Chapter 3
Gordon
Just shake his hand. My hand refused to listen to my brain. The man sitting beside me scared me shitless. I couldn’t remember the last time I was afraid of anything that didn’t involve my kids and losing them. But here I was, sitting in a gay bar for the first time in my life and had just about run into the sexiest man I’d ever seen in Lacovia. After the fight I’d endured with Ollie tonight when he neglected to do his chores, I’d needed some distance between us. The gay bar was a relatively new addition to Lacovia, and I’d never been inside before. Not even out of curiosity and there had been times when I was plenty curious.
I never intended to talk to anyone, let alone have an instant hard-on from the crazy chatterbox beside me who had already paired us off for the night. Crazy much? I glanced at his drink. Or maybe drunk? His didn’t slur his speech when he spoke, so I doubted it was the latter.
“I’m Gordon.” Hearing my deep baritone, I startled. I didn’t intend to answer him, but now the damage was already done, and his smile grew even wider. I wondered what he would do if I shook the hand he still had outstretched? Get on top of the bar and start stripping? “Nice to meet you.” I gripped his hand, feeling the callouses on my palm against his smoother one.
“You’ve nice hands,” he said.
I pulled my hand away from his fast and scoffed. “They’re too rough.”
“From honest hard labor, I’m sure.”
The bartender returned with my unopened drink. He expertly removed the cap then moved on, giving the guy beside me one last look of longing. I didn’t fault him. My fake boyfriend was worth a second, heck, even a fifth look. He was the kind of guy you wouldn’t mind waking up to every morning. He was quite handsome with defined cheekbones and hazel eyes I avoided because they’d stunned me when I approached the bar. Being stunned for once throughout the night was good enough for me. It didn’t help that his accent was sexy as hell.
“Do you come here often?” Beau asked. Was he talking to me because he wanted to or to keep the horny bartender at bay? So much testosterone was in the room that I didn’t think this guy could be interested in me.
“My first time,” I admitted.
To give him credit, he tried not to let his surprise show, but his eyebrows went way up north. He raised his glass to his lips and my mouth dried up as I watched him swallow. I pulled my gaze away and gripped the bottle of Budweiser tighter. Thankfully my phone rang, distracting me. I retrieved it from my pocket and checked the number. Eric.
“Eric, what’s up?” I answered the call.
“Just checking up on you,” he replied. “I know you were livid earlier. How did things work out with Ollie?”
“He’s suspended.”
“Damn. But you brought him in. Why did they suspend him?”
“We were fifteen minutes late,” I answered, taking a swig of my beer, Beau temporarily forgotten. “They gave him three days and recommended he see a counselor.”
“The counselor might be a good idea. We have to get that boy of yours straightened out, Gordon.”
“I know.” I could feel the pressure building up in my temples again, thinking about Ollie. The boy had me twisted up inside with worry for him.
“Want me to drop by and have a go at talking to him?” he volunteered.
“You can try. I’m not sure how much that’ll help though. We had a fight again. I had to leave the house because I felt my patience running thin.”
“Where are you now? Want some company?”
“Umm,” I hesitated and remembered Beau then. He was pretending he wasn’t listening, but we were so close that even if Beau didn’t intend to, he could still hear my end of the conversation. “I’d rather be alone right now, but I’d appreciate you talking to him. He’s not listening to anything I’ve to say right now.”
“Okay. I’ll stop by on my way home.”
I hung up and was about to slide the phone back into my pocket when I saw my screensaver. It was a picture of the kids and me at the celebration in New Orleans, the day before it all went downhill. How could such a great time make such a tragic turn? The kids hadn’t wanted to go to New Orleans and had grumbled all the way there. I’d even wondered if I should take them after all, but sensing the tension in the family, I’d decided to stick to my guns and take them. They’d ended up having a spectacular time. I’d asked a random stranger to snap the shot of us with our faces painted, wearing ridiculous costumes. We all looked so happy in that photo.
