“Yeah,” Ben said. “Exactly.”
“Then why aren’t you and the electric kisser still together?”
Ben considered this, brightening up when he found the answer. “Like
I said, it only reveals potential. That doesn’t mean things will work out.”
“I see. And how did I do? How much potential do we have?”
“Hm.” Ben’s brow came together thoughtfully. “You know, I can’t
seem to remember.”
Jace smirked. “Then let me remind you.” He kissed Ben again,
putting all of himself into it. When they pulled away—Ben with a slight
gasp—he grinned and said:
“Fire. Kissing you is like catching fire.”
Jace nodded in satisfaction. “Then I’ll say goodnight before you get
burned.”
Ben looked as though he had something else in mind, but then he
smiled dreamily and backed away toward his car. “You’ll call me,
right?”
“I still don’t have your number,” Jace said.
“Then I’ll call you. Maybe. Probably.”
“I’ll sit by the phone and weep jilted tears until I hear from you.”
“Good.” Ben waited by the driver-side door with a hopeful
expression.
Jace shook his head. “Go home.”
“I don’t want you to think I’m easy,” Ben said, opening the door,
“but I hope that’s the last time you ever say that to me.”
As Jace got in his car and pulled away, he felt certain it would be.
Chapter Twenty-three
That Jace didn’t bring Ben home turned out to be a blessing, since he
returned to find Greg on the couch. His best friend and brother-in-law
was slowly working his way through the miniature bottles of booze Jace
pilfered from work. At least someone was getting use out of them.
“Daddy time,” Greg said, kicking back another bottle.
Jace tossed his jacket over the arm of the couch. “Everything okay
with you and Michelle?”
“Yeah, we’re great! She figured we could use some guy time, and
you gave us a spare key, so…” Greg suddenly seemed uncertain about
the idea.
“It’s cool,” Jace said, and it was.
“Besides, I have some news.” Greg leaned back, stretching his arms
wide on the back of the couch. “I met with a realtor today to look at
some houses. Really, I just wanted to get the inside scoop on the scene
here. Anyway, we got to talking and he has more clients than he can
handle—”
Jace sat on the edge of the coffee table. “So you’re really moving
down here?”
“Yeah!”
“That’s awesome!”
“I know!” Greg demanded a high five.
Jace humored him. “You know what this means, right?” he said after
they’d slapped palms. Then he tapped his upper lip meaningfully.
Greg covered his mustache protectively. “No!”
“Yup!”
“Fine.” Greg grabbed another bottle. “Let me work up my courage
first.”
“Okay, but you’re not leaving here with that thing on.”
Greg rolled his eyes. “So how was work?”
“Oh. About that.” Jace had told Michelle he had to work a shift at
one of the airport counters. Lying wasn’t usually his style, but he figured
she’d make a fuss about his date. Not knowing how the evening would
play out, Jace had decided to keep it a secret. Now he felt like raving
about it.
Greg was a captive audience as Jace filled him in on the details. He
was still talking about Ben when he guided Greg to the bathroom, parked
him in front of the mirror, and put a shaving razor in his hand.
“Did you guys do it?” Greg asked.
“Stop stalling,” Jace said. “I already told you—a few kisses and then
we parted ways.”
“So you’ve got a major case of blue balls?”
Jace shook his head at Greg’s reflection in the mirror. “We’re not
discussing my balls.”
Greg smiled like a naughty eight-year-old. “Should we discuss
mine?”
“Only if you want to talk about getting a vasectomy.”
Greg shrugged. “We Trouts are a fertile people.” He tossed the razor
in the sink, not having shaved a hair, and turned to face Jace. “So what
do you think? Is this Ben guy marriage material?”
“He’s a little young for that,” Jace said. “Actually, he’s a little young
in general. We’re six, maybe seven years apart.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Greg said. “Not if you’re the guy in the
relationship. It’s normal for chicks to dig older guys, and Ben sounds like
the girl to me.”
Jace stared at him and shook his head. “You know, sometimes it
blows me away how sensitive you can be, and then you go and spout
crap like that.”
“Ah ha!” Greg waggled his eyebrows. “So you are the girl.”
Jace crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re not goading me into
talking about this.”
