Looking At Forever (The Rock Gods Book 4) (3 page)

“Keep ‘em coming,” Wheland said to Candy.

“I was living up near Vancouver for a bit,” Rooster said after the waitress left. “I got back into town yesterday.”

“Yesterday? And I hit your rental car today,” Wheland said. “Slick move on my part.”

“No harm done,” Rooster said. “At least it gave us a chance to catch-up.”

Wheland chuckled. “Well yeah, there is that,” he said. “So are you back at your old place in the valley?”

“Nope, my ex-wife got that,” Rooster said. “I’m staying at a hotel up the road for the time being.”

“Please tell me you’re not talking about the old Starlite?” Wheland asked.

Rooster smiled and then laughed. Wheland felt his body reacting again. This time it was from the sound of that deep laugh rumbling from Rooster’s throat, a throat he’d really like to taste the skin of with this tongue.

Fuck!

“It’s short term,” Rooster said. “Just until I find something else that works for me.”

“The ex got the house? That sucks,” Wheland said. “Did she clean you out completely?”

Rooster shook his head. “She got the L.A. house and a couple of cars,” Rooster said. “I got everything else and the cabin up near Vancouver. I consider myself lucky. She settled for a lump sum of money and no alimony, so I was able to walk away fairly unscathed.”

“And people wonder why I don’t want to get married,” Wheland said.

“With the right person it’s not that bad,” Rooster said with a faint smile. “I loved her, but we just weren’t... compatible. She’s moved on and remarried. I wish her the best.”

“Kids?” Wheland asked.

“Nope, it was a clean break for me,” Rooster said and sighed with relief.

“Thank God,” Wheland said.

Candy dutifully delivered two more shots of Jack Daniels, one for each of them, and waddled off to wait on the people newly seated at another booth.

“How long were you living up near Vancouver?” Wheland asked.

“Almost five years.”

“What brought you back to civilization?” Wheland asked.

“You make it sound like I was living a ‘Grizzly Adams’ kind of existence,” Rooster laughed. “It’s a two thousand square foot cabin on a lake. You’d like it.”

“Why would I like it?” Wheland asked and tipped his head with curiosity.

Rooster paused in what looked like mid-thought and Wheland watched something wash over his gorgeous face. Rooster held Wheland’s gaze, then blinked several times before he looked down at the shot of whiskey that sat on the table in front of him. He lifted it quickly to his lips and tossed it back.

“Do I look like a nature boy to you?” Wheland asked, attempting humor.

Rooster shrugged. “What I meant is most people would like it.”

An hour passed and Wheland and Rooster consumed two more shots and a beer each. They ordered hamburgers with fries and Wheland listened to Rooster talk some more about his cabin, the fishing he was able to do on the lake, and the volumes of music he’d written while sitting on the large deck overlooking the lake. It really did sound like a great retreat and Wheland wondered if he might ever have the chance to see it for himself.

Why the fuck would you think that?

Another hour passed and Wheland had completely forgotten about the crummy anniversary he was hoping to forget with the alcohol. Turned out, it wasn’t the booze that distracted him, it was the delicious packaging of Rooster and Wheland realized he truly was enjoying the man’s company.

“I have lots of room at my place,” Wheland said, his words were starting to slur a bit.

“I imagine you do,” Rooster said, finishing his mug of beer and setting it down on the table.

“No, I mean I have several
extra
rooms,” Wheland said. “You can use one of them while you’re looking for another house.”

Rooster sat back in the bench seat. “I really don’t mind staying at the hotel.”

“And I’m sure you don’t mind getting crabs, either,” Wheland said. “Stay at my fucking house. I’m there all by myself. You can come and go as you please. Seriously. It’s no big deal.”

“But it’s your
house
,” Rooster said.

“So what? Letting you use one of my guest rooms is the least I can do for hitting your car,” Wheland said. He waved Candy down and asked for their check. “Come on. Let’s leave before we get too hammered to drive. I’ll go with you to the Starlite and help you get your stuff, then you can follow me back to my place.”

