A Change of Pace (13 page)

He watched closely as Drew’s head jerked back again, then started to shake back and forth vigorously.

“
What?
Are you kidding me? How much did you have to drink at that dive?” Drew’s hands came up and grabbed Ridge’s shoulders as if to push him back.

Ridge leaned all his weight forward to prevent it. Based on what he knew of Drew so far, he was going to have to make Drew admit it.

“Hey, look, buddy, I don’t care if you’re fucking every guy from here to...”

Ridge pressed one finger to Drew’s lips. “Uh-uh.” He shook his head, his temper subsiding. “You do care. That’s your problem.”

“No way!” Drew tried to withdraw further, but he had nowhere to go. His back was literally against the wall.

“Yes, way.” Ridge was calm now, feeling a certain satisfaction at knowing that Drew was emotionally invested. To what degree, hopefully time would tell. But he had to believe that Drew wouldn’t have acted like such a nasty fool if his feelings weren’t involved. “And you’re about as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.”

Drew grunted. “Don’t throw one of your idiotic hillbilly sayings at me.” He turned his head away, staring out the window, a pugnacious look on his face.

Snorting in reluctant amusement, Ridge allowed the rest of his irritation to slide away. “How’s this for a hillbilly saying? Bite me.”

That brought Drew’s head around. Eyes narrowed, he stared at Ridge, expression mistrustful.

Leaning his weight forward, Ridge pressed a soft kiss on Drew. “You do care if I fuck somebody else,” he mocked softly, leaning his belly against Drew’s hardening cock. “You sure as heck didn’t want me to be with Sharon at the bar.” He rubbed his lips slowly back and forth, teasing, tempting.

“I wasn’t, by the way.” He shook his head. “She was hitting on me, not the other way around.” He stopped kissing long enough to shrug in resignation. “I don’t know what it is about women, but they won’t leave me alone when I’m in a bar.” He reached in and slid his tongue along the seam of Drew’s lips, smiling slightly when he felt them open to the slight pressure. “I swear to you, I don’t do anything to attract them. I don’t know why they won’t leave me alone.” He lifted one shoulder, honestly confused. “That’s why I don’t go out with the crew much, you know?” He met Drew’s eyes once again, staring straight up into the blazing turquoise gaze. His lips quirked as he considered his plight with women. “I know straight guys would probably kill to have that problem.”

***

Drew looked down into Ridge’s whiskey eyes and felt a strange tightness in his chest. He wanted to press his hand to it, but Ridge’s arms were in the way, the muscled strength caging him against the wall. Ridge’s lean weight pushed into his body, that pretty package rubbing him nicely.

Despite his anger, his cock
had
gotten hard as Ridge had reamed him out. He had been listening with half an ear, eyeing his lover as Ridge had stalked closer. He’d watched those lips move and the way the slim muscles bunched and found himself both angry and hungry -- that is, until Ridge had made that crazy claim. That’s when Drew’s chest had tightened and his belly had clenched, like the time he’d been thrown off his horse and landed badly. Everything had hurt that day. Today, though, it was more the center of his body. He couldn’t figure out what was wrong with his chest. Maybe it was stress.

He tried to clear his suddenly dry throat. “Ridge.” His voice was slightly hoarse. He tried again. “Ridge... get off me. Let me loose.” He pulled away slightly to avoid the tongue and lips that were following his.

Ridge didn’t relax his stance. “I’m not holding you. You can get away any time you want. Anyway, you’re a hell of a lot bigger than I am, aren’t you?”

Drew grimaced at that. If he’d wanted to, he could have knocked Ridge away at any time. They both knew that.

Just then, Elsa whined, causing him to jerk his head in her direction. “Easy, girl. Everything’s okay.” At his soothing tone, she dropped back down on the floor, and he turned back to Ridge, who was still right up in his face. “Everything’s okay,” he repeated softly. He leaned his forehead down to Ridge’s and sighed deeply. Closing his eyes, he spoke in a near-whisper. “I didn’t like seeing you with that woman.”

“About time.” With that hoarse whisper, Ridge shifted his stance and slid his arms up over Drew’s shoulders. He kissed Drew, tongue sliding forward, laying claim. Shoving one booted foot between Drew’s, Ridge leaned his head back for a brief moment. “Let me in.”

Marveling anew at the assertive side of this surprising man, Drew stared into the whiskey eyes for a moment, trying to decide if he should retake the dominant position. He wasn’t sure if he should let Ridge talk to him this way. He raised one hand to push at Ridge’s shoulder. “Back off. I can’t breathe.”

