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  He put the car in first and slowly released the clutch as he gave the car some gas. The engine revved and they didn’t move. He gave it more gas, and nothing happened.

  Darren quirked a frown and opened the door. “Oh, fuck. That’s a lot of mud.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Isaiah

  “Mud?” Isaiah repeated. “Are we stuck?”

  “We’re on bare ground and it’s wetter than I expected.” Darren dug into his pocket for his phone. “Shit. Do you have any signal?”

  Isaiah checked his phone and shook his head.

  Darren sighed. “This place is notorious for being a dead zone.” He put his phone on the dashboard and climbed out of the car.

  Isaiah leaned over the console, catching Darren’s gaze. “What’re you doing?”

  “I’m going to rock the car forward. When I tell you, give it a tiny bit of gas—tiny. Too much and you’ll spin the tires.”

  Isaiah’s palms grew clammy against the steering wheel. “Tiny bit of gas when you say so. Got it.” At least he hoped he did. “Are you sure you don’t want me to help push?”

  “Nah, if I can get the car to rock, a little nudge from the engine ought to be enough.”

  Isaiah lowered his window and watched as Darren tested his footing. Darren tossed him an easy grin before palming the trunk. The car swayed. Gently at first, until it was steadily rocking back and forth.

  “Okay,” Darren called. “Give it some gas.”

  Isaiah released the clutch and applied the gas. The engine revved. He cut back on the gas, and an instant later a tire caught and the car lurched forward onto firmer ground. Once on the pavement, Isaiah cheered and hopped out of the driver seat.

  His grin stuttered the moment Darren waddled into view, splattered in gobs of mud. Darren blinked dazedly.

  “Oh my God!” Isaiah froze. “Darren, I’m so sorry. I—”

  A snort walloped out of Darren, followed by deep and heavy laughter. Isaiah’s horror gave way and he chuckled. Darren did look ridiculous.

  Darren ran his hands over his face and flung mud to the ground. He attempted to flick it from his shirt but smeared it.

  Isaiah burst into another bout of laughter. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I’d say you did it on purpose, but I’m the idiot who got behind a car stuck in the mud.” Darren tried rubbing the mud off his forearms and gave up. “I need a shower.”

  “I don’t know. This look is really working for you.”

  Darren scowled playfully, and Isaiah cut the distance between them. A sticky clump of mud sat at the curve of Darren’s neck, and, hesitantly, Isaiah lifted his fingers and wiped it off. The dirt stuck to his fingers, but the warmth of Darren’s skin sunk into him.

  Their gazes clashed, and Christ, they were close. So close their breaths were mingling.

  Isaiah gulped and stepped back. “How are you going to get home without ruining the car?”

  Darren pivoted toward the trunk. “I always keep towels in the trunk.” He peeled off his shirt, turned it inside out, and then popped the lid.

  Two minutes of vigorous rubbing had most of the dirt off his skin. But his clothes were a lost cause. Darren glanced at him, hesitated, then blushed as he shucked his shorts, rolled them and the shirt in a towel, and put them in the cargo space.

  Isaiah trained his gaze over the green pastures glittering in the midmorning sunshine. But out the corner of his eye, there was Darren. Gorgeous, hot Darren standing there in just his boxers.

  Isaiah peeked at him as he placed a clean towel on the passenger seat. He was all athletic limbs and gently corded muscle; his boxers clung to the perfect globes of his ass.

  Darren pulled out of the car, catching Isaiah as he ripped his gaze away.

  “So, um, beautiful view out here,” Isaiah blurted.

  Darren laughed, a slightly nervous ring to it. He caught Isaiah’s gaze and held it. “I think so too.”

  Isaiah was going to burst from all the crazy bolts of electricity riddling him.

  Darren sat on his towel and kicked off his sneakers. His white anklet socks were relatively untouched. He held out his shoes. “Can you put these in the trunk?”

  Isaiah put them away and resumed his spot behind the wheel. “What if I can’t drive your car?”

  Darren swung his legs in. “You’ll be fine. This stretch isn’t too busy. You’ll have time to figure it out.”

