“The basement.”
Oliver’s voice dropped to a whisper. “For a little privacy?”
Was Nick that transparent? “Keep it together. I want to show you my workshop.”
“You know I have a thing for Santa, don’t you?” Oliver said, not as quiet this time.
“Shh!” Nick could barely control his laughter as he pulled Oliver toward the stairs. “I do not need to know about your weird fetishes.”
Oliver caught him as they hit the landing and kissed him hard. “I really think you do.”
Nick shook his head and continued the rest of the way downstairs.
* * *
The basement was damp and largely unfinished, with concrete walls and floors. The ceilings were low too, especially for Oliver. Nick’s head was only a few inches below it, and he seemed to know exactly where to duck to avoid beams and exposed pipes. Oliver wasn’t quite that lucky, but he only managed to hurt himself once, on the doorway that led into a small room in the back.
“You okay?” Nick asked.
“I’ll be fine.” He blinked a few more times to clear the tears from his eyes, and then blinked more as he took in what he was seeing.
“What do you think?” Nick picked up a long smooth piece of wood and flipped it between his fingers. As it settled in his hand, Oliver realized it was a spindle, like the kind in the backs of the chairs upstairs.
“You made that?” Oliver reached for it. The wood was nearly soft under his fingers, unvarnished, but sanded so fine it hardly needed it.
“It’s my dad’s old lathe.” Nick rested a hand on a heavy piece of machinery mounted on a workbench. “All his stuff, actually. It’s been down here since we moved in, but I only started playing around with it again in the last few years.”
“What do you make?”
“Nothing much. I made new spindles for the kitchen chairs last winter. And the desk in Hayden’s room. You didn’t see it, but I made that last year, before they moved in.” He smiled, a bright unrestrained smile. “The drawers nearly killed me. Took me four tries before I could get them all to sit flush.”
“You made your son a desk?” Oliver couldn’t explain how impressed he was. Nick said he was still figuring out how to be a father to Hayden. A handmade desk didn’t build a relationship, but as a gift, it was precious.
“It was the only room it fit in when I was done.” Nick scratched at his chin. “I wish I could say it motivated Hayden to work harder at school, but...” He shrugged.
It always came back to that, didn’t it? The workshop went quiet, and between the low basement ceilings and the stuffy air in the windowless room, the whole weight of the house and its inhabitants silently pressed down on Oliver. He hadn’t realized it before, but Nick’s little refuge made it clear how much he—and probably Anya too—was on house arrest, right along with their son.
“Do you ever think about making things to sell?” Oliver asked, trying not to dwell on the other thought. Nick didn’t like talking about it, and while Oliver was still sure he could help, he wanted to be what Nick needed more, even if that was someone to admire his furniture.
Nick shook his head. “No. I did, once, a few years ago. I started with a few small things, Christmas ornaments and stuff like that. But I’m not very good at the selling part, so . . .”
“But handmade items are so trendy!” Oliver couldn’t help his enthusiasm. All the pieces in this small workshop were unfinished, but three other spindles on the bench near where Nick stood had been sanded until they nearly shone.
“I’m not trying to be trendy.” Nick put the spindle down. “It gives me a place to come. To relax and think sometimes. I’m not doing it to make a career out of it.”
“But you could.” Oliver came forward to rest his hands on Nick’s chest. He grinned as a sudden thought occurred to him. “We could get you a stall at the market next to mine. They’d love you! Local boy, local products.” He didn’t mention his own problems. He’d nearly blurted the whole thing out when Nick had asked him about his morning at the market before, but he didn’t want to saddle Nick with his difficulties on top of what Nick was facing at home.
Nick’s hands were warm over his, and his thumb stroked the back of Oliver’s knuckles. “We’d get into a lot of trouble being so close to each other.”
Oliver knew a come-on when he heard one, and that, coupled with the way Nick’s pupils widened, was definitely a come-on. He stepped forward until his feet were between Nick’s, so he could press him against the workbench.
“What kind of trouble?” He circled his hands over Nick’s chest. The thick hair under Nick’s shirt crinkled beneath Oliver’s palms, and he licked his lips.
Nick rumbled, deep in his chest. He let go of Oliver’s hands and gripped his hips, holding them together. Oliver sighed as he nuzzled at Nick’s jaw
“We should go back upstairs,” Oliver said. Every electron in his body screamed this was a bad idea. He needed to be respectful of Nick and his boundaries, especially with Hayden in the house. He should be good.
“He won’t hear us down here.” Nick squeezed Oliver’s ass, his erection grinding into the crease of Oliver’s groin.