Grunting, Ridge just leaned closer. “No.” He kissed Drew again.

Unable to resist any longer, Drew blew out a heavy sigh. “Christ, you’re a pain in the ass.” He brought his arms up, tunneling under Ridge’s arms, snugging Ridge up close to his body.

“Uh-huh. Rae says that a lot. Why don’t we go to my apartment so we can finish straightening this out?”

Drew groaned automatically at that. He didn’t want to talk about anything.

Ridge leaned his head back. “Don’t be such a pussy. Just admit you’ll feel better if we clear all this up. I know I will. No more mixed signals.” Easing away, Ridge stared at him. “Besides, I’ve got to check on Henry, anyway.” With another step back, he slid his hand down Drew’s arm.

Drew could feel his muscles bunch at the contact.

Ridge grabbed his hand and pulled Drew away from the wall, tugging him to get him going. “Come on, city boy. Bring Elsa and her stuff.”

Chapter 11

If you’re looking for sympathy, it’s between shit and sweat in the dictionary.

Ridge Huntington

Ridge’s apartment was fairly spacious for a one-bedroom, but right now, Drew felt like he could use a couple of counties between them. He watched Ridge walk around, turning on lights, clicking on the ceiling fan, and moving to the speaker dock to turn music on low.

Ridge spoke on his way to the kitchen, looking to where Drew still stood by the door. “How about some dinner?” He walked behind the breakfast bar, then came back a few steps with a quizzical look on his face. “Hey. Don’t you need to get out to the barn to check on Bella?”

Reminded of the excuse he’d used earlier to leave the bar, Drew frowned. Pursing his lips crookedly, he shrugged. “Nah. Not really. I called George before I left work. She’s doing fine.” Too late, he realized that he’d just thrown out a perfectly good excuse to avoid “the discussion.”

He grimaced.
Fuck.

“Well, why don’t you come in, then, and we’ll get something to eat?”

Eager for something to do with his hands so that he didn’t have to think, Drew stepped forward. “I can make us something.”

“You can?” The doubt was clear in Ridge’s voice. The blond came back out to stand next to Drew.

“Uh, ye-ah.” What? Was it so unbelievable that he could cook? He wasn’t helpless. His lip lifted in a silent snarl as he stalked to the kitchen.

He could practically feel Ridge smiling at him.
Christ!

“You know,” his lover’s voice was smooth, the humor just slightly apparent, “Even though you’re having a baby temper tantrum, it’s kind of good to see you being human again instead of acting like a nasty stranger.”

Little shit.
Drew really didn’t have an answer for that. He stared down at the kitchen counter for a second before looking up again.

Ridge met his gaze. “Okay. I’ve got to get out of these work clothes. I’m going to take a quick shower.” He disappeared into the bedroom. “Let the dogs in, will you?” he called as he walked away.

Blowing out an annoyed breath, Drew moved back to the door and opened it to call the dogs, letting out a shrill whistle. Despite his pissy mood, he couldn’t help but smile as the two big shepherds bounded up the stairs, shoulder to shoulder, then barreled through the door to slide to a stop inside.

He moved out of their way just in time. “Jesus, you’re like a couple of second graders.” He shook his head and walked back to the kitchen. “Do you want cookies?” He poked around until he found dog treats, then handed out a couple to each animal. The happy pups retreated to Henry’s large bed, chomping away companionably.

Okay. Drew breathed out a heavy sigh. “Might as well look for something to make.” Drew quickly washed his hands and started searching the cabinets and fridge. He found a jar of spaghetti sauce, and then spotted some Italian sausage in the fridge. He smiled in satisfaction. “That’s what I’m talking about.” The spicy sausage would jazz up the ready-made sauce.

Locating a frying pan in the drawer of the range, he frowned at the cheap metal. With a roll of his eyes, he set it on a burner, then cut the skin of the sausage and squeezed it into the pan to brown. He found a stockpot and filled it with water, then turned on the gas. Wandering back to the fridge, he spotted makings for a salad and began slicing and chopping. Drew made a mental note to get some fresh herbs and garlic for Ridge’s kitchen -- and fresh tomatoes instead of the warehouse crap he’d found in the fridge.

He stopped a moment, surprised by the domestic thought. What the hell was he doing?

Just then the water shut off in the shower. He had to concentrate surprisingly hard to keep his fingers away from the sharp edge of the knife as his mind clearly projected pictures of a naked Ridge, dripping water, stepping out of the tub. That pretty cock, the gloriously fine ass, and those beautiful golden-brown eyes. Ridge twisting to dry himself, setting a foot on the tub.
God.

