2016 Top Ten Gay Romance Read online

  “None of those sketches are good enough to sell. I’d have to paint something, and all my stuff’s back in Woodson.”

  “Well, in that case, I just happen to have what you need.” Dane stood. “Be right back.”

  When Sayer had started talking about sketching, Dane remembered the art supplies that still sat in the back of his closet. He gathered the large canvas bag and the folded easel and brought them to the living room.

  Sayer walked out of the kitchen, coffee still in hand.

  “Was Liz a painter on top of being a photographer?”

  “No, her sister Ella was the painter, and she left these things here. You can use them.”

  “No, I couldn’t use her stuff.”

  “She left them with Liz several years ago when she got married and moved to France. She doesn’t want them back. Please use them.”

  Sayer walked forward, set down his cup, and began taking things out of the bag with interest. There were various oil paints, canvases, brushes, a palette, a palette knife, and a bottle of linseed oil.

  “Looks like everything I’d need except turpentine,” Sayer said.

  “Which I can easily get. I may even have some out in the shed. You can set up on the back porch.”

  Sayer’s eyes met Dane’s.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because I want to.” Dane shrugged.

  Sayer looked over the supplies again, running long fingers over the various tubes of paint.

  “You’re really tempting me.”

  “Then do it!” Dane grinned. “What have you got to lose?”

  “When I lost everything, I thought I’d never have the time to paint again.” Sayer picked up a brush with the kind of care and respect only an artist would display.

  “Maybe painting’s what you should be doing full time. At least think about it. Listen, I’m beat. I never sleep well or for long at the station. You think that great-smelling meal can wait a little while I take a nap?”

  “Sure.” Sayer hadn’t taken his eyes off the paints. “Chicken’s not quite done anyway. I’ll keep it warm for you.”

  Chapter 4

  Dane dreamed he was kissing Sayer, body warm against his and mouth soft and pliable. He woke to his alarm beeping. Reluctantly, he threw back the covers and got out of bed, wishing he could go back to the dream, which seemed so real, he could still feel the phantom of Sayer’s lips on his.

  On his way into the bathroom, Dane ran into Sayer coming down the hall, a smile on his lips until his gaze moved down Dane’s body to the crotch of his thin cotton pants, at which point his mouth fell open.

  Dane glanced down, mortified to see he was sporting a sizable erection. His face heated.

  “I was coming to see if your alarm went off. Dinner’s waiting.” Sayer turned and walked back down the hall.

  Dane ducked into the bathroom and shut the door, leaning against it for a moment.

  “Holy shit.”

  He turned to the sink and splashed his face with cold water. When his cock had settled, he peed, flushed, and washed his hands.

  By the time he entered the kitchen, he was more or less composed.

  “Did you try out the art supplies?” Dane took a seat at the table, which was already set.

  “Yeah, I couldn’t resist.” Sayer brought the last plate to the table, and they sat down.

  “Smells wonderful.” Dane looked appreciatively at the spread.

  Sayer had baked the chicken Dane had had in the refrigerator, and along with that, he’d cooked carrots, asparagus, and the few new potatoes Dane had had in the pantry. As they ate, Dane’s eyes kept going to Sayer’s face. He looked good—rested and happy. The blue shirt he wore really brought out the color of his eyes, and Dane couldn’t help thinking about the dream and the kiss. His cock stirred in his pants, and Dane was glad that this time it was hidden by the table.

  “Busy shift?” Sayer cut into his potato.

  “An eighteen-wheeler caught fire on the interstate.”

  “Anyone hurt?”

  “Fortunately, no. We got there before things got too bad, and the driver was already out.”

  “Must be pretty exciting, what you do.”

  “Most of the time it’s pretty dull, actually. We sit around the firehouse and play cards, eat, work out, and sleep. I have a couple of books I keep there. That’s about it. Unless there’s a call, of course.”

  “You said your co-workers gave you a hard time about me?”

  “Yeah. They were just worried about me taking home a stranger.” Dane speared a carrot and popped it into his mouth.

