Forsaking Truth (5 page)

Luke stepped back, but
not enough. Frazzled, Tristan grabbed a pair of safety goggles from the table.
The blade fired to life and even the grinding of the wet saw couldn’t shut out
the roar of his heart beating in his ears.

The spinning saw
dwindled to a
dull reverberation as he reached the
end of the tile and the ceramic split in two. “Beautiful.”

“Nice,” Luke said
admiringly. “My turn.”

Tristan stepped aside
and Luke took control. He was a natural. The next hour was spent watching Luke
expertly handle th
e powerful machine and shifting
uncomfortably as every gesticulation of his fine body added pressure to the
bulge growing in Tristan’s pants.

As they gathered the
last of the tile needing to be cut, Luke annihilated the remainder of Tristan’s
control by pe
eling off his shirt. Motherfucker. The
guy had the most beautiful body he’d ever seen.

Smooth pecs cut above
his tapered ribcage. He counted eight—motherfucking eight—perfectly sculpted
abs. On his side was an enormous crucifix tattoo with writing scrolle
d beneath it and disappearing beneath the sharp contour of
his hip.

“You want another
beer? It’s hot as fuck today.”

Tristan’s gaze jerked
to his face and he nodded. Maybe he should switch to bourbon or straight up
moonshine. A moment later Luke returned a
nd handed
him a bottle, cap already removed. “Thanks.”

As Tristan’s lips
closed over the mouth of his beer, Luke’s head tipped back as he gulped his
own, a tiny bead of sweat traveling slowly down his rippling throat,
distracting his gaze. “I like this mac
hine. Like most
machines. Something good about handling so much power. Makes you feel like a
man.”

Tristan swallowed a
groan. “Yeah.”

“Luke?” Turning at the
singsong, female voice, Tristan spotted a woman he didn’t recognize
approaching. Where the hell had
she come from?

She wore unlaced
boots, a loose bun, and some sort of dress hidden under an apron. Her hair was
copper and her eyes were creased with laugh lines. Was this Luke’s mom?

“I saw you had a
friend over, so I thought I’d see if you boys were want
in’ some supper. I made dumplings.”

Tristan nodded in
greeting and stepped back. Luke’s expression was blank as he pulled the last
drop of beer from his bottle. If this was his mother, he didn’t acknowledge her
presence with any sort of real courtesy. Luk
e’s gaze met his. “You hungry?”

“I’m always grateful
for a home cooked meal.”

The woman smiled, her
face round and pleasant. “Now, that I have plenty of. Come along. Wash
yourselves up and get eatin’ before the gettin’s gone.”

She turned and briskly
walked
toward the log cabin in the distance. “Is that
your mom?”

“The one and only.
Come on. Let’s get cleaned up.”

Tristan didn’t ask
about the obvious tension. Rather, he followed Luke into the house.

“I got the plumbing
shut off at the kitchen sink since we’
re working in
there. You can use the master bath. Powder room sink isn’t hooked up yet.”

Tristan nodded and
headed in that direction. After using the toilet he turned to the sink and
paused. Luke was in the bathroom stripping away his jeans, his boots toss
ed carelessly on the floor. His heart raced as his gaze
followed the long line of his spine down to the fitted elastic of his briefs.
Short briefs.

His vision focused on
the contour of the thick muscles roping through his thighs, evident even under
the tig
ht cotton. Luke twisted and Tristan nearly
choked as his gaze snagged on the enormous bulge packed in the front of those
shorts.

Pivoting, Luke put his
back toward Tristan. Down went the
briefs and the sexiest ass ever to exist suddenly became the comple
te focus of Tristan’s mind. Twin globes of perfection had
his jaw unhinging and then the vision disappeared as he stepped into the shower
alcove.

What. The. Fuck.

Maybe he’s just cool with being naked.

“I’ll be out in a sec.
I just needed to rinse the swea
t off.”

Tristan cleared his
throat. “’Kay.”