  He wasn’t so confident. Especially not with his copilot sitting inches away in just his boxers. Keep your eyes on the road.

  Darren

  Contrary to his fears, Isaiah did just fine.

  As Darren expected, once Isaiah got a feel for the car, he handled it like a pro.

  Isaiah stared ahead like it was a blizzard with no visibility. But they talked, laughed about what had happened, and generally put their earlier misunderstanding behind them. Life was good. Better when they reached the house and the town car wasn’t out front.

  “Thank God. Dad’s not home yet.”

  “That’s good?”

  Darren shifted on his towel, then jerked a finger at his muddy skin. “I just don’t think he’ll see the humor in this.” Isaiah eyed him carefully. Like he knew there was more to it. Darren smoothed on a smile. “Can you do me a favor?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’m going to shower in the pool house. Could you bring me some clean shorts?”

  “Where’s the pool house?”

  Sweaty images of the two of them in the shower suddenly had Darren blushing and furiously backtracking. He pointed to the open area in front of the car barn. “Actually, bring the shorts here. I need to hose down the car first. Park just there.”

  Isaiah sighed. “Thank God I don’t have to back this inside.”

  “Yep, no worries there. Once I change, I’ll put it away.”

  When Isaiah left, Darren found his shorts in the trunk and put them on. If his dad came home, muddy shorts were preferable to just boxers. He got out the hose, attached the nozzle, and rinsed the car. Lying on the wet pavement, he aimed the spray under the chassis. It would still need to be detailed, but he wanted to get the bulk of the mud off before it set.

  “Darren?” his mom called. “Why are you lying on the wet ground?”

  He discontinued the spray and stood.

  “Oh my God!” Mom’s initial shock at his appearance turned to amusement. “What happened to you?”

  Darren scrubbed pointlessly at his mud-caked arms. “Yeah, the car got stuck in mud. Isaiah was a little zealous on the gas.” He waved his hands down his body.

  “You let Isaiah drive your car?” She raised her eyebrows, a knowing twinkle in her eye.

  “Um, yeah. Anyway, Isaiah’s getting me some clean shorts and I’ll shower in the pool house.”

  She looked at him, snickered again, and held out her hand for the hose. “You should let me rinse you off first.”

  “Seriously? No way. The water’s cold.”

  “You know my rule. The dirt stays in the yard.”

  “I was seven the last time you hosed me down. And this dirt didn’t come from here.”

  She wiggled her hand. “You’re a mess.”

  “Mom,” he pleaded.

  “Hand it over.”

  He turned the nozzle around. “How about I spray you instead?”

  “Darren Josiah Gage. Don’t you dare!” She laughed, and Darren grumbled as he passed the hose over.

  “Fine. Just—” The first blast of icy water hit him in the chest. “Holy fuck that’s cold!”

  “Watch your language. Now dip your head so I can get your hair.” She eased back the pressure. It still hit his scalp with an icy slap.

  Darren managed to bite back another curse, and then caught sight of Isaiah standing a step behind his mother, grinning ferociously.

  Water hit his chest.

  Darren jerked his arms up to protect his face and eyes, but not before he caught Isaiah laughing. “I’m so going to soak you both.”
<
br />   “Hold him off, Isaiah,” his mother said.

  Water blasted from a new direction and Darren shifted to follow the spray. He pressed forward, water sluicing down his arms, chest, thighs. . . .

  Isaiah pumped the handle and blinked when the water slowed to a dribble. “Oh shit,” he said, taking in Darren’s steady approach.

  Darren grinned evilly. “What goes around comes around, Isaiah.”

  The guy laughed and gulped—

  Mom stole the hose before Darren could snatch it. “Mom! You are such a cheater!”

  “It’s called being a parent.” She held his clean—and dry—shorts toward him. “You’ll learn one day that you need to stay a step ahead of your devious children if you want to survive.”

  He scrubbed the water from his face. “Can you get me a clean towel?”

  “Of course, dear.” His mom looked so amused, Darren couldn’t help but grin back.

