Breakfast Included, page 3
I want him to look at me like that again.
Tate jerked at the errant thought and headed for the kitchenette. His heart thudded in his chest. He’d forgotten how attracted he’d been to Reno. Forgotten how, without words, Reno had always made him feel like he walked taller. That maybe he did have the answers to the universe. Part of him wished he did.
“Would you like a beer?” he asked with his back to Reno and his head in the fridge. He needed to focus on something else, anything else. Even if it was only the minute it took to grab a couple bottles of beer and crack them open.
“Sure.” Reno sat down on the couch across from a wood-burning stove, currently dark and silent, that sat on a raised stone platform. Behind the stove, the stones continued seamlessly up the wall to the ceiling. “Do you think we should light a fire? In case the generators give out?”
“Good call.”
Tate inhaled deeply, held his breath for a few seconds, and then let it out slowly. He crossed the room, stopped to place the bottles on the coffee table in front of the couch, and then crouched in front of the stove to get the fire going. Who knew how long the generators would keep things working out here, and the last thing he wanted was to wake up in the middle of the night with frost on his nose and numb feet because there was no heat.
Satisfied with the fire, he stood and rubbed his hands on his thighs. This was silly. He felt like a teenager again, nervous about sitting too close to a hot guy. Or even looking at him too long. At least he no longer had to worry about making sure no one caught on to his attraction to the same sex. His parents had been hard-core conservatives, and while they’d eventually accepted that Tate’s best friend had a gay brother, accepting their son as anything other than straight was a different story. It had taken a long time, but he was now out and proud. The first time he’d said the words out loud to someone other than himself had been the most liberating moment of his life. And he still had his parents. They’d realized love for their children was stronger than their outdated views.
“That should keep things warm in here all night,” he said.
He sat on the opposite end of the couch from Reno, lifted his beer bottle toward him in salute, and took a long draft.
“So . . .” he said but didn’t continue, suddenly unsure of what to say.
“So . . .” Reno repeated. He drew the word out and chuckled softly.
They both took another drink. The silence between them stretched, broken only by the snap and pop of the fire, and just when Tate couldn’t take it anymore, Reno started speaking at the same time. He laughed along with Reno, and silence fell between them again, but this time, it didn’t feel quite so heavy.
“You go,” Tate said softly.
“When did you come out to my brother?” Reno asked after a few seconds. He angled himself on the couch to face Tate and folded one leg so his knee rested on the cushion between them. Close enough for Tate to touch.
“I didn’t really,” Tate said and looked toward the fire. “Not in so many words, anyway.”
He flashed back to the night that changed his life for the better. “He caught me making out in the bathroom with one of the guys from his hockey team at a university party.”
“Wow, you really have a thing for bathrooms,” Reno said. His voice was deadpan, but mirth sparkled in his gray-blue eyes.
Heat fanned over Tate’s cheeks and across the bridge of his nose. What did he say to that? He’d been questioning his sexuality for a long time, and whenever he saw Reno, his heart kicked up a beat. Which excited him and at the same time scared him. Then he’d gone and kissed Reno in the bathroom at a party. Not his finest moment but also one of his best. There had been no more questioning his sexuality after that kiss.
“What did Ricky say?” Reno asked, and Tate took the out about bathrooms.
“He didn’t say anything at first. Just walked away with this disappointed look on his face.” Tate remembered that night and the fear that he’d lost his best friend clearly. “I was terrified he was going to kick my ass, or worse, that we’d never be friends again. Your brother was always such a bro, you know.”
Tate hadn’t felt he could confide in Ricky back then, even though Ricky was like a mama bear when it came to protecting his little brother, who was gay. That alone should have told him Ricky wouldn’t have had a problem, but still. Even if that wouldn’t have been an issue, falling for your best friend’s sibling was a no-no. He hadn’t wanted to end up losing them both, and fear was a powerful thing. It messed with reason.