Rooster shook his head. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Why the fuck not?” Wheland asked.

“Because it’s your house,” Rooster repeated.

“Am I missing something here, Roost?” Wheland asked. He took the bill from Candy and stood up from bench seat behind the table and reached into his back pocket for his wallet. He saw Rooster stand and do the same with his wallet and Wheland waved him off.

“I got this,” Wheland said.

Rooster rolled his eyes at Wheland’s comment and pulled two twenty dollar bills from his wallet. Before he had a chance to toss the bills onto the table, Wheland grabbed the hand Rooster was using to hold the money. Wheland’s long fingers curled over the top of Rooster’s hand and tightened.

Wheland felt Rooster flinch and their eyes met. The sudden zing of warmth racing through his arm caught him off guard and judging by the flare in Rooster’s pupils, he’d felt the same flash of heat, too. Wheland willed himself to let go of Rooster’s hand but the hold he had on the man felt powerful. It made him wonder what other types of restraints Rooster might enjoy and that had his cock coming to life.

“Put your money away,” Wheland said. He delivered those four words using a rich, husky voice and Rooster shivered. At least that’s what Wheland thought he’d felt. Or maybe it was wishful thinking?

Christ, if you react like this from my hand, what would you do if I put my mouth on you?

Chapter Two

It didn’t take long for them to collect Rooster’s things from the hotel and bring everything over to Wheland’s estate. There really wasn’t much stuff, just a few boxes, two long duffel bags, and an acoustic guitar. Another fifteen minutes and they had it all hauled inside and sitting in Wheland’s foyer. Wheland moved further into the two story, marbled floor entryway, and flipped on a light switch. His heavy footsteps echoed in the large room and added to the awkwardness closing in around them. Wheland took a few more steps, then turned to see that Rooster remained by the front door beside his duffel bags and the boxes.

“You okay?” Wheland asked.

“Nice place,” Rooster said. His eyes danced around the large open space and the curving staircase leading up to the second floor. He shifted his weight from foot to foot and his hands were deep in the front pockets of his black jeans.

“It
is
a nice place,” Wheland said. “But you won’t see any of it standing there.”

Wheland’s gaze scanned the length of Rooster head to toe. He looked delicious standing like a guard next to his things. The tight, white t-shirt Rooster wore stretched with each new intake of breath and the snug fit of his jeans had Wheland’s entire body tingling with interest. Rooster’s eyes finally settled on Wheland standing in the center of the lofty foyer. Wheland saw uncertainty float across Rooster’s handsome features and the submissive drop of his gaze to the floor was a perfect touch; although likely it was unintentional. Even still, Wheland took notice of it and every other little detail about this man.

Oh, how wonderful it would be to have you on your knees in front of me and sucking me deep.

It was an unlikely scenario but Wheland could dream couldn’t he? The sweet visuals dancing in his head right now had his cock hardening to steel. He turned away before Rooster could see the tent in his jeans and waved him further into the house.

“Leave your stuff there for now and come with me,” Wheland said. “I’ll show you some more of the house.”

Wheland took Rooster into the enormous kitchen with all stainless steel appliances and dark wood cabinetry. The cooking prep area looked commercial grade; like it belonged in a high end restaurant more so than a home.

“Do you do a lot of cooking?” Rooster asked.

“I don’t remember the last time I used the stove,” Wheland said with a laugh. “If it can’t be microwaved or delivered, then I go hungry.”

“I’m a pretty good cook and I love to grill,” Rooster said.

“Perfect,” Wheland said. “I have a big-ass grill out by the pool. Use it anytime you want.” Wheland opened the refrigerator and removed two cold beers and handed one to Rooster. They both popped off the bottle caps and Wheland leaned closer and clicked the neck of his bottle against Rooster’s. “Just so you know,” Wheland said, “I like my steaks medium rare.”

Rooster smiled and took a long drink from his bottle and wiped the dampness from his lips with the back of his hand. “How long have you lived here?” he asked Wheland.

“Six years or so,” Wheland said. “I’ve done a few renovations in that time. The house looks a lot different than it did when I bought it.”

