Too Soon For Love (20 page)

“Yeah. Oscar, heel.”

Oscar wound around their legs, tangling them both in the leash. A tail thumped the backs of Alan’s knees.

“I’ve never seen a dog so excited to be going to the vet.”

Michael laughed.

Something low in Alan’s belly tightened at that sound and he remembered the feel of Michael’s hands on him.

Oh, get a grip. They were not going to have a relationship.

They were not even going to have hot, no strings sex. So he needed to just get over this stupid lust he was in and get used to just being friends with Michael. If he occasionally thought of the man when he was alone with his right hand, there was no harm in that.

“Oscar, heel.” Alan untangled them and the dog began dragging the two men across the parking lot toward the door to the office.

The vet’s name was Patrick Somers. He was younger than Alan
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expected, maybe about thirty, and hot, with a generous mouth that smiled easily and an adorable pair of wire-frame glasses that magnified his pale blue eyes. His dark hair fell in thick waves around a lean face and a stray lock kept flopping over his eyes all during the exam.

Oscar was weighed, his heart and lungs listened to, his ears, eyes and nose checked. A blood sample was taken, a process that Oscar found intriguing if not especially enjoyable. Then he was vaccinated.

Dr.—please call me Patrick—Somers pressed a button. There was a whirring as the exam table lowered and Oscar scrambled down. Patrick held out a treat and Oscar crunched happily, forgetting all the humiliation of being poked and prodded.

“You guys have a great dog here,” Patrick said.

“He’s Alan’s dog,” Michael replied.

At the same time Alan said, “He’s going to be a guide dog.”

“Oh, is he?” Patrick scratched Oscar between the ears. “Is he one of Guy Tremane’s dogs?”

Alan nodded. “He is. Guy and I were roommates in college.

I have no idea how he talked me into becoming a puppy raiser for him.”

“It’s because you suck at saying no,” Michael offered with a grin.

Patrick glanced from Michael to Alan with what might have been speculation. “Well, in any case, Oscar here is going to make a great guide dog as long as he goes to someone with a firm hand.

He’s smart and energetic, which can mean big trouble without lots of love and discipline.”

Michael sat in the waiting area with Oscar while Alan paid the bill for the exam. As the credit card machine did its thing, Patrick appeared out of the back and approached him.

“Here are some samples of the vitamins I was telling you about. If you like them, give me a call and we’ll order some for you.”

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Alan took the handful of sample packets. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“My pleasure. Give me a call if you have any questions.” They shook hands and Patrick lowered his voice. “Or just give me a call, if you want.”

As his hand was gripped just a second longer than was strictly polite, Alan felt a frisson of awareness pass between himself and the vet. “I’ll do that.”

As they left the office, Oscar tugged them toward the grassy shoulder of the parking area.

“I better see if he has to go before we get on the road,” Alan said. “Do you want to wait in the car?”

“I’ll come with you.”

Unhooking the lead, Alan let the dog’s leash out long so he could sniff around and do his thing.

“The vet was nice.” Michael slid his hands into his pockets.

“Did you get a gay vibe from him?”

“Yeah, I did.” For a moment he wondered if Michael had heard his conversation with Patrick Somers. But how could he?

He’d been sitting at least fifteen feet from where they’d been standing and there were other animals in the vicinity putting up a fuss.

Michael nodded. “I thought so.”

“He asked me to call him.” Alan wasn’t sure why he was telling Michael this.

“Yeah? Huh.”

“Huh, what?”

Oscar lifted his leg and peed joyfully on a bush.

“Nothing. I just figured he assumed we were together, after the ‘you guys have a great dog’ comment. What an asshole.”

Alan laughed. “Five minutes ago you said he seemed nice.”

“That’s before I knew he was trying to cut my grass.”

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That comment stuck with Alan all the way to Guy and Rosie’s place. Was it possible that, despite what he’d said about not being ready for a relationship, Michael was jealous? And if he was, what did that mean? Hell if he knew. What it definitely did not mean, what he couldn’t let it mean, was that he would not call Patrick

“I’m a little hottie” Somers. In fact, he would call him tomorrow.

