Page 32 of Temptation On Ice

“I want to know more about the boyfriend. Sebastian, right? What a sexy name. Why hasn’t he been back this week? I was hoping to see him while we work on the renovation.” Callum grabs my hands and swings them between us. I move my hold to his wrists and stop the movement, then drop his hands so he knows I don't want to play with him.

“He’s not my boyfriend. I told you, he’s just a friend. A straight friend.”

Callum raises a perfectly arched eyebrow at me. “Not that straight if he stayed the night and was eye-fucking your shirtless chest when I walked in, and then looked like he wanted to murder me after I kissed you hello.”

“You’re reading into something that wasn’t there,” I state as my cheeks heat.

While there were a few moments I could have sworn Sebastian was on the verge of kissing me, or there was some unexplainable chemistry between us, and I wanted there to be something, I didn't want to get my hopes up.

I walk over to a cooler in the shade and grab a cold Coke. It’s hot as balls out here, and I can’t take Callum’s grilling in the direct sun. I pop the top, take a drink of the crispy cold soda, and pray the sugar and caffeine will be the fortification I need to deal with an overly interested friend.

“So what was there? Why was he in your kitchen looking disheveled at eight in the morning if he wasn't into you despite sleeping over?”

Callum perches on the edge of the picnic table and puts his feet on the seat, taking the icy can of Coke I offer and rolling it along his neck like he’s in some Coca-Cola commercial from the nineties. I huff out a breath as I sit next to him and look out over the training yard, surveying everything I’ve built. This was nothing but an old, dilapidated farm three years ago when I bought it. I spent a year having the yard leveled and outbuildings put up, the barn renovated into climate-controlled kennels, and everything set up to create the training facility I knew I wanted to run. It was a labor of love and took nearly all of my savings to build the dream that I’m still trying to make a reality. I sigh and know Callum won't be deterred as easily as I’d have liked.

“He stayed over, but we didn't sleep together. He had a rough night, and I let him crash in the guest room.” Callum’s eyes are trained on me, the scrutiny heavy as I speak. I take a sip of my Coke.

“Spill the beans, Tucky Bear. There’s more to that story than you’re telling me.” He cracks his Coke open with metallic purple nails and sips it delicately, wrinkling his nose when the carbonation tickles. “You need to switch to Diet Coke. This full sugar shit will give you the diabetes,” he says, pronouncing it in a full Southern twang.

I snort. As much as Callum is a pain in my ass, he means well, and he’s a good friend. I met him when I ventured out to a gay bar a few years ago, and he glued himself to my side. He played fairy godmother, introducing me to his friends, and assisted with navigating the ins and outs of being gay in the South. He helped me understand my identity and how labels are just that when I was struggling with everything I’d been through at work and not knowing what to do with my personal life. He’s never left.

“Sebastian was in an emotionally raw state and broke down about some stuff he’d been holding onto. He’d also been drinking, and between the two, he wasn’t fit to drive. I put him to bed in the guest room, and he asked me to stay with him for comfort, not sex. He fell asleep with his arm wrapped around my waist and his face pressed into my side, but I didn’t stay the whole night,” I admit.

I was flying so high from that little move of his, pulling me back and burying his nose into my T-shirt, breathing me in, and melting against me. It felt so good to be needed, wanted even. I was able to run my fingers through his hair and find out it’s thick and silky after all, and that put him to sleep quickly. I stayed there with him while he held onto me, playing with his hair way longer than I needed to. It was an indulgence I couldn't pass up. I eventually slid out of his arms and pulled the quilt up and over him with a little maneuvering. He looked so peaceful finally, and my heart swelled knowing I’d played a small part in that.

“Be careful, Tucker,” Callum says, uncharacteristically serious and using my government name for once.

“What, why?” I ask, my defenses rising.

“I see that dopey look on your face. If he’s straight like you say and doesn't want anything romantic with you, you’re going to get your heart broken again, and I don't want to see that happen. You’re already feeling way more for him than you're admitting, and it’s a pattern I’ve seen too many times before. You go for guys who aren't emotionally available, or who want to use you. You have a type, and Sebastian fits it.”

I look down at my dusty boots. “If you know what my type is, why do you keep coming onto me?” I grumble.

“Because it’s fun. But don't change the subject. We can talk about me later. Right now, we have to talk about your love life, or lack of one. What are you going to do?” He reaches over and interlaces our fingers, holding my hand comfortingly. I accept the contact this time.

“I have to work with him through this new partnership with the Hydras. I’ll see him at events and games, so I can’t escape him. He looks fucking hot in his uniform. It’s hard to concentrate.” Callum squeezes my hand and stops me from speaking.

“Shut the front door, he’s a hockey player? How did I not know this? I want tickets to all the games. Or, better yet, I’ll be your dog-handling assistant and go to the events with you!” he says excitedly. “I need a hot hockey player of my own. It’s not fair that you got one and I didn’t when we both like the same type of man.”

“Slow down there, speed racer. I can't get you tickets to anything. I’m there as a guest and part of a partnership, and Cami’s my assistant for anything I do because she’s arranged it all, so I can't replace her even if I wanted to.”

“Bless her pretty little heart, but I would do terrible things to trade places with her in a heartbeat.” He waves his hand like it doesn't matter before continuing. “Okay, so you have to see him regularly for this partnership. Why was he over here if you normally see him where he plays hockey?” There’s a note of confusion in his tone as he looks for the pieces to start falling into place.

I take a minute to fill him in on the full story. I share that Enzo is crazy about dogs, and about the event that started things. The first time he came over, needing a quiet place to spend time with his kid. Then, I was desperate enough to invite them over again last weekend, but he was by himself, which led to the sleepover and me getting attached.

“A single, straight DILF?” he says.

I look at him like he’s crazy. “What the fuck is a DILF?”

“A dad I’d like to fuck, obviously,” he deadpans, before waving his hand in my face and reverting to his serious state. “You really have to be careful,” Callum says, shaking his head. “He’s getting more from you than you’ll ever get from him. You’ve already given him the peace he’s looking for, a place for his kid to run around and play with dogs, you feed them, and now you’re his emotional support. Don't invest in someone who won't reciprocate even a quarter of what you bring to the table. Relationships are supposed to be about two people meeting in the middle and supporting each other. Sometimes one will give more in certain areas, while the other picks up the slack elsewhere. You shouldn’t let yourself be taken advantage of because you find someone attractive and you want to pour your soul into them.” He mimes dropping a microphone and an explosion when it hits his outstretched hand. I shake my head at him.

“Why can't you take your own advice?” I mutter, looking down at my hands as I rub the knees of my Carhartt work pants.

“This isn't about me. Listen to what I say, not what I do,” he announces with finality. We both know he would bend over backward into a cinnamon sugar pretzel for the first pretty man who batted eyelashes at him. We both have whore hearts.

“Well, there was a moment out on the dock I thought he was going to kiss me,” I admit, my neck growing hot as I recall that perfect moment of vulnerability and trust.

Our lips were so close, and we were breathing the same air. His nose had brushed mine and stayed there, perfectly poised for the next inevitable step of pressing our mouths together in an explosion of lust. He was trembling, face wet, and there was a hitch in his breathing when he realized how close we were, but he didn't move away. He moved infinitesimally closer.