  This was fun. Mom hadn’t played with him like that in years. And Isaiah . . .

  Darren shook the water from his hands. “Still enjoying the view?”

  Isaiah’s eyes darkened, and a devilish spark glittered in them. He opened his mouth to speak, but shut it when his mom returned with a towel in her hand.

  She passed it to Darren and kissed his cheek. “Go shower. Your father will be home after lunch, so we can eat in the sunroom.”

  “Will do, Mom.”

  Mom’s gaze flickered between the both of them. “Isaiah, would you mind going with him to collect his dirty clothes? I want to put them all in the wash before the stains set.”

  What was she up to? Why was this the first time he was super okay with her meddling?

  Isaiah tightened his hair tie. “Sure, Peg.”

  But his mom had already walked off.

  Isaiah smirked, eyeing Darren lazily. “Did she often hose you down as a kid?”

  “Only once. Every other month.”

  Isaiah laughed. “Well, that was fun. At least for me.” He collected the wet shirt from the driveway.

  “Only because I didn’t squirt you back.” Darren peeled off his soaking socks and wrapped them and the shirt in one of the muddy towels.

  “Tell you what,” Isaiah said as he accepted the pile of wet clothes. “The next time I get dirty, I’ll let you squirt me.”

  Darren almost choked. “That sounds like a very . . . fun challenge.”

  Isaiah leaned closer, voice husky. “More like a fun promise.”

  Fuck, the imagery had him responding, hard and fast. He sputtered and blushed.

  Isaiah leered suggestively. “We should get down to business.”

  “Business?”

  A naughty grin twitched Isaiah’s lips. “Bringing your dirty laundry to your mom. What else?”

  A low groan escaped Darren’s lips as his cock strained against his shorts. How the fuck was he going to change around Isaiah sporting the biggest wood of his life?

  Habit set his feet on the path, and a few moments later they arrived at the pool house. Darren turned on the jets in the shower room and went to grab a fresh towel.

  Isaiah waited at the doorway, lounging against the frame, looking hot as fuck.

  Darren nervously unbuttoned his shorts.

  This flirting felt good. Felt great, but . . . the fact still remained they were competing for the same prize. One of them would end up the loser; would end up disappointed.

  Could their attraction survive that?

  Should they even try?

  Darren hesitated too long before shedding his boxers, and Isaiah twisted away, giving him privacy.

  Frustration slithered through him, but in the same breath, he was relieved.

  He passed his clothes to Isaiah and watched him leave.

  Sighing, he slung himself into the shower and scrubbed shampoo into his hair.

  It sucked, but he had to focus on his priorities. Had to remember why he was here this weekend. It wasn’t to fall head over heels.

  He was here to earn the position of Gage Scholar. To win back his father’s respect.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Isaiah

  The official dinner was nothing like the other meals he’d shared with Darren and his mother. The food—Caesar salad, broiled grouper with a light cream sauce, braised brussels sprouts, parmesan risotto—was just as excellent as the night before. The wine was amazing too. But the mood had stiffened.

  Peg had lost the playful sparkle in her eye, and Darren—God, Darren had all his masks set in place. No hint of a smile anywhere.

  Isaiah got it, kind of. He’d had his one-on-one with Josh Gage, and Isaiah saw him as a man who revolved around business. Not adversarial like Jenkins was, but their conversation lacked the friendly interaction that he had with Peg.

  He glanced across the table at Darren, and Isaiah’s confusion deepened. Darren had acted differently since he’d showered in the pool house. At lunch, he’d put noticeable distance between them. Then disappeared all afternoon.

  And now he sat with his back so straight, he must’ve had a steel rod inserted up his . . . spine.

  Isaiah frowned. He wanted to shake Darren and find out what the fuck happened. Had he pushed too far with the flirting? Had he totally misread things? Or was it something else?

  Dinner wasn’t the time to figure it out.

  He was under the microscope. Josh would file and later dissect every word and action.

  His family was counting on him to do his best. Yes, his chances were slim, but he couldn’t toss the hope aside.

