Page 13

DEAN

He had held me in his arms.

He had cradled my head against him, and I could smell him, almost taste him, feel the hairs on his neck brush gently against my cheek, my nose, my lips.

God, I thought for a second he was going to lean in and kiss me.

My heart ached and swelled at the same time, thinking about what might have been had he kissed me.

Would the day ever come?

The swelling in my chest subsided, leaving only that lasting, lingering ache.

Of course that day would never come.

Harry was straight, you idiot. He’d probably already planned his first date with Madeline. Anyone could see that courtship coming a mile away. They were perfect for each other—similar ages, normal careers, both good-looking and funny and hell, I could practically hear the wedding bells already.

And yet, walking up the steps to Benji and Bastian’s BnB, I still desperately wanted to reach out and take his hand, or at least entwine my fingers with his, or at least brush my knuckles against his knuckles. I longed to touch him once more, and found myself trying to think of ways I could… and get away with it.

Before I knew it we were standing on the porch, and his hand was reaching for the big brass doorknob of the BnB’s front door.

I quickly reached for it too, seeing a chance to “accidentally” touch him.

And for the briefest of moments, like a zap of electricity, our hands collided on the knob, his landing on top of mine.

I heard him gasp audibly, before he quickly retracted his hand, smiled awkwardly and said, “After you.”

God, had I just scared him off?

Had I moved too rashly?

Had I ruined my chances of discreetly touching him again?

I’d have to choose my moments wisely, be smart about when and how I seized my opportunities.

I’d have to be content with the slightest of contact, the tiniest of touches, nothing that could ever be construed as intentional or intimate or, God forbid, romantic.

Without hesitating another moment, I opened the door to the BnB, and there behind the antique check-in desk stood Benji and Bastian…

Kissing passionately…

Hands running through each other’s hair…

Voices moaning muffled I love yous into each other’s mouths.

“Oh shit,” Harry said. “Perhaps we should come back later.”

Instantly Benji and Bastian snapped out of their kiss, their faces flushing red hot.

Benji practically knocked his glasses off his face trying to straighten them, to look and see who had just entered the BnB.

Bastian cleared his throat, shuffled papers on the desk, and in the worst attempt at acting I’d ever seen in my life said loudly, “How are the reservations looking for today, Benji? Are there any new bookings that need to be added to the system?” He looked up and smiled at us, as though noticing us for the first time. “Oh look, Benji. We have visitors. Harry… Dean… please come in.”

“Are you sure it’s a good time?” I asked. “I mean, we can always come back later.”

“No, please come in,” said Benji. “It’s great to see you both.” He looked from Harry to me and back again and asked, trying not to sound surprised, “Are you looking for a room? Together?”

“No!” Harry and I both said, a little too emphatically, although the thought of it made my cock surge.

“Dean needs to make a booking for some friends of his,” Harry said as we stepped up to the check-in desk.

“Actually, it’s for my manager and her…” Don’t say bodyguard. Benji and Bastian will freak if you say bodyguard. “And her boyfriend.”

“That’s great,” Benji said. “We can put them in our most romantic suite.”

“Oh! Um, actually, I think they’d prefer separate rooms.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, he’s a terrible snorer. Sleeping in separate rooms is the one thing that keeps their love alive.”

Benji and Bastian gave each other a curious look, as though they couldn’t imagine ever being separated again, before Benji said, “Well, if that’s what makes them happy. I guess.”

Dad had told me about Benji and Bastian’s unexpected reunion, how Bastian had fought cancer and returned to the one person he cared for most in the world, begging for forgiveness, begging to be loved once more. Dad had told me that story over the phone, and I had to choke back my tears as I pined for such a love.

I was conscious of my eyes beginning to water again now as I looked at the two of them, their arms touching, their bodies so close they might as well have been joined at the hip.

I was jealous.

I was spellbound.

I was in awe of their love.

Thankfully, before I could embarrass myself by spilling a tear, a voice called from the nearby staircase. “Harry? Is that you? Thank Christ, you’ve come to sweep me off my feet?”

We all turned to see Benji’s cousin Connie swanning down the stairs, face lit up and eyes glued to Harry. I had to admit I didn’t know Connie very well, but I’d seen her around town a few years ago while I was at school. She’d lived with the Larsons for a while, and I could only assume she was back. All I remembered was that she was kinda loud and free-spirited. I guess things hadn’t changed.

Like an eagle spotting a mouse in the forest, she suddenly swooped down the staircase and practically threw herself over the check-in desk in front of Harry, draping her body suggestively on the vintage desktop.

Oh my God, I thought to myself. Harry had women falling all over him. How the hell was he still single?

How the… hell?

Suddenly I wondered… maybe he wanted to be single. Or maybe he was…

“Oh hey, Connie,” Harry said in a faltering, almost quivering voice.

“Hey yourself,” Connie said with an open-mouthed wink. “What brings you to the inn, big fella?”