“Come on,” Greg pleaded. “Just once. Guys are supposed to spill
their guts to each other. Brothers too. You’re doubly obligated to talk
about these things with me.”
“Fine, but there is no ‘girl’ in the relationship. I don’t even think it
works that way for heterosexuals. Are you telling me Michelle is never
in charge of you?”
This gave Greg pause. “You know, she does joke that she wears the
pants in our relationship. Oh god! Am I the girl?”
Jace laughed. “Either way, it’s too late to back out now.”
“Funny, that’s what I keep telling her. So anyway, do you think the
age difference is a problem?”
Jace thought about it and shook his head. “No. It felt kind of nice
being a few steps ahead of him. He asked about life after college and got
this deer-in-the-headlights look. Being able to reassure him felt good. I
could take care of him, keep him safe. You know?”
“That’s really sweet,” Greg said. “So this means you’re the top,
right?”
Jace raised an eyebrow. “How about you turn around so we can get
down to business.”
Greg looked momentarily concerned until he remembered their
original goal. Reluctantly, he turned and picked up the razor. “Do I have
to?”
“Yes,” Jace said. “Once you’ve made your name down here and have
millions in the bank, you can grow all the eccentric facial hair you want.
But for now, the mustache has to go.”
“But I love it,” Greg whined. “My mustache is practically my best
friend. We go everywhere together. I call him Little Greg.”
Jace stepped forward, picked up the shaving cream, and squeezed
some into his hand. Then he smeared it all over Greg’s mustache. “I love
you, but I don’t love Little Greg. It’s time for him to die.”
Greg gazed somberly at his own reflection. “I guess I do look like a
wimpy version of Hulk Hogan.”
Jace slapped him on the rump. “The Hulkster’s got nothing on you.”
Then for good measure, he added, “But shave the damn thing off
anyway.”
* * * * *
The phone rang the next morning. Jace poked his head over the loft
bed, squinting against the morning light. Greg was sitting up on the
couch, rubbing his eyes.
“Should I get it?” he asked.
Jace nodded and flopped back into bed. He figured it was Michelle,
wanting to know where her husband was. Or maybe Ben was desperate
to hear his voice again. When Greg tossed the phone up to him, Jace
wished they hadn’t answered it. Work. Too many people had called in
sick. On the holidays. Go figure. So much for his vacation. Of course this
would mean more money for him, which was great. Greg was driving his
family back home today anyway, and Ben wasn’t free until Thursday, so
why not?
What Jace discovered when he got to the airport was that he
wouldn’t be home again until Friday. He stressed about this the whole
day, feeling even worse when he called his answering machine that night
to hear Ben’s nervously excited message. At least he left his number so
Jace would be able to explain.
As it turned out, he had little to worry about. Ben was understanding
—a hopeful sign. Abrupt changes in his schedule happened all the time,
something any boyfriend of his would have to cope with. They made
plans instead for New Year’s Eve. It wasn’t until Jace hung up the phone
that he realized, this year, he’d have someone to kiss as the new century
came rushing in.
* * * * *
They met at a party thrown by one of Jace’s coworkers. Like ice
skating, he thought this would provide enough distraction to get them
past any initial jitters or awkwardness. He regretted the decision the
moment Ben arrived. Seeing him justified the countless thoughts and
fantasies that had run through Jace’s mind the last couple of days. What
he wanted, more than anything, was to be alone with him. After some
frustrating attempts at conversation that were interrupted by others, Jace
suggested they leave, encouraged by Ben’s relieved expression.
This gave him enough courage to suggest they head back to his
place. Jace didn’t intend for them to get there and hop into bed. As
appealing as that sounded, he’d rather talk to Ben, get to know him
better. The drive across town was trying, since they were in separate
cars. Jace swore that once they arrived, he wouldn’t let Ben get away
from him again. Even if that meant giving Ben the bed while he slept on
the couch, Jace was determined to spend all of his delayed vacation with
him.
Except when he parked and stepped out of the car, Ben seemed
uncomfortable. “You all right?” he asked.
“Yeah.” Ben’s eyes betrayed him, darting around the neighborhood.
So maybe it wasn’t the prettiest part of town. In the past the area had
been an industrial district, and attempts to make it a residential zone
hadn’t been completely convincing. But it wasn’t like there were body
outlines chalked on the street or hobos warming their hands over flaming
barrels.