Jealous? Could it be that he was jealous?

The question niggled at Michael for the entire forty-five minutes it took to reach Alan’s friends’ home. It poked at him as he was introduced to Guy and Rosalyn and offered a glass of very good red wine. It ate at him all during dinner while he stuffed himself with linguine and red sauce.

Not until he and Guy were outside with the dogs and Alan was inside helping Rosie with the dishes, could Michael push the annoying thought of Patrick Somers to the back of his mind.

“How’s your mobility,” Guy asked as he led Michael down the row of enclosures to a chorus of ear-splitting barking. “Do you travel with a cane now?”

“Honestly, my mobility used to be better. I used to go everywhere with a cane. Lately, not so much. That’s why I’ve been thinking about a dog.”

“Alan tells me your partner passed away recently. My condolences.”

“Thank you. It was very sudden.”

“That’s hard, I imagine.” Guy opened the door to one of the crates. “Was he sighted, your partner?”

“Yeah, he was. Why do you ask?”

“It happens to a lot of blind people who marry sighted people. It’s natural for the sighted partner to do certain things that are just a bigger deal for a visually impaired person. Like go to the supermarket, balance the checkbook, that kind of thing.

Before you know it, you can lose your independence.”

It was odd having this virtual stranger put his finger so too soon FoR Love
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perfectly on the pulse of Michael’s own situation. Yet it was somehow comforting to be so well understood without the necessity of explaining.

“This guy’s name is Cosmo. He’s a yellow lab just like Oscar.”

Cosmo politely bumped Michael’s hand with his head.

Michael laughed and ruffled the dogs floppy ears. “He’s a lot more mellow than Oscar.”

“He’s a year older and he’s been through most of his training.”

Guy handed Michael a contraption of leather straps, buckles, o-rings and a long U-shaped handle. “This is the harness. Let me show you how to put it on him.”

The next few minutes were spent on an explanation of how to harness the dog, how to hold the harness handle and the leash in one hand and a few basic commands.

“If I decide to go ahead with the application, will I get Cosmo?”

“No. He’s just about ready to go out the door. In fact I already know who he’s going to. I just want to see you walk with him.”

Michael tried not to be disappointed. Cosmo was a nice dog, sweet tempered and gentle. Though Oscar definitely had his good points too, he was a lot wilder and seemed like he might be a little erratic as a guide dog.

“Okay, you ready, Michael? Let’s see how you guys do together.”

✧ ✦ ✧

“Where does the spaghetti bowl go?” Alan finished drying the big, stoneware bowl and set it on the counter.

“It goes in the cabinet over top of the refrigerator. I need a stool to reach, but you’re probably plenty tall enough.” Rosie rinsed the last plate from dinner and set it in the drainer. She turned off the faucet, picked up a towel and dried her hands.

“I’m glad you brought Michael to dinner. I like him.”

“Yeah, he’s great.” Opening the cabinet, Alan stowed the
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bowl on the top shelf.

“And?”

“And what?”

“Don’t make me hurt you, Alan Stuart. You know what I want.”

Alan laughed. “I guess I do. Details, right? Unfortunately, there’s nothing to tell. Michael and I are just friends.”

“You expect me to believe that? I hear it in your voice when you talk about him, and in how the two of you are so in sync.”

“Believe what you want. It’s true. I wish it were different but it’s not.”

“So make it different. I can see you care about him, that you’re attracted to each other. Heck, you brought him home to meet Guy and me. You wouldn’t do that unless it was serious.”

“I brought him here because he’s thinking about getting a guide dog. Period.”

“Period, my butt. I don’t believe it.”

“Sorry, mom. It’s the truth.”

“You’re lucky I’m not your mom, pal. My real kids do not get away with holding out on me like that.”

“Roe, I swear I would tell you if there was anything to tell.

But Michael says he isn’t ready for a relationship. His partner just died and he’s still grieving.”

“Well, I’m sure you’re being a good friend to him. I just wish it was more. Maybe it will be once he’s through his grieving process.”

As did he, Alan thought, as did he.

