Boyfriend for Rent (2 page)

He closed his eyes for a moment, his eyelids burning. He was so tired. He’d spent hours walking last night, trying to stay warm, wondering where he was going to go or what he was going to do. A light drizzle, just shy of snow, had started around midnight, increasing until he was soaked to the bone less than an hour later. His teeth had chattered so hard he’d been afraid he’d chip them, so he’d clenched his jaw. It still ached. Finally, at about three, he’d gone into a twenty-four
-hour laundromat. It had been empty, so he’d taken the chance and hidden in the back while he used the last of his change to dry his coat and clothes. His entire body had been covered by goose bumps, and the chill hadn’t gone away for hours, even after he’d pulled on the clothes hot from the dryer.

He’d stayed there, dozing in the corner, until a group of tired-looking older women had come in and started throwing him dirty looks. He’d realized then that they’d thought he was homeless. It wasn’t until he’d left that he’d realized they were right. He’d wandered a bit more, his feet shuffling along the sidewalk, his attention on little more than making sure he didn’t trip. It wasn’t until he passed the library that he thought he should go in and see if they had a newspaper he could read.

Now, there was only one ad left:

WANTED - ROOMMATE - FARM HOUSE - FOREST HILLS - DISCOUNT ON RENT WITH HELP. $450/MONTH
.

The bank account Casey had kept open under his mother’s insistence was rapidly depleting (he hadn’t made a deposit for nearly two years), but taking McDermott’s hush money was out of the question. Was that all McDermott thought he was worth?  Some money-grubbing whore with no feelings or aspirations? When they’d been living together, they’d been a couple: two parts to a whole. McDermott was the breadwinner, and Casey had stayed at home while he’d been looking for another job. That’s how relationships worked. He had never thought of it as McDermott paying for him. Until now. He wished he’d listened to his mother and kept all of his money separate from McDermott’s. He’d fallen for the ‘we’re a couple’ bullshit when McDermott had talked him into a joint account.

Casey took another look at the ad
. A farmhouse? True, it’d always been his dream for he and McDermott to one day live together in the country and to raise kids, fantastical as it may have sounded; but being stranded in the middle of nowhere with a perfect stranger? 

Casey sighed. He had to show McDermott he could do this all on his own
, and the farmhouse was something he could at least afford for a while. Then, maybe he could convince the roommate to let him stay until he got back on his feet. Maybe he could even get together enough money to finally go to culinary school. That had always been his dream, but McDermott had discouraged Casey from taking out a loan. All of their money and time was supposed to go to their relationship. Or at least that had been the lie that had kept Casey working rather than pursuing his dream. He’d really believed that all of the sacrifices he’d made would keep he and McDermott together forever; that eventually they’d come out together and have a real life. Part of him had even been hoping that McDermott would soften enough to want to go to their high school reunion together. For real together, not just showing up like friends. It had been a childish dream, he knew, to think that he’d be able to erase all of those years of torment by walking in with a handsome man at his side; one who was proud to be with him. He already didn’t have the job he’d always imagined he’d have. Why should he get the romance?

He rubbed his hands over his eyes, wondering how big the bags were from his lack of sleep. He couldn’t keep thinking about how everything had gone wrong. He needed to make it right and the first step was to make a trip out of the city. Well, actually, the first step was to go get the hunk of junk he called a car from his mom’s garage while she was at morning mass and
to pray that it was still working. He’d thought about getting it last night, but he knew how lightly his mother slept. If she heard someone in the garage, she would’ve called the cops, and that would’ve resulted in a very awkward mother-son conversation. Besides, he wasn’t even sure the damn thing would work. The last time he’d driven it, he’d been sure it was going to give up the ghost. It had been old when he’d bought it senior year, falling apart even then, but it had kept going. He just hoped now that it would get him to the farmhouse. He needed it to.

Casey’s plan was coming together and it had to work. It just had to.

He hoped.

_________ o _________

CHAPTER 5

I
t was quite a drive, down long, winding roads in the pouring rain in a car that hadn’t been driven in almost a year, but Casey eventually found what he was looking for. At first, he wasn’t too sure if he had the right place, since the cloud cover had turned late afternoon light into almost night dark. As drenched as a wet rat, he skipped up the steps of the country home in the near pitch darkness. He couldn’t get over not having street lights. Only the occasional lightning bolt in the distance illuminated the house’s grandiose exterior and the shadows that encapsulated it. With each stretch of light, Casey could see the potential the house had, although at the moment, it needed some serious work. Casey clenched his fist and pounded on the wooden door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

A grizzly looking man answered. Covered in dust and wood chips, his sandy-blonde hair fell across his shoulders, dusting the ground with shavings. The stench of him burned Casey’s nose, but behind all the hair were the most beautiful, piercing blue eyes Casey had ever seen.

“Who are you?” the man demanded to know, his country drawl booming from behind his thick beard. The voice fit the build too. The man was huge, towering over Casey’s lean five foot, seven inch frame by over half a foot. His shoulders were broad, straining the seams of the flannel shirt he wore.

Casey cleared his throat, taken aback by the beastly man. “I’m Casey. I called about the room for rent and the extra help you advertised. I tried to leave a message on your answering machine but...”

“I cancelled that ad,” the man said, starting to pull the door closed.

“Why?”

“‘Cause ain’t nothing but whack jobs and freeloaders showin’ up.”

Casey shifted back and forth nervously twiddling his thumbs behind his back. “Look, Sir...”

“Hunter, call me Hunter
,” the man interrupted impatiently.

“All right, Hunter. I’m a hard worker and as sane as they come,” he answered with a smile.