  “Do they know you’re gay?” Sayer tilted his head, eyes curious.

  “I told them after Liz died. I couldn’t lie anymore. That’s also when I came out to my family.”

  “How did that go?”

  “Let’s just say we don’t talk anymore.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” Dane felt Sayer looking at him and raised his eyes, but although Sayer seemed to want to say something, he remained silent. The air charged between them, and Dane suddenly didn’t feel hungry anymore. For food, anyway.

  He kept eating, though, and when they were both finished, he stood to clear the table.

  “My turn for dish duty.”

  Sayer walked onto the back porch, and from the window Dane watched him sit down at the easel. As Dane scrubbed each dish before stacking it in the small dishwasher, he thought about the look they’d exchanged during dinner. He hadn’t imagined the interest in the other man’s eyes, and he hadn’t imagined the way he’d wanted to cross the distance between them and…

  Dane took a deep breath. Down, boy. Take it easy.

  Dishes done, Dane wiped the counters and washed his hands before heading into the living room. Sayer must have lit a fire in the fireplace earlier. Dane stoked it, shifting the logs until the flames danced merrily. The tree twinkled with a myriad of multi-colored lights, and Dane walked over to it, examining some of the ornaments.

  There were a few he’d made when he was a child—a little drummer boy crafted out of an old-fashioned clothespin; a star made of popsicle sticks, glue, and glitter; and a photo of his six-year-old face, both front teeth missing, stuck onto the head of a paper angel.

  Others had been Liz’s, such as the angels she’d crocheted out of thin white yarn, the red and gold glass balls, and the nativity crèche made out of olive wood.

  Dane lifted the gold-wire bird with the intricate banner that read Our First Christmas Together and was rather surprised that it didn’t hurt to see it. Instead, it brought pleasant memories of the tree they’d picked out together that year and how almost all the needles had fallen off before Christmas arrived and they’d had to take off all the decorations, buy another, and redecorate that one. Funny how something so exasperating at the time could turn into a humorous memory.

  “You okay?” So deep was Dane in his musings, he hadn’t heard Sayer come in, and the sound of his voice startled Dane into jumping.

  “Sorry.” Sayer put a hand on Dane’s shoulder, and as Dane turned, he suddenly found himself only inches away from the other man. For a brief moment, Dane really thought Sayer was going to kiss him, but instead he stepped back and sat down on the couch.

  Dane’s heart hammered in his chest, even as disappointment seeped into him. He turned away and continued to peruse the tree.

  “A lot of memories there, I imagine.”

  Dane nodded, touching the small silver bell that the guys at the firehouse had given him and Liz for their first married Christmas. Engraved on it were the words Dane and Liz Forever, 2012.

  Forever was a funny thing; it hadn’t lasted very long. They’d been doomed from the start, anyway, Dane thought. But Liz deserved to still be here.

  “What are you thinking so hard about?”

  “Just what things might be like, had things been different.”

  “I sometimes think about that, too.”

  “Sayer, c
an I ask you a personal question?”

  “It would be a little shitty of me to say no after all you’ve told me.”

  “You still can.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Are you gay?”

  Dane still faced the tree, its heavy aroma filling his nostrils with every breath he took. He closed his eyes and waited for the answer. It seemed like an eternity until Sayer spoke.

  “Yes.”

  “When did you know?” Dane turned.

  Sayer sat on the couch. In his hand, he absently twirled one of the small screwdrivers he used on the clock.

  “When I was fifteen. I’d kissed a few girls, but I always wondered why I wasn’t as into it as all my friends were. Then I saw my male best friend naked, and I got hard. I knew then. Thinking about being with a guy made me feel everything that thinking about being with a girl should have.”

  “Did you come out then?”

  “No, it was about a year later. I wanted to be sure—I thought maybe it could be a phase or something. Maybe I hoped it was. I was lucky; my parents were cool about it. Some of my friends weren’t so cool, though. But I suppose they really weren’t my friends to begin with.”