He blinked,
dumbfounded. The room filled with steam and the intoxicating scent of Luke’s
soap. When the water shut off, Tristan flinched. He’d been standing there the
entire time. Fuck. It was too late to make it
out the
door unnoticed.

“Toss me a towel.”

Towel, bitch. Move!
Snapping into motion, he yanked one of
the thick towels off the rod on the wall and stepped toward the shower. When he
turned, Luke smiled and held out a hand. “Thanks.”

He pressed the
terrycloth to his face and Tristan’s jaw nearly fell to the
floor. The guy was fucking enormous. No wonder he’d been stretching the life
out of those tiny briefs. The towel came down and Tristan’s head jerked up.
Panic cut through his system as he met Luke
’s gaze.
Yes, he’d been staring and there was no denying it.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?”

Confused, Tristan
asked, “What?”

“My scar.”

Contemplating the body
in front of him, his scrutiny dropping to the jagged white lines of Luke’s
knee, Tristan swallowed. That
scar was like a spot of
black oil on a perfect canvas, but he was still beautiful. No amount of
scarring could detract from that. “Nah. It’s not bad at all.”

Luke tied the towel
around his waist and exited the alcove. It had to be an athlete thing. Showeri
ng in so many locker rooms with so many other men probably
made him indifferent to nudity.

As Luke passed him, he
stopped, patted his shoulder, and chuckled. “Relax, man. It’s just a dick.” And
with that, he left.

Again. What. The.
Fuck?

“I’ll wait for yo
u outside.” Tristan quickly exited the house and when Luke
met him out front he hadn’t calmed in the least. If he was going to be this
guy’s friend it was going to be torture. As soon as the floor was done, he was
out.

“So my sister tell
s me you and Ryan were roommates,” Mrs. McCullough blurted,
her litany of questions, curses and arbitrary statements now encroaching on a
ten minute span of babble without a breath of pause.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“That’s a nice thing,
the two of you keepin’ up you
r friendship after
graduation. And Rosemarie tells me you’ll be workin’ in the log yard now.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Did you hear that,
Frank dear? Tristan’s going to be workin’ for ya.”

“I heard.”

She turned back to
Tristan. “He heard. I’m, always the last to kno
w.
Wouldn’t know my ass from a hole in the ground if I didn’t find out for myself.
No one tells me a damn thing in this house…” She went on and he wondered if no
one told her anything because once she started talking no one else could slip a
word in edgewi
se.

He didn’t know what
was more awkward, the way Luke’s mom wouldn’t stop talking about every thought
that flitted across her mind or the way his little sister wouldn’t stop gawking
at him. What was she, fifteen?

“Could you pass the
salt?” Then there was
this guy, Kelly. He was cool,
sort of laid back. Tristan slid him the salt. Luke remained quiet and
meticulously cleaned his plate. The girl kept staring. His new boss grunted and
nodded on cue whenever Mrs. McCullough threw his name into whatever she was
saying and so the meal went on.

After dinner, Mr.
McCullough disappeared and the girl helped Mrs. McCullough with the dishes.
Luke seemed anxious to get back to work on the floor. When he stood, so did
Tristan.

“Thank you for the
meal, ma’am.”

Luke’s mom
turned and gifted him with a wide smile. “Of course, love.
Livin’ with my sister and all, you’re like family now.” She slapped his cheek.
It didn’t hurt. It was sort of an affectionate tap. “You come by any time and
I’ll feed you, dearie.”

He smiled. It ha
d been a long time since he’d felt as welcome, if
overwhelmed, as the McCulloughs made him feel. “Thank you.”

He followed Luke back
to the barn and the moment they left the house he muttered, “Sorry about that.
My family’s—”

“Really hospitable?”

“I was gon
na say crazy, but yeah, we can call it that.”

“Luke, wait!” They
both turned as his little sister came tearing out of the house. She skidded to
a stop beside them and batted her eyes at Tristan. “What are you guys doing?”

