Too Soon For Love (21 page)

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“To reconnecting.”

They drank.

Back in the living room, they sat in a pair of armchairs on either side of the large stone fireplace. Michael sipped his wine.

“I tried to get in touch with you to tell you about Phillip.”

“Did you?”

“I sent you an email. But I never heard anything back.”

“I never got it. I switched internet providers recently and my email got all messed up. You know I would have come if I’d known.”

He didn’t really know that, but didn’t say so. Sure, they’d kept in touch, peripherally, the way you did with people you met on vacation through occasional emails, Christmas cards, the very rare phone call. Really Phillip had been the one who kept in touch, more so than himself. Phillip was always the one who kept in touch.

Michael shrugged. “Well, you know how it is with email. You never know for sure if it gets there or what.” He set his glass on the end-table. “So if you never got my email, how did you know?”

“I didn’t until I got here, to Philly I mean. I’m applying to grad schools and I’m here for a couple of interviews. When I googled you to get directions I saw the obit.” He was silent for a moment then Michael heard him set down his beer. “I couldn’t believe it.

I kept thinking there must be some mistake. That Phillip couldn’t be … you know, gone.”

Robby’s voice broke on the last word and they sat in silence for a while.

Robby couldn’t believe it? Michael had to blink hard to keep back the tears that were just suddenly there, ready to spill over.

God, when would this end?

“I’m sorry,” Robby said. “God, Michael, you must feel like that all the time.”

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Michael swallowed. “Not all the time. Not like it was at first.

Still, sometimes I walk into a room and just expect him to be there. Sometimes I wake up at night and think I hear him coming up the stairs or … sometimes I can still smell him.”

Michael’s breath hitched and the tears spilled over and ran down his cheeks. He’d cried so often during the past month that he didn’t even try to stop them. He knew once they were flowing it was a futile exercise to try and hold them back. So he just let them come.

But then Robby was there, kneeling in front of him. He took both Michael’s hands in his and held them tight.

“Michael, don’t. I can’t … I don’t know what to do. What can I do?”

Michael shook his head, sniffed. His nose was running and he couldn’t even wipe it because Robby had hold of his hands. He took one long, shaky breath then another because he couldn’t get command of his voice.

“I’m okay,” he finally managed to say. “It just happens like this sometimes. I can be fine then all of a sudden something sets me off.”

“It’s okay.” Robby squeezed his hands. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

“But I want to talk about it. I want to talk about Phillip.”

He hadn’t realized until that moment how much he wanted to talk about Phillip, and how much he had not been able to.

Because there was no one who had known his lover the way he did, the intimate details like the sounds Phillip made when they made love, or how he smelled after a day working in the yard or after they grilled burgers for dinner. How his hands felt, the way the calluses on the tips of his fingers scraped over the most sensitive places on Michael’s body, or how gentle those hands could be.

But Robby knew, at least a little, because he had experienced Phillip as a lover during that week they all spent together in Mexico. He had seen Phillip at his most relaxed and happy on
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that same vacation. He had seen the best of Phillip, the man Michael had fallen in love with and the man he still remembered who was the same man he mourned for now.

That was what Robby could do for him. He could listen and he could understand, even if only a little.

“You said you’re in town for some interviews?”

“Yeah, for grad schools. I wanted to check out some programs, talk to some people. Why?”

“Where are you staying while you’re here?”

“I’m at the Embassy Suites. You get free continental breakfast and free hors d’oeuvres at happy hour.”

“Why don’t you stay here?” Michael sat forward. He squeezed Robby’s hands tight in his. “I can’t offer you free hors d’oeuvres, but I will feed you.”

Robby was silent for a long moment. “I don’t think … I mean, I couldn’t impose like that.”

“You aren’t imposing. I’m asking. You asked what you could do? I’m telling you. Stay here at the house while you’re in town.

Please? I want to talk about Phillip, and there isn’t anyone I can talk to.”

There was a long pause then Robby let out a breath. “Michael, are you sure?”

“I’m sure. It’s not anything weird, I swear to God. I just want… I just want to talk.”

