Crossroads Read online

  But fuck, I couldn't get past him. His personality. His neat home, that he obviously cared for. And damn it, he was really hot!

  Brady stared at me, my words sinking in. "I am single as well," he said.

  Nearly biting my tongue, I stopped myself from chuckling out loud. He'd already said that. "Indeed."

  We finished our meal in near silence, furtive glances our only companions. Brady drained his drink and stood. "Come on, I'll show you where you'll be staying."

  A door was hidden in a pantry that led to the back yard. He turned on the light, and I'd been right. The view from the window over the sink was a Norman Rockwell painting come to life. Jesus. My mom had those damn paintings everywhere when I was a kid. This guy lived it.

  Of course, I didn't think there were any Norman Rockwells with two gay men fighting their sexual desire for one another, but still.

  The mother-in-law cottage, as he put it, was a studio apartment masquerading as what could be described as nothing less than a playhouse. White frou-frou everywhere, flower boxes on the windows, it was a nine-year-old girl's dream. And it was nauseating. I fully expected to walk into a pink room with white lace everywhere, maybe some baby dolls on the bed, but I was pleasantly surprised. The interior was decorated tastefully in grays and browns, with a bit of soft teal thrown in for accents. One large room housed a bed, sofa, armoire, and a small kitchen. Instead of a table, an island separating the kitchen from the rest of the room served as a place to eat. A single door led off of the room to what could only be the bathroom.

  "This is lovely," I said sincerely, tossing my bag onto the bed.

  Brady shrugged. "It was built for my mom when she was a teenager." He looked around as I studied his profile. His chiseled jaw held my attention. Just enough stubble to irritate the tongue.

  Stop, focus on what he was talking about.

  That was the first time he'd mentioned his parents. Maybe they'd disowned him as mine had me. "Wish my parents had built me a playhouse this nice." I looked around with an eyebrow raised.

  "It was much more basic before I remodeled. Something just pushed me to make it a place a friend could stay over if needed. I don't know why, really. Everyone I know lives here in town." He shuffled his feet and looked down, as if a bit embarrassed.

  "Well, it's saving my buns tonight, so thanks." This was the part where my past experience had taught me to expect to be solicited. He was giving me a place to stay. He'd fed me, now he would want some head or a quick fuck. I'd been dreading this moment.

  "If you need anything, press this button." He pointed to a speaker on the wall. "It connects to the house and..." Pressing a few keys on the touchscreen, he programmed something on it. "Now it'll project all over the house, so I'll hear you no matter where I am." He looked around again. Was he reluctant to leave? Maybe he'd never asked someone for head before.

  I sure as hell wasn't volunteering it. Although, I'd definitely had sex with worse.

  "Goodnight," he said. "I'm sure we'll both sleep in tomorrow. I'm off work, so it's fine. Just come in the house when you get up or get hungry. Oh, it's pretty safe in this neighborhood, but I do lock up." He shrugged. "Cop." He pulled a key from his pocket and left it on the island. “Just in case.”

  "Listen, I don't think I've ever lived anywhere that I could even consider leaving my door unlocked. If you feel like you probably could here, that's safer than I've lived since I was a preteen."

  "Okay, then. Sleep well."

  He walked out the still-open door, closing it behind him. I turned toward the room. "Holy shit. He didn't ask me for anything in return." The room didn't answer me.

  I checked out the bathroom first thing. It was the same color scheme, and as clean as the one in the house. Maybe he had a cleaning lady. That would make the most sense. How else would he have been able to clean his whole house so thoroughly and the apparently unused spare apartment?

  Tossing my clothes on the couch, I slid into the bed and moaned when I felt how soft the sheets were. Glad I'd decided to sleep in my underwear, I wriggled around, sliding my body over the silky material.

  The feel of the silk on my skin further turned me on. I'd been slightly horny since the moment I'd gotten into the truck with Brady the Fox. The fact that he hadn't tried to force anything on me made me want him even more. And fantasizing about him was sure as hell a lot better than thinking about what had happened with John.