Drew saw himself moving up behind Ridge to set his cock in the cleft of that ass, his hand reaching around to stroke the sleek cock to full hardness. He would pull Ridge upright, setting that upraised foot on the floor and sliding it over, making a nice space for himself between those strong legs. He’d push the upper body forward so that Ridge would be bent over the tub, holding onto the edge. He’d then unzip his jeans, carefully, since his cock would be rock hard and straining to get loose.

As long as he was dreaming, he imagined just what it would feel like inside that hot, silky ass without a glove. He saw himself desperately looking around the bathroom counter for the lube, reaching over to dig through a drawer. His frustration mounted as the lube remained elusive--

“Drew?”

He jerked back to the present to find Ridge standing next to him, staring at him strangely. Looking down, he found himself with one hand holding a tomato on the cutting board while the other held a chef’s knife. He realized he’d been standing motionless, daydreaming about his lover.

Christ. What am I, a teenager?

He threw down the knife, shoved the tomato away, and stalked to the door, yanking it open. Ridge’s voice caught him just as he was about to step over the threshold.

“Now where are you going? You can’t keep walking away from me.”

Heaving a deep breath, Drew stood a moment before shoving the door closed, then turning around and walking back to the kitchen. Silently, he picked up the knife and began methodically slicing the tomato.

He felt Ridge watching him for a moment, but, without comment, the blond moved to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water. Ridge unscrewed the top and took a long drink, then moved to stand next to Drew again. With a nudge, his lover held up the bottle. “Want some?”

Relieved that Ridge wasn’t pressing him, Drew finished slicing and turned around, rump against the counter. He accepted the water bottle and drank deeply. Lowering the bottle, he watched as Ridge moved to the range to check what he was cooking.

“Smells good.”

Confused, Drew didn’t know what to do for a second. He’d expected Ridge to demand to know why he was acting like an idiot again. Of course, then
he’d
have to figure out what the hell he was doing.

Drew reached up to rub his chest.

***

Ridge watched him, silently enjoying seeing his big, tough lover struggling with whatever emotions were bothering him. It was his bet that Drew didn’t deal with emotional issues all that often; no doubt, Drew liked it that way.

Feeling strangely confident -- and aware that Drew was becoming a little easier for him to read -- Ridge decided to let things settle a bit before making Drew talk to him. “I’ll set the table.”

He pulled flatware out of the drawer and grabbed a couple of plates, setting them on the banquette table. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted that it took a moment before Drew turned back to the counter to finish dinner. “I don’t have any bread... but I do have wine. Rae and I have been learning about building up a cellar.” He pulled a bottle from the small rack inside the pantry. “Do you like red? Here’s a great Sangiovese.”

“Yeah.” Drew stirred the sauce, paying seemingly close attention to it.

As he grabbed a corkscrew and opened the wine, Ridge saw Drew watching him out of the corner of one eye. When the other man released a big sigh, he smiled to himself.

The water was boiling, so Drew grabbed the pasta and dumped it into the water. He set the timer on the microwave and moved to the table to pick up his glass of wine. Bringing it to his lips, he took a sip while his eyes met Ridge’s.

Ridge stared consideringly at Drew.

Swallowing the wine with a gulp, Drew dropped onto the seat opposite Ridge.

Ridge pressed his lips together to hold back another smile. Drew’s body language was screaming at him. The big, tough guy was obviously uncomfortable at the thought of any talk about feelings or emotions.

Ridge certainly hadn’t spent a lot of time thinking about them. When his dad died, Ridge had been nineteen, and it had been a devastating time for him and Rae. Brother and sister had leaned on each other, becoming closer. Working together to keep the inn running -- and fighting to get it into the black -- had fused them together. Then, Arnie died.

Arnie Duncan had taught him most of what he knew about woodworking. Ridge had worked for the cabinetmaker during high school and college. When the old man had wanted to retire, the two of them had worked out a deal where Ridge, with some financing, bought the tools and equipment at a discounted price. He took over the business, while Arnie enjoyed working at a slower pace as his apprentice became a master carpenter.

With Arnie’s passing, Ridge had lost a second father figure. That had been almost as traumatic as losing his dad.

Before Drew came barreling into his life, though, Ridge hadn’t experienced any real romantic love. His college boyfriend had been his only steady gig, and that hadn’t exactly rocked his world. Since then, he’d been picky and occasionally had gotten together with another guy. It was somewhat embarrassing to have to admit how bland his sex life had been BD. Before Drew.

