Don't Read in the Closet: Volume Four (22 page)

stored out of the weather, in one of the outbuildings. It was painfully

obvious that something had driven his friend out of Texas, away from

his family and friends.

“You know, I could always use a hand, here, working with the

horses.” Jake’s casual offer made his friend pause, his bottle halfway

to his parted lips.

Don’t Read in the Closet – volume four 123

Dylan took a long, thoughtful drink, before answering, “Suppose

so. If that’s an offer, I’d consider taking you up on it.”

“And I’d consider hiring you.” Jake grinned at the expression of

mock-hurt on Dylan’s face. As long as Jake had a place to hang his

hat, Dylan had one too. It was understood between them, but he

couldn’t let the opportunity pass without getting a dig in, for old

times’ sake. He sobered, and caught Dylan’s gaze, “You care to fill

me in? Way I understood it, you were coming for a visit. This seems a

little more permanent than that.”

Dylan shrugged, “Got tired of the situation I was in. Decided it

was time to move on to greener pastures. Folks around Moulton

weren’t so friendly, all of a sudden. So I left. End of story. You

remember that time we blocked off the square, in Waelder, with hay-

bales, and lit ‘em on fire? Man that was classic!”

Well,
that
was a neat change of subject. Jake raised one finely-

arched eyebrow at his friend, “Police and my daddy didn’t think so, as

best I remember. I was sitting real careful for a week, after he got

through dusting my shirt-tail for that one. You came up with some

stupid shit, D.
Why
did I listen to you, anyway?”

That low, dirty drawl crept back into his voice, as Dylan smirked,

“Because I’m just naturally charmin’, son. I still say we’d never have

got caught if you’d drove faster. Your daddy tanned your ass? Wasn’t

my fault. If you’d have let me drive we’d have been out of there, and

no one would’ve been the wiser. But oh
hell
no! Grandma, here, got

us caught.”

“I’ll show you Grandma, boy!” Jake growled, picking up a piece

of ice from the cooler beside him, and tossing it at his friend, who

laughed when it missed him. “Suppose all the other shit you got into

was my fault, too?”

Dylan continued to smirk, “Yup. Completely.”

Snorting derisively, Jake took a swallow of his Lonestar, finishing

the bottle, “You getting caught with your britches down, under the

Don’t Read in the Closet – volume four 124

bleachers, with Misty Hannigan’s lips around your dick? I was

nowhere around. I couldn’t possibly have been responsible.”

“Still…your fault. She claimed watching the two of us making out,

at her party, got her so hot and bothered she couldn’t control herself.

So, technically…” Dylan shrugged, that inexplicable blush once again

staining his cheeks.

Grabbing a fresh bottle from the cooler, and cracking it open, Jake

studied the label. His beer was suddenly the most interesting thing in

the world. He felt his face grow warm at the memory. He had to give

Misty that one; it was pretty hot, even ten years later.

“Yeah. It was.” Holy fuck! He didn’t remember speaking! Head

snapping up, he found Dylan standing right in front of him. Panic-

filled cerulean eyes collided with jade-green, reading need,

uncertainty, and resolve flickering in their depths.

“Dylan?” Jake swallowed hard, unsure what Dylan was about.

That unsettled him more than he was, already. He knew his friend

inside-out. Unpredictable may as well be his middle name.

Licking his lips, knowing that he was closer to the point of no

return than he’d ever been and understanding Jake more fully than

Jake understood himself, Dylan prayed to whoever was listening that

his friend didn’t deck him. Carefully straddling Jake’s thighs, settling

himself in his convenient lap, he leaned in close, hands cupping Jake’s

stubbled cheeks, voice husky with desire, “How about once more? For

old times’ sake?” His lips were softer than Jake remembered, as they

brushed his mouth tentatively, almost a question—wanting to know if

this was okay.

Jake kissed him back, feeling that soft press of lips all the way to

the core of his being. Letting his hands drift down over Dylan’s

slender back, to the twin-globes of his denim-clad ass, Jake sucked in

a breath as his hips bucked up, erection grinding against the rock-hard

ridge between Dylan’s thighs. Dylan’s lips traveled down to where

Jake’s neck met his shoulder, and nipped, drawing a low, dirty moan

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from his throat. And
FUCK!
this was better than Jake remembered.

Dylan seemed to just fit.

Running the long slender fingers of one hand over broad, well-

muscled shoulders, and down his chest, Dylan just grazed Jake’s erect

nipple with his fingertips, sending a frission of heat through him,

before continuing down his body, to cup the bulge in Jake’s

Wranglers. “Want this, Jake. Want you. Wanted you for so fucking

long.”

Jake teetered on the verge of saying yes. It was right there, but it

stuck in his throat. Instead, what came out was, “Yeah. That’s about

how I remember it, too. But can we take a trip back to reality now?

You know where my best friend
isn’t
gay?”

Cringing at the harshness of his own words, Jake pulled away.

He’d wanted this moment for more years than he could count. He’d

pictured it, fantasized about it, and here it was, presented to him on a

silver platter. So why the fuck couldn’t he just seize this opportunity

with both hands? He studied Dylan’s face, chest heaving in time to

Jake’s, the raw need that mirrored his own so perfectly, but Jake was

made of sterner stuff. Self-denial had become a way of life for him, to

the extent that he could have easily joined a monastery, and not felt

like he was denying himself much of anything…except maybe his

horses. This would have to wait, until
he
made up his mind that the

waiting was over.