I sucked in a deep breath, as panic rose in my chest. What if I never saw them this happy again? What if I never had the opportunity to connect with my son the way we did on that trip? I’d even trusted him enough to let him drive some of the miles back home, and without lecturing him about any mistake he made. Ever since he crashed his own car a year ago, I’d banned him from driving until he showed better responsibility and competence.
“Hey man, you okay?”
I stiffened at the hand Beau placed on my shoulder. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
He removed his hand, and I was left feeling bereft. “You sure? You know what they say about telling your secrets.”
I slipped my phone into my pocket. “No, I don’t.”
“The best person to tell your secrets is a stranger,” he explained with a shrug. “Think about it. You won’t see me again when you walk out of here.”
Hearing him say that brought a strange ache to my chest. Not seeing him again? He was the first man I’d ever had this slight flirtatious exchange with. Even though it felt a little disconcerting, I wasn’t all set to bolt through the exit like when I’d just stepped in.
“I don’t want to talk about secrets and stuff,” I remarked, taking another swig of my beer. Thinking about kids right now when I was trying to feel out this guy and my response to him, was not a good idea. Thoughts of them would only leave me depressed. What I was looking for was something to get me out of my depressing mood.
“What do you want to talk about then?” he asked.
“You,” I answered. “You sound like you’re from out of town.” His accent had to be responsible for some of this sexual appeal he was oozing.
He nodded. “I’m relatively new in town. Just been here for the last four months.”
I frowned at him. “I didn’t know people still left places to come to Lacovia.”
He chuckled, the low timbre having that dry-tongue effect on me again. “It’s not so bad. It has a little quirkiness that rubs off on you.”
“Probably explains why I haven’t left. It’s a perfect little place to raise a family too.”
“I get that.” He smirked, then pulled a face. “I want kids someday. Hopefully, the partner I find will be open to adopting them or us using a surrogate.”
“Because of course, you’re—”
“—gay,” he confirmed. “And while Lacovia isn’t exactly the land of the welcoming, it’s good to see others are here able to express their sexuality openly.”
“I see.”
“And you?” he asked.
“Me?” I stalled, not knowing how to answer. Of my thirty-eight years, I had only been in heterosexual relationships which amounted to two in total. I’d never kissed another man, never held one sexually either. There were times I wanted to. It was this longing inside me when I saw other gay men that made me aware of where my true passions lie. But did I dare explain it to him? How likely was I to run into him again? Not very.
“You’re not gay?” he prompted. “It would explain why you freaked out a little when I asked you to pretend we’re here together.”
“I didn’t freak out,” I replied. “I was simply surprised.” I couldn’t resist pointing at my face. “I know it’s hard to believe since you’re looking at this, but it’s not every day I get hit on as soon as I walk into a gay bar.”
His mouth formed a little O as though he was surprised by my statement. Then, his eyes crinkled at the corner, and he laughed. I felt my lips tugging upward but tried to contain it. Saying I was surprised at myself was an understatement. I couldn’t remember cracking a joke, let alone a good one since all my troubles with the kids started.
“Well, that’s a damn shame.” His grin was infectious, and I relaxed even more. “But I don’t mind being the first.”
Heat crept up in my cheeks. If he only knew how true his statement was. I stared at his lips, the bottom one fuller and a pinkish hue. I tried to expel the thought forming in my mind, but I’d denied myself for way too long. I imagined my lips settling on his, feeling his breath on my face, his hard chest against my own.
Fuck, I could feel my cock springing to life. I squirmed, hoping he hadn’t noticed.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he remarked, smirking. He at least had the decency to try and hide it behind the glass he brought to his lips.
I sighed. “I-I suppose I am.” I gauged his reaction, saw the interest in his eyes.
“That sounds like a loaded statement, like you’re not certain.”
“To be honest, sometimes I’m not so sure.” How could I be sure when I’d lived all my life as a part of a heterosexual couple?
