“Oh, hi!” I say, appreciating how even seeing him standing in front of me causes a pleasant, warm feeling to spread throughout my belly.
“I thought it might be getting chilly down here, so a blanket and something warm to drink might be in order,” he says and makes a motion for me to lift my arms so he can cover my legs with the cozy blanket. Once he’s done tucking it around my legs, he grabs the thermos, unscrews the top, and pours me a travel mug of hot chocolate. Before handing it to me, he pulls something out of his pocket, and when he turns back and holds out the little cup, he’s sprinkled the perfect number of mini marshmallows on top.
It’s only after wrapping my hands around the warm cup that I realize how freezing I’ve gotten while I’ve been sitting here, lost in my art.
“This is so nice. Thank you so much, Sam,” I say.God, this man is going to kill me. How am I supposed to resist someone like this?
He gives me a shy smile. “You’re welcome,” he says, taking a sip from his own little cup. “I thought it felt like a hot-chocolatey kind of afternoon, and you’ve been down here a while. I wanted to make sure you hadn’t drowned or something.” He chuckles, and I bump my shoulder into his, rolling my eyes.
“Haven’t drowned yet. Thanks though,” I reply. “This is really sweet.” I take another sip, and then without thinking about it, I add, “I don’t think anyone’s ever brought me hot chocolate before.”
I can see the sadness flash across his face, but he just nods and takes another sip of his drink. Part of the thing about being raised in a shitty family is that I don’t have the same types of fond memories as people with more normal childhoods. If I’m brutally honest, my mother never showed much love to either Aaron or me when we were small. She did the bare minimum required to keep us alive. It makes it hard to connect with people who had normal parents. It sometimes feels like trying to relate to someone who’s been raised by a different species. I don’t know all the details about Sam’s childhood, but from what I can tell, his family seems pretty normal. I’ve met his parents, as well as Mason and Dylan’s, and they’re all great. The differences between my life and Sam’s are stark. We come from different worlds, with very few common experiences. Throw in the fact that I have this significant hearing loss, and it’s just one more difference between us. I don’t know how to be in a relationship with someone like Sam. I don’t know how to be in a relationship with anyone, really. The scars I carry from my childhood and now from the Army, both mental and physical, broke me down so much I'd never be able to offer anything to someone like that. The long and the short of it is that there’s no way Sam and I could ever work, no matter how much my heart might long for someone like him. Fuck, I can’t even keep a decent relationship with my only sibling; I’d never be able to figure out a romantic relationship. Every relationship I’ve ever touched has turned to shit, and I wouldn’t have a damn clue how to fit into a family dynamic that’s actually healthy.
I shake my head and let out a huff of disgust, which I disguise by quickly taking a sip of my hot chocolate, doing my best to shove those thoughts aside. Sam is a nice guy, and maybe we’ll get to know each other over the next few months. Hopefully, we can be friends. That’s the best I can hope for, and I’ll take what I can get.
CHAPTER 14
SAM
Sitting beside Tyler on the driftwood log, drinking hot chocolate and staring out to the ocean, feels like the perfect way to wind down the day. After he left for the beach, I puttered around, fixing the gas fireplace in the guest cabin and getting things settled for us, but when he’d been gone a while, I started to get concerned. Again with the weird, protective instinct toward Tyler. I still can’t figure it out. I saw the sketchbook he had tucked under his arm, so I figured he must have gotten distracted. He’s mentioned once or twice that he draws as part of his therapy, which I’ve always thought was cool, but I’ve never seen any of his artwork. Maybe he’ll let me while we’re roommates.
Once the sun started to set, I knew the temperature would drop quickly, so I decided to check on him. I didn’t really want him to know that’s what I was doing, which is how I ended up bringing him hot chocolate, but I’m glad I did. It’s the perfect way to end the afternoon.
I still have no idea what we’re going to do about the sleeping arrangements. For a few nights, one of us sleeping on the couch wouldn’t be a big deal, but since we’re going to be here for several months, I’m going to have to talk to Mason and figure something else out.
We sit silently for a bit, but once the sun drops into the ocean, the temperature goes from chilly to friggin’ freezing. I turn to Tyler to find him clutching his now cold cup of hot chocolate and shivering.
“Shit, Tyler, you’re freezing,” I say, hopping up and taking the cup from his hand. I grab the blanket from around his legs and wrap it around his shoulders. After I gather up the thermos and put everything back in my backpack, I wrap one arm around him, pulling him close to me and hoping that will help him stop shivering.
