Sure enough, the bell clanged a few seconds later.
“Come on,” Levi said. “Let’s go see what Patrice, Shawn and Miles cooked up for us.”
“All three of them?”
“Apparently, during their vacation time Shawn and Miles can’t help themselves. Cooks like to keep busy in kitchens.”
“I guess if something is a calling.” George smiled but still seemed subdued on their walk downstairs.
The dining room’s buffet was set up with all kinds of breakfast foods, and Levi made an eclectic plate. George took one biscuit and a lot of fresh fruit, and Levi started making a connection between his early run and George’s mood. George had once been an athlete in a very competitive sport that required dexterity and leanness. Had George battled an eating disorder during his figure skating days? His modest food choices in the few weeks that Levi had known him suggested maybe. But since asking was hugely inappropriate, Levi ignored his worries and ate his breakfast.
Most of the guests sat around the big dining table. George had chosen an end seat to prevent him from sitting next to a stranger, and everyone chatted amiably about the day’s activities. The weather tonight was supposed to be warm enough that they were offering the overnight camping trip. During warm weather, guests could go out Monday, Wednesday or Friday night (or all three if they really loved it), but during the colder months Reyes called the trips based on the overnight temperatures. The sleeping bags were warm but no one wanted to risk a guest getting sick.
Faith was excited for the camping trip, her dads not as much, but they agreed to sign up after breakfast.
George didn’t speak during the meal, and once they were done and had cleaned up their dishes, Levi gently nudged him outside to the front porch. “What do you think about camping tonight?”
“I’m curious because it’s something I’ve never done before,” George said. “Do you want to go?”
“Sure. I’ve slept in way more uncomfortable places than a sleeping bag on the ground.”
“Sounds like an interesting story.”
“I’ve got a lot of those.” George seemed more settled now than earlier but something still wasn’t quite right. “Does it bother you that I run every morning?”
“No, your running is different than mine was. You run for your health, sure, but you also run to feel close to nature. To appreciate her beauty and gifts. I used to run because my coach demanded it. Twice a day for miles. He said the better my endurance the better I’d skate, and it was true, but...he was a little extreme in some of his coaching techniques.”
Levi took a calculated risk with his next question. “Do you miss running?”
“Sometimes. I miss the exhilaration and the freedom of moving through the world really fast. It’s how I used to feel when I’d land a hard jump combo. Or when I’d medal in a competition. The pride of accomplishing something. All I seem to accomplish anymore are my work assignments.”
“You accomplished quite a few things these last few weeks, George. You befriended me. You saved my cat. You left your apartment and are here with me. Hanging out with perfect strangers. I am so proud of you for all of that.”
George’s expression cleared, and he smiled. “Thanks. You being proud of me means a lot.” His gaze flickered to Levi’s mouth. “A whole lot.”
As much as Levi wanted to drag George into his arms and kiss him breathless, other guests were filtering outside on the porch. Making out was best left to the privacy of their room or the walking trails. “So camping?”
“Why not? Let’s do it.”
“Excellent. I’ll run over to the office and sign us up. From what I remember Robin saying, we’ll have to work with the horses for a while again this morning.”
George grinned. “Good. I’m excited to ride again.”
The old Levi would have had a heck of a lot of fun with the innuendo in that statement; this Levi behaved. “You’ll get your chance, soon. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He strode off the porch, eager for today’s activities and every single minute he got to spend with George—in and out of the saddle.
Chapter Twelve
George settled in one of the porch chairs to wait for Levi’s return, stomach pleasantly full from his fruit breakfast. He’d wanted to put some of that delicious smelling sausage gravy on his biscuit, but his overreaction to Levi’s early-morning run had pressed his guilt button too damned hard, and he’d refrained from the extra fat and calories. Now he regretted the choice but there was no fixing it.
He’d just add extra mayo to his sandwich at lunch or something.
The diet/exercise urges had diminished over the years but certain things never completely went away. Not when he’d spent so many of his formative years battling eating disorders, thanks to Adrian and his parents. The only person in his past who’d never demanded perfection from him was Orry. They’d been competitive, yes, but in their own unique ways.
He took a picture of his view of the main ranch and texted it to Orry. These last twenty-fourish hours were the longest he’d been away from his twin in the last seven years, and while he missed Orry like crazy, he was also...okay. No imminent sense of panic or doom. A longing, sure, but also a lot of excitement for the rest of his day here with Levi.
Levi.
George had woken with morning wood for the first time in ages, and he’d been insanely grateful that Levi wasn’t in their room. It allowed him to escape into the bathroom with some dignity and rub one out in the shower. All he’d needed to do was remember making out with Levi for hours the night before—some of the best memories of his entire life, next to his first junior gold medal.
And while they didn’t have lube or a condom between them—at least, he assumed not but he hadn’t searched Levi’s luggage—George hoped they did more than kiss while sharing a room for the rest of the week. There were so many things they could with just hands, mouths and spit, and George wanted to try them. And the only person he trusted enough to give his body to was Levi.
Someone plunked down in the chair beside his. The mother of the two teenage girls. Mrs. Harrison? “I thought you looked familiar but older,” she said in a faux whisper. “I was a huge figure skating follower when my girls were younger. You’re Georgie Thompson, right? You quit right before Worlds?”
George’s chest constricted. What were the fucking odds that someone would recognize him in the middle of bumfuck nowhere on a dude ranch? “My name is George,” was all he managed to say.
“George, Georgie. You’re the twin. You were really good, kid; why did you quit like that? I mean, the real reason, not all the random crap in the newspapers, like you and your brother running off to join a cult.”