Ripples in Cedarwood, page 8
part #2 of Cedarwood Pride Series
“I—why are you here?” He sounded incredulous and that wasn’t his intention. “Sorry. How are you?” Why was he snapping at Farin when he’d rather be kissing him instead?
Farin smiled. “First, I came in for the coffee. Would you like a refill? A fresh coffee?”
He fumbled. “Yeah, sure.” He held up both hands. He hadn’t wanted more to drink. He’d rather know what was going on. “Wait.” Farin brought out his deep insecurities and worries. Why? Because he was so far out of Steve’s league. They were friends, but was more possible? Not if he kept pushing Farin away.
Farin stayed put and said nothing. Steve couldn’t read his expression.
“Maybe I should buy you the drink. I’ve been rude,” Steve said. “I’m out of sorts.” Talk about an understatement. Part of him wanted to say something smart and keep Farin there, but part of him wanted to push until Farin left him alone.
“Why?” Farin flexed his fingers on the chair back. His gold watch glinted in the sunshine.
“You.” He sank onto his seat. Why did admitting that truth seem so scary? Because Farin could turn him down. He’d been dumped plenty of times, but it never got easier. They weren’t even together and he didn’t want to go through the heartache.
“Me?” Farin sat next to him. Mischief sparkled in his eyes. “What did I do?”
“Oh, my Jesus.” Steve scrubbed both hands over his face. “I came here to write. You show up and my mind goes blank. It’s not good. I’m supposed to be focused.” On the story, not Farin’s lips.
“Well, chill.” Farin’s smile widened. “Don texted me. He said you were here and said I should pop by.”
He wasn’t sure what to think. Don would set him up with Farin? And Farin would agree? “So you popped by?”
“Yeah. In a heartbeat.” Farin left his chair. “Let me get two coffees.” He left Steve at the table.
Steve sighed. His mind spun. Farin was there. Don had encouraged them to get together. The cosmos sure wanted him to get with Farin. He toyed with the lid of his laptop.
Farin returned. “Fresh coffee.” He nodded to the computer. “Are you doing grades?”
“No. I don’t have any to complete.” Would Farin understand he needed time to write?
“Blogging? My brother seems to think we should have one for the store. If you’re interested, I may have you write a blog for me.” Farin sipped his coffee. “Interested?”
“No.” He relaxed a little. “I’ve never blogged.” Although all the information he’d read concerning being an author suggested he should have a blog.
“Oh.” Farin sagged in his chair. He rested his leg on his knee. “Well, shoot.”
“I know people who might help you though.” He flipped the pages of his notebook. “I can write them down for you.”
“Meh. I’ll let Colin figure it out. He likes that kind of stuff,” Farin said. “So, what are you working on? Schedules for swim lessons?”
“No.” He shook his head. If he wanted to get closer to Farin, he had to open up. “It’s my writing.”
“You’re an author? Duh. You told me that. Sorry. I must’ve blanked.”
“Yes.” The tips of his ears burned. “I’m not a big name or anything. It’s just a bunch of short stories and novellas. Nothing’s in print. I’ve got some books with a publisher and some I’ve published on my own.”
“Steve, that’s fantastic,” Farin said.
“It is?” He couldn’t conceal his shock. He knew he’d done something not everyone else could do—write and publish. He was proud of himself. But he hadn’t expected Farin to be proud too.
“Yeah, I know lots of folks who claim they’ll write, they’re working on the next great novel or they know they could write and have a bestseller. They all see writing as something that seems easy. I’ve never tried, but it can’t be easy. I’ve heard authors pour themselves into their work. They bleed to get the words out.”
Farin understood more than Steve had expected. “I’m not that hardcore.”
“No?”
“I don’t have time to be hardcore. With Genie and trying to make ends meet, I need to focus on those things. When I get time, I write.”
“Good. Don’t let your creativity fade.” Farin wrapped his hands around his cup. “What are you working on?”
“Me?” Who else? He had to get his thoughts straight. Farin kept asking the right questions. “Uh, it’s a sci-fi story. Two guys are stuck on a spaceship in outer space. They have half a treasure map and their compass is broken.”