  Suddenly burning hot, I threw the blankets off of me and touched my hardening dick. Jumping up, I dug through my bag until I found my lube. Never went anywhere without it Luckily it hadn’t been in my toiletries bag. An orgasm would be just what I needed to relax and fall asleep after a stressful day. Spreading my legs on the bed, I poured out a small bit of lube and stroked myself, thinking about the way Brady looked at me when I'd told him I was single. He might not have acted on his urges, but the thought had definitely crossed his mind. I moaned, stroking harder as I pictured him unbuttoning my shirt, trailing kisses down my chest where his fingers moved as they slowly stripped me.

  Two quick knocks at the door was all the warning I had before Brady threw the door open and walked in, carrying towels.

  Scrambling for the blankets with a squeal, I pulled them up to my chest as Brady froze in the door with wide eyes.

  "I thought you'd need some towels. I'm pretty sure there aren't any in there," he whispered.

  "Thank you." I tried to speak loudly, but all I could manage was a whisper. "I'm..." What the hell was I supposed to say? Sorry, I'm just fapping to your memory. "I guess you didn't expect a naked man in your bedroom," I quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

  "No, I didn't, I guess, but it's not that. I... Uh, you look... I'm, uh. I'll see you in the morning." He darted forward and threw the towels on the kitchen island before making a hasty retreat. Something clattered to the kitchen floor. He must've brought more than just towels. Just before the door closed, he stuck his head back in, but to my delight his eyes were closed! Could he get any cuter? "I'm off tomorrow, so I can help you figure out your next moves, or whatever. Night." With a slight slam, he shut the door quickly.

  As soon as I was sure he was gone, I jumped up and locked that damn door. I'd figured he'd locked it before, otherwise, I would've. Stupid! If it had been locked at least I would've had a few seconds warning to cover up.

  Rookie mistake.

  I checked the stuff he'd thrown on the island. Soap, shampoo, and a toothbrush and paste. He'd brought me everything I needed, which was great, because except for a toothbrush, I hadn't packed any of it, trusting that the hotel would provide it.

  With the door locked, I turned out the light beside the bed and went back to what I'd been doing, Brady's face when he saw my dick on my mind. Maybe he'd hoped to walk in on me at least naked. He hadn't given me any time to answer the door after he'd knocked. He'd knocked then immediately opened the door. Maybe he'd wanted me to invite him in for the night but was too shy to ask.

  Well, he'd meant well, probably.

  He'd been shocked, but he'd definitely liked what he saw. Even as I blushed again with embarrassment at the thought of being caught jacking off like a teenager, I wished I'd invited him to help me instead of covering up.

  John would've taken advantage. He would've pressed me to fuck him after seeing how horny I was. Brady had to have an amazing amount of self-control. Jesus, that was a turn-on. I got up one more time to get a wad of toilet paper out of the bathroom, then finished what I'd started. This time if he made his way back into my room, I was going to pull him into bed with me.

  The orgasm came hard, into the wad of toilet paper. In my mind, though, it was all over Brady's face.

  Fuck, yes.

  5

  Brady

  Corey's hand on his rather impressive cock had been the most sensual thing I'd ever seen. I'd had my share of flings over the years. I'd even had a pretty serious boyfriend not long after I'd joined the force. He'd died in a car accident on the mountain. It had ta
ken me years to move past it, but eventually, I had. But once I was ready to move on, there hadn't been anyone suitable to move on with.

  I loved my town, and I loved my job. With no desire to move, I stayed a bachelor, keeping my eyes open for possible love interests.

  I hadn't expected to find one stroking his dick in my cottage. I knew I should be scandalized and offended, but all I could do was go back to my bedroom and do the same fucking thing Corey had been doing when I took him towels.

  The orgasm had relaxed me enough to finally be able to sleep, but the image of his slender body splayed out on the bed wouldn't leave my mind now that I was up and making breakfast.

  He might've been the sexiest man I'd ever seen. I put biscuits in the oven, lamenting my inability to flirt effectively. I should've slowly taken my clothes off and walked toward him in the bed, then grabbed his long cock and... Shaking my head, I pulled myself out of the daydream before I had to go back to my bedroom and relieve myself again.

