Still barefoot, and I couldn’t help but stare.
Sexy feet.
I looked into his concerned, blue eyes then. “I didn’t think I wore my heart on my sleeve anymore.”
He smiled, revealing those lines near his eyes that made him look even more handsome. “You usually tell me all about adventures from your journeys around the neighborhood—bunnies, squirrels—but you’re quiet now.”
I couldn’t help but smile at his refusal to say the word walk when Murphy was anywhere within earshot.
“I just found out I don’t have a place to go for Christmas, so I’m trying to figure that out.”
He hummed, sat in a red vinyl chair at the kitchen table, gesturing for me to do the same, so I did. “You’re not heading home anymore?”
I shook my head and ran my hands over the Formica tabletop. It was dinged, the chrome legs a bit rusty in spots, but clean and practical. It didn’t fit the style of the house or Gregg’s aesthetic though.
“What happened? You were so excited to see everyone.”
I huffed a sigh. He had no clue he’d hired a gay man. Not that it mattered. I fucking walked his dog, and really, what business was it of his?
But before I could stop myself, I told him everything.
About stupid Aaron Turner—not even an ex, but a hookup who likely hoped I’d be a sure thing over break—and how he outed me to my dad. About how I’d put off coming out . . . at least until I was done with college, until I was working for my father, until the last possible moment because I knew it would blow my life to hell. And I wasn’t wrong about that.
“I can’t stay in the dorm. I don’t have any friends I can go home with or even apartment-sit for. If I went home and stayed with one of my brothers, I’d be alone while my whole family celebrates together. Not my idea of fun. At all. So I’m at the stage of asking my boss if I can sleep on the couch in the bar’s office. Or a hotel, but for that long—”
“Way too expensive,” Gregg interrupted.
Somewhere in there, Murphy had walked over and set his square head on my thigh and I’d mindlessly started petting him. I studied his tawny eyes, his adorably ugly face.
“Looks like someone wants you to stay here,” Gregg said with a sly smile.
He was just being nice, not serious, so I kept petting Murph.
“Sojourn here, Sawyer. For real. It’s just me and Murphy this year.”
My eyes stung. Would I really have a place to stay?
“Paige is slogging through datasets, and my mom went on a singles cruise with her widow friends. I’m gonna cook all my favorites, which means more food than I can eat. And honestly, it would be nice to have someone here.” He reached out to pet Murphy, who tipped his head back to gaze at Gregg.
The boulder of worry I’d been unwittingly carrying around all week suddenly lightened. “Serious?”
“I insist.”
“Well . . . if you’re gonna twist my arm . . .”
“I am.”
I shot him a watery smile. “Thanks. I’d like that. Yeah . . . So, you, me, and a dog for Christmas, huh?”
He slapped his thighs and stood. “Yep. Nothing wrong with three fellas celebrating the holiday together. But I don’t have a tree yet. If you promise to deal with that hassle, then you’ve got yourself free room and board for break.”
“Seriously?” I’d been ready to ask how much he wanted.
Gregg leaned against the oven, crossed his arms over his chest, and smiled my way before giving me a firm nod.
How the hell would I manage this sojourn without kissing him?
I passed, even Jenkins’ final. Thank god!
Then I packed up a suitcase and my backpack with all I’d need over break. At the last second, I included my toolbelt because there were a few repairs I could do if time allowed.
The walk over was great. The sky was so blue, the air smelled like snow might come soon, and I didn’t have to think about school for two whole weeks.
Gregg set me up in his third bedroom, right across from Paige’s room and down the hall from his. It was small, likely built as a nursery, but a full-size bed was squeezed into the space.
My clothes ended up in two drawers of the dresser that looked as if it was built about the same time as Gregg’s house. I cupped the rounded corners of the dresser top, pressing them against my palms, and tried to think of a way to thank Gregg that wasn’t over the top.
He’d told me walking Murphy and taking charge of decorating the house for the holidays was enough. And keeping both of them company.
“It’ll be nice to hear footsteps and music and laughter in the house again. It’s felt so empty since Paige left.”
Gregg’s words drifted through my mind as I noticed just how silent the house was. No sounds of traffic. No trains or planes. Which told me the house was built solid as a rock.
Houses weren’t built like this anymore.
Every summer since I was old enough to wear a tool belt and hammer a nail straight, I’d been helping my dad with the business he’d built from the ground up. The plan had always been that I’d work at the company he’d named Conti & Sons Handymen before us boys were even old enough to read.
But now what?
Now I cook Gregg breakfast.
Gregg was sleeping in this morning. Murphy too. I’d not heard as much as a sneeze from either of them.
Last night, he’d given me a quick tour of the second floor of his house, the rooms on the main level I’d not seen before, and even showed me his home gym in the basement, which he said I could use any time, even after I moved back on campus.
Now, as I stood in his kitchen admiring the original cabinetry, I noticed his stove was natural gas. I’d only ever used an electric cooktop, so I didn’t know how to light the burner.
Did I use a match? I fumbled through the drawers nearby but didn’t find any kitchen matches.
I turned the dial for the front right burner, and it clicked several times before blue flames appeared.
“Okay. Not that hard, then.”
I turned the burner off and rummaged for a pan, eggs, milk, butter, bread, salt, pepper, and cheese. A pound of bacon caught my eye. I wasn’t a skilled cook, but I could manage eggs.
Today’s work was breakfast, walking Murphy, buying a Christmas tree, and decorating the house.
I also had to stop thinking about Gregg as sexy.
Maybe all the time we’d spend cooped up together would bring him down to size. I’d been crushing on the guy since I interviewed to be Murphy’s dog walker in August.
It’s a pedestal thing. That’s all.
And then Gregg walked into the kitchen.
Bare chest.
Bare feet.
Bare calves.
Wearing only a pair of skin-tight running shorts.
“Morning,” he croaked, rough, raspy.
I’m fucked.
“I’ll take Murphy for his morning walk,” I sputtered.
I made a mad dash for the front door, jammed my feet into my shoes, and grabbed the leash. Murphy was right there because I’d said walk rather than Gregg’s euphemistic constitutional.
I welcomed the chilled air. It forced blood to pump to my extremities rather than to my dick.
Because, ho boy!
“Not sure how I’ll manage,” I told Murphy as we headed toward the park.