“Yeah, he’s all alpha dude on the outside.” Reno’s voice cut into Tate’s thoughts. “But he looks out for the people he cares about. No matter what. There was nothing he wouldn’t have done to protect me. Or you. Even to this day.”
Tate remembered. Reno had been relentless with always wanting to follow them around, to be where they were, always just inside Tate’s orbit. Super-protective tough guy Ricky always let Reno tag along. Even when most guys his age would have been embarrassed about their little brother tagging along. Ricky just leveled a “try me” look on anyone who dared to make fun of them.
“So, what happened after he caught you?” Reno asked.
“He was pissed off at me, but not because he’d caught me with a guy. He was mad that I’d never told him and hurt that I thought he’d think any less of me. And he was right. I was just so scared. I knew how he looked out for you, but if he’d known then how I felt, he would have never let you hang out with us. No one is good enough for you in his eyes, you know. Not even me.”
Tate grinned over at Reno, who just rolled his eyes.
“Whatever. He wouldn’t have done anything.”
“Are you kidding me? He’d have kicked my ass.”
“Maybe.” Reno’s grin faded as he looked down at his bottle. “So that’s why you ditched me after you kissed me?”
His voice was so small that Tate’s heart split a little for having caused it. He should never have done that to Reno. The last thing he’d ever wanted to do was hurt Reno. Still didn’t.
“Reno,” he said softly as he leaned over and placed a hand on Reno’s knee. Even through the thick layer of denim, Tate’s hand tingled where it rested on Reno. “That kiss was my wildest dream come true. And it scared me. I didn’t know what to do, so I did what any teenager facing emotions bigger than they could handle did. I ran away.”
He wasn’t supposed to leave for university until a couple of weeks after that party, but he’d taken off the next morning and never looked back. Ricky had told him one night that Reno kept asking about him, sad and moping because of his unrequited crush on him. Ricky had finally sat Reno down and made sure he understood nothing would ever come of it because Tate was straight. His words had hung between them, charged and crackling. Like a challenge somehow. Tate had been too caught up in his head then to realize that had been the perfect opening to tell Ricky he’d been questioning his sexuality. That maybe he was bi.
But it also felt like a trap. That if he confessed his feelings for the younger Pierce, he might feel the wrath of the older Pierce—not that Ricky would ever physically harm him. But there was good reason Ricky was an enforcer on the ice. The man was seriously intimidating and could level his opponents with one look. Plus, one didn’t mess with a best friend’s younger sibling. So, Tate had said nothing.
“And also, because everyone at school knew not to mess with Reno Pierce,” Tate parsed his thoughts. “Not unless they wanted to deal with the business end of Ricky’s fists.”
“He was always a scrapper on the ice.” Reno laughed, but it was a soft, affectionate sound. “There was never any doubt he’d make it all the way to the NHL.”
Reno’s gaze was on the fire, but Tate knew he wasn’t really seeing it. Whatever was rolling around in his head, he was taking his time to articulate it.
“You never thought about looking me up when you moved back?”
Reno’s voice was quiet, tentative, and Tate would have kicked his own ass if he could. He shifted on his cushion. He never wanted to do anything again that would hurt Reno. Or incur Ricky’s wrath by doing so.
“I was just so focused on my career that I really didn’t have much time to think about anything else,” Tate said, which sadly was the truth. Plus, after he’d come out, he’d made up for lost time by sleeping with a different person every weekend. Then there’d been his long-term relationship that he’d thought was his forever.
Reno nodded but still didn’t make eye contact.
“That and . . .” Tate cleared his throat. “You were so cute. I knew you’d grow up gorgeous and figured you’d be in a full-on committed relationship by now. Married with the one-point-two kids and a dog and all that.”
Reno turned to him finally, and a smile lit up his handsome face. “You thought I was cute?”
Yet again, warmth spread over his cheeks, and he knew his skin would look as red as his hair. He couldn’t remember a time he’d flushed so much as now. It was all Reno’s doing, he decided. “Well . . . I might have been stupid, but I wasn’t blind.”
