A Change of Pace (8 page)

Grunting, Ridge shook his head. “Bring her here.” He heard Rae snort with laughter, then heard it turn to coughing as Drew shot a glare her way. Ridge tucked his head down and grinned as he knelt next to the dog. “Easy, girl. I know,” he soothed. “It stinks.” He tugged Elsa forward, then looked at Rae again. “Will you grab us some old rags?” Jerking his head at Drew, he pointed to the hose. “Make yourself useful. Get over here and wet her down where she was sprayed.”

Drew complied in silence, seemingly abashed. Hunkering down on the grass, he picked up the hose and gently began wetting down his dog.

“Get some juice on the sponge and rub it into her coat.” Ridge bit his lip, trying not to smile again as Drew tentatively began rubbing the juice-red sponge against Elsa’s shoulder. “You might want to get some more on there and really rub it in.”

Drew obeyed, bringing up a sponge dripping with juice and applying it industriously to the affected area. He repeated the method several times, spreading the juice thoroughly into the dog’s coat. Occasionally, Ridge lifted the hose and rinsed the juice out, sitting back on his heels as Drew started again. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rae slink back with some old towels, then disappear again quickly.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Drew looked sideways at Ridge, his dark hair falling forward on his brow.

“Yup.” Wasn’t even going to try to deny it.

Drew didn’t seem to know what to say after that. They finished cleaning the dog in silence, and Ridge nodded at the pile of rags Rae had left on the grass. “You can dry her off with those.”

Getting to his feet, Ridge shut off the hose and grabbed the bucket and empty cans, setting them near the shop door. “You’re probably going to need to do this again tomorrow -- maybe a couple of more times, depending on how badly she got sprayed.” He watched for a few moments as Drew finished rubbing the worst of the water off Elsa. “I’d keep her in the bathroom tonight, so she doesn’t get any of the leftover stink on the carpet or furniture.”

Drew nodded in silence, gathering up the rags and getting to his feet. Freed, Elsa shook herself violently, and both of them looked at each other, smiling.

Remembering where he and Drew had left off the other day, Ridge changed his expression to a smirk. “One more thing.” He arched his brows, grunting in amusement. “You’re going to want to get rid of those clothes. You stink.”

Staring at him, Drew’s eyes narrowed and his lips pursed. Then, as Ridge watched carefully, the city boy’s facial muscles relaxed into a cocky grin. “Is that so?” Dumping the rags on the grass, and toeing off his shoes and kicking them aside, Drew stared at him provokingly. Next came the socks, Drew reaching down to rip them off. The turquoise eyes had a challenging gleam, and Drew’s brow was once again at an arrogant angle.

Heart starting to pound, breath speeding up, Ridge backed up a step. “What are you doing?

“What’s it look like?” The black T-shirt was lifted, the muscled belly and chest slowly exposed as Drew pulled it off.

“You’re outside!”

“Uh-huh. You said I stink. You don’t want me bringing this god-awful smell inside, do you?” With that, he shoved his jeans down, stepping out of them and leaving them on the ground. The muscled legs were slightly hairy, and the black boxer-briefs showcased one hell of a gorgeous package.

Ridge gulped, once again coming face-to-face with how damned hot and attractive Drew was. While he was dazedly trying to absorb the exhibition happening right in front of him, Drew finished kicking away his jeans, and took four barefoot steps to bring them side by side.

The aggravating northerner leaned forward until their lips were inches apart. “Thanks for tonight, Ridge. City boy that I am, it was pretty obvious that I was clueless.” Drew’s tongue slipped out and lined his lips, wetting them, caressing them. Ridge tried to capture the fleeting tongue but was stopped as Drew’s mouth closed over his own.

The kiss was too short, though, just enough to get his motor started, but then Drew pulled back. The bastard continued moving away, clicking for Elsa. “Come on, girl.”

As Drew turned back toward the inn, Ridge breathed out noisily at the sight of that incredible ass.

Over his shoulder, Drew gave a parting shot. “See you around, cowboy.”

Chapter 8

He who fights and runs away, lives to fight another day.

Drew Cunningham

That dog don’t hunt.

Ridge Huntington

Drew’s stroll through the lobby in his boxers was the talk of the inn. Most of the staff and a few of the guests couldn’t decide if he was just a crazy Yankee or if he should be July in the next Manifest Men Calendar.