Hunter looked Casey up and down, then turned around and walked into the house, leaving the door open. Something about what Casey said, as he stood there shivering in the cold like a wet and lost puppy, tugged at Hunter’s heart.

Casey’s feet were firmly planted into the cement steps as he tried to figure out what was happening.
Why had Hunter left the door open after basically telling him to get lost? Had he changed his mind?

“You coming or what?” Hunter barked.

Casey followed and wiped his muddy feet on the half-rotted doormat, but soon found it was unnecessary in the murky, dusty, old place.

“Room’s upstairs, kitchen’s over there,” Hunter led him through the dark living room where orange walls and press-on wooden cabinets decorated the space. Mile-high dishes lay piled in the sink. The crusted food still on the plates was only illuminated by the hanging fluorescent lights that showed every pore and dip on Casey’s face. He patted his cheeks, feeling a little flush
ed.

“Family room there,” Hunter pointed to a small room filled with boxes. “Barn’s in the back.”

Casey swallowed hard. “Like I said, I’m not afraid of a little elbow grease. I’ll help in any way I can.”

Hunter’s eyes ran across Casey’s body. He brushed past Casey, leaving his scent of musk and man between them, as he entered the living room
and headed towards the stairs. “Rent’s due first of the month.”

“Um ... so about that,” Casey followed him. “Your ad said the room was about four hundred dollars.”

“Four fifty, plus first and last month’s deposit,” Hunter said.

“Yeah, well, that’s the thing. I’m in a little bit of a situation.”

Hunter stopped, mid-step, and faced Casey. Casey noticed every muscle and ripple beneath Hunter’s shirt. If Hunter wanted it to, this could end very badly for Casey. He remembered all too well what the boys built like that had done to him in high school. His hand automatically reached for his left arm, as if he could still feel the pain from when Kyle Nissan had broken it by knocking him off the back of the bleachers. He took a step back.

“Situation?” Hunter repeated.

“Yeah. It’s a long story, but I was hoping we could do more of a trade. I mean, I help you more out with the house than you mentioned in the ad and ... and you let me...”

“Are you on drugs?” Hunter asked.

Casey wasn’t sure if the question was a serious one or not, but he answered as if it was. “Of course not.”

“The ad said four hundred and fifty bucks,” Hunter repeated. “Four fifty is four fifty. Period.”

“Please,” Casey sighed, his sad eyes pleading as he grabbed Hunter by the arm: a dangerous move, he knew, but he was desperate. “Got kicked out last night. I spent the last of what I had on gas to get out here.”

Hunter bit his bottom lip and met Casey’s eyes. The air was silent, except for Casey’s pounding heart.

Hunter rubbed his beard. There was something about Casey’s eyes that softened Hunter. “Must be something we can figure out.”

             
The pause lasted just long enough to make Casey wonder exactly what that could be.

_________ o _________

CHAPTER 6

T
he night was short and quiet as Casey settled into his new life in the bare bedroom with the dinky twin bed in the old farmhouse. Cracks and spider webs covered the walls and corners, but in some way, Casey found it comforting. He could clean it up tomorrow.

“Just for a month; just ‘til you get on your feet,” Hunter added
, before closing the door and heading back downstairs.

He spent the hours wondering how long before Hunter would call him into the bedroom for a sexual exchange.
Although Hunter didn’t strike him in the least bit as gay, Casey had known plenty of men who’d said they were straight but hadn’t passed up a blow job from him. He’d been told more than once that, in the dark, all mouths were the same. Usually, Casey despised men like that, but with Hunter, he didn’t think he would’ve minded. A far cry from McDermott, Hunter was primitive and manly in a way that Casey would have loved to fall into love with him. There was just something about that scruffy beard and muscular bulk that made Casey think of power and strength, the kind that could overwhelm if allowed. Hunter exuded masculinity, and Casey just wanted to wrap himself up in it like a blanket. He let those thoughts carry him into sleep.

Casey began the next morning on all fours, scrubbing under the kitchen cabinet. His back arched, the sweat meandering its way from his sweat-soaked t-shirt to the crack of his bubble butt as he slipped in and out of the cabinet. Under all of the grime, he actually found beautifully crafted walnut cabinets and a stainless steel oven. It was
the kind of kitchen in which he’d always dreamed of cooking:  meals, snacks, muffins. Mmm…blueberry muffins. His stomach growled as his mind drifted to thoughts of coffee and muffins, but working off the rent came first, and he was more than grateful and willing to do whatever was necessary to keep Hunter happy and keep a roof over his head.

Hunter cleared his throat as he approached. “Uh, mornin’.”

“Oh,” Casey said, sticking his head out from under the cabinet, “Good morning.”

“What’s this?” Hunter asked, crossing his thick arms across his chest.

Casey got off his dirt-covered knees and smiled nervously. There was something commanding about Hunter that intimidated him. He dusted his shirt and pants off and stood before him, his bare toes wiggling on the cool tile floor. His shoes were still wet from two days’ worth of rain.

“This? It’s called a clean house.” Casey joked. He thought he saw a glimmer of a smile in Hunter’s striking blue eyes. “Might take a while, but it’s coming along.”

Hunter grunted, grabbed his cowboy hat and a paper bag from the fridge, and he headed towards the back door, mumbling, “Need you in the barn.” He glanced down at Casey’s feet. “Get some shoes on.”

The barn?
Casey wondered. Whatever needed done, it couldn’t possibly be as filthy as what Casey had already cleaned inside the house. The upstairs bathroom had nearly made Casey gag, so there was no way what was in the barn could be worse.

Or could it?

_________ o _________

CHAPTER 7

“Y
ou want me to do what?” Casey asked, looking at the massive beast in front of him.