Wheland left the kitchen and started walking down a hall with Rooster following. “Are you still working with your band, 100 Proof?”

“I haven’t toured with them in years but now that I’m back in the area I may look in to that option. I still write music for them,” Rooster said. “That’s my main source of income these days. I write for them and a bunch of other bands, too.”

“You’re a full-time song writer now?” Wheland asked, glancing over his shoulder at Rooster.

“Pretty much,” Rooster said. “My work is mostly in the rock genre, but I’ve written a few songs for country artists, too.”

“Well, then you’re going to love what I have in the basement,” Wheland said. He turned a corner and opened up a door. “This is my newest addition to the house.”

Rooster followed Wheland downstairs to the basement level. They walked through a game room with pinball machines and a hand-carved pool table sitting in the middle, before Wheland opened up another door. Rooster stepped inside behind Wheland and sighed loudly when the three room sound studio came into view.

Wheland laughed at Rooster’s excitement. “It sounds like you approve?”

“This is fucking amazing,” Rooster said. He inched into the engineering room and gently ran his fingertips across the consoles and slide levers like he were caressing a lover.

“I see you’re using a Digidesign Control 24,” Rooster said. “That integrates well with the HD Pro Tools you have here.”

“If you say so,” Wheland said. He couldn’t stop the smile forming on his face from watching Rooster and the appreciative, almost loving way he touched the equipment. “I take it you know how to use this stuff?” Wheland asked.

“Most of it,” Rooster said. He set his beer on a table away from the equipment, then sat down in one of the high-backed leather chairs in front of the sound mixing equipment. “I mainly write and play on the tracks, then rely on a mixing engineer to do the serious work. But I’ve watched the process enough times to know my way around the boards.”

Wheland sat down in the chair beside Rooster and swiveled toward him. “Is guitar still your weapon of choice?”

Rooster looked at him and nodded. “I usually play guitar or piano when I’m writing.”

“I switch back and forth between bass and rhythm,” Wheland said.

“Does Ivory Tower take outside songs or is Alex still doing the bulk of your writing?” Rooster asked.

Rooster turned his chair slightly toward Wheland and their forearms brushed and their knees bumped. The gentle friction of their arms almost had Wheland moaning out loud. He managed to catch the sound before it rumbled from his throat and did his best not to jerk his arm back from Rooster’s touch. Truth was, Wheland loved the warmth of Rooster’s skin against his. His eyes dropped to the place they were touching and Rooster was the one to slowly withdraw his arm.

“Sorry about that,” Rooster said and turned to face the wide console.

Wheland shrugged it off as if it were nothing, but the heat in his cheeks gave him away. He was grateful Rooster’s focus was once again on the equipment. “Ivory Tower mainly writes their own material but I’m sure Alex would be open to take a listen to anything you had.”

“Maybe we could try writing something together,” Rooster said and those expressive brown eyes with the golden flecks hit Wheland again, making his heart kick a little harder inside his chest.

“Collaborate?” Wheland asked. His voice had been reduced to a whisper.

“Yeah, sure. Why not?” Rooster asked. “You never know what could come from a jam session between the two of us.”

“I suppose we could give that a try,” Wheland said.

Wheland’s eyes were glued to Rooster’s mouth and the full lips he wanted desperately to suck between his teeth and taste.

What might you taste like, you sexy motherfucker?

Wheland cleared his throat and asked, “How about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow for what?” Rooster asked.

“Collaborating.”

Rooster didn’t answer him for a few seconds. Instead he was staring at Wheland, making Wheland wonder how weird he must be acting right now to have Rooster looking at him as if he were a science project or a curiosity. He needed to pull his shit together before Rooster decided to drive back to the Starlite Hotel and call it a night. The man might be safer at the hotel, but Wheland wanted Rooster to stay right where he was: beside him.

Finally Rooster nodded. “I could work with you tomorrow,” he said. “Do you think Alex would want to join us?”

“He’s on his honeymoon,” Wheland said.

“That crazy fucker got married?” Rooster asked with a chuckle. “No way!”