“Intriguing,” Farin said. “What happens?”
“Well, according to my notes, the captain plots a course to the closest planet so they can refuel. They’re on the hunt for the other half of the map so they can find the treasure and pay off debts.” Steve flipped through the pages of his notebook again. “Being the only two guys on the ship, they turn to each other for support and other things.”
“For sex?”
“Eventually.” He couldn’t help being a little uncomfortable. “Yeah, but they have to decide if they really want to be with each other or if it’s because they’re the only ones on the ship.” Kind of like him and Farin. Was the growing connection because he was the only guy around for Farin to date? Or were they actually getting closer?
“Fate wants them together.” Farin bumped knees with Steve.
Accidental bump or intended? Steve wasn’t sure, but the sizzles shot through him were hard to ignore. He couldn’t concentrate. He wanted to hold Farin’s hand.
“Well?” Farin leaned forward. “Is that it? Fate?”
“Not exactly. They have to find the other half of the map. Once they do, they can find the treasure. If they find it, there’s no guarantee they’ll stay together,” Steve said. Thank god he’d found his brain again and could think straight.
“And?”
“The map is with the captain’s former boyfriend.”
“It’s complicated,” Farin said. “I like it.”
“You do?” Steve blurted. Jesus. “I mean, thanks. I’ve got to finish it.”
“For one of your publishers?” Farin leaned forward again. His hand brushed Steve’s.
A jolt of electricity hit Steve. His mouth watered. He yearned for a kiss from Farin. Oh, boy.
“Where is this story going?” Farin asked.
Oh, yeah. “I need to finish it for my personal deadline. I like to get going and have set dates to hit so I don’t let the stories drift away. I like to follow my muse, but sometimes he’s a real dick.” He relaxed a bit. He’d never discussed his writing with anyone who wasn’t in the publishing industry and now he’d talked to two people in one day—neither of whom was in the business. He sipped his coffee. The brew slid hot down his throat. He needed creamer, but since Farin had treated him, he wouldn’t complain.
“Where do you get your ideas? You’ve never been to space, right?” Farin stared at him.
Was he bored or enthralled? “No, I haven’t.” Steve folded his hands on his lap. “I let my imagination and muse lead the way. I wonder what it might be like to be in a spaceship or to have sex in space. Weightlessness and sex seems difficult. Like with my two guys, they’re the only ones in the ship. For all they know, they’re the only ones who are even around. How do they know how to have enough lube or rubbers?” He had to keep his voice down. The more he talked, the more his excitement took over. “Sometimes there’s a lot of pressure. What if I’m wrong? What if I get the details mixed up? What if the readers don’t like it? I stress myself out sometimes.”
“I’ll bet,” Farin said.
Steve paused. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to bore you. Once I get going, I don’t like to stop or take a breath.”
“You’re not boring me.” Farin grinned. “I’ve been listening intently. I’m not a writer or ever will be, but I admire anyone who is. I love books—hence co-owning the bookstore—and knowing an author is cool. You can do something I can’t imagine trying.”
“Well, I give it my best shot.” He wasn’t famous, but the compliments pleased him.
Farin rested his chin on his folded hands and his elbows on the table. “I think you’re awesome.”
If he leaned a little closer, he could kiss Farin. Should he? He’d held back at the movies and Farin had given him multiple opportunities to kiss him. Steve didn’t want to go too far, too fast. He had his sister to consider and wasn’t keen to bring someone potentially dangerous into their lives, but Genie knew Farin. She knew Farin’s nephew. God. The attraction between him and Farin was definite. He wanted to see Farin again.
Farin picked up his coffee. “I need a drink.”
His throat ran dry. He needed a drink too. “Yeah.” He downed most of the java. A wild thought popped into his head. He wanted to ask Farin out on a real date.
“We should do this again,” Farin said.
“Coffee date?” Steve blurted. He had to stop saying the first thing on his mind.
“Yeah. Two guys having drinks. Maybe a movie.” Farin shrugged. “Why not?” His eyes flickered. “Sound like a plan?”
