“What have you got to lose?” Thomas said. “Things are already strained, right? So talking about it couldn’t make it worse.”
“True. I just have to work up the nerve to do it.” Scott paused, then offered a grateful smile. “Thanks for listening. I was hoping today might bridge the gap, but I think you’re right. We need to talk.”
“Good luck.”
“Good luck with what?” Rhys dropped down on the wood bench next to Thomas, his expression dubious as he glanced back and forth between the two of them.
“I’ve got an audition at the community playhouse coming up this week,” Scott said smoothly, and Thomas nodded. Now wasn’t the time or place for Scott and Rhys to open up old wounds even with the intent of healing them.
After lunch, Thomas got to enjoy another couple of hours of gorgeous scenery and the solid warmth of leaning against Rhys’s broad back. He scarcely paid attention to where they were; instead, he immersed himself in the pleasure of the moment. He loved the stark, open beauty of New Mexico, but after overcoming his initial feeling of being closed in, he was growing to love the towering majesty of the mountains as well.
Once they parted ways with Scott and returned to Rhys’s house, Thomas offered to help unpack the saddlebag, but Rhys waved him off, so he headed straight to the guest bathroom instead. Despite the cool temperatures, he’d worked up a sweat under the heavy helmet, and he wanted to wash his hair so he’d feel less grungy. He’d just stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist and his hair when he was startled by a knock on the bathroom door.
“Thomas? Mama just called. She said she’d stop by with some leftovers in a bit,” Rhys said through the door. “She figured we wouldn’t be in the mood to cook after riding around all day.”
“Viv is a mind reader and a lifesaver.” A mischievous thought popped into Thomas’s head, and he secured the towel around his waist with one hand as he cracked open the door and peeked out to give Rhys a playful grin. “Want to earn some Good Boyfriend points? I’ve got an idea.”
Rhys took a step back and regarded him warily. “What is it?”
“Relax, I wasn’t going to suggest letting her walk in on you bending me over the couch, fucking me senseless,” Thomas said, annoyed enough by Rhys’s continued skittishness that he wanted to poke a little and see what kind of response he got.
Rhys looked away, and his cheeks grew bright pink. “I didn’t think you were,” he mumbled.
Thomas was satisfied by the blush. Maybe it meant Rhys could imagine himself fucking Thomas, which was a step in the right direction. Maybe if Rhys imagined it often enough, he’d start wanting to turn fantasy into reality. “Meet me on the porch. I’ll be there in just a minute.”
No doubt Rhys wouldn’t have called his next move “fleeing,” but Thomas did, and he watched Rhys’s hasty retreat with amusement before drawing back and closing the bathroom door. He whipped off both towels and draped them over the shower curtain rod to dry, and then he got dressed quickly. It was still late afternoon, but the evening nip was already creeping into the air, so he dressed for warmth in jeans, a Red Rock Rattlers sweatshirt, and thick socks. Then he grabbed his comb and headed out to join Rhys on the porch.
Rhys was settled in one of the rocking chairs, keeping it in motion with his foot, but Thomas beckoned for him to get up. Thomas sat on the top step leading to the porch, and he patted the porch floor behind himself.
“Have a seat,” he said, holding up the comb. “Want Viv to go all gooey? Let her ‘catch’ you combing out your boyfriend’s hair — which he loves for you to do,” he added with an arch smile.
Rhys’s eyes widened, and for a moment, Thomas thought he might balk, but then he swallowed hard and pushed himself to his feet.
“I’ve never done this before,” Rhys said as he sat down behind Thomas, resting his feet on the step Thomas was sitting on so Thomas was bracketed between his legs. “Andy always had short hair.”
“It’s easy,” Thomas said, handing over the comb. “Go from the scalp to the end, and if you run into a tangle, comb it out. I have a pretty tough head, so you don’t have to be careful, but don’t yank hard either.”
“Okay.” Rhys blew out a sharp breath. “I can do that.”
Thomas sat as unmoving as a statue, waiting for Rhys to begin, and at the first scrape of the teeth of the comb against his scalp, he wanted to sag with relief that Rhys wasn’t backing down or running away. Thomas closed his eyes and let his shoulders slump, relaxing beneath the gentle strokes of the comb. Rhys was cautious at first, but then he too seemed to relax and become more confident with each stroke.
A hum of pleasure escaped Thomas’s throat, and he rested his arms on Rhys’s firm thighs, which tensed briefly and then relaxed. Eventually, Rhys began lifting Thomas’s hair as he combed it, and Thomas released a happy sigh, feeling like he could melt into the porch steps. He loved having his hair brushed and played with, but lately, the only people who’d touched it were the professionals in the hair and makeup department ofPlague Z.
“You weren’t kidding, were you.”
“Hmm?” Thomas reluctantly emerged from his haze of sensual enjoyment to focus on what Rhys was saying.
“You really do love this,” Rhys said as he ran the comb through Thomas’s hair.
Thomas opened his eyes and tipped his head back so he could give Rhys a lazy smile. “It feels good, and I like being taken care of once in a while. It’s a luxury.”
“Why a luxury?”
“Because I haven’t had a boyfriend who was interested in brushing my hair in a long time,” Thomas said, looking straight ahead again.
“That’s a shame.” Rhys put down the comb and gathered Thomas’s hair in a loose ponytail. “You want it down or pulled back?”
“I don’t suppose you know how to braid?” Thomas peeked over his shoulder to see how Rhys reacted to the teasing, but Rhys’s expression was serious.