Ridge was still trying to figure out why he’d let Drew walk away. He couldn’t get the man off his mind. And it wasn’t like he didn’t have other things to think about. He had way too much work to do to spend time mooning around.

But he did have one item he wanted to accomplish. He headed inside.

“Rae, will you do me a favor?”

His sister was at the range, working on stuffed French toast for the guests. “Sure, hon.” She looked over her shoulder. “What do you need?”

Shuffling his feet, Ridge hemmed and hawed for a second. “Um.” He pulled a piece of paper out of his jeans pocket. “Will you give this to Drew?”

Pulling the heavy iron skillet off the range, Rae eyed him as she set the pieces of bread on a platter. “Sheila, these are ready.” Once the platter had been picked up and Sheila was headed out of the kitchen, Rae approached him.

“What’s on the paper?”

“Um, just a possible house for Drew to consider.” He handed the paper to Rae.

She unfolded it, looking at it for a long minute. “You sure about this?” She looked up at him, concern wrinkling her brow. “For him?”

He nodded slowly. “Yep.”

***

“God, you’re industrious this morning.” Shelby yawned.

Shaking his head, Ridge grunted in amusement. “Right. Uh-huh.” He continued wiping down the wooden mantle. Behind him, Shelby busied himself clanking around in the kitchen.

“What are you doing?”

Shelby’s voice was muffled. “I’m looking for your electric skillet.”

“Why?” Ridge walked into the kitchen, finding Shelby crouched down in front of an open cabinet. His friend’s muscular bulk was taking up most of the space on the floor.

Shelby pulled his head back and looked over the door. He grinned, pale blue eyes twinkling. “I was thinking of making pancakes. You in the mood?”

Ridge scratched an ear. “Good thing I already got my run in.” He nodded, shifting his head from side to side. “Chocolate chip?”

Shelby pulled out the large electric fry pan and stood, setting it on the counter. “Don’t I always? Although how you can stand that sweetness with the syrup on top of it is beyond me. Blechh.” Shuddering, he grabbed a dishtowel and tucked it into the waistband of his jeans. “Go on and finish cleaning. I’ll have breakfast ready in a jiff.” Opening the pantry cabinet, he reached inside. “I’m thinking of adding applesauce this time. What do you think?”

Walking away, Ridge waved over his shoulder. “I don’t care what you do with yours, just make mine chocolate chip.”

He grinned at the grunt of disdain he heard.

The bedroom and bathroom were already clean, and he’d gotten through two loads of laundry with just one to go. Sheets and towels, then jeans and shirts, with underwear and odds and ends going last. He didn’t mind that part much as long as he could keep moving on the rest of the apartment at the same time. Grabbing the vacuum, he pushed it into living room and quickly ran it over the old wool area rug he’d gotten when Rae had decided it no longer worked in the lobby of the inn.

“Okay if I put some music on?”

Shelby poked his head around the column at the end of the breakfast bar. “Yeah. Hey, did you download the latest
Glee
stuff?”

“You know it. But I have to start with my favorite.” Ridge set his iPod to play in the speaker dock. Before long, both of them were singing along with the “It’s My Life/Confessions” mashup. Ridge danced around the coffee table as he dusted.

Henry, who’d been lying out of the way on his comfy bed, suddenly barked loudly, jerking Ridge to a halt. Looking over at the door, he spotted Drew staring at him through the door glass, Elsa at his side. He breathed in a shaky sigh, the sight of Drew making his heart pound. His hit-and-run lover was dressed in black jeans that faithfully cupped a sizable bulge and an olive-green T-shirt that showed off a heavily muscled upper body.

Walking over to the speaker dock, Ridge swiftly muted the volume and went to the door. Pulling it open, he had to dodge out of the way as Elsa dashed inside. Regaining his balance, he leaned one arm against the open door. “Hey.” He’d be calm and cool. No matter what.

Drew walked into the apartment. “Hey.” He pushed the door shut, then stood there, not seeming to know what to say.

Ridge felt those laser-like eyes burn over his chest and crotch.

“Whoa. Who’re you?”

Damn. He’d forgotten about Shelby while he’d been staring at all the eye-candy right in front of him.

Shelby had an annoying habit of saying whatever was on his mind. That could get dangerous in front of Drew.

“Um. Shelby. This is Drew Cunningham.” Ridge gestured toward his silent, erstwhile lover, then turned to look at his friend. “Uh. Drew, this is my friend, Shelby Patterson.” Biting his lip, he watched apprehensively as Shelby stepped up and held out a hand.

