B.A. Tortuga Rain and Whiskey 1 (pdf)

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damned if it wasn't time to go get Shane and bring him
home.
* * * *
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by BA Tortuga
It was probably two in the morning before Galen managed
to find that stupid strip of beach again. Just went to show
how much attention he'd paid to the drive the last time he
was out there. That drive had passed in a hurry.
This one? Seemed endless.
But it was infinitely worth it when Galen saw Shane's Jeep
parked out on the sand. Thank God. His stomach was in
fucking knots, but it was so, so much better than the sinking
in his gut would have been if the Jeep hadn't been there.
Determined, Galen parked the truck a ways away and headed
over, not wanting to give Shane a heads up in case he
decided to make a run for it. Because Galen certainly wouldn't
blame him if he did.
He walked up to the passenger side door, peering inside
gingerly.
The Jeep was a wreck, clothes and shit in plastic bags,
aluminum beer cans bagged up in the seat. Shane was
sleeping curled up tight in the back, wearing the jeans he'd
been wearing that night, a towel under his cheek.
Oh fuck. Man, he was already feeling guilty enough, having
gotten Shane fired, being too fucking stubborn to look for him
before now. But ... damn.
Galen sighed. No dwelling. He'd just get defensive and
stupid if he did. He took a deep breath and knocked on the
window.
"I got permission to park here." Shane jerked upright,
eyes wide and searching, going still when they saw him.
"Len?"
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"Yeah." Okay, now he was there and Shane was looking at
him? He was at a loss for words. Galen cleared his throat.
"Uh. Hey. I..."
"Hey." Shane fumbled around, tugging on a t-shirt and
slipping out the driver's side. "You okay?"
He almost said yes, wanting to reassure. But he wasn't.
Not really. He wanted to touch, so bad. "No? I. Jesus, Shane.
I'm sorry."
"You ... you want a beer? I got two left." Shane rubbed the
back of his neck.
"Yeah. Yeah, that'd be good." That was a start anyway.
God, Shane looked tired.
Shane nodded, pulled two cans out of the old Styrofoam
cooler and handed one over. "I'd invite you in but there's this
weird smell."
He got a half-grin that disappeared behind the can, Shane
drinking deep.
"Yeah? Did you look in the glove compartment?" He tried
for a grin of his own, feeling lighter in his belly. Better. He
popped the beer and took a drink.
Shane chuckled. "Yeah. Popped the hood too. No lizards.
None at all."
Galen nodded. "Yeah, but did you look for fish?" He took
another pull off the beer, lining up his next words, fucking up
the whole careful plan when he blurted, "I want you to come
home, Shane."
"Why?" There was a load of shit in that one word, pride
and fear and hurt and love and exhaustion and need.
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"Because I fucked up and I miss you." This was one thing
he could throw his pride to the winds for. One thing that was
worth it. "Because loving you matters more than my stupid
stubborn pride."
"I didn't fuck around on you. I didn't ever even think about
it. I just wanted you." Shane sighed, leaned against the Jeep,
eyes closing.
"I know that, darlin'. I was just so wound up I was saying
shit I didn't even hear until later. I know better." He did. Hell,
he never thought Shane cheated on him. He trusted Shane. If
anything it was himself he didn't trust, his own fucking
reputation he wondered if he'd ever live down. What did they
call that? Projection?
Shane made a soft sound. "I been missing that."
"What?" He wasn't sure what Shane meant, but it had to
be a good sign. Galen touched Shane's cheek, feeling rough
stubble. "I've missed you."
"Hearing you call me darlin'." Shane leaned toward him.
"Oh. Len. I."
That was all the offer he needed, and more than he could
take. Galen slid an arm around Shane's waist, pulling him
close, reveling in the weight of Shane's body against him.
"I'm gonna kiss you now."
"Promise?" Shane opened those eyes, blood-shot and
tired, but so fucking blue. "You do and you'll have to take me
home."
"Oh, I'm counting on it." He so was. Galen bent, lips
sliding over Shane's, and it was just what he needed, just
what he'd been missing. Shane's hand slid up, curling around
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his nape, cuddling right into him as the kiss went deep. Oh,
fuck yes. Beer and sea salt and Shane. Galen pressed Shane
back against the jeep, wanting more of that touch, of that
sweet as fuck body. Even if it was skinnier than it had been.
Shane moaned for him, the sound like a fucking balm,
starting to heal shit that he was afraid wouldn't ease.
Galen leaned, hands sliding up and down Shane's sides,
counting ribs. Counting breaths. "Come home."
Shane nodded, cheek rough against his. "I'm tired, Len.
Been wanting things right again."
"Me, too." He knew they had some talking to do, but it
wasn't his strong suit, and they did that better late at night,
wrapped together in bed. If they could get that far, the rest
would work out. "You want to follow me, or you want to come
back for the Jeep tomorrow?"
"I'll follow you. Once I lay my burden down, I'm gonna rest
awhile."
"Okay." He didn't want to let Shane go, but he had to
trust. Had to believe Shane would follow him. He pressed a
kiss to Shane's mouth, tongue pushing in. "See you there,
then. In a few."
"I'm right behind you." Shane squeezed his fingers, then
stepped back and hopped in the Jeep. "Love you, Galen
Frost."
God, yeah. "Love you, darlin'. I'll see you at home."
He headed back for the truck, legs just eating up the
distance. He wanted. Bad. And thank the good Lord, he was
gonna have. As soon as they got Shane back where he
belonged.
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* * * *
It was way too much like a dream. The fog was rolling in,
the air cool and heavy, the buzz he'd worked up at nine damn
near gone. Shane was driving and blinking and following
Galen home.
Shit.
By the time they pulled into the drive he'd convinced
himself he was passed out, fucked up, dead. He parked and
sat, sort of looking at his hands on the steering wheel,
looking at the little cut on his knuckle, the scar on one wrist
from catching it on barbed wire when he was twelve.
He heard Galen's truck door open and shut, took a deep
breath, told himself to move, to stand up, something.
This? Was a shit time to wig the fuck out.
It was a few minutes maybe before Galen was standing
next to his door, opening it, hand warm on his arm. "You
coming, darlin'?"
Shane looked over and up, taking a deep breath. Okay.
Okay, not a dream. Real. He could do real. "Yeah. I ... I'm a
little cattywhompus."
"Yeah?" Galen petted his arm, fingers moving slow and
easy. "I don't blame you, lover. Come on in and have a beer
or some sweet tea or something?"
"Yeah." He slipped out of the Jeep and right against
Galen's heat. Oh. Oh, sweet fuck.
"God. You feel good." Galen kissed him, lips warm and dry
and soft against him, beard scratching his chin. Then Galen
took his hand and tugged, pulling him right up the back steps
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and into the kitchen. It felt good, the red and chrome familiar
and home, damn it. He reached out, couldn't stop touching,
stop sliding his hands on Len.
"Mmmm." Oh. Oh, that purrgrowlhum. He'd dreamed that
but had never gotten it quite right. Definitely real. Galen
turned, sat in one of the kitchen chairs and pulled him close,
arms around his waist, head on his chest.
"Oh." He took Galen's cap off and started petting,
humming, fingers relearning the curve of Len's ear, the
softness of the dark hair. Galen was touching him the same
way, hands sliding up and down his back, feeling along his
spine. That mouth traveled along his belly, up his chest,
warm and damp even through his shirt.
"Love." God, he'd missed this, needed it so bad. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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