✧ ✦ ✧

“Who do you know with a maroon SUV?” Alan parked his car behind the Jeep and unhooked his seatbelt.

Michael shrugged. “Hell if I know. Phillip’s sister Karen has an SUV but I think hers is black.”

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“The Jeep’s sort of in the way, so I’ll walk you up.”

They got out of the car and Alan was guiding Michael around the SUV when the figure appeared from around the side of the house. He paused on the wrap-around porch, but even while he was still in the shadows his posture wasn’t at all furtive.

Alan could tell from the build that it was a man and from the way he moved that he was an athlete of some kind. His body was lithe with a fluid grace that was very appealing.

Then he stepped into the glow of the porch light, and Alan froze.

He knew that streaky, slightly shaggy blond hair, that pretty face with the perfect cheekbones, those broad shoulders that tapered down to almost nonexistent hips and long legs.

Robby.

“Michael,” Robby called from the porch. “Hey, it’s Robby Johansen.”

A smile lit Michael’s face and he raised the hand that held his folded up cane. “Robby, man, what are you doing here?”

What was Robby doing here? Did his presence mean that Michael knew everything and Alan had been going out of his way to protect him for nothing?

Robby bounded down the steps and, with no more than a glance at Alan, caught Michael in a hug. “God, Michael, you look awesome, as great as ever.”

Michael hugged him back and even kissed his cheek before letting him go and turning to Alan. “Robby, I want you to meet a friend of mine. This is Alan Stuart. He’s been helping me out since Phillip passed a month or so ago. Oh, god, you didn’t know about Phillip, did you?”

“Yeah, I heard. Michael, I’m so sorry.” Robby pulled Michael into another hug and with his arms still around him, lifted his gaze to meet Alan’s. “It’s nice to meet you, Alan. It’s great that Michael’s got friends around him at a time like this.”

“Yeah, it’s important.”

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Alan felt like he was caught in some weird alternate reality where anything might happen. If Michael and Robby still kept in touch, if they were friends as it seemed they were, then what was up with that letter? Obviously there was some kind of relationship between Phillip and Robby. Obviously too, there had been some talk about Phillip leaving Michael, some demand or request from Robby that he do that. Michael couldn’t know about that, could he? Not and treat this man like he was a long lost best bud.

Alan’s temples began to throb.

“C’mon in the house. I want to hear how you’ve been; what you’ve been up to.” Michael tucked his arm through Robby’s and started for the door. As if it was nothing more than an afterthought, he turned back and glanced over his shoulder.

“Alan, are you coming?”

“I think I’ll get going. I’ve got the dog in the car and everything.”

“Bring him in. It’s no sweat.” Michael had his keys in his hand. Robby was watching Alan. He looked away when Alan met his gaze.

“No, that’s okay. You know what a maniac he is. He’d probably wreck the place in five minutes, chew you out of house and home. I’ll see you this weekend for the hockey game.”

Turning, Alan went back down the steps. He heard the door open and Robby’s voice followed by Michael’s laughter just before the door closed.

Now who was jealous?

“Wow, this is a really nice house.” Robby paused just inside the living room.

Michael sensed him looking around, could hear the admiration in his tone. It made him smile.

“Thanks. Sit down. Do you want something to drink? Wine?

Ice tea?”

“Have you got beer?”

“I think we might.”

If Robby noticed Michael’s use of the plural he didn’t say anything about it.

“Can I help you?” Robby’s voice drifted after Michael as he headed for the kitchen.

“No, it’s fine.” But he heard Robby get up and follow him anyway.

Michael opened the refrigerator and reached to the back of the middle shelf where they kept the beers when they had them.

His fingers closed on one of the long-neck bottles and he took it out and set it on the counter. He grabbed an open bottle of chardonnay from the shelf on the door and set it on the counter next to the beer.

“Do you want a glass?” Michael took a wine glass from the cabinet for himself.

“No, the bottle is fine. I could have had wine if that’s what you’re having.”

“It’s no trouble. Have what you want.” Michael poured his wine and opened the beer. He passed the bottle to Robby then picked up his glass.

“To old friends,” Robby said and tapped his bottle against Michael’s glass.