Chapter Five
“We need to move fast—it looks like a cold front is moving in. What do you think we should do with the dogs? I’m thinking I’ll lock Ulysses in the bedroom. That way they can’t get into trouble together.” Words tumbled out of Noah’s mouth like chunks of shale sliding down a cliff face. He never rambled like this. He wasn’t a nervous talker, but something about Adrian turned everything he knew about himself on edge, rearranged his truths.
“Sure. You okay?”
No. Resurrecting his memories about Sarah and that awful, hopeless period in his life had been a mistake. He still wasn’t sure why he’d answered Adrian, other than that Adrian’s kind eyes and nonjudgmental tone made him want to talk, and that was such an anomaly he had no idea what to do with these strange urges.
“I’m fine.” Noah finished shutting an unhappy Ulysses in the bedroom and headed for the door. “We can’t take long though. I’m not happy with that sky.”
Green River was a little dot on the map, a collection of large truck stops and small-town stores. Noah had pulled into the largest truck stop because there was ample parking for his RV in the huge lot, and a surprisingly robust pet aisle in the store. After quickly locating the electronics display, Adrian selected the cheapest replacement charger, then they made their way to the pet section. Picking something to keep Pixel warm took a bit longer. Noah grabbed a bag of small-dog chow while Adrian perused the dog jackets.
“This brand okay?” he asked Adrian, holding up the bag.
“That’s so sweet of you.” Adrian smiled like Noah had offered up flowers or something equally sappy.
“We can’t have him living on tuna.” Noah’s neck heated.
Adrian’s hand lingered on a red dog coat, then moved to a cheap knit thing with an awful orange and green argyle pattern. Noah reached around Adrian and dropped the red one in the cart. His arm brushed Adrian’s back and he was intensely aware of how close they stood, how warm Adrian was, how he smelled like the outdoors with an undertone of something fruity, how Adrian didn’t step away from the contact but instead bumped back against Noah’s touch.
“You’re too nice,” he said.
“The red is more practical,” Noah insisted. He was not sweet or nice or any of the other adjectives Adrian wanted to assign him.
“And it’s festive.” Adrian grinned. “He’ll look like a little elf. I love it.”
And Noah loved making Adrian smile like that far more than he should. He walked quickly to the checkout. They joined the line behind a harried family buying energy drinks and seven kinds of popcorn. Adrian kept glancing at the case with the iced coffee drinks.
“Which one do you want?” Noah asked.
“Nothing,” Adrian said, looking away. “I don’t need one.”
“This one?” Noah grabbed a vanilla one. “It’s a long drive. Get yourself a coffee. I don’t mind.”
“Okay,” Adrian said reluctantly. He exchanged the vanilla one for a mocha flavor, their fingers brushing.
Why, oh why, did Adrian’s touch have to affect him like this? Each little incidental contact felt like the scrape of a shovel against an artifact, the thrill of discovery racing through his veins.
Noah looked away, gaze landing on a display of chips. He grabbed the closest bag without really registering the flavor. “Get whatever you want,” he said, voice far gruffer than he’d intended.
“Yes, sir,” Adrian laughed. “You’re far too good to me, you know?”
Finally, it was their turn to pay. The cashier had more rings in her nose than in her ears and that was saying something.
“Nice hair,” she said to Adrian, fingering her own blue locks.
“Thanks,” Adrian said. “I like your gauges.”
Noah guessed that meant the odd open circles in the girl’s ear lobes.
“You guys are so cute,” the cashier said with a knowing smile as she took Noah’s debit card. “How long have you guys been together?”
Noah choked, air supply cut off by the rising panic in his insides. He coughed, trying to get a breath.
Adrian slapped him on the back, before turning to the cashier. “We’re just...friends.”
The cashier laughed and made a dismissive gesture with her black-tipped fingers. The pause before friends had doomed them—and Noah couldn’t blame Adrian for struggling to find a word. How exactly did you classify the guy you met yesterday but liked well enough to take an eight-hour drive with?