Steve forced himself to nod to buy time. He needed a good answer. “How about we try a real date?”
Farin put his coffee cup down. “Steve?”
“Yeah. You and me. A date.” He was scared, but freed. He’d done it. He’d asked Farin out. He panicked. Now that he’d started, he wasn’t sure how to proceed—especially if Farin turned him down.
“I’d like that.”
“Friday?” Where was this confidence coming from and why couldn’t he use it all the time?
Farin nodded. “Yes.”
“You would?” He had to be hearing things.
“I can’t wait.” Farin glanced down at his watch. “Shoot. I need to get back to the store. I’m sorry.”
“No need. We got caught up talking about books.” Steve stood when Farin did. “I’m glad Don texted you.” Farin hugged him. Steve bit back a groan. Farin smelled good—too good.
“I’m glad he did too.” Farin lingered another moment, then let go. “I’ll text you and we’ll set up the details.”
“My house, eight-ish Friday night. I’ll send directions.” If he was going to do this, he’d go all the way. “Genie won’t be home, so we won’t be spied on.”
“Perfect.” Farin winked, then left.
Steve exhaled once Farin was out of the shop. His heart beat in a staccato pace. He sank onto his chair. He’d asked Farin out and boggled his own mind. What had he started? He could have his heart broken. He could be starting something dangerous…or something great. He had to have faith in their connection and his own judgment.
Steve opened his laptop. He wasn’t in the mood to write. He’d rather think about Farin. No, he had a deadline, and he’d meet it. He’d face the book and Farin with the same determination. Now was the time to keep the attraction going—not second guess.
Chapter Ten
“Done.” Farin taped the last label on the box then clapped his hands. In the forty-eight hours since he’d gone to the movies with Steve, he hadn’t been able to get in touch with him other than to ask his address. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t string together time to call or even send the kinky texts he’d promised he’d send. But not now. He’d counted the hours until closing and worked doubly hard to make sure he didn’t have to stick around after hours.
He collected the boxes of items to be shipped in the morning, then carried them into the front room. “Here are the orders. Everything is labeled, packed, taped, and whatever else.” He plunked the boxes on the counter. “Payroll has been sorted out, and I’ve even dealt with the book orders for Sunday.”
“You’re in a good mood.” Colin stuffed the boxes into the postal crate. “Hot date, or just lightening up?”
“Me?” Farin finger-combed his hair. “I’ve got a date.”
“With?” Colin locked the register and tucked the money bag under his arm. “Do I know him?”
“You do. Steve, from the swim complex. We’ve got a date tonight. Not just the movies, but a real date.” He couldn’t wait. “I wanted to make sure everything was done so I could get going. Do you mind?”
“By all means.” Colin grinned. “Got your supplies? Lube? Condoms? Something to slow you down a bit so you don’t overwhelm the kid right off the bat?”
“Shut up. We’ve hung out a few times. I won’t jump his bones.”
“It’s been a long time since you’ve actually dated. You’re the one-night-stand kind of guy.” Colin rounded the counter and strolled with his brother to the back of the store. “Seriously. Take a breath, slow down, and think. He’s a nice guy. Don’t screw it up.”
His brother knew him so well. Farin exhaled and nodded. “You’re right. I’m not good at relationships, but I’m going to make you proud. Trust me. This is what I want. I keep seeing you and Officer Dickwad together. It makes me jealous. After Ron and the crap with you and Nicolas, I didn’t think it was possible. Now I know something hot can happen.”
Colin winked. “Good luck and stop calling him Officer Dickwad. He was a jerk, but he’s reformed. Besides, I thought you got along.”
“It’s my term of endearment.” Farin left the store and climbed into his car. He checked to ensure the bottle of wine was still in the backseat. Once satisfied, he drove across town to Steve’s street. He’d heard of the Moore family. Who hadn’t? They had plenty of money because the patriarch had been an airline pilot during the heyday of flight. Farin sped down the tree-lined avenue. The atmosphere seemed to change, like he was in a completely different town. The road came to a conclusion at a brick archway. The name Moore had been emblazoned in concrete at the apex of the arch.
