Page 39 of Finley

“It’s relaxing,” he said as he returned his gaze to the waves rolling in.

“It is that. Sometimes, when I lie in bed at night and the cars and trucks are blasting their horns down in the street, I think about this place. The sound of the waves and the rustling of your curtains in the breeze. Remember how you used to sleep with your window open?”

Brantley grinned and looked over at him. “Of course. You used to sneak in it every night.”

“Hey, you told me if I saw the light on, I was welcome.”

So he had.

“And the light was never off,” Daniel reminded him. “Not after that first night.”

Brantley straightened up against the railing to stare at his home. It’d been so quiet there for years now. Oh, he had friends over all the time, like Jordan, who was practically family. And he’d had the occasional hookup here and there, but never at his house, always at theirs. Never once had he asked them to come back to his place, because the thought of someone in his bed other than Finn…just hadn’t felt right.

“Would you like a drink?” he asked as he poured himself a glass of wine.

“I’m thinking two or three might help.”

He chuckled and then held a glass out to Daniel. “Don’t tell me Daniel Finley, tough city lawyer, is nervous.”

“Not nervous, no.”

“No?”

“No…”

“Then what?”

Daniel took a sip of his wine, and when he lowered it, he said quite seriously, “I don’t know yet.”

Brantley sat on one of his deck chairs and grabbed a cracker and a slice of cheese. Popping it in his mouth, he chewed and then gestured for Daniel to take the chair opposite. When he did—and grabbed a grape, threw it in the air, and caught it in his mouth—Brantley smiled and asked, “Am I allowed to tell you how happy I am to have you here?”

As Daniel chewed his food, Brantley’s eyes wandered to his full lips and watched them curve. He couldn’t see behind those glasses, but he knew that Daniel’s eyes were on him. Just as he knew that no matter how much he guarded his heart, he would never be able to stop himself from loving this man again. And the reason for that was simple.

He had never stopped in the first place.

“Yeah, you’re allowed to tell me that. And Brantley?” Daniel asked as he picked up another grape.

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to allow myself to enjoy it.”

DANIEL PROPPEDONE of his ankles on his knees and clasped his hands over his stomach. The sun would disappear soon, and as he pushed his glasses up on top of his head, he looked over at the man staring out at the fading day.

It was calming there, peaceful, as he sat with Brantley, drinking wine and enjoying the view. But it was more than the view and the alcohol causing that effect. It was the man himself. It had always been that way.

“How long has it been since you’ve taken a vacation?” Brantley asked, as he reached for the wine to top his glass off.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. You’re a little…”

“Yes?” Daniel said, daring him to continue and wondering where he was going.Tense? High-strung? Arrogant?

Brantley’s lips quirked, and then he shrugged. “Paler than I remember.”

Daniel laughed at that—loudly. “Are you trying to tell me I need a tan?”

“Well, no. I was just thinking you probably spend most of your days in an office or a courtroom.”