  Darren interacted with his father—wooden, polite, and reserved. So different from earlier. How easily Darren had spoken with him, had responded to his blatant flirtation . . .

  He wanted that Darren back again.

  “Isaiah told me you showed him the solar array.” Josh directed this to Darren.

  “Yes, sir. On our way to the car barn he asked about it.”

  Isaiah stilled. He’d kind of blurted that out during his interview.

  He snuck a look at Darren, who glanced at him. He didn’t seem angry, thank fuck. But surprised, perhaps.

  “Why didn’t you tell him you paid for the installation?” Josh’s question wasn’t angry or probing. It held gentle curiosity.

  Darren rubbed his nape, and a glimmer of the real Darren shone through. “I didn’t think it mattered. You had to approve it before it could be built.”

  “Perhaps, but this was your idea. You should have accepted credit for its success.” Josh’s almost praise was the warmest Isaiah had seen him.

  Darren blinked, and was that a hint of a smile? “Yes, sir.”

  Conversation pivoted to various business topics and school. Darren’s mother mentioned all the goals Darren had scored for his soccer games. Josh changed to a more neutral topic without commenting. Just like that, Darren’s mask tightened again.

  Isaiah swallowed in sympathy.

  When the plates had been cleared, Peg stood. “Darren, why don’t you take Isaiah to the sitting room while your father and I check on coffee and dessert?”

  If she asked him to dance naked on the table, Isaiah doubted Peg would have gotten a different reaction from her son. Darren looked pale and nervous. “Sure.”

  Everyone rose.

  Darren led the way to the sitting room without talking. Not quite the silent treatment, but it was clear Darren didn’t want to play host to Isaiah anymore.

  “Did I do something wrong?” Isaiah asked when they reached a large, formal room. “Was it something I said?”

  Darren’s brow scrunched into a frown. “No. No, of course you didn’t.”

  “I didn’t cross a line earlier?” He meant the flirting, and Darren had to know it.

  “No.”

  The fear abated, but the tension remained. They stood a foot apart, staring at each other, until Darren rocked back on his heel and nodded over Isaiah’s right shoulder. “Let’s go in there.”

  Isaiah followed him to the music room. Not Darren’s so
undproof practice room, but where the family housed the Fazioli.

  Isaiah about fainted at the sight of the dark wood with amber streaks. Holy shit. Darren hadn’t mentioned it was one of the rare, special-edition models.

  It was gorgeous. Isaiah’s fingers twitched. God, he wanted to play it.

  But, what a beauty. The thought of touching the keys made his stomach twist with nerves.

  Darren sat on the bench and softly played a mellow song. He glanced at Isaiah and shuffled along the bench. “It’ll sound better with you playing.”

  Isaiah jumped at the invitation and slung himself next to Darren.

  “Please play with me,” Isaiah said, their arms brushing. “I like hearing you.”

  Darren slid his fingers along the keys and resumed playing. The gentle movement of his arm bumped Isaiah with frissons of electricity. Their gazes caught and held, and Isaiah felt Darren’s sadness pour into him.

  Darren shrugged and looked down at his fingers. “Dad and I used to be close,” he said softly.

  “But you’re having issues now.”

  “Yes.” Darren didn’t look up from the keys. “He didn’t plan on his namesake being gay.” He stopped playing. “Play something, please?”

  Isaiah stretched his fingers over the smooth ivory keys.

  “He’s not homophobic,” Darren continued quietly, “he just . . . had other plans for me.”

  Other plans than being happy? “Your mother seems okay with it.”

  “She is.” Darren stared at Isaiah’s hands gently pressing into the ivory. “She says to give him time and he’ll come around. I only told them in June.”

  “I see.”

  “It’s not that he’s ever said anything negative. He hasn’t cut me off, or even threatened to, he’s just different. Like I’ve disappointed him.”

  Isaiah played a somber, quiet piece, and listened.

  “That’s why I didn’t come home this summer. It was bad enough hearing the disappointment in his voice. I didn’t want to see it in his face. I’m sorry if you thought I was upset with you. I’m not. You’ve made this visit much better than it otherwise would have been.”