“Come on, Freezy Bear. It’s too cold to be sitting out here. Let’s go back to the cabin. I got the fireplace working, and I’ll get the steaks going for dinner.”
Tyler nods in response, his teeth chattering from the cold. “I didn’t actually realize how cold it had gotten,” he murmurs, pulling the blanket more tightly around his shoulders as we make our way to the staircase.
“Your brain was busy with other stuff.” I’d caught just a glimpse of the sketch he was working on when I’d first approached. It looked like one of the hunched-over, windblown trees perched on the edge of the cliff, and it looked beautiful. I would love to see the rest of his work, but as soon as I sat down beside him, he snapped his book closed abruptly, and I didn’t want to pry.
The more I get to know him, the more I feel like I don’t know. Tyler is a closed book, but I want to learn more about him. I want to open the book and see what’s on every page of him. I get the feeling he carries a heavy load, one he doesn’t share with anyone else. I don’t understand my desire to help him carry his burden though. In all my many,manyrelationships, I don’t recall this need to take on someone else’s baggage. It’s like some kind of compulsion. I don’t want to push him, but I hope as we get to know each other, he’ll let me in and allow me to help. I have no idea what keeps him so weighed down all the time, but I know I’d do nearly anything to lighten his load.
We approach the bottom of the staircase just as the last sliver of orange sun disappears behind the horizon, and I’m glad we headed back when we did since it’s almost totally dark already.
Ten minutes later, we’re back in the guesthouse. It really is a perfect little love nest. If only we were in love. A wistful sigh escapes me at the thought, but thankfully, Tyler doesn’t notice.
Even after our scorching-hot encounter a couple of weeks ago, I’m not naive enough to think that there could truly be anything between us. For one thing, I’m way older than he is, so much older that I’m on the alarmingly close to “creepy old man” territory. He’s so young, how would we ever find common ground? Not to mention the fact that we work together, and I really don’t want to bethatguy. Not that I’m technically Tyler’s boss, but still.
Pulling my attention back into the present, I find Tyler staring at me with a confused look. “Sorry, man, I spaced out for a second. What’d you say?” I ask, shaking my head, trying to get rid of the cobwebs.
He grins at me, his face lighting up. He usually wears a tense expression and pastes on a smile when he knows someone’s watching him. But when he gifts you with a genuine smile… wow, is it ever worth it.
“I was just wondering what I can do to help with dinner?” he asks, his lips curling up at the corners, like he’s trying not to chuckle at me spacing out. I had grabbed a couple of delicious-looking steaks at the little grocery store and promised to grill them up for us on the BBQ we had found in the small shed adjacent to the cabin. This place isn’t going to be difficult to spend a couple of months in—it’s nicer than my condo, for god’s sake.
“Um. Yeah, right. I’ll go fire up the grill. Why don’t you throw together the salad?” I say, heading to the door.
A little while later, I step back into the kitchen carrying a plate of delicious steaks grilled to perfection. Yeah, we bought way too much, but there will be leftovers for this week when we’ll be too tired from work to think about cooking. Tyler has everything else ready, and he’s puttering around the kitchen. The whole scene is strangely domestic, and I like it, but I can’t let myself like it too much. That’s how I end up falling head over heels with people who aren’t right for me.
“Are you a wine drinker?” I ask, and his cheeks turn a sweet shade of pink that makes my tummy do a little flip. I really need to stop imagining what he would look like with that adorable flush spreading over the rest of his body. My cock twitches in my jeans, and I give myself a stern, silent talking-to. My dick needs to get the memo that this cannot happen. Again. This cannot happen again.
“Um, no. I’m not really a wine drinker. But I’ll have a glass,” he says, peering up at me through his lashes, and Jesus fuck, my knees nearly give out. That look makes me want to tear his clothes off and push him up against the countertop, kissing and grinding against him until we’re both breathless.
“I’m no expert, but I know I like this one, so let’s go for it,” I say, uncorking the bottle and quickly pouring us each a glass. Fuck the whole “let it breathe” concept. I need something to mellow me out right now. I don’t want to let myself enjoy how comfortable this whole thing is. Making dinner together and being domestic and cozy is everything I’ve ever truly wanted. Spending an evening like this fits me perfectly, like a good pair of jeans. I have the weird feeling of being exactly where I’m meant to be, although I know that’s just my poor heart longing for something it can’t have.