“Working. So unless
you wanna help
, go away.”

“Oh, Luke,” she said,
swatting his arm. “I’ll help.”

Luke frowned. “You’ll
be in the way, Shei-Devil. Go play.”

“I’m not a kid, you
dick.”

Whoa. Tristan did a
double take. This one had a mouth on her.

Luke continued
walking. “Go home, fart lic
ker.”

She scampered after
him. “Please let me help. I promise to behave and actually work.”

“No, Sheilagh.”

She stomped her foot.
Tristan followed several feet behind, not wanting to get involved.

“Damn it, Luke. Why
not?”

“I told you why. Now
take off,
kid.”

She didn’t seem to
flinch at the way her brother talked to her, but Tristan was a little taken
aback. Here was this great family and Luke didn’t seem to want any part of it.
Why?

As Luke disappeared in
the barn he turned and Sheilagh’s smile widened
as
her gaze connected with his. She skipped back a few paces and took up walking
by his side. “He’s always like that. I’m Sheilagh.”

“I’m Tristan.”

“I know. We met last
night. So you’re a college graduate? That’s pretty cool. By the way, I’m
seventeen, not
twelve like my dickbag brother treats
me.”

Oh boy, a whole seventeen.

“How old are you?” she
asked.

“Twenty-five.”

“So we’re only, like,
seven years apart.”

“Eight.”

“Not really. I’ll be
an adult in ten months. I’m almost seventeen and a half.”

Jesus. Whe
re the fuck was Luke?

“Since you’re new
around here, if you ever want to do something, I could do it with you—I
mean—I’d be happy to show you around. Town.” She frowned and he did the same.
Only adding to the awkwardness, she announced, “I’m allowed out
‘til eleven.”

Luke returned and
Tristan had never been more relieved to see someone before in his life.

“You still here, kid?
I told you to go home.”

“We’re talking,
scrotum breath!” she snapped then turned and sweetly batted her eyes at
Tristan. “So, lik
e I was saying, if you ever wanted
to catch a movie or something…”

Aw, Christ. Glancing
back at Luke, Tristan saw that he was preoccupied taking measurements. Hiding a
grimace he pasted on a smile and said, “That’s real sweet, baby girl. I’m gonna
be busy
gettin’ settled and working, but if one of
those times ever come up where I need a nice girl to show me around, I’ll be
sure to come find you.”

Her lips parted and
she blinked up at him in what seemed like astonishment. “Uh…yeah…okay…great.”
She shook her
red head and her smile was back in
place. She was a very pretty girl, just not at all what he was looking to get
into. Their contrasting ages being second in the reasons not to go there.

She bounced and said,
“Perfect. I’ll talk to you soon. Bye, Tristan.”

Whatever he’d just
started was a mistake. “Bye?”

After she pranced off
he turned, confusion likely apparent on his face. Luke jotted a line on a tile
and mumbled, “There’s more of that
hospitality
you mentioned.”

Hospitality being code
for crazy. He laugh
ed and Luke treated him to a
spectacular grin.

He followed him inside
and they dove into a night of newfound friendship and laying tile.

Several hours later
Luke stood back to admire their handiwork. He tipped back his beer. They’d
killed a cas
e, but also knocked the shit out of his
to-do list so it was worth it.

“I gotta say, that
floor looks bad ass.”

Tristan nodded, a
satisfied smile on his face. For some reason Luke’s attention kept snagging on
the torn piece of denim he’d used to tie back
his
hair when he was grouting. “Sure as hell does. Cheers. Your first lay was a
success.”

Luke tapped his bottle
to his and finished it off. Dropping his empty in the can he went to the
fridge, which was now parked in the den, and retrieved two freshies. H
e passed one to Tristan and they settled in at the table
shoved next to the fridge.

“You got yourself a
nice place here, Luke.”

“Thanks. It feels good
to see it all coming to fruition.”

They couldn’t help
admiring their work.

