Page 56 of Point of Contact

“No, not yet.”

“Okay.”

After a moment’s hesitation on what to do, Jesse hit the I-25 south toward Fort Carson and the apartment complex he lived in on the outskirts of it. He pulled into his numbered space and parked, leading a silent Trevor up the walk, the clicking of Trevor’s dress shoes echoing loudly in the quiet courtyard.

“Come on in.” Jesse unlocked his door and pushed it open, grateful he’d cleaned for Brandon, then wincing as Trevor took in the table set for two, the wine on the counter and the small bouquet of grocery store flowers in a cheap glass vase next to it.

Trevor turned stricken eyes on him. “I interrupted your evening. Jesse, I’m so sorry.”

Jesse shook his head. “No worries,” he said gently. “We rescheduled.”

That was debatable. A renewed flare of anger surged at the memory of Brandon’s little tantrum over the phone earlier, clearly disbelieving Jesse’s claim of needing to rush to a friend’s aid. He’d said a few choice words in Jesse’s ear, then hung up with a decisive click.

“Come in and sit down,” Jesse urged, dismissing Brandon from his mind. Trevor nodded, shrugging out of his suit coat, which he laid carefully over the back of the nearest dining room chair before collapsing onto the couch, pulling at his tie to loosen it and unbuttoning the collar to reveal a patch of smooth chest. Jesse stared at it, tracking his eyes down Trevor’s trim torso to his long legs, splayed open as he slumped into the couch and heaved a weary sigh, letting his head drop back.

Swallowing hard, Jesse dragged his gaze away from the hollow of Trevor’s throat, fleeing to the kitchen with a mumbled offer to make some coffee.

“Way to be inappropriate, asshole!” he berated himself quietly. A good-looking man in a suit always pushed his buttons hard, and he’d been primed for sex tonight. That had to be it. Striving for calm, Jesse got the coffeepot going, and soon the tiny kitchen and living room were filled with a comforting, homey smell.

When it was done, Jesse brought Trevor a mug, unwelcome desire surging anew at Trevor’s smile of thanks, a quirk of his full lips that drew attention to his attractive stubble and strong jawline.

I can see where Riley got his looks.

Thoughts of Riley were like a cold shower, and just like that, Jesse’s arousal fled, replaced once again by concern.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked, taking a seat opposite Trevor on the battered leather recliner he’d picked up at a yard sale.

“Not really.”

“Okay.”

A short silence fell as Trevor glanced around the apartment with interest, his eyes falling on the vase of flowers. “Sorry again about your date. Were you going to make dinner?”

“I was, yeah.”

Trevor sniffed the air. “I don’t smell any food.”

“Well, I was gonna grill steaks. They’re marinating right now.”

“Really?” Jesse watched, bemused, as Trevor put his cup down and went into the kitchen to pull the pan of steaks out of the fridge. “What kind of marinade?”

Jesse shrugged. “Umm, just something from a bottle I got at the store.”

“Ugh, bottled marinade. Usually full of sugar.” Trevor shook his head. “Next time, call me and I’ll tell you my favorite homemade recipe. It’s guaranteed to impress.”

With that, Trevor rolled up his sleeves and walked to the sliding glass door leading out to the apartment’s tiny patio. “Where’s your grill?”

“I don’t have one. I was just gonna use the one out by the pool.”

“Hmm. Let’s see it.”

Trevor trailed along behind Jesse as he led the way out to the pool area and the little cabanas there. Putting his hands on his hips, Trevor said, “These are the kind of grills that need charcoal briquettes and lighter fluid. Do you have those?”

“What?” Jesse strode over to take a closer look. “Oh, shit. No.” He raked one hand through his hair. “I thought you just pushed a little button somewhere and fire came out,” he admitted, feeling stupid as hell but gratified to see Trevor smiling, even if it was at his expense.

“So what kind of charcoal thingies do I need? I have no clue what to get.”

As they walked back toward the apartment, Trevor launched into a discussion of the merits of briquettes versus wood chips. Jesse listened with half an ear, thinking it all sounded way too fuckin’ complicated and if he ever rescheduled with Brandon, he’d just order pizza.