Page 41 of Next Season
After years of lying to my partners and friends, I’d made a vow never to go down that road again. I’d never lied to Nolan, and I didn’t want to start now. Unfortunately, I couldn’t tell the whole truth, so I gave him half-truths and found it was easier than it should have been to shrug off our unlikely friendship.
I see Riley at the gym sometimes, so what?OrI haven’t been on the ice in years, so what?Okay, maybe I wasn’t great at excuses. In fact, I’d bet Nolan was working up the nerve to gently remind me that Riley wasn’t gay on the off chance that I was attracted to his husband’s former teammate.
Well, Riley was gay enough for me, and it was too late for warnings anyway. I couldn’t remember ever feeling quite this silly over a man. That was saying something since I’d followed Nolan to Elmwood, USA on a whim. But I’d always felt that Nolan and I needed something from each other, and perhaps fate had intervened at just the right time. There’d been passion, for sure, but…not like this.
I mean…now was a perfect example. We were in a crowded coffee shop in one of the smallest towns in Vermont, and I couldn’t keep my hands to myself. No kidding. It was impossible. I stepped aside to let another customer by and strategically brushed my fingers against Riley’s. His breath hitched, inaudible to anyone there but me. I knew he felt it too. I wondered if he simmered on a low boil in public the way I did.
I tried to be cool and act vaguely indifferent; however, it wasn’t so easy to do. Every little thing about Riley did something for me—from the curve of his neck, his long eyelashes, and his pink cheeks in the cold air to the low thrum of his voice. I wanted to hook my finger in his belt loop, pull him close, and breathe in the scent of my shampoo in his hair.
Of course, I wouldn’t do it, but the thought alone was dangerous. We’d showered together this morning, making out under the spray as we’d soaped each other. I’d washed his hair, massaging his scalp while he stroked my cock. Deep kisses and heavy petting had given way to something more urgent. Next thing I knew, we were dripping wet in front of the mirrored wall in the bathroom, one palm braced on the floating marble countertop to his left, the other jacking his cock as I fucked him from behind.
We’d held eye contact, gazing at our reflection in wonder. He was so beautiful. His muscles flexed and contracted as his hand flew, water dripping from his hair, down his chest. I’d sucked moisture from his shoulder and nudged him to turn sideways for a slightly more pornographic view. He’d whimpered something rude, like, “Oh, my fucking God,” and I couldn’t blame him. The sight of my cock sliding in and out of his perfect ass had been a game changer. I’d gripped his hips and let go, fucking him hard and fast to a wicked and wild orgasm.
That was less than an hour ago. And it had only been one week since the first time we’d fucked.Crisse, how had we gotten so good at it so quickly? Well, we did practice every day—in bed, on the sofa, in my kitchen, on my—
Okay, stop.
No wonder I still felt hot under the collar. I had to get myself under control.
Popping a boner in front of Ivan would be difficult to explain. Our exceptionally observant barista would either immediately guess we were more than friends or he’d mistakenly think Ireallyliked roses that looked like giraffes in my latte.
“Thank you for the rose,” I said, lifting my to-go cup in a toast. “It’s very…nice.”
Ivan snorted. “You’re the worst.”
Riley chuckled, thanking him for his drink without commenting on the blob of foam at the top. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen it so busy in here.”
“It’s the pre-Thanksgiving rush,” Ivan replied, fussing with his apron string. “I’d better get back to it, but first…a teensy heads-up. Bryson Milligan was in earlier.”
“Boring Bryson drinks coffee,” I deadpanned. “So what?”
“He was chatty today. My polite query about Thanksgiving turkey led to pizza and….” Ivan cast a quick glance from left to right, continuing in a rush. “He happened to mention that the old pizza parlor in Pinecrest is going to be listed for lease.”
“Oh. Interesting.”
Ivan winked. “You’re welcome. Have a good one, boys.”
Riley spared me a curious look, then scanned the shop for an open table. There were none available.
“Follow me.” I held the door open for him and crossed the street.
We slipped into the side entrance off the kitchen through the gate leading to the garden. It was a small enclave behind the diner surrounded by majestic elms on one side and tall privacy hedges that shielded the garden from the wind and nosy passersby. Two benches were positioned opposite the elevated boxes of herbs and vegetables.
The trees had lost their leaves and the herbs and veg were mostly dormant for the season, but it was still a pleasant spot to sit with a cup of coffee or to escape before my temper got the better of me in the kitchen. There was another private garden with a table and chairs beyond the hedges that was even more private for our employees, but neither got much use when the temperature dropped.
I settled onto the corner of my favorite bench and patted the empty space beside me.
“This is a cool hideaway,” he commented, zipping his jacket to his chin. “Did you plant the garden?”
“Yes. Only the hardiest vegetation likes the cold, so it doesn’t look nice now, but I have an indoor vegetable garden too. We never have to go without fresh ingredients. I want to build a solarium. There’s enough room for one over there.” I pointed to a section of lawn covered in sodden leaves. “That way we wouldn’t be limited for space to make year-round farm-to-table cuisine possible.”
Riley shot a lopsided grin at me. “You’re very passionate about food, aren’t you?”
“Your body is a temple. You are what you eat. Clichés, yes? But they’re true. Five years ago, no one in Elmwood would have cared if their tomatoes were from Pinecrest instead of their own backyard, but now…I like to think everyone takes a little pride in knowing we don’t rely on rival towns for good produce.”
“Hmm.” He sipped his latte. “So what’s with the pizza parlor in Pinecrest? Are you thinking of expanding and showin’ ’em how Elmwood does it better?”
I bit the inside of my cheek and shook my head. I hadn’t planned on sharing this with Riley, but it seemed wrong to leave him in the dark, especially since Ivan the barista knew.