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“You are not old, so no, I’m not.”
They brought their bags in, and Greg gave him a quick tour of the place. Not that Holden needed to be shown where the bathroom was nor in-depth instructions on how to work the appliances in the kitchenette, and that wasn’t what Greg showed him anyway. Instead, Greg told him about his grandfather, about summers spent on the ranch and days fishing at the cabin. He took Holden outside and showed him the original outhouse and the secret place where he and his sister had carved their names into the cabin’s roof.
“Gramps caught us using his good filleting knife, and I thought we were in so much trouble,” Greg said, his voice so warm and full of affection Holden knew the story had a happy ending.
“He didn’t punish you, did he?”
“Nope.” Greg shook his head. “He was plenty pissed about the knife and gave us a lecture about respecting his belongings, but he also took out his pocket knife and showed us how to use it correctly. Then he got us knives of our own, which my mom and dad weren’t happy about, but Gramps said if we were going to be hiking around the property, we should each have one just to be safe.” Reaching into his back pocket, Greg took out a beautiful horn-handled pocket knife. “Soon as I step foot here, I feel naked without it.”
He handed it over, and Holden took it carefully. It wasn’t that he was afraid of dropping it or damaging it, but more he wanted Greg to know he recognized its importance. The knife’s handle was smooth from years of Greg’s hands holding it, slight grooves worn into the surface where his fingers would grip it, and Holden had no doubt that each of the blades and tools was as sharp as the day the knife was made.
“Gorgeous,” he said as he handed it back to Greg. He meant the knife, of course, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the man standing in front of him. He shook his head at the thoughts rabbiting in his mind and smiled at the faint blush rising to Greg’s cheeks. Holden didn’t think he’d ever met anyone who interested him more or to whom he was more attracted. It was crazy how much he cared for Greg in such a short amount of time.
Holden reached out and stroked Greg’s cheek feeling the heat that had risen to the surface under his fingers. “Is this okay?” he asked.
“I’d tell you if it wasn’t.” Greg closed the distance between them, his hand sliding behind Holden’s neck and drawing him forward until their lips touched.
It was a soft kiss like all their others had been, a gentle thing unto itself with no expectation it would lead to something else or pressure to do so, but this time, Holden felt more heat to it. Greg was definitely leaning solidly against him, their chests and hips aligned, arms wrapped around each other. And it was a slower kiss that gave Holden more time to experience Greg’s lips on his own, to feel their fullness, to notice the tease of Greg’s nose nuzzling against his. Then, the tip of Greg’s tongue pressed into the soft space where their mouths met, and Holden opened for him. He sighed as Greg slipped inside, reveling in the sweet taste of his mouth, the velvet-soft caress of his tongue. The way this man kissed was everything Holden had always been looking for but was never able to find. Maybe even not known he wanted.
The kiss slowed. They parted to catch their breaths, and Greg closed the distance between them again to place butterfly kisses along Holden’s jaw. Holden let his head fall back to give Greg better access to his neck and groaned when Greg took the opportunity to nip at the skin at the base of his throat.
“You like that?” he whispered, his breath gusting over Holden’s damp skin and making him shiver.
“I do. I like everything you do,” Holden said, and it was the truth. It was on the tip of his tongue to say something more, to try to explain how easy it was to be with Greg, how these past few days had made him realize the emptiness of his life. Holden snorted softly at his thought.Days? We’ve known each other less than forty-eight hours, including the time at Neon. But as he tilted his head back to look at Greg, he realized it felt like more. Much more.
Holden wrapped his arms around Greg and pulled him close against his body, smiling as Greg tucked his head under Holden’s chin. Then he chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” Greg asked without lifting his head.
“How do I say this without sounding…flippant, I guess?” Holden huffed out a breath. “I’m really glad you got stranded in Denver.” When Greg laughed, Holden joined him.
“So am I.” Greg stepped back from him but didn’t release Holden from his embrace. He played with the short hairs at the base of Holden’s neck. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been this comfortable with someone this quickly.”
Holden nodded, his hands drifting to Greg’s hips so he could keep them connected even as they held each other’s gazes. “It’s been a while for me too. I’m glad we’ve had this time to talk and get to know each other. To be honest, hookups aren’t really my thing, but it’s the best I thought I could do given the circumstances of my life. And I’ve been kind of relieved not to feel the…pressure or…need to rush things with you.”
Raising a hand, he brushed a lock of hair back from Greg’s face, then let his fingers trace over Greg’s cheekbones, the line of his jaw. He paused at Greg’s lips and pressed his thumb against the lower one. Greg nipped at it.
“I do like sex,” Greg reminded him. “But I understand what you’re saying, and I agree. I like you, Holden. I feel safe with you.” Greg leaned in and kissed him lightly. “You seem to understand what I need.” Another kiss on his chin. “And you’re sexy.” This kiss landed on the soft skin beneath it.
“I am?” Holden asked.
“Very.” Another kiss. “Sexy.” Another. “Silver fox sexy.” The line of Greg’s kisses trailed up Holden’s neck to just below his ear. “And you know it,” Greg whispered just before he bit lightly on the fleshy part of Holden’s ear lobe and tugged with his teeth.
“How much time do we have before dinner?” Holden asked.
Greg laughed again and took his hand. “Come on, let me show you the rest of the property.”
TheyhaddinnerwithGreg’s parents in Chaparral. The food was excellent, the company even more so. Greg was the spitting image of his father, Jason, and Holden had to admit that he hoped he looked as good when he hit his sixties. Hell, from the pictures he’d seen of Greg’s grandfather in the inn’s lobby, the men in this family aged very well. Even in his eighties, Greg’s grandfather had been tall and broad-shouldered, and Holden could easily believe it when Greg said he’d worked on this land until the day he died.
Watching Greg and his parents, Holden thought how very much he’d like to see him as he aged. It was a strange thought, and not one Holden had had about a single man he’d been with in his life, but as soon as it took shape, he knew it was true.
Under the table, Greg nudged Holden’s knee with his own, bringing him back to the present and the excellent steak that graced his plate. Like so much of the inn, it was basic—meat, vegetables, potatoes—but done with an elegant and surprising twist. Rose had explained the chef’s farm-to-table concept to him and how important it was to all of them that everything be as locally sourced as possible.
“How do you locally source the vegetables in the middle of winter?” Holden asked as he raised a forkful of the most delicious cauliflower he’d ever tasted. It was prepared with browned butter, hazelnuts, sage, and slices of pear, the flavors at once earthy and sweet.
Rose smiled and entwined her hand with Jason’s on the tabletop. “We have a greenhouse.”
With a chuckle, Jason squeezed her hand. “She’s being modest. It’s really a vertical farm where we grow most of the vegetables we use during the winter. We got a grant from the University of Denver to work with their sustainable agriculture program and provide hands-on experience for their students.” He nodded at the servers attending to the other diners. “Many of our staff come from the school’s hospitality management program as well.”