Mistaking his hesitancy and confusion for rejection, Dylan closed

off, wordlessly climbing off his lap, and walking stiffly away,

effectively hiding his reaction to Jake’s perceived refusal. Standing,

and stretching, readjusting himself in his now too tight jeans, Jake

studied the ground at his feet, as he spoke in a hesitant voice, “D, I—

I’m not saying no. I’ve just…”

Jake could almost hear the gritted teeth he spoke through, his tone

clipped, a strange mix of hurt and anger coming through, “No, it’s

okay. I understand. I made a mistake. I’m sorry. I just…need a minute,

Jake.”

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Rolling his eyes, and heaving a deep sigh, he stalked the few steps

that separated them, and spun the blonde around to face him,

wrapping strong arms (well-muscled from long days of farm work)

around him like iron bands, and capturing his mouth in a savage kiss

that left them both panting. When he backed off, the two men glared

at each other, across the inches that separated them, adrenaline-fueled

lust blowing their pupils wide. Jake growled, “Fuck you, and your

minute, D! You
don’t
understand shit, and it’s
not
fucking okay. Jesus

fuck! You…you are my best friend, Dylan. We’ve known each other

since what? Elementary school? You dated every fucking cheerleader

on the squad, in high school! Okay, so yeah you and I shared a few

hand-jobs and a make-out session, during an especially fucked up

game of truth or dare, but you…” he snorted out a bitter laugh, “you

just show up here, after ten years of once-in-a-blue-moon phone calls,

where, I might add,
nothing
is ever mentioned about ‘oh, hey, Jake, by

the way I’m probably gay and I think I have a huge crush on you.’,

and I’m just supposed to what? Shove my dick up your ass cuz you

want it so fucking bad? Well, fuck you, D! I need some fucking time

here!”

And just like that, he spun on his heel, and stalked away, angry

and horny, and a little confused because what the hell? He didn’t stop

until he’d made it to the door of his bedroom. It didn’t shock him that

Dylan followed behind him, because Dylan had never known when to

leave well-enough alone. He just needed to think, damn it!

Laying a restraining hand lightly on his friend’s shoulder, Dylan

spoke gently, “Oh, no you don’t! I know you, Jake, like the back of

my hand. You’re running into your room to think, and given the

opportunity you’ll talk yourself right out of the idea.” Jake offered

Dylan a glare, over his shoulder, but he continued, in the same

mollifying tone, “You obviously weren’t paying attention, way back

when. Because I followed you around like a love-sick pup for weeks

after that party. Finally figured I’d read you wrong, or that you

weren’t as into the idea as I thought. I thought I was just about as

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transparent as I could get, couldn’t help it. I wanted you bad, Jake. I

still do. It just took me ten years to find the balls to say it.”

Jake nodded, appreciating the conundrum they’d both faced, back

then. Texas wasn’t friendly toward homosexuals, even now. He’d run

away from that intolerance but old habits die hard, so he’d never

really attempted anything beyond a few random hookups, on the rare

occasions when he went to the city. And here was his best friend

suddenly telling him that his feelings weren’t unrequited, and he could

have all the things he’d fantasized about, right here. He tried to speak

but no words came, as his blue eyes met the quiet, cool green of

Dylan’s gaze, so he let everything he felt shine through—the want, the

confusion, the fear of what might happen, should they take this step.

Caressing Jake’s cheek with one calloused hand, he smiled softly,

“I understand. Moulton never felt right, after you left. And my folks,

well…they wished us both well but they have to make a living, and

people around there
wouldn’t
understand. So I packed up everything,

and I left. Just like you did.”

Jake had to clear a sudden lump from his throat, before he could

speak, “How long have they known about you? Because I sure as fuck

didn’t.”

“They’ve known since high school—well, Mama has. She was

always asking me which girl I was mooning over, and I got tired of

lying to her. Dad found out about five years ago, the hard way.”

Dylan’s snort of laughter accompanied his rueful smile, “He found my

stash of porn in the garage, looking for a hammer. Guess I didn’t hide

it too well. Anyway, about a month ago I…kinda got caught with my

pants down. I met this college student in a bar, in Dallas. He was a

nice guy, a grad-student, and we hit it off. Started seeing each other on

the sly, nothing serious, just kind of friends with benefits. Then, one

night, when we were out to dinner, someone from home saw us,

kissing in the parking lot. Went back to Moulton, and started jaw-

jacking all over town. Before you know it, we could barely go to the

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grocery store. So I left. Cody hasn’t returned my phone calls, so I’m

guessing someone was giving him a hard time about it, too.”

Allowing this information to sink in, mulling it over, Jake felt at

odds with himself. He wanted—damn how he wanted—to take Dylan

at his word. He knew the sex would be spectacular, a sentiment his

dick agreed with whole-heartedly, but it just wasn’t in him to follow

where his dick led. Time would tell if he’d made a bad choice, or a

good one. With a sigh, he rested his forehead against Dylan’s, arms

coming up to rest on either shoulder, his voice was rough with

emotion, “I’m not saying no, D. I’m saying give me a little time. I

mean this is a lot to digest. You’re my best friend. I thought I knew

everything there was to know about you, and you drop this bombshell.