This thing with Drew was like a roller coaster ride -- and Ridge had to remind himself to maintain his equilibrium as much as he could. This was beyond his experience in many ways, and he was feeling his way through it from moment to moment. But if there was one thing he’d learned from losing his parents so early in his life, it was that he shouldn’t waste opportunities. What he knew right then was that he was willing to do what it took to find out if this -- whatever it was -- could be real and lasting.

Maybe talking about work would be an easy icebreaker. Ridge turned sideways and put his feet up along the bench seat. “So, that was a surprise -- you working with Tony Lopez.” He tugged on his earlobe. “I had no idea you were working at the same company. I didn’t really even realize that we hadn’t talked about
where
you were working.” He cocked his head to one side, considering. “I just heard a little scuttlebutt today that there was a new partner or something. I guess that’s you.”

“Guh.” Drew sounded disgusted. “I’m head of operations, not a partner.”

“Isn’t that a good job? Maybe some potential?” He took another sip of his wine, appreciating the mellow taste of the red. “Sounds like an opportunity.” Ridge was distracted for a moment as Drew puffed out a breath, lip curling a little at the edge. Really, the many moods of this man just captivated him.

Shrugging in an abbreviated movement, Drew eyed Ridge across the table. “Uh, I guess.” At Ridge’s look, he shrugged again, sighing. “Okay, yeah, it’s fine.” He moved abruptly off the bench seat, and went to the fridge to pull open the door. He stared inside. “It’s just not what I thought I’d be doing now, that’s all.” Seeing some Parmigiano cheese, he brought it out, then began pulling drawers open, one by one. “Jesus, don’t you have a grater?”

Rolling his eyes, Ridge slid off the banquette and walked over to Drew, calmly opening a drawer and pulling out the utensil. “Here.”

When Drew nodded and tried to take it, Ridge held onto it, waiting until Drew’s eyes rose to his. “You can calm down anytime. You don’t have to tell me what’s bothering you.” He brought his hand up to cup the strong jaw, rubbing softly at the five o’clock shadow he found there. “Let’s finish getting this ready.”

Just then the timer went off on the microwave. Getting the colander out of the cabinet, Ridge set it in the sink, then slid past Drew to take the pasta off the range.

Drew stared for a moment before reaching to turn off the flame on his sauce. He worked silently with Ridge to put their plates together, and very soon they were sitting down to eat.

Ridge sniffed appreciatively at the sauce. Tasting it, he hummed. “This is good.”

Drew watched as he dug in. “You don’t do what I expect you to do.” The words came out of nowhere.

“What do you expect me to do?” Swallowing a forkful, Ridge followed it with another sip of the Sangiovese.

Drew slid his fork into his pasta, moving it around a little. “I don’t know. I... I guess I keep expecting you to be like other guys I’ve known.” He slid a forkful of pasta into his mouth. “You don’t call me and ask where I’ve been or what I’ve been doing. Or ask me to take you to the latest hot spot.”

Slightly offended, Ridge made a face. “What kind of guys have you dated? I’m not some needy, whiny twink who has to be around the big, strong guy all the time.” Snorting in disgust, he dropped his fork and shoved his plate away.

“Whoa. I -- uh, I didn’t mean to--”

“Oh, yes, you did mean to.” Ridge stared at Drew with a jaundiced eye. “I’m doing my damnedest to not get pissed again. But you’re going to have to do a little of the work, too.”

With a frown, his lover gestured down to the table. “Eat your pasta. It’s going to get cold.” When Ridge didn’t move, Drew shrugged defensively. “All right. All right! You’re not like other guys. You’re not like... Danny.”

“You’ve mentioned him before. A real prince, I think you called him.” Ridge slowly pulled his plate back in front of himself, picking up his fork and sliding it into the pasta. “Well, do me a favor and don’t compare us.” He forked up a mouthful, appreciating the good flavor once again, despite his irritation.

“Okay.”

That response was suspiciously meek, and, wineglass cupped in one hand, he eyed Drew, lips quirked.

“I said okay.” Drew hid behind his glass.

Finally seeing the humor in the idiotic conversation, Ridge just shook his head. “So, tell me what kind of work you did in Chicago.”

Drew sighed. He put his fork down and picked up his wineglass, absently swirling the contents. “I’m a structural engineer by training. After college I worked for a big firm that did a lot of civil work -- you know, highways, bridges, that kind of thing. Then my dad asked me to come work for him. So, I worked with his firm for about ten years.” He paused to take a sip. “I worked there during the summers in high school and college, doing all the grunt work. My dad wanted me to learn the business from the bottom up.”