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“But we would never have made it this far without you, Xan.” Am I complimenting him? And why do I find this brings more warmth to my chest?
“Are you giving me a compliment, farm boy?”
Never lost on Xan that a farmer had the last name Farmer.
“I haven’t heard you call me that in years.” I’d be covered in a snowbank if not for him, so my hostility is at bay. “Wow, brings back some memories of all the shit you pulled as a kid.”
“It wasn’t original but hella funny, considering you’re a farmer, Farmer.”
His arms aren’t around me, but his skin is next to mine. “What will they do when we don’t show up? Think they won’t notice until the morning?” I ask. I hope they only disturb my mother in the morning. As it is, she’s going to go out of her mind. First, my dad. And she’ll think she’s all alone now—just her and my brother.
“Micah will notice. We had plans to hit the bar, and he knows how seriously I take my scotch. What about your office wife? Won’t he be looking for you?”
“I reckon, but he and Micah may have already killed one another.” I can feel a deep belly chuckle on the back of my neck. I don’t hate it. “What are you laughing at, Xan?”
“Reckon? Can you sound more country? But you’re not wrong. Those two don’t have the history that we do, but fuck do they hate one another because Rex took Micah’s girl. We don’t have to worry about that sort of rivalry, with me being gay.”
“Shit, I’ve never thought about it, but yeah. Girls are the one thing you’re not competitive about.”
The deep belly chuckle continues, and why the fuck is my dick reacting to it?
“Me and my competition. You act as if you didn’t give as well as I did.”
It’s my turn to let out a chuckle that matches his. “Not to sound like a six-year-old, but you’re the one that started it, you know?” I return.
“Yeah, you’re right, you sound like a six-year-old.”
This is casual and fun. I’m somehow enjoying his company. How can I enjoy him when I hated him for years with every breath I took?
“But you have to admit, that you started it, right?”
He’s quiet, not replying, and I let the peacefulness between us play out because, honestly, come Monday morning or whenever the hell we get out of here, we’ll be back to the competitive assholes who both hate each other.
13
XANDER
Iclosed my eyes, and the next thing I know, there’s a shift near me, embers crackle, and wood rumbles as more heat fills the drafty cabin. I twist my body to the sight in front of me. I may have hated Clark Farmer and his perfect mother and father, who always put him first, but I never missed his body and how he could fill out a pair of jeans. Hot doesn’t cut it. Even with the stupid long hair, pulled back into a ponytail or bun most of the time, his face is gorgeous, but the way his muscles flex with something as simple as tossing a couple pieces of wood on the fire, I hope he’s out of bed for a while, since my cock likes his body, too.
“Did the fire go out?” My voice cracks as I ask the question.
“Almost, but I’ll stay up with it for a while, though fuck me sideways, even with the fire going, it’s colder than a witch’s tit.”
He rubs his hands together then stokes the fire some more. “It’s going now. Crawl back under the covers for a while?” I offer, holding the sheet and blankets up for him on his side. “I searched for blankets and only found two, along with a sheet set. But your clothes should be dried by now.”
He reaches toward them, picking them up, only to place them back down. “Not quite. They were pretty soaked,” he adds, sliding back into bed, only for me to turn over. No need for him to be introduced to my traitorous cock.
“You snore in your sleep,” he chimes in as if this little fact is news to me.
“I know. I’ve tried everything.”
“How do you know? I may snore myself, but I don’t hear it.” He nestles in close to my back, and I covet his heat.
“I’ve had boyfriends, you know. Each one has said the same thing. No matter what I do. I even sleep with my head elevated, and nothing helps. I deal with it. I’ve not had a serious relationship in a while, so if I happen to have a night…you know…I just leave afterward.”
He snickers at what I’ve just said. “And what if they are at your place?”
I shake my head with my answer before I speak. “I don’t bring hookups back to my home. If people know I’m a Lynol, they latch on worse than a leech. I’m Alex to them, since everyone thinks my legal name is Alexander. And I don’t go back for sloppy seconds.”