“Where did you say you were from again?” he asked.
“The Woodlands,” Ben answered. “Why?”
Jace nodded. That made sense. The Woodlands was a good half-hour
north of Houston and well known for its wealthy communities built
around golf courses. Jace felt much more at home in an environment like
this one. “It might not be the prettiest neighborhood, but I’ve never had
any trouble here.”
“It’s fine,” Ben insisted. “You should see my place in Chicago.”
Regardless, he seemed apprehensive when they stepped into the cage
elevator. Maybe he was thinking how little he really knew about Jace.
Ben laughed nervously as they rattled their way to the top floor. Perhaps
the boy had good instincts, since Jace didn’t plan on letting him escape
from here. It would be a kidnapping, but one of the most loving variety.
Jace was still tickled by this thought when they entered the
apartment. Like a dog, Samson always greeted him at the door. Sure
enough, he came strolling over, keeping a wary eye on the stranger.
“Samson!” Jace said, picking him up. “We have a visitor.”
After Samson marked him by rubbing a cheek against his chin, they
both turned to consider Ben. Please let him be a cat person! At the very
least, don’t let him be allergic. That would ruin everything. To his relief,
Ben reached a hand out to pet him, but Samson was only interested in
sniffing it.
“Security scan initiated,” Jace said in a mechanical voice, nodding
when Samson didn’t hiss or put his ears back. “Mm-hm. I think you’ve
passed. Let’s see about getting you something to eat.”
Jace set about feeding Samson, pretending to be distracted so Ben
could survey his apartment. Not that Ben seemed to have any hesitation
about openly snooping. After inspecting the corner kitchen, Ben walked
through the living room, taking it all in. Jace only wished he had
straightened up more, but he really hadn’t expected them to end up here
tonight.
Once Samson was fed, Jace opened two single-serving bottles of
champagne, and poured them into flute glasses. Then he joined Ben, who
was examining his extensive collection of biographies. Funny how
possessions could speak for an individual. That was never Jace’s intent.
He didn’t decorate to impress. He simply surrounded himself with what
he loved. Now he wondered what conclusions Ben was drawing from
these things. That he was celebrity-obsessed?
“I love reading about people’s lives,” Jace said from behind. “Do
you read?”
“Yeah, but mostly fiction.”
“That’s what some of these are,” Jace said. “If you were writing an
autobiography, would you really be able to resist the temptation to doctor
the past? Who wants to write about crapping their pants in grade school
when it’s more fun to exaggerate success and talk trash on old flames?”
Ben chuckled. “Good point.”
“Biographies are even worse since they are mostly speculation
written by adoring fans, spoon-fed false information from the celebrity’s
agent. Regardless, I can’t help but read them. It’s a guilty pleasure of
mine.”
Ben pulled his attention away from the books and noticed the glasses
of champagne. “Oh, wow! I didn’t hear the bottle pop!”
“It didn’t,” Jace said. “More freebies from the airlines. They only
have the single-serving bottles with the screw top.”
“It’s cool that you get stuff like that for free.”
“Not exactly free.” Jace grimaced. “At least, it’s not supposed to be,
but who doesn’t pilfer from their job?”
Ben carefully took a glass from him. “Just promise me you have
something better in bed than those dinky airline pillows.”
Hint taken! “Wait and see,” Jace said, raising his glass. “Here’s to
new millenniums and new friendships. Assuming the Y2K bug doesn’t
destroy us all, that is.”
They clinked their glasses together and drank, Jace’s eyes never
leaving Ben’s. When he noticed this, Ben managed to look a little
bashful, but Jace couldn’t help wondering if it was an act. Either that, or
Ben’s mouth was a lot braver than the rest of him. Right now it was
asking how much time remained in the year.
“About an hour.”
Jace motioned for them to sit. Once on the couch together—Samson
hopping up on his lap as always—Ben had to make room on the table for
his glass. Greg had gotten the munchies and raided his fortune cookie
stash, strips of prophetic paper everywhere.
“You sure like Chinese food!”
“Not really.” Jace felt embarrassed at having to explain this quirk. “I
just really like fortune cookies. There’s a restaurant down the road that
sells me full shipping boxes. I know it sounds insane, but they’re my
