AllFreeNovel
Share Us
His lips were still tingling, his fingertips and his chest practically vibrating. Even his hair was stinging like it had been tugged just right.
He dragged his hand over his mouth, the bruised ache flaring. The feeling didn’t fade even as he bit his lip, chewing at the edge until he could taste copper.
“Stop it,” he whispered, glaring at the light from the battery lantern he’d set inside the firepit. He hadn’t known what the ring was until he’d spotted the charred logs within.
There was much more to the property than he’d expected, including a bug-ridden bush and the firepit surrounded by worn wooden lounge chairs. There had been a trail through the bush that he’d only explored a bit before he’d turned back, the bugs threatening to ruin his shirtless holiday.
The fireplace unfortunately wasn’t tucked away out of view, so he had to see the shape of Scotland wandering behind a pane of glass. That man moved about his house as if he were on a mission, never seeming to rest, even when he was home.
Not that I’ve been watching.
Clint’s stomach grumbled and he pulled the blanket tighter. He wasn’t hiding—not exactly. He’d been hungry for a few hours, but there was nothing in the cupboards or fridge that was tasty enough to get him out of the chair.
“Here you are.”
He looked up at Scotland’s voice, squinting through the darkness and the overbright LEDs in the fire pit. Night had closed in around him while he’d been staring off into space, the crickets chirping even louder than before.
“Here I am,” said Clint, pulling his legs up and resting his chin on his knees beneath the blanket. Well, there goes my peace. Who was he kidding? His entire day had been spent alone, and it had been the furthest thing from peace.
“Is there anything else I need to watch for in this place?” asked Clint, flicking his gaze over Scotland as he emerged into the light. “I’ve found the guard donkeys and the killer plants. Do you have a house cat that doubles as a secret agent?”
Scotland chuckled, lifting his hands until Clint caught sight of two plates balanced on his palms. “I brought dinner. Did you want to eat inside?”
His stomach grumbled again as he hugged his legs tighter. “No thanks. I’m good.”
He struggled not to drool as the scent of roasted peppers and something sweet reached him. It smelled so fucking good, like something his mom would have made him when he was a little kid. If she had been a Michelin chef.
“Come on, Clint,” said Scotland, letting out a sigh before he set the plates on the edge of the brick fire ring. “I know you aren’t exactly here by choice, but that’s no reason to be miserable. The company is good, at least.”
Clint shot him a glare. He had to be joking.
So far he’d been fucked, carried off by a donkey and stabbed by the biggest thistle he’d ever seen.
“Okay,” said Scotland, holding up his hands before he grabbed a chair and tugged it close to Clint’s. “Maybe not the company, but the food?”
“Just the food,” said Clint, reaching for the plate when his stomach gave another loud growl. Pausing, he touched the battery lantern, turning the brightness up. He’d had to turn it down when a plethora of massive moths had started to swoop toward the light. It had almost given him a heart attack when he’d seen the first one, which had seemed to be bigger than a dinner plate.
Setting the lantern back onto its spot, he grabbed for the plate. The center of it was hot while the edges were still cool as he balanced it in his lap. He pointedly stared at his food as he shoveled the first bite into his mouth, refusing to look at Scotland.
“Did you want me to start a real fire? We can roast marshmallows.” Scotland grabbed his own plate, balancing it on one knee as he looked Clint’s way.
Clint’s heart stopped at the same time his gut went tight. “No.”
The smell of ash and smoke didn’t get to him as much when he was outdoors. It was unavoidable when he drove around in the summer. People were always lighting campfires.
But flames were another thing altogether. His skin prickled at the thought, his appetite slipping away to nothing as his mouth went dry. No.
“Sorry. I wasn’t thinking,” said Scotland, placing a hand on Clint’s knee. He struggled not to pull away as the warmth sank straight through his blanket. It was nice and warm in the chill of the night. His lips tingled.
No. “It’s okay,” said Clint, clearing his throat. “Let’s just eat.”
“Were you ‘little’ with your husband?”
Clint choked on the piece of chicken in his mouth, accidentally spitting it out so it landed between their chairs. He hacked out a few breaths, setting his plate down on the edge of the bricks so he didn’t lose the rest of his dinner.
“What?” His face flushed as he turned a wide-eyed look on Scotland.
“Were you little?” asked Scotland, his gaze steady and piercing. “Sometimes you go quiet, and you act little. I like it a lot. Have you ever explored that part of yourself?”
