Dax
After getting the go-ahead from the management company, it took me less than a day to figure out a plan of attack for sprucing up the house. First, I wanted to make the outside of the house less dingy and depressing. I didn’t consider myself one to think outward appearances mattered all that much, but the faded shutters and chipping paint seriously brought down my mood when I came home. And since I still had three weeks left before the first day of school, I figured I’d use the last bit of summer break to my advantage and see how much I could get done.
The elderly woman across the street from me waved as I hauled buckets of paint to the front porch. I smiled and waved back, making a mental note to walk over and sit with her once I got my car unloaded. She was sweet and reminded me of my own grandmother. No one ever came to visit her, unless they’d done so when I was gone, which meant her only company came in the form of waving at cars as they passed by. I knew this because I’d quickly realized why people in small towns were so damn nosy. There was nothing better to do than sit around watching out the windows if you didn’t have cable or internet. Which I still didn’t have because it took forever to get someone out here to flip the switch so my services worked.
“Jagger!” A shockwave shot up my spine when I heard the panicked voice screaming from the other side of the block. “Come on, buddy!”
I knew it was none of my business, but I couldn’t help but round the corner to see what was going on. The pleas continued and I quickened my pace until a frantic father came into sight. It was the guy from the hardware store, hands stretched out in front of him, trying to coax his son out of the tree. Shaking my head, I decided to go down and see if he needed help. Why? Because I’d totally embraced the small-town camaraderie, or something like that. Or maybe it was because I’d been replaying that voice for the past week and it seemed like the perfect opportunity to talk to him again without it seeming weird.
“Everything okay?” I asked as I walked through the overgrown grass in his yard.
“Does it look like we’re peachy keen over here?” he snapped, never taking his eyes off his son, who upon closer inspection looked terrified at being in the tree rather than on solid ground. I would’ve laughed at how clueless both of them seemed if not for the fact that that would’ve been totally wrong when Jagger looked to be on the verge of tears and his father was visibly shaking. “He climbed up there and can’t get down. Come on, Jag. I promise I’ll catch you.”
Still clinging to the low branch for dear life, the boy shook his head. Low was a relative term, since he was still high enough that he was just out of his father’s reach, but even I had faith his dad wouldn’t let him fall to the ground. “It’s too far. I’ll fall.”
The entire scene reminded me of when I was a kid and climbed the tree outside my grandparents’ ranch house in the suburbs. I’d been so excited when I realized I was finally tall enough to grab onto the lowest branches if I jumped that I didn’t for a second think about the fact that I’d also have to jumpoutof the tree.
“Why don’t you climb up and get him?” I suggested, already closing the distance to do it my own damn self. Seriously, it wasn’t rocket science. One tug on the lowest branches, which were barely four feet off the ground, told me why. I was smaller than Michael, and I wouldn’t even trust them to hold my weight. In a move I hoped his dad wouldn’t get pissed about later, I took matters into my own hands and turned all my attention to Jagger. If he wanted to climb up, he needed to learn how to get down.
“Okay buddy, here’s what you need to do.” His eyes widened, as if he’d just realized I was there. I placed my hand on a branch just below him. “You need to put your foot right here.”
When he followed my instructions, I continued, telling him exactly where to put his feet so he could still hang on. When he got low enough, I reached up and wrapped my arms around his waist. He clung to me, even as I tried to hand him back to his father, who looked about ready to drop to the ground.
“Hey, you’re fine,” I assured him, running my hand over his messy mop of almost white-blond hair. He had to have gotten that from his mother, because it was a stark contrast to his father’s dark hair. “You scared your dad, but he’s not mad. Are you?”
I glared over Jagger’s shoulder, daring Michael to disagree with me. There was plenty of anger to be had about the situation, but all of it was directed at the man whose son I’d now rescued twice since I’d gotten to town nine days ago. The only upshot was being pissed off tamped down some of the thoughts I’d been having about him. Yes, I knew there was no point pining after a straight guy, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t envision his face at night as I yanked one out.
“No buddy, I’m not mad,” he responded woodenly. Once Jagger watched his dad’s body language for a few seconds, he reluctantly let go. Something didn’t feel right here, but it wasn’t my place to get involved. “Thank you. I promise, I’m not as inept as you think I am right now.”
“I didn’t say a word.” Funny, he’d essentially said the same the first time we met. Defending his parenting skills when he’d screwed up seemed natural to him. No matter what I thought of Michael, I’d never say a word in front of his kid. I knew all too well the type of lasting damage that could be done from kids being put in the middle of adult arguments.