“Whatever. Still adorbs. Now that the court made it legal, my friends are getting married next month.” She said the last bit in a tone designed to inspire confidences, but Noah had shared quite enough for one day. As soon as she handed him the receipt, he grabbed their bags and strode back to the RV, not looking to see if Adrian was following.
“Hey. Hey!” Adrian caught up to him at the door. “Look, I’ll check my messages. Maybe it’ll turn out I don’t need the ride after all.”
Noah’s pulse was racing too fast to reply. Adrian opened the charger’s package, attached his phone, and plugged in to the RV’s port while Noah released poor Ulysses from prison and gave him a quick trot to the edge of the parking lot and back. Noah wasn’t sure what the heck he hoped for. Wouldn’t it be a relief if Trent turned up or some other solution took Adrian away?
No. A weird sensation of loss flooded Noah. He busied himself with putting away the snacks, trying not to watch as Adrian played with Pixel.
“See! Look what the nice man got you! Puppy chow! And a pretty new coat,” Adrian cooed. Damn. He was too cute.
No. Not cute. Noah shook his head, trying to chase the tender, warm feeling away.
“It’s not catching you know,” Adrian said, his voice back to usual. “The gay, I mean. The cashier only made that assumption because of me. Not you. Your ‘literary inclinations’ are safe.”
Oh God. That so wasn’t helping. The cashier’s reaction had not been because of how Adrian looked. That much Noah knew for certain. Her assumption had everything to do with them—how they were around each other, how he was around Adrian. His attraction for Adrian felt like a forehead tattoo, broadcasting his treacherous heart to anyone with half a brain.
“I’m not worried about catching anything,” he said truthfully. One couldn’t catch what one already had.
Adrian made a snorting noise and picked up his phone on the charger. “Heck. No voice-mail messages. I’m sorry. Do you want me to call my mom? I can. There’s a covered area by that coffee place right over there—” He pointed across the parking lot to a pink coffee house with a steel awning over some picnic tables. “I probably could wait there.”
“You are not waiting outside. It’s got to be down to thirty now.”
“True.” Adrian studied him, eyebrows raised and mouth quirked expectantly. Probably waiting for Noah to get himself together and stop freaking out over every little thing.
“I said I’d take you to Denver. I meant it.” Noah tried hard to get his voice back to normal, to quell the sense of panic that had chased him ever since he’d brushed against Adrian in the store. The silly clerk wasn’t the problem—the real issue was how Adrian made him feel and think. It was the tiny part of him that wouldn’t have minded if the girl had been right, like a shard of pottery leftover from some earlier, more idealistic era, completely divorced from the reality of Noah’s present.
* * *
Adrian made a terrible copilot. He hated being this helpless—completely dependent on Noah’s goodwill to get him to Denver. He’d feel better if Noah would let him drive, but that apparently wasn’t happening.
And neither was conversation. They got onto I-70, Noah’s face looking like he was heading east to battle, like the signs counting down to Grand Junction were mile markers of enduring Adrian’s loathsome presence. Okay, maybe that last bit wasn’t fair, but Noah hadn’t said anything since pulling out of Green River, and Adrian was going a bit nuts. At first, the novelty of having his phone back had been nice, but work emails got old really quickly. Wasn’t like he was available to solve any of the code fires people were complaining about, and this late on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, few other people were around to give a damn either. Next week, they’d start counting down to the next PAX conference and deciding on what they wanted to showcase, but this week was all about taking some downtime before the madness started back up again.
He couldn’t stand the quiet any longer and reached for the stereo.
“Mind if I turn on the radio?” he asked.
“Sure. It’s set to my iPod right now though. Let me disconnect, and you can do a seek for something you like.” Noah reached for the wires connecting his music player to the stereo.
“No, no.” Adrian stopped him. “I want to see what you listen to. In fact, let me guess...”
“You think I’m that predictable?”
“No, not at all.” Adrian grinned. Noah might not realize it, but they were sliding back into flirty territory. “Like I’m betting you listen to classical music, but not while you’re driving.”
