Quiet Storm, Season 2, Episode 6 (Rising Storm) (6 page)

Maybe he’d mention it now.

But when their powwow broke up and she slid out of the booth, he didn’t get the chance to go over and greet her. Someone else moved in where Patrick should be.

Ian Briggs. Marcus’s boss from Montana, who was moving a portion of his cattle business to Storm. The man who’d done a hell of a better job being a father to Marcus than Hector Alvarez had ever been.

The man who very clearly had a thing for Marisol Moreno.
His
Marisol Moreno.

Except when he looked at Marisol, everything he was once sure of started to fizzle and fade. She stood breathing-close to Ian, and her face was flushed and happy. She brushed his sleeve as they walked to the counter. She pulled out a chocolate-chip muffin for him, then laughed when he smeared chocolate on the corner of his mouth.

And—god help him—she dabbed away the chocolate with the corner of a napkin.

It wasn’t sexual.

It wasn’t really even flirty.

But it was comfortable. It was real.

And Patrick saw a hell of a lot more than just two people talking and eating. He saw heat. He saw desire.

He saw something in Marisol’s eyes that he’d never seen before. Certainly not when she’d been looking at him.

He glanced down at the table and took a breath, then another. He expected a wave of anger. The urge to leap out of his seat and call Ian out for moving in on his girl.

But those feelings didn’t come.

He felt hollow, yes. Even a little raw.

But it wasn’t because Marisol had wounded his heart.

No, Patrick’s only injury was to his pride. Because it wasn’t him that she wanted, but another man altogether.

He stood up slowly and moved casually to the door, hoping she wouldn’t see him. Because he had no reason to come here anymore.

No reason other than coffee and muffins.

And, maybe, to say good-bye.

Chapter 6

This,
thought Jeffry,
was incredibly awkward
.

Nice, but awkward.

He was on the couch in the media room with Scott beside him, the divider between them pulled down to hold the sodas they were drinking as they played the latest version of
Resident Evil
. Usually, Jeffry killed it in this game, but having Scott so close to him—and not knowing if Scott had really come over just to play video games—was messing with his concentration.

“Dammit,”
Scott swore. “I’m dead again.”

“Sorry I couldn’t heal you.”

Scott’s grin was mischievous. “Well, I guess you owe me one.”

The both reached for their sodas at the same time, and their fingers brushed. Jeffry jerked his hand away, then immediately cursed himself. Scott, thank goodness, didn’t say anything. But he did look at the television with a frown.

“Another round?” Jeffry said.

“Nah, I think I’ve had enough.”

Oh
. Jeffry tried not to look disappointed that Scott was leaving so soon. And without—well, without doing anything except playing video games.

“How about we go for a swim?” Scott said.

Jeffry breathed a sigh of relief, even as his eyes opened wide in disbelief. “It’s November. Or hadn’t you noticed?”

“It’s Texas,” Scott countered. “Or hadn’t
you
noticed? And isn’t your pool heated?”

“We don’t heat it after October, and the nights are getting cool. I bet the water’s in the sixties.”

“Then the hot tub it is. You got a suit I can borrow?”

Shaking his head in amusement, Jeffry stood up. “Sure. We’ve got lots of spares in the pool house.” He hesitated, then added, “We’ve got beer, too.”

“Even better.”

They headed outside together, with Jeffry trying to look calm even though his heart was beating so hard and fast he was certain that Scott could see his shirt moving. In the pool house, he went straight for the trunk where they kept bathing suits that friends used when they came over. He found a pair of new swim trunks his mom had picked up on sale at the end of the season and tossed them to Scott. “Will these work?”

“Looks about right,” he said. “Got a changing room?” He flashed a teasing grin. “Or shall I just strip down?”

Jeffry swallowed. “Uh, over there.” He pointed to the small bathroom. “Go ahead. I’ll find my suit and then go after you.”

Scott did, and Jeffry started rummaging in the family chest of drawers for his suit, hoping it wasn’t inside in the laundry room. He finally found it just as he heard the door open and Scott emerge.