“Heyah.”

Slowly, Drew gripped Shelby’s hand and shook. “Hi.”

Ridge saw the knowing look on Shelby’s face and knew it was going to translate into speech.

“So. Come around here often?”

Groaning, Ridge covered his face. “Shelby!” What a wise-ass.

“What?” For such a big guy, his dipshit friend could sound pretty innocent.

Peeking through his fingers, Ridge saw Drew was frowning, lips turned decidedly down. “What business is it of yours?” Uh-oh. That was confrontational Yankee, no doubt about it.

“You mean, what business is it of mine that my best friend is letting some asshole from Chicago dick him around?”

Christ. Why had he told Shelby what had happened at the barn? He butted in before the chest bumping got started. “Boys! I’m right here.”

Breathing deeply, Drew gave him a look. Shelby just grinned, obviously glad he’d jumped into the fray.

“Look. Drew, come on in. Shelby, you go finish making breakfast.” After glaring at Shelby until his pain-in-the-ass pal headed back to the kitchen, he turned back to face Drew, and found a different look on the rugged features. Suspicion. “What now?”

“Breakfast?”

Sigh. “Yes. Breakfast. As in, my best friend came over this morning and decided he wanted to make pancakes. Is that okay with you?” City boy wasn’t the only one who could do pissy.

Drew backpedaled. “Oh. Uh. Yeah.” Biting his lip, he gazed around, his eyes falling on the two shepherds, who were sharing breakfast at Henry’s bowl. “They really do get along well, don’t they?”

“Is that why you came over?”

Drew grunted. “No.” His exasperation showed for a second. “I came to talk to you.” Taking another step into the apartment, Drew fidgeted, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets.

Ridge had to admit it was a bit of a tight fit, and once more his eyes zeroed in on the package cradled behind the zippered fly.

“Right?”

Jerking his eyes up guiltily, Ridge frowned. “What?”

Drew sighed. “I said, I came to take you to breakfast. But, since your friend is already making it for you, looks like you’re busy, right?”

Still frowning, Ridge thought about that. The same guy who didn’t want to be seen with him at the barn now wanted to be seen with him at a restaurant? Was this progress? Yes? “You’re asking me out?”

“Forget it.”

“Hold it.” He reached out a hand to pull Drew back from the door that the other man had started to open. “Just wait a minute, will you? Good God, you’re impatient.” Pushing the door shut, he waved at the living room. “Look, why don’t you eat with us? Let me just finish putting this stuff away.” Ridge gathered up his cleaning supplies, crouching to pile them in the basket.

As he stood, he would have sworn that he heard a faint whistle come out of Drew, but when he cranked his head around, Drew was looking toward the kitchen, hands again shoved in those damned tight pockets.

Now self-conscious that all he had on was the tiny running shorts, Ridge felt himself blushing as he clutched the basket and headed for the closet near the bedroom door. Quickly shoving the supplies inside, he ducked into his bedroom to grab another shirt.

Rifling through his dresser, he paused. Why should he feel self-conscious? This was his home. Drew could stay or go. Smirking at himself in the mirror, Ridge straightened his shoulders and walked back to the kitchen. He brushed arms with Drew, passing him in the doorway to the kitchen. There. That was definitely a deep breath he heard.

The kitchen was nicely sized, with the cabinets and appliances to the left, and an eating nook to the right. Ridge had built the banquette and table that filled the sunny corner. The dark blue vinyl upholstery nicely accented the polished medium cherry of the table.

Eerily echoing his thoughts, Shelby spoke from the range where he turned the bacon. “Ridge built this whole kitchen. Maybe you didn’t know how talented he is.”

As a kid, Shelby had always loved to poke hornets’ nests and anthills. But Ridge wasn’t sure if Shelby knew the kind of animal his friend was poking now. Ridge peeked at Drew from the corner of his eye. The frown was still in place, but it was accompanied by a measuring look as Drew gazed around the kitchen.

“You built all this?” At least his tone sounded impressed.

“Uh-huh.” The breakfast smells were making Ridge’s stomach growl. “About five years ago, after we got the inn all set.” He moved to the cabinet and pulled down dishes and cups. “You want to grab the coffee cups over there?” Nodding to the cabinet over the coffee maker, Ridge started laying things on the table. “Coffee’s in the fridge if you want to make a pot.” He gave Drew a pointed look.