  Dane sat down, hands hanging limp between his knees as he leaned forward. “Sometimes I wish I’d come out that young. It might have saved some heartache.”

  “From what you’ve told me,” Sayer said, “it sounds as though Liz really loved you. She knew you were gay and didn’t care. So maybe you should stop beating yourself up about it.” Sayer picked up a piece of the broken clock from the coffee table and started working on it.

  “If she hadn’t died, things would have all gone to hell sooner or later. Marriages tend to crumble when there’s no passion,” Dane said.

  “Maybe, maybe not. You may have had a really good marriage because there were other things between you. Respect, for one. Not all couples have that. And you had fun together, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah. A lot of fun.” Dane smiled.

  “Well, there you go, then.”

  “How did you get to be so smart?”

  “Let’s just say lately I’ve had a lot of time to contemplate life.”

  Sayer continued working on the clock, and Dane stared moodily into the fire until his eyes got heavy, and he dozed off.

  * * * *

  Dane had the following day off. It snowed overnight and coated everything in the backyard with inches of pure white that gleamed in the morning sun. Dane cooked pancakes and left them warming in the oven while he went outside to fill the birdfeeders. The little buggers might be small, but they certainly ate a lot. Sayer was still in bed, and Dane wanted to let him sleep as long as he could.

  The cold air bit at Dane’s exposed skin and felt crisp and sharp in his lungs. There were deer tracks around the salt licks, and he could tell the squirrels had been at their feeders. He and Liz used to watch them from the back porch and laugh at their antics.

  As companionable as he and Liz had been, and in spite of what Sayer had said the night before, Dane knew that the lack of physical connection would have hurt them in the end. Sex in Dane’s marriage had been mediocre at best, although Dane had tried to please Liz and she him. Dane’s overwhelming urge to have the kind of life he thought he was supposed to have pushed him to make their marriage perfect, but it always fell short. He realized now he would never have been happy while he lived a lie, and if he wasn’t happy, there was no way he could have made Liz happy.

  Boone ran around the yard, snuffling under the snow, balls of it collecting in his fur. On the back porch, Dane grabbed the towel he kept draped over the chair for that purpose and wiped Boone down with it.

  Back inside, Dane found Sayer drinking coffee on the couch, the clock ticking away beside him on the table.

  “It’s fixed?”

  “Yep. Good as new.”

  “That’s terrific. I’ve missed hearing it. What do you want to do today?”

  “I thought I’d get started on the porch furniture that’s broken.”

  “Or, we could go into town and pick up that turpentine you need to clean your brushes. The can from the shed’s almost empty. After that, we could have a look around.”

  “Dane. I’d rather you didn’t. I’m just uncomfortable having you pay for things. It’s bad enough me mooching off you here.” Sayer put up a hand to stop Dane from protesting. “And don’t say I’m earning my keep, because I’m really not. I’m eating your food and using your water. I may be homeless now, but I did have a house once, and I know all that costs money.”

  “But I don’t mind,” Dane said. “In fact, I want you here. You think I like the thought of being alone at Christmas?”

  Sayer looked steadily at Dane, and Dane didn’t look away. Finally, Sayer nodded his head.

  “All right. But after Christmas, I’m heading out.”

  Maybe Dane had entertained the idea that Sayer might like being there with him, but Sayer’s eagerness to leave shot down that hope, and Dane felt his mood plummeting with it.

  Dane read for a while. He felt Sayer’s eyes on him, but he didn’t look up from his book. He must have been more tired than he thought, for he fell asleep in his chair. When he awoke sometime later, Sayer got up from the window where he’d been sketching.

  “I made some soup. It’s on the stove.”

  “Thanks. Have you eaten?”

  “I was waiting for you.”

  In the kitchen, Dane found the pot of clam chowder simmering. It was from a can, but it was his favorite brand and smelled delicious.

  “I’ll cut up some of this French bread and toast it with cheese to go with the chowder,” he called to Sayer. “Sound good to you?”