“Okay, I’ll move my stuff tomorrow.”

✧ ✦ ✧

“I’m really glad you called.” Patrick turned on his barstool and aimed a blinding smile at Alan before lifting his beer to his lips for a long slow sip. “I wasn’t at all sure you would.”

“I said I would.” Alan raised his glass of burgundy and sipped.

Patrick lifted one slim shoulder. “Sure, but it sounded like …”

“Like I was blowing you off?”

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“Kind of.” Patrick laughed. His dimples flashed.

God, he really was so good looking in a boyish, all-American sort of way. Like you could just lick him all over as if he were an ice-cream cone. And wasn’t that a fascinating mental picture?

“Well, I wasn’t.” Alan laid a hand over Patrick’s on the bar and squeezed.

The hand under his turned and gripped, interlacing their fingers. “I’m glad. What do you say we get out of here? Maybe go have some dinner.”

“Sure.” Alan drained the last of his wine and, still holding Patrick’s hand, slid off his barstool and started toward the door.

As they hit the parking lot Patrick pulled keys from the pocket of his Levis. “Why don’t we take one car? I can bring you back here afterwards.”

“That’s good with me.”

Gravel crunched under their feet as Patrick led Alan to his jeep. He chirped the locks then opened Alan’s door for him.

As he slid into the jeep’s front seat, Alan thought of another Jeep, a maroon one he’d last seen sitting in Michael’s driveway, and of the lithe blond owner of that vehicle.

What were they doing right now?

Because he was sure Robby and Michael were together at this very moment, and even if they weren’t together, they would be planning to get together. Would Michael fuck the pretty boy?

He had in the past, so it made sense that they would pick up that thread of their relationship again. And it was none of his business if they did.

Don’t think about it.

“You okay?” Patrick was looking at him from behind the wheel, a slight frown dug between his dark brows.

“Yeah, fine.” Alan found a smile for him. He let his hand rest on the other man’s denim clad thigh for a moment before he leaned across the space between the seats and touched their lips
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together. It was just a brief kiss, designed as much to clear his own head as to erase that frown from Patrick’s pretty face.

But before Alan could draw back, Patrick’s hand came up and cupped the back of his neck, pulling him in for a longer, deeper kiss.

Patrick’s mouth opened, his tongue slid between Alan’s lips and teased his tongue, inviting it to come out and play. Alan tasted the beer his companion had drunk and under it the flavor of man and unmistakable desire. He kissed back, running his tongue around the inside of Patrick’s mouth, exploring every nuance, tasting and testing, and decided he liked what he tasted.

He liked it very much.

Distantly he heard keys clatter to the floor and felt Patrick’s hands pulling him closer, the gear shift digging into his side as his arms slid around the other man’s shoulders.

It was Patrick who finally broke the kiss. “Come home with me.”

Alan felt the grin break across his face. He sent Patrick an oh-so-innocent look from under his lashes. “But what about dinner?”

“To hell with dinner. We’ll eat pizza … after, in my bed.”

They didn’t talk much on the drive. Patrick turned the radio up loud. He liked head banging, ass kicking rock, which at the moment suited Alan just fine. The clang of guitars and the thump of a heavy bass line made it easier not to think.

When they pulled up in front of the vet’s office, Alan couldn’t hide his surprise. “You live here?”

“Upstairs.” Patrick pulled the keys from the ignition. “The building is mine, well, mine and the bank’s, so since I’m paying for it anyway, it seemed to make more sense to just take the apartment above the office. It’s basically a nice place, high ceilings, hard-wood floors. It needs a little TLC but I’m getting around to that.”

“And it’s an easy commute.”

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Patrick smiled. He had a great smile. “Yeah, it is. C’mon, let’s go in.”

They got out of the car and Alan followed him around to a side entrance then up a set of stairs to a landing.

Wild barking greeted them from behind the closed door.

Alan took a step back. “Whoa, that sounds like a big dog.”