He didn’t respond, and I was disappointed. My one chance at knowing where I stood, and maybe I had blown it. At times I would be confident about what and how I felt, but other times when I was scared shitless at how my life would drastically change, I wasn’t sure anymore. Maybe I was copping the easy way out by holding on to what I had known for so long, even if it wasn’t what I wanted.
Confused, I rose to my feet and reached into my pocket for my wallet. I needed to leave Beau alone and get some fresh air. I fished out some money from my wallet, waving the bartender over. I handed him the money, barely looking at Beau in my haste.
“Sorry, I’ve to go,” I mumbled. I laughed shakily and ran my fingers through my hair. “I just remembered that I’ve something to do.”
“Gordon—”
I couldn’t bear to hear what he had to say so I didn’t wait for him to finish his statement. Whatever he had to comment wouldn’t suddenly make me feel less confused anyway. I knew it was the fear talking. The fear of me not knowing what the future would hold as a gay man. Until I figured shit out, I had no business in places like these, chatting up good-looking men like Beau. Younger too. He couldn’t be older than twenty-eight. I was ten years older than the guy for fuck’s sake. I could at least try to find someone more my age.
I weaved my way through the tables, not stopping until I was outside. I gulped the night air into my lungs and relaxed. With slumped shoulders, I shuffled forward to find my truck. My life was over. I was thirty-eight. No way I could start over now when I had so much to deal with. I should just focus on my kids and hope things would get better for us all. I did know one thing though. I couldn’t be with another woman in my life. It wasn’t that I’d hated living with Barbara. She had her time when she made a great companion. The first decade of our marriage hadn’t been horrible. It really hadn’t. It was later, as the years passed that I started to acknowledge I wasn’t able to keep up the pretense for much longer. I’d tried to live through it though for our kids’ sake.
At my truck, I fished the keys out of the front pocket of my jeans and inserted it in the keyhole.
“Gordon.”
Surprised at the sexy accent that was growing on me, I spun around. Beau was standing a few feet away from me. I’d gotten a load of him sitting at the bar but now he was standing, I was even more attracted to him. His pants molded to the muscles in his thighs and I gathered a hint of a great physique beneath his shirt.
“What are you doing out here?” I asked him.
“I came after you,” he replied, the left corner of his mouth hitching upwards in an attractive manner. I wanted to kiss him. I released the key still in the door and pushed my hands into the front of my pockets to stop myself reaching out for him. My eyes flickered around us to check if anyone within proximity saw us. A few people walked by, in and out of the club but nobody could care less about us. Plus, my truck was parked in the shadows since I hadn’t wanted anyone to recognize it at the gay club.
“Don’t you want to know why?” he pressed.
His eyes said why. Full of heat and boring into my own, it was clear he was as attracted to me as I was to him. He wanted me, and the realization made me weak in the knees. I wanted to run, to jump in my truck and drive away. I clenched my hands in my jeans and stayed put. I was fighting against my fear of the unknown, lured by the promise of pleasure to come with self-discovery.
“Why?” the word slipped from my lips.
“I wanted to ask you something.” He paused and closed the distance between us, his long legs eating up the distance. He stopped just in front of me, claiming my personal space and scrambling my thoughts. “Do you want to know?” he asked, raising a hand to place carefully on my chest, just over my heart. “Do you want to know for sure where you stand?” His voice lowered, but I heard every single word. “Will you come home with me and let me help you discover yourself?”
My breathing turned harsh, audible to both our ears. My heart galloped in my chest, not only racing but thumping like crazy. There was no way he didn’t feel it with his hand on my chest. I was embarrassed that he could feel how much he affected me, but he wasn’t bothered in the least. He stood patiently, waiting as the seconds then minutes ticked by. I appreciated his wait as I let his question and the meaning behind it sink in. If I made the wrong choice tonight, I might never be able to recover.