  “Sounds wonderful.”

  When Sayer joined Dane in the kitchen, he seemed fidgety.

  “You really think your friend would put some of my sketches in her shop?”

  Dane donned an oven mitt that looked like a moose head and bent to get the bread out of the oven. He looked over his shoulder at Sayer. “I know she would. Did you change your mind?”

  “I think it might be stupid of me not to try to earn some money if I can. I’ll pay you back for the turpentine, if that’s all right.”

  Dane poured the soup in the red tureen and set it on a hot pad in the middle of the table. Placing the hot cheese bread in a wicker basket, he sat down.

  As Sayer ladled the clam chowder into two bowls, Dane put a slice of bread on each plate and licked his fingers.

  “I’m sure she’d do it as soon as you’re ready. Mika is Chris’s wife—he’s one of the guys at the firehouse. She’s really great. I’ve seen her display local artists’ work plenty of times.”

  “Listen.” Sayer cleared his throat. “I’m sorry if I came off a bit harsh earlier. You’ve been really great, and I owe you a lot.”

  “I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything.”

  “I know, I know. Just—will you accept my apology?”

  “There’s no need for one.” Dane smiled.

  “Great.”

  It was weird how in just a few days they’d settled into a routine with one alternately cooking and the other cleaning up. After he finished the dishes, Dane put a halter and leash on Boone and took him for a walk. When he stopped midway to the drive and turned back to look at the house, he saw Sayer in the kitchen window watching him. Dane gave a wave and Sayer waved back.

  Boone seemed a little restless, so Dane took a longer walk than usual. When he got back, Sayer handed him a note as soon as he walked in the door.

  “The firehouse called.”

  Dane read the message while Sayer unhooked Boone from his leash and gave him some water. Two trucks had been called, and they needed men at the firehouse.

  “Guess I’m heading in,” he said.

  “When do you think you’ll be back?”

  “Gonna miss me?” Dane concentrated on putting on his gloves.

  “Maybe.”

  Dane looked up then, and Sa
yer’s smile sent his heart thumping in his chest. “I guess I’ll be working until evening when the next shift comes in.” He let his eyes drop to Sayer’s mouth. “Hold down the fort for me.”

  Chapter 5

  It was close to eleven P.M. when Rod and Chris helped Dane from the truck to the back porch, each supporting him with a shoulder under his arms. Before they quite made it to the door, it opened and Sayer walked out onto the porch, followed by a whining Boone.

  “What happened?”

  “Bad house fire. He fell through the second floor to the landing.” Rod angled through the doorway and into the living room, helping Dane out of his coat and into his chair. Chris carried one of Dane’s boots in his hand and set it by the door.

  “Chris drove Dane’s truck, and I followed in my car.” Rod propped Dane’s wrapped ankle on the ottoman and carefully placed a pillow beneath it.

  “I’m fine,” Dane said.

  “The dog was going crazy, and Dane was so late…I was worried.” Sayer ran a hand through his hair, and Dane was amused to see it was standing on end.

  “I’m Rod Campbell.” Rod held out his hand.

  “Sayer Mills.”

  “Chris Foley.”

  They shook hands.

  “He’s got a sprained ankle, and—”

  “Will you stop talking about me like I’m not here?” Dane rubbed his face with both hands.

  “And a bit of a concussion,” Rod finished. “Can you handle waking him up every hour or so tonight? I could stay…”

  “No problem. It’s the least I can do after all he’s done for me.”

  “I’m right here!” Dane said loud enough for the neighbors to hear, if Dane had had any neighbors.

  “He’s a bit grouchy,” Chris said. “Didn’t like being looked over by the paramedics.”

  “I promise to take good care of him.” Sayer saw the men out, and then turned to Dane.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Are you talking to me now, or maybe to Boone?”

  Sayer walked over and crouched in front of Dane, blue eyes concerned. “Very funny, hero. I was really worried. You should have been home hours ago, and Boone was frantic—like he knew something was wrong. I couldn’t remember which station it was—”