After a long bit of
comfortable silence, he asked, “You planning on sticking
around long, I mean in Center County?”

Tristan shrugged. “Got
nowhere else to be.”

“What about home,
family and shit?”

“A little too much
hospitality back in Texas.”

“Gotchya. You gonna
stay with Rya
n’s family?”

“For now. Eventually
I’d like to get my own little slice of earth to call home.”

“Nothin’ better than
having something to call your own.”

Tristan nodded. “Or
someone.”

“You got a girl?” Luke
asked.

“No. Been single for a
long time.”

“Me too.
When I played ball, girls used to bang down my door. After
I blew out my knee that shit all fell away like everything else in my life.”

“You seriously can’t
ever play again? You’re in impeccable shape.”

Luke shook his head.
“Nope. I push myself hard at the
gym, but I still
can’t do more than fifteen miles without feeling like my legs gonna snap in
two.”

“Did you just say
fifteen miles?”

He nodded. “Not much I
enjoy anymore. Running’s something I can’t give up. Drove me nuts, the months I
was healing, not be
ing able to hit the track. I get
cranky as shit, need that outlet, you know?”

“Sort of like sex.”

Yeah, sort of like
sex, Luke supposed, but not really. Even after sex he felt the need to run, the
urge to escape. There had been one girl since he returned h
ome and afterwards he wanted nothing more than to get the
fuck away from everyone and everything close to him. Even fucking was different
since he blew out his knee. Not that it was ever as spectacular as most made it
sound.

Sex was a release.
Maybe it wa
s because he was such a big guy that he
never felt like he let off enough steam. He was always afraid he’d hurt someone
or maybe still not be able to feel what the rest of the world felt.

He reached for his
beer and accidentally tipped it over. “Shit.”

Tri
stan caught the bottle before it rolled to the floor and
they both stood, searching for some paper towels. The flow of liquid curled
over the edge of the table and just as it was about to hit the tile they’d just
finished, Tristan grabbed the edge of his s
hirt and
caught the spill.

Luke blinked as he
wiped up the mess. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Once under control,
Tristan stood and batted at the large wet mark staining his shirt.

“You’re gonna stink
like beer,” Luke said. “I’ll get you a fresh shirt for the d
rive home, just in case you get pulled over.” He
disappeared into his room and returned a second later. “Here.”

Tristan crossed his
arm at his waist and peeled off the wet shirt. Luke stilled. He wasn’t built
like an athlete, but he wasn’t built like a wai
f
either. His abs were cut and shadowed with dark hair. His arms were toned and
showed soft tufts of hair underneath. He wore a thick leather belt and there
was something intriguing about the fit of his tattered jeans.

“Like what you see?”

What the fuck?
L
uke’s gaze
jerked to his, but his scowl was short lived. Tristan’s chest lifted with each
slow breath. A leather necklace tied to some sort of arrowhead pendant rested
between his dark nipples.

Luke frowned. “What?”

“You’re looking at
me.”

“No, I wasn’t.”
Luke’s brow tightened.

He stepped closer. Too
close. Luke should take a step back, but for some reason he didn’t. His breath
came in short, clipped puffs as Tristan crowded him.

“Yes,” he whispered.
“You were.”

Luke met his stare and
frowned. He couldn’t
move, couldn’t tell him to back
it up. He just stood there, staring into his gunmetal eyes, mesmerized. Part of
his dark hair had fallen from the tie. It dusted his shoulder just above a
curled scar. Luke wanted nothing more than to trace his finger over t
hat mark and ask what had happened—which made no sense.

His gaze shot to his
chest. Another scar. This one a divot. By his sternum there was another,
exactly the same. A tiny little star of white. Once he noticed one, he noticed
all of them.

Without think
ing, his hand reached out. His thumb coasted over the white
scar on his ribs, his fingers curling around Tristan’s side. The other man’s
skin burned the inside of his palm. Tristan drew in a sharp breath and Luke
asked, “What happened to you?”