Something in the way Bo held himself, in the way his voice sounded like he had to scrape the bottom of a well to find it, in the way his fists clenched at his sides… It made Sam think there was more going on than Bo being sad at PomPom’s departure.
“Is everything okay?” He ran his hand up and down Bo’s back.
“Yeah. It’s just been kind of a craptastic morning.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. He distinctly remembered their morning being less craptastic and more orgasmic.
Bo caught Sam’s expression and threw him a small smile. “Not that part. After you left, I mean.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Bo’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly. He shook his head. “What are you doing today? Wanna get out of here?” Changing the subject, something Sam was beginning to understand Bo was a master at.
“Don’t you need to be around for the animals?”
“It’s just the chickens right now, and I already fed them and did the weekly coop cleaning and gathered the eggs. I don’t need to be back until early afternoon.”
“Aren’t you expecting pigeons?” Sam asked, recalling the phone conversation he’d overheard between Sam and Laura.
“They’re not coming,” Bo said. “They healed fast and were released back into the wild yesterday.” Bo looked right, then left. Scuffed his shoe against the driveway. Scratched his arm. “Wanna go for a hike?” He raked Sam up and down and his eyes heated. “Or something?” He slipped a finger through one of Sam’s belt loops and gave a tug in the direction of the house.
Bo was clearly restless. Something was bugging him and the only way Bo could think of to fix it was to get away from it—whatever it was. Bo had admitted that sex got him out of his own head. Given the way Bo’s eyes shifted and his hands clenched, it appeared to Sam that Bo needed a friend more than he needed to get off right now.
Sam told his dick to pipe down and said, “Ever been to a horse farm?”
Bo came to a halt, brow furrowed. “Because…you want to ride me like one?”
Sam choked on a laugh. “No! Well, maybe later, but… Jesus, I’m seriously impressed your mind made that kind of connection.”
“Where else was it supposed to go with a segue like that?”
Where else, indeed.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Sam said. “Have you ever been to a horse farm?”
“Yeah,” Bo said slowly. “We lived on one in Saskatchewan when I was younger. My parents worked as stable hands.”
“Wanna tell me about it on the way to my parents’? We can do some horseback riding.”
“You want me to meet your parents?”
It was fast, sure; they’d only been on friendly speaking terms for a few days, and though they’d slept together they’d yet to define their relationship. Bo just seemed so alone. A sister in BC, parents he hadn’t once mentioned though Sam knew existed from a passing comment from Laura, his friends were in Ottawa, and all he had for company were evil chickens and random animals that came and went. Sam wanted to wrap Bo up and keep him safe at the same time that he wanted to surround him with worthy people who would see Bo for who he really was and accept him despite his closed-off, prickly nature. And Sam wanted to start with his parents because they were the most easy-going, accepting people Sam knew.
“Sure,” Sam said, shrugging. “Why not?”
Bo’s eyes turned into dark pools of uncertainty. “I don’t know, isn’t it too soon? I mean, how would you introduce me?”
“How do you want to be introduced?”
Sam didn’t mean to pressure him; he just didn’t want to do something that would offend Bo and he didn’t want to move so fast that he freaked Bo out. But Bo freaked out anyway if the expression on his face was anything to go by.
“You don’t have to answer that,” Sam assured him. “Forget I asked. We don’t need to label this.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to label it, it’s just…” Bo seemed to run out of words. Blinking against the morning sun, he shifted until Sam blocked it with his body. “Well, what do you want?”
What did Sam want? What didn’t he want with Bo? He’d been so wrong about Bo not being his type it was utterly laughable. Sam remembered what he’d overheard Bo saying to PomPom a few days ago—“I was really looking forward to being his friend”—and started there.
“I want be your friend.” He took Bo’s hands in his. “I want to keep getting to know you. I want to go out with you again, and I want to spend nights chilling, and watching movies and baseball games on TV. And I want to keep sharing a bed with you, finding out what makes you tick.”
Bo bit his lip, but his smile shone through and his cheeks pinked. “I want that too, but…”
Sam ducked his head and tried to catch Bo’s gaze. “But?”
“But I… I don’t want to be on my deck one day and catch you making out with some other guy on the other side of the fence.”
Sam smiled at him. “So you want to be exclusive? So do I.”
“Yeah?” Bo’s smile was tentative. “So we’re friends who sleep together exclusively. Wouldn’t that make us boyfriends?”
“Sure, if that’s what you want.”
“Is that what you want?”
Oh, Bo. So afraid to ask for what he wanted. Sam didn’t know how to tell him that he didn’t need to be afraid with him.
Instead of answering, Sam tugged Bo forward and kissed him slowly, letting Bo determine the answer for himself.
They were a few minutes away from his parents’ house in Puslinch when Sam said, “Tell me about living on the farm in Saskatchewan. Did you like it?”
Bo grinned at him, white teeth flashing, sunglasses hiding his eyes. “For the most part, it was great. I was fifteen. Laura was off at university in Toronto, so it was just me and my parents. When the owners saw how fast I learned to ride and how good I was with the horses, they let me start doing some of the Saturday afternoon trail rides.”
Sam smiled as he listened to Bo talk about his favourite horse, and the wide open prairie sky, and about the owners’ tiny Yorkshire terrier that would go right up to the horses and play with them, and about the Great Dane that was scared shitless of them. His voice was animated and he spoke with his hands, recanting tale after tale. Sam loved listening to him talk when he wasn’t censoring his words or second guessing himself or changing the subject.
“So what part wasn’t great?” Sam asked when Bo wound down.
“What do you mean?”
“You said it was great for the most part,” Sam reminded him. “What wasn’t great?”
Bo’s face shut down and he fiddled with a loose thread in his cargo shorts. “Are we far from your parents’ place?” he asked. It was his least subtle attempt at changing the subject yet.
Sam kept his eyes on the road and reached out with one hand to thread Bo’s restless fingers through his. “You don’t have to tell me. I’m sorry I asked. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.” God, he wished they were having this conversation when he could look Bo in the eye, but if he waited he’d probably lose this opportunity. “But I just want you to know that you can talk to me. You can trust me. I’m here if you ever want to get anything off your chest. I won’t judge you or laugh at you or think you’re unworthy.” His heart clenched when Bo’s fingers spasmed. Sam hit too close to home with that last point. “You can talk to me,” he repeated.