Finally through checking every inch of Jagger’s body for any signs of injury, he put his son back on the ground and patted his backside, telling him to go inside and get washed up for dinner. The silence between us grew tense and I tried to remind myself how much I didn’t like this guy when my dick twitched as he scrubbed at the back of his neck and chewed on his lip. He really needed to stop looking hot.
That or I needed to figure out where the nearest club was, because I obviously needed to bury my dick in someone’s ass. I didn’t dare try to find any action here in town because the last thing I needed was to be run out of town before the school year even started. My adviser had warned me that not everyone would be thrilled with the idea of a gay man teaching kindergarten because some narrow-minded bigots still lumped gays and pedophiles in the same category. That was complete and utter bullshit, but I knew he was right, and Marshall seemed like it could easily be one of those towns where the natives had pitchforks and torches at the ready, just waiting for someone to chase away lest their middle-American purity be tainted.
“So… uh… thanks. Again,” Michael said softly, never making eye contact with me. An adorable blush crept up his face all the way to his ears. Dammit, I didn’t need anything else drawing me toward him. He cleared his throat and looked away before continuing. “I know you probably think I’m a sack of shit, but I’m really not. I was trying to get dinner ready and he snuck out of the house. He’s never done that before. I mean, sometimes he thinks it’s funny to hide from me, but he’s always stayed in the house. When it was quiet, I figured he was in his room building something or playing with his cars.”
“You really don’t have to explain,” I told him, because I didn’t want to hear excuses. He lived three houses away from the main drag. If he couldn’t make sure Jagger wasn’t going to wander off, he really needed to lock the doors or something, otherwise he’d be lucky if the kid didn’t wind up a road pancake.
“Yeah, I feel like I do,” he insisted. Jagger popped his head out the door and hollered that the timer was going off on the stove. “Shit. I’ve gotta go before dinner burns.”
“No problem.” I turned away and started walking back to my place.
“Hey, you’ve helped me out twice now and I don’t even know your name,” he called out after me.
“Dax,” I threw over my shoulder. It might not be very neighborly of me, but something about Michael had me on edge, and I didn’t think it was just the fact that he seemed to be repeatedly outsmarted by a little boy.
“Dax. Interesting name,” he said, as if he was trying to keep the conversation going. The bitchy part of my brain wanted to turn around and tell him to go inside before he burned the house down because pulling a kid out of a tree didn’t qualify me as a fireman. “You want to join us for dinner? There’s enough there for a third person, and I feel like I owe you.”
I stopped, weighing whether or not this was a bad idea.He’s trying. Cut the guy a break, I chastised myself, really wishing the bitchy voice would come back. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“God, you’re not making this easy, are you?” Michael chuckled, and I turned around to see that he’d walked to the edge of his property. He chewed at the corners of his nails and I considered smacking his hands away from his face. It was a bad habit which, for whatever reason, had always annoyed the hell out of me. “Look, whether or not I owe you, I’d like it if you could join us. Maybe then you’d see that I’m not completely incompetent.”
“I really shouldn’t,” I protested, even though I was already taking the first steps back toward him. It wasn’t his parenting skills that had me trying to talk myself out of accepting his invitation, it was the fact that I was attracted to him. His light brown eyes held a hint of pain and sadness, even when he let his guard down, and I’d always been a sucker for damaged goods. He smiled when he realized my words were hollow, and I swear my damn knees buckled. I’d always had a thing for dimples, and his were so deep and perfect I wanted to lick them, before sinking my teeth into his pouty lower lip. Fuck, if I wasn’t careful I was totally going to fall for the straight guy this time.
I buried my hands in my pockets as I followed him into the house, trying to inconspicuously adjust myself. My dick needed to get the memo that this was just an olive branch without the opportunity of something more happening. There would be no make-up sex. He was straight. He was, at the very least, completely scatterbrained, at worst, utterly irresponsible. He had a kid. And while I didn’t know him, I didn’t particularly care for him beyond being something nice to look at. The list of why he was off-limits was growing.
Dinner was… interesting. Jagger kept staring at me, as if he wanted to say something but didn’t dare. Michael tried repeatedly to suggest things the two of them could do together before school started, but his son simply shrugged him off. It was worse than being the third wheel with a couple who was madly in love and incapable of keeping their hands off one another. By the time I finished eating, I was trying to figure out how in the hell to get out of there, because the teacher in me was dying to step in and help these two figure out how in the hell to talk to one another.
