“Yeah. I grew up in Reno, so, uh, we’ve rafted a lot on Lake Tahoe, where we go camping and boating. Nieces and nephew have jet skis. I have two brothers and my folks in the area. I don’t go see them as often as I’d like. They’re still pissed that I quit working for the governor.” That was an understatement.
“You get along with them?” Bailey reached into his duffel bag and pulled out a half-full handle of Jim Beam, twisting off the cap and taking a gulp as we exited the highway.
I quickly glanced at the rearview, grateful there wasn’t a cop behind us. One could drink walking down The Strip with a yard of one’s choice of alcoholic beverage, but it was still illegal to hoist a handle of Jim Beam riding down I-11.
He spun the top back on the bottle and put it on the floor, turning to me as if waiting for my response to a question I’d already forgotten. “Sorry, what did you ask?”
“Your family. You close?”
“Eh, not really. We have a difference of opinion on things, which makes it better if we steer clear of each other. My brothers and their families live not far from my parents in Reno, and both have kids. My parents want me to get married, but I haven’t met the right person, so I don’t go home because I get tired of the pressure.” That was half of the truth.
No one in my family was homophobic that I knew of, but I told myself it was just because they didn’t know anyone who was LGBTQ+. I didn’t want to be the first gay man they knew. The awkwardness of potentially watching them figure out how to be around me made me uncomfortable.
My dad was a mail carrier, and my mother was a receptionist at an insurance office. They had three boys: Robert, me, and Kaleb. Rob had two girls, and Kaleb had one boy. I never wanted my siblings to tell me they didn’t want me around their kids, so I stayed away. It wasn’t like they reached out either.
“Ah. Got it. My father’s dead, but Mom’s still kickin’. She lives in Philadelphia and runs a charitable foundation. And then, of course, there’s Thomas. At one time, he and Lindsey talked about adopting, but as far as I know, that was all it was…talk.”
I turned from Bronco Road onto Saddle Lane, making the right onto South Sorrel Road, pulling into my side of the double driveway to wait for the garage door to lift. “It seems like you and the governor are close though.”
Bailey chuckled. “We shared an egg and a womb. It’s easy to guess we can’t really live without each other.”
My brain raced. The governor was secretly gay, so was Bailey saying what I thought? Was I brave enough to ask outright? I’d shake a Magic 8-Ball if I had one, but I knew the answer would be Not likely.
Chapter Five
Bailey
Jagger opened the door to his house and stepped aside for me to go in first. It fit him well. Masculine and really nice—not junkyard chic like my furnishings in Carson City.
After I got out of the Army, I didn’t plan to stay in Carson City for more than six months, so I didn’t invest in home furnishings. Thrift shopping was a trend after all. Everything I’d bought—a couch, a lawn chair, which was handy for sitting on the balcony, a set of TV trays, a bed, and a dresser—would all be redonated. The only new thing was the television, and that would go with me, along with my bike, wherever I landed next.
“Nice place.” I glanced around to see a comfy-looking couch, a leather recliner, a coffee table, and a big-screen TV mounted to the wall. What I didn’t see were pictures of Jagger’s family.
There were a few novels on a short shelf under a large picture window, and there was a hallway I assumed led to bedrooms anda bathroom on the left. The kitchen was on the right with a back door leading to a small yard that faced the mountains.
“Thanks. I’m renting, but if I stay, I’d like to buy the whole thing and make it a single-family home.”
“You got a special lady who might want to live out here at the edge of the mountains?” It was gutsy to ask, but I was tired of the dance. I saw nothing that hinted he was married, but maybe he was divorced and had a new girlfriend?
Jagger’s cheeks turned beet red as he closed the door. “I haven’t had time to meet anyone important. Let me show you to your room. I have a couple of pork chops in the fridge that I planned to grill tonight. You can take a shower if you want.”
Jagger went into the kitchen and returned with a bottle of dishwashing liquid, the kind prevalent in television commercials featuring ducks covered in oil.
I chuckled. “Thanks?”
“I know it’s weird, but it’ll get the grease out. There’s also shampoo and conditioner in the shower for after you use this. It’ll dry your hair out, and your hair is…” He stopped speaking abruptly. “I’ll make a salad and start the grill when you come out. Take your time.”
He rushed away like his ass was on fire, which made me laugh. I dropped my duffel in the bedroom and grabbed my Dopp kit to take to the bathroom.
Once inside, I turned on the shower and stripped, happy to make the water hot enough to sear my skin before I lowered the temperature. I squeezed the grease-cutter soap into my palms and smoothed it onto my hair, letting it sit to dissolve the oil, vowing never to use that shit again.
Jagger Hansen was an amazing guy. I hadn’t expected him to invite me to stay in his home, but I wasn’t turning him down.
God knew he was sexy as hell. I suspected he was straight with a pretty little girlfriend out there somewhere, so I vowed not to allow my libido to lead me into trouble.
Once I had the grease paint out of my hair, I washed it with the nice shampoo and applied the conditioner while I scrubbed the rest of myself to get the paint off me.
After rinsing, I turned off the shower and pulled back the curtain to find a stack of plush towels on the vanity beside my Dopp kit. I hadn’t heard the door open, but I was sure glad for the towels.