“Damn,” Farin muttered. No wonder Steve kept up his guard. Just looking at the entryway made everything come into focus. If other guys had come to the house, they probably expected something Steve wasn’t ready to give. He continued up the drive. The trees seemed to part and gave way to the landscape around the house. He slowed his progression and drank in the view. Tall maple trees towered over the two-story building, but the porch seemed to stretch all the way around the house. The place was so damn idyllic. He drove up to the four-stall garage and parked.
A figure strolled out of one of the bays. Steve. Wearing tan skinny jeans, he emphasized his thin frame. The tight white T-shirt pulled across his chest, showcasing the muscle. Farin liked the pairing of the black vest over the shirt and the tan scarf wound loose around Steve’s neck. The man looked like he’d stepped straight out of a fashion magazine. All he needed were the dark-rimmed glasses. Farin sighed. He couldn’t wait to peel all the layers off Steve’s sexy body.
Farin’s heart skipped a beat. He opened his car door. “Hi.” He grabbed the bottle and left the vehicle. “This is for you. It’s warm, but it’s good. I’ve had it before at the Italian restaurant in town. They bottle it themselves.” He gripped the bottle a little tighter. “I’ll stop talking now.” God. He’d made things awkward. Stupid tendency to speak, then think.
“I’m sure it’s great.” Steve slipped the wine from Farin’s hands. “I see you found the place. Wasn’t hard, was it?”
“It was hard not to find it. You’re the only house on this end of the road.” Farin closed his car door, then leaned against the fender. “I forgot there were even houses down here. This is so far out of town.”
“Yeah, Dad liked the acreage, and Mom loved the trees everywhere.” Steve shoved his hands into his pockets. “But it works.”
“It’s very cool. I bet you get all kinds of architectural interest.” He paused. That sounded so dumb. Architectural interest? Jeez. “I mean, I bet a lot of people want to see the house and photograph it—for its beauty.” He had to stop. The more he talked, the less intelligent he sounded.
Steve leaned on the fender beside Farin, and his hip bumped against Farin’s. “Nope. No one usually wants to come back here. They think the mansion’s haunted. Some cretin started the rumor or joke when I was a kid. It still hasn’t died.”
“Oh.” He’d heard the rumor plenty of times. Touch the mansion fence and you’ll die. Make it to the house and the house will own your soul. Funny, for all the bets and dares to touch the place and to investigate, no one bothered to follow through. “I wonder why people do that. Because it’s way far down the road?”
“Boredom. Ignorance. Something to talk about.” Steve shrugged. “Could be worse.”
“How do you and your sister deal? Do people actually try to touch it and scale the fence?” Farin asked. He’d been dared plenty of times but had dodged the dares. Now he could say he’d actually been on the property.
“I don’t tell Genie, but every so often someone does try. They usually get to the gatehouse and freak out. They think the gatehouse is the main house.” Steve pointed to a tiny structure barely visible among the trees. “It’s been crumbling since we moved in.”
“Huh.”
“Genie got teased last year by a couple of boys in her sixth-grade class. She told them to stick it when they told her she lived in a haunted house. She got detention for a week, and I had to explain the situation to the teacher. Honestly, I was proud of Genie for sticking up for herself, but I had to back up the teacher because I don’t want her talking that way.”
“I would’ve been proud of her too. My nephew would’ve done the same thing. He doesn’t take kindly to insults.” No wonder she and Gage got along. They had similar personalities.
Steve placed the bottle of wine on the ground by the tire. “I don’t really want to discuss kids any longer. Like I told you before, Genie’s at a friend’s, and I’ve got this house to myself.” He smoothed the wrinkles out of Farin’s button-down shirt.
“Not that I don’t like your sister, but nice.” Farin smiled.
Steve caged Farin between his body and the fender of the car and pinched one of Farin’s nipples through the fabric of his shirt. “I ordered a pizza twenty minutes ago. The pizza place has a thirty-minute guarantee. That gives us ten minutes. Ever had sex on the hood of your car?”