“That’s my Bella. She’s a Shepherd Lab mix. I rescued her when she was a puppy. I was in college at the time and you should have seen me trying to talk my mom into keeping her for me until I graduated.” He laughed, remembering. “Man, I had to do some fast talking that night. Now Bella’s almost ten years old. She’s my baby.”

Patrick unlocked the door. As soon as it opened, a huge mass of black fur and muscle flung herself at him, tongue lolling, licking everywhere she could reach, tail wagging joyously. She completely ignored Alan, who was just as happy to fade into the background.

Getting down on his knees, Patrick hugged the dog who bathed his face with adoring kisses.

“Okay, baby, okay.” Patrick got to his feet. “I’m just going to take her out really quick and I’ll be right back. Make yourself at home. Get naked if you want to.”

And with another of those brilliant smiles, Patrick disappeared down the steps with Bella at his heels.

Alan looked around. He was standing in a long narrow living room with very little furniture. Along one wall sat a blue and green striped couch. There was a matching armchair and a scarred wooden coffee table. At the far end of the room there was an entertainment center that held a very nice and obviously expensive stereo system. And that was it.

No TV? That was odd. Maybe there was one in the bedroom.

The bedroom that he was going to get to see in the very near future.

His dick stirred at that thought. Yeah, Patrick Somers was a
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hell of a good-looking guy, and nice with it.

But he’s not Michael Stricker.

Alan shoved that thought away and, deciding that Patrick had been kidding about the getting naked part, settled on the couch.

Just as he did, a large orange cat appeared from behind the armchair. He was missing an ear and his tail looked like it had been chopped off, leaving only the tiniest stump and it looked like one of his back legs dragged a bit. Despite the lame leg, the cat jumped up on the cushion and glared at Alan as if to say, ‘And what do you think you’re doing here?’

What was he doing here?

It had been years since he’d taken an impromptu tumble with a guy he hardly knew. Tommy was right when he said that just wasn’t his style. But look what his usual style had gotten him. A big fat nothing, that’s what. So that’s what he was doing here, changing the status quo.

Alan held his hand out to the cat. “Hey, buddy, you look like you’ve had a rough life.”

The cat sniffed at Alan’s hand and, evidently deciding that he was all right, meowed loudly and head-butted him.

Alan laughed and petted him, giving him a good scratch behind his single ear. He heard the downstairs door open followed by the sound of feet and paws on the stairs.

Alan’s pulse quickened.

The cat turned his head and gazed intently at the door. It opened and he abandoned Alan to go and wind around Patrick’s legs.

“Hey, Lou.” Patrick scooped up the cat and kissed him on the nose. He grinned at Alan over the cat’s head. “I see you met my Louie.”

“Yeah, he came and checked me out for you. I think he decided I can stay.”

“Good thing,” Patrick said, setting the cat down very gently.

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“Lou is a very good judge of character. If he didn’t like you, I’m afraid you’d have to go.”

“Before or after the pizza?”

He meant it as a joke. But when their gazes caught and held, the look in those light blue eyes had all the blood in Alan’s upper head rushing to his lower one. In a move that was very unlike himself, Alan leaned back, spread his legs and cupped his growing erection.

Those pale eyes turned hot and Patrick waded through the animals and came to stand in front of Alan. Going to his knees, he settled his hands on Alan’s legs and slid them up his thighs.

The heat of his hands seared Alan’s skin through the denim and his dick throbbed with anticipation. Patrick’s hands continued up to Alan’s waist and over his chest as the other man leaned in to bring their mouths together.

The kiss was wet and open-mouthed. Tongues tangled and teeth clashed. Hotter than before, and deeper than the one they’d shared in the car, it promised more, much more, just as soon as they could get their clothes off.

Patrick drew back, his hands framing Alan’s face. His lips glistened, wet and swollen. He smiled. “After pizza, I think.”

“I like mine with pepperoni and mushrooms.” Alan let Patrick pull him to his feet.

“I’ll try to remember. But right now I just want you naked.”

They wasted no time in getting to the bedroom and getting naked. Alan had only just kicked off his pants when Patrick was on him. They tumbled to the bed, hands and mouths already busy exploring.