs," he admitted.

Thomas paused for a minute. "Stay there." He left the kitchen only to return a couple of minutes later with a bathrobe. "Take those wet clothes off. I'll put them straight into the washing machine. Your own clothes are still damp so you can wear the robe while we eat dinner and then shower after the dogs are bathed."

He seemed to be waiting for Eric to strip so he could hand him the robe. Eric bit his lip as he thought of taking his clothes off in front of Thomas.

"Do you want me to turn around?" The older man had obviously noticed his hesitation.

Hearing the amusement in Thomas' voice, Eric flushed and pulled off the wet clothes, grimacing at the slightly acrid smell of the lake water. He got slightly tangled up in the t-shirt, which had been a little tight, and by the time he'd pulled it over his head Eric discovered Thomas was openly
appraising his body. It was Thomas' turn to blush when he realized he'd been caught ogling for the second time that day.

"Like what you see?" Eric asked, reveling in his turn to be amused but secretly rather turned on by Thomas' open admiration. Turned on and willing it not to show as he got out of the sweats.

"Yeah," Thomas admitted honestly, his voice a little gruff.

They stared at each other for a few minutes. Eric licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. Thomas' eyes followed the movement. Neither man seemed willing to make a move. In the end, Eric was just about to take a step forward to bridge the distance between them when his stomach did its customary rumbling. It was proving to be an effective cockblock. Thomas grinned, though. Eric wasn't sure from his expression whether he was relieved or disappointed but the noise broke the tension.

"Put this on," Thomas held out the robe.

Eric looked down at himself; he was half hard, standing almost naked and barefoot on the stone flagstones. He grabbed at the robe, trying to cover himself up before Thomas noticed but by the glazed look he saw in Thomas' dark eyes, he realized he'd been unsuccessful.

Thomas turned away as Eric wrapped the robe around his body. "Come and eat your dinner before you pass out." Using oven mitts, he retrieved two plates from the range and placed them on the pine table that had already been laid with knives and forks.

"Don't touch the plates because they're really hot."

Sitting down where Thomas indicated, Eric looked at the plate full of food. His stomach rumbled again at the delicious smell rising from the plate. "This is amazing…" he began.

Thomas gave him a slightly shy grin at the praise. "Don't say that until you tried some. Eat first."

Despite Thomas' warning, the food tasted just as delicious as it looked and Eric was hard pressed not to make whimpering noises as the steak melted in his mouth. It wasn't that he didn't eat well normally. Hell, he could afford takeout from the best restaurants in LA and that was how he normally ate. It was just that the chance for a home cooked meal didn't come his way very often and when it did, they didn't normally taste as though they'd been cooked by his momma.