With some clippers and ladders, the trees in the front yard soon stopped blocking as much of the view of the house, and the burn pile was big enough for a bonfire.
“We’ll need to burn that to get it out of here,” Steven decided, wiping sweat from his face. “Maybe do some s’mores.”
“S’mores,” Paul groaned. “I’m ready to die from complete muscle failure, and he’s talking about marshmallows.” Paul wasn’t out of shape, not by a long shot, but this sort of bending and reaching wasn’t typically part of his running and free weights routine, and the underused muscles he woke up today were complaining loudly.
“Wow,” Steven smiled. “I know you just turned thirty-six and are therefore old, but I had no idea how decrepit you’d gotten.”
“I’d smack you for that, but I’m conserving my strength.” Paul sat heavily on the top step. “So I’ll settle for a stern ‘fuck you,'” he sighed.
“And on that note, why don’t we stop for lunch?” Ace said.
He sounded upbeat, but Paul could see just as much sweat on Ace’s skin as on his own. He really was working hard for Steven, and Paul doubted that this was something he’d do for all his clients. Was this for him, he wondered. Was Ace unable to stay away, too?
He hoped that was the reason. Hoped he was under Ace’s skin, too, making him itch for more.
Because God knows he was ready to scratch it for him.
Steven and Holly left to pick up lunch, and Ace sent along a list of things to buy at Home Depot, not the least of which was, in Ace’s technical term, a shitload of mulch.
That left Paul alone with Ace as they rested their muscles.
Paul took a quick tour of the latest improvements and was impressed with how those ridiculous throw pillows really did make a difference. And the man cave that Ace seemed to conjure out of nothing was going to seduce every guy who viewed the house.
“You do good work,” he said to Ace, handing him a Boulevard Pale Ale and sitting on one end of the living room sofa.
“You sound a little surprised,” Ace said, smiling. He took up a seat on the opposite end of the sofa, which Paul immediately noticed and didn’t care for.
Paul shrugged. “Just surprised at how easy you make it look.”
“Well, thank you,” Ace said quietly.
As much as Paul wanted to be able to skip to the naked, sweaty end, he knew he needed to ease into this. Ace had been alternately warm-eyed and cold shoulder today, and Paul wanted to get to the bottom of that.
“Why did Steven think you and his realtor were together?” Paul asked, changing the subject abruptly. It had been bugging him since he’d first overheard their conversation.
Ace looked at him for a drawn-out moment, then shrugged. “I think your brother is trying to figure out the puzzle that is gayhood,” he said. “He knows two gay men who know each other. Ergo, a husband and husband.”
“Oh.” Paul took a long drink from his beer and cleared his throat. “I thought maybe, you know, he had, um, seen something.”
“Something?” Ace asked, amused. “Like his first gay kiss? Worried that his head might explode?”
A little. “No. I was just, you know, curious.” Not jealous. Nope.
They fell silent, nursing their beers. Paul wanted to keep Ace talking. Hell, he wanted a lot more than that. Needed to find something they had in common besides Steven. And that thought led him to the first night he met Ace.
“So, are you a regular at Sparks?” Paul asked, aiming for casual and missing.
Ace’s smile immediately faded and he narrowed his eyes. “I go there,” he said flatly.
“Often? I mean, regularly? You seemed to know your way around the place.”
“It’s not a complicated layout, Dr. McDonnell.”
Paul stifled an annoyed huff. Dammit, this man knew exactly what he was asking. Why was he being coy?
“You visit the back room much?”
Ace held his eyes with a flinty gaze. “Not especially.”
Paul arched an eyebrow. “It’s just that you seemed pretty familiar with the whole process last week. Prepared, even. I got the sense that you, you know, that you weren’t new at it.”
“Not that it’s any of your fucking business, but no, I don’t fuck tricks at Sparks very often,” Ace said stiffly. “That’s why I asked you to come home with me. The back room is convenient, but ultimately … unsatisfying.”
Paul flinched inwardly. Is he saying I was a bad fuck? Impossible. That night blew my mind; I know he came undone too.
“So what were you doing there at all?” Paul countered.
Ace pursed his lips in annoyance. “Had a bad day. Hell, a bad week. Wanted to blow off some steam. I refuse to be labeled a whore for that, Dr. McDonnell.”
“Will you cut it out with the doctor business?” Paul sighed.
“Gladly. If you’ll stop implying that I’m some easy lay.” Ace crossed his arms across his chest.
“All evidence to the contrary, huh?” Paul regretted the words the second they left his mouth.
If it was possible, Ace’s blue eyes got even frostier. “That’s rich. You’re calling me a slut, safely tucked in your closet,” he spat. “It’s probably the only place you fuck, isn’t it?”
“You didn’t seem all that picky,” Paul bristled.
“I don’t date – or fuck – closet cases,” Ace said. “Been there. Not worth it.”
Been there, huh? Somebody hurt him, Paul realized. But this secret was his life, his decision, and Paul wasn’t going to ruin his life just so Ace could feel better about sucking his dick without shame.
Coward, he accused himself. It’s not his shame.
“Why does it matter to you – or anyone else, really – if I’m out or not?” Paul said heatedly. “It’s no one’s business but the guy I’m fucking.”
“That pretty much guarantees that you only fuck somebody once,” Ace said.
“Not necessarily,” Paul purred. He definitely wanted to fuck this guy twice. Hell, even twice might not be enough for him to get his fill.
“With me, necessarily,” Ace snapped.
“Why not?” Paul persisted. “We both had a good time. Hell, it’s all I’ve been thinking about every night. How hot you were, how tight and sexy.”
Ace’s hard eyes softened slightly, but he remained wary and resolute.