Ty looked the guy up and down. “Buddy, you don’t have the sack to wear her pants.”
“Damn straight,” Clancy said.
Ty held his hand up and she gave him a high-five as she strolled away. Alston was laughing as Ty pulled a twenty out of his wallet. He handed it to the taxi driver through the window. “For the car wash.”
“Lunch is on Grady!”
Zane lay awake in bed, listening to the sounds of the house settling and staring at the darkened ceiling.
He looked at his phone, sitting on the bedside table, then picked it up to check the time. Nearly three in the morning; there was no way he could call Ty and not wake him. And wanting to hear his lover’s voice was not a good enough reason to wake him.
He scrolled through the photo roll, surprised at the homesickness that came over him as he looked at picture after picture of him and Ty. Most of them were taken from arm’s length, with Ty in his aviators and Zane smiling like someone who hadn’t been broken by life.
Some were of Ty alone, photos that Zane had taken without Ty’s knowledge. Only one was of Ty without clothes. Maybe. And, of course, there was the photo Clancy had sent him this afternoon, with no explanation for why Ty was covered in condiments and looking like he’d just run a marathon. Zane had to laugh, though. He couldn’t wait to hear that story. They hadn’t worked today, so whatever had happened was merely a result of Ty’s unspeakable ability to attract weird things.
Zane stopped flipping through the photos when he came across his absolute favorite. He and Ty had taken a weekend trip to Virginia Beach to celebrate Ty’s birthday on Memorial Day weekend. They’d been standing on the beach in front of their hotel, watching a thunderstorm roll in from the sea. Everyone else had scrambled inside, and while Zane had tried to convince Ty to go in as well, Ty had chosen to stay and watch. The sky had been an impressive velvet blue, with rays of sunshine punching through as the blackness encroached. The look on Ty’s face had been serene and somehow melancholy as he watched the storm whip up the tide and thrash against the shore in front of them.
Zane had snapped the picture with his phone without Ty knowing, leaving the phone near his hip and capturing Ty from below. Ty had never caught on that Zane was watching him instead of the storm, so wrapped up in whatever it was about storms out on the ocean that seemed to fascinate Ty like they did.
When the rain had hit the beach and Zane had turned to retreat to their room, Ty grabbed him instead and started a waltz in the downpour. When they finished the dance, people applauded from their balconies. It had been the first taste of what life with Ty might be like when they came out.
It had also been one of the most romantic moments of his life. He would never be able to top Ty’s off-the-cuff romance with anything he planned ahead of time. He intended to spend the rest of his life trying, though.
His heart twisted as he looked at the photo, and a bittersweet feeling settled in his chest. It was still sinking in that he had a family in West Virginia now, a family that knew he and Ty loved each other and accepted that for what it was.
And now he was back in Texas with so much uncertainty swirling around him that it made him nauseous just to think of it. His mother’s constant badgering, his father injured and on the warpath, the possibility that whatever was happening on the ranch was just starting instead of ending . . .
And on top of all of that, Zane couldn’t help imagining what it would be like to be able to bring Ty here and introduce him to his family as the love of his life.
Before he knew what he was doing, he’d clicked back over to his favorite numbers, hit Ty’s picture, and pressed the call button.
It took a few rings, but Ty answered with a hoarse, “What?”
Zane smiled and closed his eyes again, breathing out a sigh of relief. He could just imagine Ty stretched out in their bed, sheets tangled around his muscular body. He’d be warm and pliant, his fingers gentle against Zane’s skin as he reached out to him. He’d smell faintly of Old Spice, and his hair, which had grown, would be just long enough for Zane to twirl around his fingers and hold onto as they kissed.
“Hey,” Zane whispered, voice choked on the sudden rush of sentiment and arousal.
“Zane? Are you okay? What’s wrong? Is it your dad?”
“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong, I just miss you.”
Ty was silent, and Zane could hear his harsh breaths as he sat up in bed. “What happened?”
“Nothing, I just . . . I’m lying here in this huge bed and I can’t sleep.”
Ty sighed. “I miss you too, Zane.”
“I’m sorry I woke you.”
“It’s okay. Today was a slow day, it’s fine.”
Zane narrowed his eyes. “I know your definition of a slow day, and I got Clancy’s picture.”
“Yeah, well . . .”
Zane heard a harsh breath and a shuffle of sheets. He suspected Ty had just stretched back out in bed, and the mental image of his lover was enough to slide his hand beneath the band of his boxers. His palm rested on his hip, fingers grazing his hardening cock.
“Are you as miserable and lonely as I am?” Ty asked, sounding pitiful.
Zane swallowed hard and looked around the bedroom of the guesthouse. He’d been living here for a full week now. The king-sized bed was far too big, the room too empty and impersonal. The television offered no company, the art and trinkets held no memories for him. Even the view out the window had grown unfamiliar.
“Yes,” he said, almost choking on the word.
“Zane,” Ty whispered, pulling Zane back. “I know what you’re doing.”
Zane found himself smiling at Ty’s raspy voice, taking himself in hand to start a slow stroke. “What am I doing?”
“Same thing I am.”
Zane’s breath caught on an exhale. “Ty.”
“Go on, Zane. Close your eyes.”
Zane hit his phone’s speaker button, laid it beside his head on the pillow, and closed his eyes like Ty had asked. His hand squeezed and pulled, his actions slow and sensual, mimicking the way Ty touched him when they were fooling around. His other hand dragged across his abdomen, fingers sliding over ridges of hard muscle.
With Ty’s rasping voice in his ear, Zane could imagine it. His fingers dragging over Ty’s body, finding the occasional ridge of a scar, digging into those incredible muscles as they tensed. He could imagine Ty’s hand wrapped around his cock, thumb sliding over the head, palm massaging his balls. He could picture himself under Ty, his hand between them, stroking Ty’s c**k as Ty ground against him.