He glanced up then immediately wished he hadn’t. Scott stood there in a pair of dark blue swim trunks with red piping down the sides. His legs were tan and lean, and his chest sported a full six-pack that Jeffry—what the hell was going on with him?—wanted to run his fingers over just to feel the way Scott’s skin felt against his own.

“Oh,” he said stupidly. “They fit.”

“Yeah. They fit great.” Scott took a step toward him. Then another, and another. Until he was standing right in front of Jeffry. So close that Jeffry really could reach out and touch him if he wanted to.

And, dear god, he really,
really
wanted to.

“So, tell me if I’m wrong and I’ll back off,” Scott said. “But I don’t think I am.”

“Wrong?” Jeffry frowned. “About what?”

“About this,” Scott said, as he leaned in. And then, before Jeffry could even get his thoughts together, Scott’s hand was on his shoulder and his mouth covered Jeffry’s.

His pulse pounded. His head swam. And as he gasped in surprise and awe, his mouth opened just enough for Scott to take advantage, his tongue slipping into Jeffry’s mouth. His hand clenching tighter even as his other palm cupped the back of Jeffry’s head and held him in place, giving him no place to run even if he’d wanted to.

He didn’t want to.

On the contrary, he wanted this to never end. He felt dizzy. He felt free.

Perfect. Right.
Complete
.

And then Scott was pulling away, and Jeffry wanted to scream out in protest.

Scott’s smile was both gentle and questioning. “So, am I wrong?”

Jeffry swallowed, not sure which way to go. He could end this now and pretend it never happened and let things just go along the way they had until he was in college and out from under his father’s roof.

Or he could take what he wanted and start being the person he really was.

Honestly, the decision wasn’t as hard as he thought it would be. He tilted his head to the side and pretended to think. “I’m not sure,” he said, holding back a smile. “Maybe you should try again?”

Scott’s laughter filled him up. “Yeah,” he said as he drew Jeffry closer. “Maybe I should.”

* * * *

Lacey finally rolled out of bed around noon on Sunday. She’d cried herself to sleep last night, feeling lost and alone, with the memory of Mallory’s snub and Jeffry’s indifference clinging to her like a prickly blanket.

And as for Luis—well, she’d used him and then told lies about him. Chances were good he’d never be her friend again.

She’d dug herself in deep, and all she wanted to do was claw her way out of the hole. But she didn’t know how, and so she’d comforted herself the only way she could—with a menagerie of her old stuffed animals, the cookies that her mother had left out for her, and the sweet oblivion of sleep.

The sleep had helped. But it was the cookies that gave her hope. They were a sign, after all. A small sign, at least, that things could change. That people could heal.

Maybe that meant that friendships could heal, too.

She hoped so. And the best place to start was with Jeffry.

Armed with a plan, she got dressed, grabbed a breakfast smoothie from the fridge, and got in her car to drive to her aunt and uncle’s massive home. Jeffry’s car was in the driveway, so odds were good he was home. But she had no idea if Uncle Sebastian or Aunt Payton were there, too.

She frowned as she headed up the walk toward the front door, because the truth was she really didn’t want to see her uncle. Being around Uncle Sebastian was so much worse than being around Ginny. Ginny had lied, and it hurt. All the more because Ginny had always felt like a sister, what with how close she and Jacob had been. But Uncle Sebastian was a grown-up. A married man. Honestly, it was just gross. And the fact that he was her relative made Lacey feel even worse.

If she just waltzed up to the front door, the odds were good she’d come face to face with him. She considered texting Jeffry and telling him to meet her in the backyard, but if he ignored her text—or replied with a firm
no
—she’d feel even more miserable than she already did.

But if she went to him instead of him coming to her...

Smiling, she backtracked until she was off the walkway and heading instead around the side of the house. If Jeffry was home, he was either in his bedroom or in the media room. Considering how much he liked video games, she’d lay money on the second.

And considering the media room had its own set of French doors that opened onto the back patio, that was the perfect way to get in to see Jeffry and entirely avoid her uncle.

Of course, he could also be in his room, but that was easy, too. She and Mallory and Luis had spent years climbing the tangled oak tree with the limb that extended over the roof. If she had to, she could get right to Jeffry’s window. But she had to admit, she hoped she didn’t have to.

