Only to find Isaac, the cat who didn’t likeanyone, curled up on Wes’s lap as if he belonged there.Was therenot one single being this man could not charm?Wes’s large handrubbed soothingly over Isaac’s white fur, and Ryker found itstrange that he was suddenly envious of his cat.Ryker imaginedthose warm palms rubbing over his skin, sparking fiery trails ofexcitement with every touch.
“Be careful.Isaac is prone to biting andscratching anyone but me,” Ryker warned.
“Nah, we’re cool.You love me, don’t you,baby?”Wes cooed.Isaac’s purrs grew louder, and then PrincessLeia, the tabby, trotted into the room to see what all the fuss wasabout.“And who do we have here?”Wes asked as she started to rubagainst his legs.
“This is Princess Leia, but she acts like aqueen.Very demanding,” Ryker said as he picked Leia up andscratched her head.Spock sat by Wes’s feet, curled up andcontent.
It was rare for Ryker to have company over,and he stood quietly watching Wes interact with his fur babies.Heexpected to feel awkward, but it never happened.It felt right tohave Wes here in his space.Like he belonged.He would think aboutwhy later.
“I hope my mom didn’t offend you,” Rykersaid, breaking the silence.
“Nope, she’s great.I love a person who getsright to the heart of the matter.Just out of curiosity, ’cause Iam a nosy writer, do you have any more family?”Wes asked as hecontinued to cradle Isaac.
“My sister, Rachel.She lives in Australia.It’s just the three of us.My dad left when I was six months oldand Rachel was five.”Ryker pointed to a photo of Rachel, his mom,and himself as a seven-year-old, standing in front of the New YorkCity public library branch on Fifth Avenue.“My dad was in the armyand met my mom when he was stationed in San Juan.They met, quicklymarried, moved here, had us and then, one day, five years later, heleft.Mom spoke very little English at the time and had no job.She’d been a nurse in San Juan but couldn’t get hired here.Westruggled for many years.Thankfully, we had a nice neighbor whohelped us out.Mom learned English, eventually got a job as anoffice assistant, and then earned a full scholarship to go back toschool.And the rest is history.”He paused.“Sorry, I don’t knowwhy I told you all that.”
“I don’t mind.Talk all you want.Feel freeto tell me it’s none of my business, but what happened to yourdad?”Wes asked cautiously, placing Isaac on the floor, thenrubbing his hands on his thighs.
“We don’t know.Mom hired an investigatoryears later when she could afford it, but they never found him.Mydad, Walter Hoffman, was born and raised in Vermont, so we thoughtmaybe he’d gone back there but no.The investigator looked into hisparents, who were from Germany, but my grandparents were bothdeceased by the time my father got married, and we didn’t know ofany other relatives.When we were older, Rachel and I took ourmother’s maiden name.I didn’t really want to think of my dad orsee the reminder of him every time I signed my name.And unlikeRachel, I don’t have any memories of him.”
Wes appeared to be at a loss for words.Ryker gave him a small smile.“Everything worked out.We’ve hadeach other and support from our friends.We’re all hardworking,fairly well-adjusted people.”
“I know a bit about where you’re comingfrom.I was raised by my grandmother after my parents died.Well,you’ve already read my bio.My parents were murdered at theirlakefront cabin when I was just eight.”
Ryker nodded.“I’m so sorry, Wes.I can’timagine how you coped with that loss at such a young age.”
“A lot of therapy and a lot of love from mygrandmother.I didn’t make it easy on her, though.When I was ateenager, I became obsessed with finding out what happened to myparents and answering the question that haunted me—why them?”
“Seems like we both had to deal withdifficult unknowns.”
Wes nodded in agreement.“Eventually, I gotan answer, but it didn’t make the grieving process any easier.Unfortunately, they were at the wrong place at the wrong time.Theman who murdered them was living nearby and had mental healthissues.He’d been experiencing increased paranoia andhallucinations, and he was convinced my parents were encroaching onhis land and were out to hurt him.When I look back on it now, itmakes me sad rather than angry at the whole situation.If only he’dreceived the help he needed, my parents might be alive.”
“How did you cope with that knowledge?”
“It took a long time for me to process it,and I’m still not sure I’m done.I guess that’s why I was alwaysdrawn to mysteries.I was curious about what drives people todesperate acts.I even thought about becoming an investigator atone point, but writing won out.”Wes sighed and ran a hand over hisface.“And now my memories of my parents get fainter as time goeson.Thank God for my grandmother.She kept all their mementos andpictures so at least I have that.My grandmother was strict withme, but she loved me fiercely.She was quite a woman—lively,outgoing, witty.Even after all the losses she’d suffered, she wasdetermined to live life to the fullest.”
“Sounds like her grandson,” Ryker mused.This time it was Wes’s turn to blush.Their eyes met and a powerfulawareness passed between them.Ryker forced himself to lookaway.
Ryker switched gears, breaking the moment.“Do you mind if we turn back to the project?I was doing somebrainstorming last night on possible themes for the book series.Ithought we could each write a chapter and see how our stylesmesh.”
Ryker walked over to his storyboard wall andWes followed, bringing with him the unique smell of salt and citrusRyker loved.It made Ryker want to push Wes up against the nearestwall and lick his throat, to see if he tasted just as good as hesmelled.After their personal revelations, and in the closeconfines of the apartment, Ryker’s body craved a similar intimacywith Wes.He imagined sucking and nibbling up the side of his neck,over that blond stubble, until he reached those sumptuous lips.Then he would plunge his tongue into Wes’s mouth, and they wouldbattle for dominance, neither of them coming up for air until…
“You’ve been busy.”
Wes’s comment interrupted Ryker’s vividfantasy.“Insomnia leaves me with hours to do nothing but think andwrite,” Ryker said, shrugging.
“How long have you been dealing with that?”Wes asked.
“For the past ten years,” Ryker stated.“It’s a long story.I might share it with you another day.”
Two hours, three more cups of coffee, andfour arguments later, Wes and Ryker had come up with a list ofthree possible plot tropes for their fantasy series.
“I want the relationship between theprotagonists to be sexy and erotic.It should be sweaty, messy, anddirty.Emphasis on the dirty.”Wes waggled his eyebrows.
Ryker ran his hands through his hair infrustration.“That’s the one thing I’m worried about.I’ve neverwritten sex scenes or romantic dialogue before.I’m going to haveto do some research.”
“Research?Just think of any fantasy you’vehad recently and write it down.Boom, done.”
Ryker’s face flushed an alarming shade ofred, and Wes grinned.Recalling his earlier fantasy starring theman before him, Ryker already had one particular scene in mind.