Reno’s laughter filled the cabin, and a little piece of Tate’s self-confidence pulled its head out of the metaphorical sand. He wanted to hear that laugh again and again. Reno’s eyes locked with his, and the air crackled like a living thing between them. Tate’s whole body flushed with arousal, and his lower belly tightened.
He wanted Reno.
But Reno turned away, and the moment broke. Reno lifted his beer bottle to his mouth and Tate sat mesmerized. He watched Reno’s Adam’s apple rise and fall as he swallowed back the last of the amber liquid. Reno stood, looked around the cabin, and walked over to the kitchenette to place his empty bottle on the counter.
“Just the one bedroom then?” he asked, and at Tate’s nod, said, “I’ll sleep on the couch. If you have some extra blankets.”
Tate stood. “You don’t need to sleep out here. You can have the bed.”
Or better yet, share it with me.
Reno shook his head and shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “This is your cabin. I’m not kicking you out of your bed. The couch will be comfy enough.”
After getting Reno settled Tate cleaned up for the night, and then laid alone in a bed big enough for two. His mind replayed every moment spent with Reno when they were kids and then tonight. He may not have given much thought to Reno over the years since he’d left for university, but he knew that would change from this point on. Reno seemed hesitant, and with good reason, but Tate decided he was going to make a point of really getting to know Reno now that they’d reconnected.
He drifted off to sleep with the decade-old memory of Reno’s lips against his.
Chapter Three
Friday, December 23
Reno woke slowly as the most delicious dream that involved him and Tate and very little clothing—none, in fact—began to fade. He stretched and pressed the heel of his hand to his groin. He froze at the sound of movement nearby. He snapped his eyes open and took in the surroundings. He was not in his own bedroom.
He bolted upright as the previous night rushed to the forefront of his mind. Running into Tate Boylan at the speed-dating event, an avalanche stranding them all at The Retreat, sleeping on the couch in Tate’s private cabin, and wanting so badly to kiss him again.
Tate was moving about the kitchenette, shirtless, clanking pans and plates, and the heavenly scent of bacon teased Reno’s nostrils. His stomach gurgled with anticipation.
“Morning, sunshine.” Tate sounded way too chipper at whatever the time was, but it was definitely too early, given the low light coming in through the large mountain-facing windows. Through a gap in the curtains, all he saw was white.
Reno narrowed his eyes and growled. “It’s snowing.” That was not a good sign for road clearing. “And stop being one of those annoyingly happy morning people.”
Tate didn’t seem to take any offense to Reno’s lack of morning manners and placed a tray on the coffee table in front of him. There were two cups of steaming coffee, a plate with several slices of buttered toast beside which sat a jar of strawberry jam and one of honey, and two plates, each topped with omelets. He didn’t know what kind, but he could see mushrooms, bacon, and spinach with swiss cheese melted on top.
“As promised,” Tate said with a proud smile. And still shirtless. “Breakfast included.”
“This looks and smells amazing,” Reno said as he adjusted himself on the couch to put his feet on the floor and give Tate room to sit. “But first . . .”
He made a quick run to the bathroom—which was accessed through Tate’s bedroom. Reno tried not to look, but his gaze was drawn to the unmade bed that sat in the center. It was big and comfortable-looking, and the imprint of Tate’s body on the mattress and pillow sent a shiver of longing through Reno. He pressed his lips together and dragged his eyes away as he rushed into the bathroom, the whole time trying not to think about Tate in there, naked in the shower, and touching things Tate had touched. He looked at himself in the mirror and shook his head.
“It’s like you’re sixteen all over again,” he whispered to his reflection.
With a huff and another shake of his head, he returned to the couch where he very deliberately sat far enough from Tate that he wouldn’t brush up against all that milky, naked skin. Could the man not put a shirt on while they ate?
“Thank you for this,” he said after taking a sip of perfectly brewed fresh coffee.