  Throwing a few frozen sausage patties on my griddle, I stepped out the back door and walked the few feet to the cottage.

  No way I'd be walking in without permission again. I knocked loudly, and waited for Corey to answer the door.

  He unlocked the door, pulling it open and peeking out at me. "Come in."

  The bright morning sunlight blinded me for a moment. He still had the curtains drawn and the room was dim. When my eyes adjusted, I noticed his rumpled state. He wore flannel pajama pants, but no shirt. "Good morning," I said. His blond hair stuck up in a dozen different directions. If I let my hair get long enough to do that, it would look gross. His looked sexy, as if someone had just run their hands through it.

  "I've got breakfast on."

  Corey looked up, clearly still half asleep. "That sounds great."

  His plump lips were still sleep-kissed, leading me to want to make them swell from my kisses instead. Damn, I wanted to kiss him.

  "I'll be right there," he said. "Thank you."

  I nodded, backing from the room awkwardly. Every time I looked at him, all I could see was his hand on his damn dick! Oh, my god. I headed back to my house before I did something stupid.

  Corey came into the kitchen as I cracked eggs into a bowl to scramble them. "That smells great."

  "I didn't ask, do you have any allergies?" I asked.

  "Eggs. I'll just skip those," he pointed to the bowl I was whisking. "Can I help?"

  There was only one way he could help me at this point. Shit, what had gotten into me?

  "Pour the juice?" Pointing to the cabinet beside the fridge, I poured the eggs onto the griddle with the other hand. I'd just removed the sausage a few minutes before. I loved eggs cooked in sausage grease.

  Corey grabbed glasses and orange juice and set them out on the table. "Where is your silverware?" he asked.

  "Drawer to my right." I kept moving the eggs, purposely not meeting his eyes. I was afraid I'd get another hard-on if I wasn't careful.

  "I smell coffee, but I don't see it," he walked around me and looked around my counter.

  "You're smelling mine. I have one of those pod coffee makers that makes one cup at a time. Here." I opened the cabinet containing a variety of pods and mugs. "Help yourself."

  "Yes," he whispered as he browsed my selection. I loved having many different options, flavors, and strengths of coffee. I even had tea and cocoa in the pods.

  The biscuit timer dinged, so I pulled them out and slid them onto a plate, then put all the eggs onto my plate. Joining Corey at the table, I found he'd put out napkins and silverware. "Thank you," I said. "It's nice to have someone to eat breakfast with," I said.

  Damn it. I should be planning to take him to the bus station in Bend. I wouldn't be off for another four days, working twelve-hour shifts, but instead, I tried to think of a reason to encourage him to stay.

  "So what brought you guys through Three Lakes, anyway?"

  Corey's eyes widened and he chewed slowly. He was trying to think of what he should tell me. He didn't want to open up.

  That was okay. I found myself willing to take my time and learn about him slowly. Except, I might not have a lot of time. He might want to take off immediately. I tried to take my eyes away from his hollow cheeks. He had that old Hollywood look, like he was half-starved, but based on last night and this morning, he had no problem eating. I wondered if he'd had trouble finding food. Maybe he was in financial trouble and had missed some meals.

  "You don't have to tell me anything you're not comfortable with," I said before he finished his bite. "I'm not prying. Just trying to make conversation."

  He nodded and took a sip of juice. "My boyfriend wasn't such a nice guy. He promised me a weekend away, but it didn't go as planned. We were headed back to Portland, and by the time we made it to that gas station, I'd had enough and started letting him have it. He wanted to leave, I didn't. He stayed for something like four hours? I think. He kept telling me to get back in the car. He wouldn't accept that I was not going back with him. So, you saw the rest."

  "Yeah. I'm glad you're getting away from him, you know."

  Corey smiled, looking down at his plate. "Yeah, actually, me too. I don't feel like I've been through a breakup. I feel like a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders."

  "You're too young to feel that way."

  He didn't respond. He was awfully young, especially compared to my nearly forty years. "How old are you? If you don't mind me asking."