Wheland loved what the laughter did to Rooster’s eyes. “Yep, he married a girl... and a guy.”

“Seriously?”

“No joke,” Wheland said. “Since no state recognizes a tripod relationship as a legal union, they had a commitment ceremony out east a couple of days ago. I was Alex’s best man and the
other
groom had his friend Jayson act as his. My whole band was there, Dagger Drummund and his husband, Ryan, were also there; it was a regular Who’s Who in the music industry. It was one long week of celebrating.”

Rooster shook his head and smiled brightly. “I read something about Dagger getting married but I had no idea about Alex. I’m still shocked about that.”

“Alex finally found his perfect tripod,” Wheland said with an easy laugh.

“When did Dagger take the plunge?” Rooster asked.

“Dagger’s wedding was last New Year’s Eve,” Wheland said. “We were all at that one, too.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask about the rest of your band,” Rooster said. “Anyone else get married while I was away?”

“Well, not married, but Cooper is pretty serious about a guy he met last year,” Wheland said.

“Cooper is into dudes?” Rooster asked sitting up straight in his seat.

Wheland nodded. “Cooper has danced on both sides of the fence for all the years I’ve known him. He just hasn’t advertised it. But the guy Cooper is with now has been really good for him. I think he might finally be ready to settle down.”

“Jesus, I never would have guessed Cooper was gay,” Rooster said. He was quiet for a bit, then glanced at Wheland. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Wheland asked and a bolt of fear shot through him at the thought Rooster might be asking him about his sexuality.
How am I supposed to answer that?
On the one hand, he wanted to live his life with honesty. But on the other hand, he didn’t want to scare off Rooster.

“Are you serious with someone or still dodging that bullet?” Rooster asked.

“No, I’m not with anyone,” Wheland replied.

Wheland was visibly relieved by the clarification of Rooster’s question, but was also curious to know what Rooster might think if he knew which team on the field Wheland wanted to play for. But before he admitted to anything about himself, he wanted to get a better feel for what Rooster was comfortable with. The last thing he wanted was to run Rooster off simply because he wanted to pursue being with a man, possibly the very man he was sitting with in this room.

It was surely a long shot to think Rooster might want to be with him, but Wheland was definitely interested. He wouldn’t do anything to ruin a renewed friendship though, so unless he got a clear signal Rooster wanted more, Wheland would keep his interest to himself. If he couldn’t have Rooster in his bed, he still wanted him as friend and that was the bottom line.

“What
really
brought you back to L.A.? Work or a woman?” Wheland asked.

Rooster rubbed at his face and shrugged his shoulders. “I guess work,” Rooster said. “I was starting to miss the production end of the business.”

“Who are you trying to kid?” Wheland asked. “You were looking to get laid after living like Grizzly Adams up in the boonies all that time.”

“I didn’t need to move back to L.A. to get laid,” Rooster said. “But the... selection down here is far better than where I was living.”

“You mean hot L.A. chicks like Candy?” Wheland asked, reminding Rooster of their waitress from earlier.

Rooster burst out laughing and almost tipped over in his chair. “Fuck, no!”

“Oh, I don’t know about that, Roost. I saw the way you were eyeballing Candy,” Wheland said. “I think you wanted a slice of that pie.”

Rooster settled in is seat and his expression turned serious. “She’s not my type,” Rooster offered.

“And, what’s your type?” Wheland asked and rubbed at the stubble on his chin.

“Depends on my mood,” Rooster said.

Wheland nodded. “Okay, I’ve got an idea,” he said. “I missed the opening of a new club downtown while I was at Alex’s wedding. How about you and I go out tomorrow night and we’ll see if you can find someone your type.”

“I suppose we could do that,” Rooster said with a smile.

After a few more beers, Wheland finished showing Rooster the rest of the house and was working his way upstairs to the guest rooms. Both men were having trouble walking now. Rooster tripped on the last step and Wheland looped a muscled arm around Rooster’s waist to catch him. Rooster fell into Wheland’s chest and his forehead rolled into the bend of Wheland’s neck.