“Anytime,” Tate said nonchalantly, as though he didn’t realize the implication of “anytime”.
There wouldn’t be a second time.
Reno picked up his fork and shoveled a mouthful of omelet into his mouth so he didn’t have to speak, but . . .
“Oh my god.” He groaned. “This is so good.”
Tate only nodded at him, and a grin tugged at his lips as he chewed.
The man’s smile was going to kill him. Reno frowned as he ate. He wasn’t impressed that he’d been stranded at the resort overnight and had agreed to stay with Tate, but part of him couldn’t deny how happy he was at getting to spend that time with him.
Not that anything would come of it, but the man was still as mouthwateringly hot as ever. More so now that he was all grown up and filled out and so damn smart. God, he loved an intelligent man. But even living in the same city, basically, they had never run into each other. Which meant their lives were much too different to align. Running into Tate now didn’t mean they were fated to be together from here on out. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t make the best of it and live out a little of his lifelong fantasy where Tate Boylan was concerned.
Except the road had surely been cleared by now, so he needed to pack his fantasies away and get a move on back to real life.
“Figured we may as well make the best of the situation,” Tate said casually, as though he’d read Reno’s mind.
Reno flushed and scrambled for any topic to change the direction of his thoughts.
“Do you make breakfast for all the boys?” he quipped and then immediately wished he could take the words back. He stared at his meal like it was the most amazing thing on the planet while fighting the urge to squirm. Even without looking, he felt the heavy weight of Tate’s gaze on him as the silence stretched.
“Only the ones I like,” Tate said softly with a smile in his voice.
Reno looked over at him. Tate’s hazel eyes shone bright with delight and trapped him in their depths. Reno dropped his gaze to Tate’s bare torso and licked his lips. Tate had twisted slightly toward him, and his gaze was drawn to Tate’s toned muscles and pecs, dusted with a soft pelt of red fur. Reno’s fingers itched to tangle in those fine hairs.
Had Tate moved closer? Reno swallowed and promptly choked.
“Shit. Sorry.” Tate patted his hand against Reno’s back.
“I’m fine,” Reno croaked and held a hand up. “Thank you.”
He didn’t look at Tate again but could feel his gaze lingering on him a moment before he turned back to finishing his own meal. His back tingled with the memory of Tate’s hand touching him, and he imagined what it would feel like if he hadn’t had the layer of his T-shirt between their skin.
“We should head over to the hotel and see what the status on the road is,” Reno said when they were done and the dishes washed and put away. That was what he needed to focus on, not reviving his teenage crush.
Tate nodded. “Sure,” he said, but his voice sounded distant.
Reno gasped when he stepped outside a few minutes later, taking in the scene before him. It had been dark when they arrived at the cabin the night before. The dim pathway lights only reached a few feet into the night and caught on nearby snow-flocked trees. But in the light of day, the view that greeted him was breathtaking. He could only imagine how much more incredible it would have been if the skies were clear blue and the sun’s rays were highlighting the treetops.
The snow was falling lightly, and the evergreens that surrounded the cabins were loaded down with fresh snow. It looked like a living postcard. But what really froze Reno in his tracks was the slow-moving river that meandered not too far away behind Tate’s cabin. Water-smoothed boulders poked above the surface and were capped in thick white blankets. Ice spread out a good two or three feet from the banks, and a small set of critter tracks zigzagged off toward the woods. The water was so clear he could see the rocks below the surface, where the ice hadn’t hidden the depths from view.
“I know, right,” Tate said at his side with reverence in his voice and finally fully dressed.
“I had no idea the cabins back here were so picturesque,” Reno replied, awestruck.
“Maybe we’ll come back here someday.”
If only . . . Reno didn’t know how to respond to that. After today, after he returned home, he doubted he’d ever see Tate again. His throat tightened mysteriously, and he turned toward the recently shoveled path that led back to the hotel.
“Let’s go see what the update is,” Reno said, his voice sounding rough around the edges.