Surprising him, Drew quietly did as he was asked. By the time the coffee was ready, Shelby was pouring the last portion of batter onto the hot pan.

“Hey, do you want chocolate chip pancakes like my loony friend over there?” Shelby cocked an eyebrow at Drew, who sat under the window, sipping his coffee.

“Huh?”

“Yeah. Can you believe it? It’s like he’s five or something.” Shelby was snickering as he flipped the hotcakes.

Ridge snorted. “Just ignore him. He likes to complain. There’s nothing wrong with chocolate at every meal.”

Drew’s turquoise eyes met his, the stare pinning him where he sat. “I’ll take mine plain. And, I have to say, it surely doesn’t show on you, believe me.” That husky voice ran right down Ridge’s spine and ended up somewhere near his balls. His prick sat up and took notice.

Down, boy. Ridge slid a little farther under the edge of the table, hiding the tent popping up in his running shorts. Now he wished he’d changed into jeans or something, especially since he saw a knowing smirk on Drew’s face.

Shelby dished up platters of pancakes and bacon and brought them to the table with a flourish. “So.” He slid onto the seat next to Ridge, shoving his friend to the side with a hip bump. “What’d you want to talk to Ridge about?”

“Shel. Mind your own business.” Ridge pulled a stack of hotcakes onto his plate and grabbed a few slices of bacon. Shoving the platter toward Drew, he motioned with his fork. “Help yourself.”

“What? Can’t I be concerned about a friend?” Shelby’s voice was innocence personified. His friend was acting playful, but Ridge knew Shelby was ready to jump to his defense at any moment.

“Shelby, I appreciate the concern, but I’m a big boy. Just enjoy your breakfast.” He jerked his chin at Shelby’s heaping plate.

Drew was watching both of them, eyeing Shelby suspiciously and then ogling what he could see of Ridge, zeroing in on the nipple ring with frequency. He seemed to be enjoying his breakfast, since his plate was soon empty.

“Want some more?” At Drew’s nod, Ridge looked at his troublemaking friend. “How about making another batch?”

Shelby gave a long-suffering sigh, but shoved another mouthful in and got up, taking his plate and fork with him to the counter.

Watching Shelby set up for another batch, Drew fidgeted a little, lifting his cup for a sip. “I... one thing I actually came over for was to, um, well, apologize for the other day. At the barn.”

Huh. “Really.” Ridge took a sip of his own coffee, buying time. Interesting. “You definitely dissed me in a major way in front of your friend.” His drawl was flat with remembered displeasure.

“George isn’t a friend.”

With a derisive snort, Ridge gave him a look of fake astonishment.

“Huh. That didn’t come out right. He, uh, okay, he’s kind of a friend...”

Ridge propped his elbows on the table, trying not to respond to the snickering he could hear by the range.

Drew scowled. “All right!” He plopped his coffee cup on the table, the liquid sloshing near the rim. He blew out a frustrated breath and sent a dirty look toward Shelby. “I’ve known George for almost ten years; that’s how long I’ve been working with him.” He tilted his head to the side, shrugging. “He’s how I found the barn here.”

Ridge rolled his eyes. “Irrelevant, but interesting.”

“Okay. Okay. I’m getting to it. Christ!”

Huh. It was kind of fun watching Drew squirm. Ridge bit his lip.

Drew sucked in a deep breath. “Look, okay, I panicked. So, I was an asshole. I admit it. I’m kind of good at being an asshole, if you want to know the truth.” When that produced another snigger, he shot a blistering glare at Shelby.

“I don’t doubt it.” Ridge sat back. “Hey, Shel, can you run over to the inn and ask Rae for some of her cinnamon rolls?”

Reluctantly shutting down the electric skillet, Shelby sighed. “Okay.” He wiped his hands on a towel as he shuffled toward the living room. “I always miss the good parts.”

Grunting, Ridge did smile at that. “And take your time, will you?”

Appearing relieved at Shelby’s departure, Drew blew out a breath, then sucked it in again as Ridge stared at him expectantly. “Uh. I... George knows... he... uh, George knows I’m gay, but I never -- I don’t normally
do
that out in the open.” A definite headshake accompanied that statement. “Behind closed doors -- hey, that’s one thing. And... I’m out to my family and a couple close friends. But -- in public? Well, uh, I don’t want to give any ammunition to anybody to use against me.”