The house was so quiet, by the time she reached the back patio she was feeling a little silly. The water in the pool was completely still. No leaves rustled. The house seemed as quiet as the garden around her. Most likely, Jeffry had gone somewhere with Brit and left his car behind. And now that she thought about it, hadn’t she read something in the local paper about the senator being in Austin today for some charity shindig?

The blinds were closed in the media room—the better to keep it dark—but one of the wood slats was chipped, and Lacey pressed her eye to the glass and peered through.

Nothing.

Her shoulders drooped with disappointment. But at least she’d come. She’d tried. And she could try again tomorrow.

She was just about to head back around the house to her car when she heard a muffled sound. She couldn’t tell what it was, but it sounded as if it was coming from the yard behind her.

Curious, she glanced around, then rolled her eyes at herself when she saw the pool house. Of course that would be where Jeffry was. He probably had his iPod and a book and a beer and was hanging out on that ratty old couch that even Aunt Payton, who liked everything nice, wouldn’t replace since it would just get ruined again by all the dripping wet kids who plopped down on it after taking a dip.

She hurried that way, thinking that a beer sounded like a pretty good idea. It was certainly one way to break the ice.

As she got closer, she noticed that all the curtains were closed, which was odd since Jeffry usually liked the sun to stream in. She hoped she wasn’t interrupting a nap, but if she was, that was too damn bad. She was geared up for a heart-to-heart now, and nothing was going to make her back down.

A second later, she realized that she was completely wrong about that.

The moment she put her hand on the doorknob she saw that there was a gap in the curtains. And in that same moment, she realized she could see through the gap to the couch.

It took a few more seconds for what she saw to actually process in her head. But when it did, she pulled her hand back slowly, and then quietly stepped away.

Oh. My. God
.

Jeffry and that Scott guy from the florist, and they were all over each other. And they were kissing and—

Whoa.

Jeffry was gay?

She sucked in a tight breath, her heart pounding against her rib cage.

How the hell did she not know that Jeffry was gay? Did Luis know? Did Mallory?

Did Aunt Payton and Uncle Sebastian?

And what the hell was she supposed to do now?

Chapter 7

Somehow, they’d moved to the couch, which was a good thing since Jeffry’s head was spinning so much he’d probably fall down if they were still standing.

It was doubly a good thing because Scott was working some kind of magic on his mouth even while his hand was holding Jeffry’s head immobile. And—oh god—Scott’s other hand was on his waist, and Jeffry could feel skin against skin from where his T-shirt was riding up.

He had no idea what he was doing, but it felt so damn perfect, and he wanted more. So much more, in fact that his initial hesitancy and shyness had disappeared, drowned in a sea of need. His own hands were on Scott’s face, relishing the firmness of his jaw, and the rough stubble against Jeffry’s palm as their lips clashed was probably the most erotic thing he’d ever felt in his life.

Damn, but he could do this all day, tasting Scott’s lips, exploring his mouth with his tongue, relishing the wildness that was building inside of him, like a long-caged animal that was so ready to be released. He didn’t even know what the hell he was doing, but he was taking his cues from Scott, and whatever he was doing, he seemed to be doing it right, because Scott was breathing just as hard and seemed just as turned on as Jeffry was.

Oh god. Oh god, he was really doing this. He was really, finally doing this.

Idly, he wondered if Scott could tell he was a virgin. Sure, he’d been on dates with girls, but they never did anything. Jeffry hadn’t ever wanted to, and if they pressed, he just said that he wanted to go slow.

Right now, slow was the last thing on his mind.

Gently, Scott pushed back, breathing hard. He met Jeffry’s eyes, his full of heat and fire. Then he reached down for the hem of Jeffry’s shirt and start to lift it. “This okay?”

“Uh-huh,” Jeffry managed, amazed he could actually make sounds. And then Scott peeled the shirt the rest of the way off and pressed his lips to Jeffry’s chest, then kissed over to suck on his nipple and oh, wow, holy freaking shit, he just about lost it. He was hard as a rock and so turned on that he had to fight not to grab too hard onto Scott’s back for fear he’d bruise the guy.