  "Twenty-seven," he said with a smile. "You?" He arched an eyebrow as if challenging me.

  I wasn't bothered by my age. "Thirty-eight." Eleven years difference. That wasn't so bad. "Does that bother you?"

  "I don't know, old man, do all your parts still work?" He stared at me as if he'd asked the most natural question in the world, totally innocent.

  My juice dribbled down my chin as I laughed, fighting not to spew it across the table at him. I dabbed at my face with my napkin. "Everything works." I schooled my features into a dead stare. "And works well."

  Arching an eyebrow right back at him, I prayed I'd come across as sexy and flirty. I was so bad at flirting.

  Apparently, my attempts had worked. He stopped laughing, too, and his chest rose and fell a little harder. It was getting a little too heavy, so I broke our stare. I didn't want to do anything to make him feel obligated to go to bed with me. He looked and acted scared half the time. I didn't think life had been too kind to Corey, which made me want to be all that much kinder.

  If not for my grandmother, I might've lived a rough life as well.

  "So, uh, what do you want to do today? I can take you to Bend, to the bus station, if that's what you really want." I hoped that was not what he really wanted.

  He shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, maybe," he said softly with his eyes on his plate.

  "Or you could hang out with me for a few days and rest. Get your mind straight? Besides, I like having some company."

  He looked up, and his hazel eyes flashed relief, then he guarded his expression again. "Sure," he said lightly as if he didn't have a care in the world. "I could hang out a few days. If you don't mind the company."

  I checked the clock on the wall. "I've got to get ready to go to a fundraiser. It's a cookout to benefit a friend that's in the hospital. Come with me. I'm cooking. You can help, hang out, just decompress. And it's for a good cause."

  The pain he tried to mask in his eyes lifted for a moment. The idea of the cookout wasn't terrible to him. "Okay," he said. "Are you sure nobody would mind?"

  "I'm positive. They'll love having you." My town was small, and we had our share of problems, but they would accept Corey with open arms.

  He didn't look so sure of that.

  6

  Corey

  "Care if I make another cup of coffee to drink while I get ready?" I asked.

  "Of course not," he said. "Help yourself."

  I put another pod in, French vanilla flavor this time, and helped clear the table. He had a
fancy stainless steel dishwasher and was loading it. I rinsed the dishes off and handed them to him. We finished quickly, and he wiped down the table and counters as I poured a splash of cream into my mug.

  "I'll meet you back here?" I asked Brady. "It'll only take me about a half-hour to get ready."

  "That sounds good. Me, too." He didn't wait for me to leave. Instead, he turned and headed up the stairs. Resisting the urge to follow him and do delicious things to him in his bedroom, I walked out the back door and entered the cottage. I'd left it unlocked without a second thought, already used to life away from the city.

  I picked up the toiletries from the kitchen island and took them and my coffee to the bathroom, turning on the water.

  My shower took much longer than I expected. I got lost in my own head. I wanted to stay in Three Lakes, desperately. I hadn’t wanted to, but the thought of leaving was terrifying. Where would I go? Portland had nothing for me now.

  When my parents had kicked me out, I'd used all the money I had saved up and made my way to Portland. It had not gone well after that. What was supposed to be me taking on the big city turned into me getting mixed up with people that had only wanted to hurt me, exploit me.

  Brady's shampoo smelled like cinnamon and oatmeal. Literally, it smelled like breakfast. That must've been the smell in the truck. The body wash was similar, definitely oatmeal based. I checked the label. Some organic brand, both of them the same. Sure enough, the shampoo was cinnamon, and the body wash was called "Baking Beauty." It smelled like grandma's kitchen.

  I grinned at the bottles as I rubbed it into my hair.

  Actually, it smelled like my kitchen, if John left me alone long enough. He was always bothering me to be near him, but then getting aggravated if I ever wanted him to do anything with me.

  Getting away from the life I'd stumbled into as a teen had taken me all of my early twenties. By the time I turned twenty-five, I'd gone through rehab and had a good job in the kitchen of a local restaurant. That's where I met John. He was a regular customer.