Before he could answer, Benji gave his cousin a good shove, pushing her off the desk. “Connie, do you mind? You’re interrupting the guests.”

“Guests?” Connie said, looking from Harry to me before grinning from ear to ear. “Oh my God, are you two getting a room together? Can I join you?”

“No!” Harry and I said in unison once more, before Harry clarified. “We’re not getting a room together. Dean is here to book a couple of rooms for—”

“Wait a minute,” Connie said, quickly zeroing her gaze in on me now. “Are you Dean Reeves? As in the Dean Reeves? Holy shit, I heard some big shot record company snatched you up and swept you off to LA. Didn’t you do that song… what was it called… ‘Spanner of my Heart’?”

“ Hammer of my Heart,” Harry corrected her, before looking at me and adding, “Connie’s not very good at identifying tools.”

Rather than be offended, Connie purred at Harry. “Maybe you should strap on that big old tool belt of yours and teach me.”

Benji rolled his eyes and said to Bastian, “Babe, would you mind sorting out a booking for Dean and Harry. Connie and I need to tend to something in the kitchen.” He walked around the check-in desk, grabbed Connie by the forearm, and began dragging her away.

“What?” she protested. “I was just making polite conversation.”

“About Harry’s tool belt?” Benji whispered harshly. “I know you, Connie. You were literally three seconds away from asking if his jackhammer needed a good lube.”

Connie giggled. “Actually, I was about to ask if he needed someone to hold his monkey wrench, but the jackhammer line is even better. Note to self!”

“Oh my God, you’re incorrigible!”

With that, he hauled her through the kitchen door and slammed it behind them.

Bastian gave a polite, “Mmmm. Sorry about that. Ever since we made her head of housekeeping, she thinks she owns the place. At least she refrained from slapping anyone on the ass this time.” He beamed his widest smile as if to say moving right along . “Now, what name shall I make the booking under?”

* * *

Harry drove me back home, and for a moment we were silent in the car before he said, “Dean, I’m worried about you. Are you sure you don’t want to drive straight over to Sheriff Gates and tell him what’s going on?”

“No. Please. I don’t want to make a big deal over this. It’s probably nothing. I know it’s nothing. Besides, I came home to get away from everything in LA. The last thing I want is to bring all that drama and trouble back with me. Mulligan’s Mill is my one place to hide away. It’s my shelter. It’s my home. Calling the police, telling Sheriff Gates… all that’s gonna do is make me feel unsafe all over again, even here. I don’t want that. Promise me it won’t come to that.”

And that’s when it happened.

That’s when Harry—my Harry—reached across and held my hand.

“I told you before. I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

He squeezed my hand so tight I thought my heart was going to burst from my chest. I struggled to speak, struggled to breathe. He still had the bandage wrapped around his hand and it crinkled up in our grip.

“Your bandage,” I said, my voice barely audible. “We should change your bandage. Would you like me to…”

Suddenly he seemed overly self-conscious.

Suddenly he pulled his hand away from mine.

“It’s alright. I think it’s healing just fine.”

He pulled the truck up to the curb outside my house. He jumped out and hurried around to my side of the car to open the door, but I was already halfway out. I had my new toothbrush and bottle of cologne with me.

“Thanks for the gifts.”

“They’re not gifts, they’re just replacements for the stuff I broke.”

“Right. Replacements.” I turned for the house, then back to him and said, “Well, I guess I’ll see you… sometime soon.”

He nodded. “Sometime.” He left off the word “soon.”

What did that mean?

Didn’t he want to see me again?

Didn’t he know how bad I ached for him?

How could he not see this was killing me?

Then again, I didn’t want him to see.

I didn’t want him to know.

I didn’t want him to suspect a thing, because if he did it would only mean he’d want to make up excuses not to see me ever again… he’d have to avoid me whenever he could… he’d have to break my heart and tell me he didn’t feel the same way I did.

I turned and started to walk toward the house.

That’s when I heard his footsteps hurrying up behind me.

I felt him grab my forearm and spin me around.

I gasped and he gazed into my eyes, and for a moment—just one fleeting moment—I thought once more that he might press his lips to mine.

I wanted him to.

I almost cupped my hand around the back of his head and forced his lips to mine.

But I held back.

Choose your moments.

Be smart.

Be discreet.

I inhaled. Exhaled. Inhaled again as though he wasn’t sure what he was about to say or how to say it. Then he breathed, “I… I wish you could stay in Mulligan’s Mill. If there’s danger back there… if there’s danger anywhere… I don’t want you to leave. I can keep you safe here… but if you leave….”

His voice trailed off.

I didn’t know what to say, and even if I did, the words would have caught in my throat.

I took too long to respond, and before I knew it he was letting go of my forearm…

Returning to his truck…

Starting it up…

Driving away.

And all I could think was—

Harry.