“Not while working either, actually.” Noah sounded smug. It was cute. “I like quiet while working. White noise to drown out conversations outside my office is better than music.”
“I listen to techno and game soundtracks while I work for similar reasons. I can’t stand stuff with lyrics while I work.”
“Definitely no techno on there.” Noah was getting into the game, and a smile cracked his somber face. His eyes had a perpetual seriousness to them, an effect intensified by his regal nose and narrow features, but a smile completely transformed him, made him seem years younger and miles less stuffy.
“No country either, I’m betting. Or rather hoping.”
“No.” Noah mock shuddered. “No country.”
“Let’s see what you’ve got. If it’s too hideous, I’ll just have to hitch.” Noah flipped on the stereo, and the strains of “Faithfully” filled the cab. “Oooh. Classic rock. We’re going to get along just fine.”
He leaned back in his seat, dislodging Pixel, who’d been dozing with a full belly of the new chow. Pixel scrambled over the console and flopped down on the carpet in front of the couch, looking wistfully at the napping Ulysses.
“I don’t think he wants to play, boy,” Adrian said. Not unlike his owner.
“It’s more that he doesn’t know how. I got him when he wandered onto a dig site when I was in graduate school. He grew up around humans and barely met other dogs until he was grown and I ended up in Landview. He tolerates dog parks only as a means of getting ball time.”
“A real one-man dog, huh?” Adrian waited until Noah nodded before adding, “And ball obsessed. I can sympathize.”
Noah made a choking noise—something he seemed to do whenever Adrian slid in a little tame innuendo. So much better than silence. The music switched to a ballad he’d heard hundreds of times.
“This is an awesome retro playlist,” Adrian said, foot tapping out the refrain. “It reminds me of road trips with my dad. He always had on Billy Joel and Fleetwood Mac.”
“Great. Thanks for making me feel ancient. And old enough to be your dad.”
Adrian waited until Noah glanced over to give him a very thorough once-over. “Nope, not ancient. And I’m definitely not thinking of my dad now.”
“Behave.” Noah’s face flushed a deep, gratifying shade of pink. “I thought we said no—”
“Hey, you’re the one who went fishing for ego stroking, not me.”
“I did not. I don’t want...stroking.” Noah sounded prim as Adrian’s Aunt Tilda. Lord, he locked all his fun up so tight.
“Oh trust me, lots of you needs stroking.”
“No. Flirting.” Noah made a show of returning his attention to the crawling traffic in front of them. Even with holiday traffic, Adrian hadn’t expected the roads to be this bad. He bet there was an accident up ahead somewhere.
“Fine, but I’ve never met someone more in need of a little play.”
Noah made another outraged Hobbit noise.
Adorkable.
Adrian truly, absolutely was done with relationships. Especially long-distance relationships. And he’d never even touched a closeted guy, let alone one who’d locked his sexuality in a deep freeze labeled Literary Inclinations and Do Not Touch. But teasing was easy. And there was something absolutely addictive about riling up Noah.
Careful now. You’ll end up with a hopeless crush. Or on the side of the road, looking for a dog-friendly, non-serial-killer trucker to give you a lift.
“Is that a flurry?” Noah asked.
Adrian studied the chilly, rocky terrain on either side of the highway. The air did seem strangely misty. “Maybe.”
“Better start praying it’s not snow.” Noah’s voice was terse, but Adrian laughed as he flipped on the radio. The weather report predicted huge early snow for Cheyenne and the rest of the northern cities, but sounded like it would skip them. However, he’d grown up in Colorado and knew exactly what the ominous gray-blue clouds held. No amount of prayers would keep the coming snow at bay. He flipped the radio back off.
“This is a huge, heavy beast, though. Won’t we be fine in snow?”
“Hardly.” Noah sighed. “We’re not driving on snow tires. And if they call for chains, we’re out of luck—I’ve tried before and this is not a good vehicle for heavy snow. It turns into a slippery missile.”
“Damn. Okay. I’ll start sending go-away-snow thoughts. You do the praying thing a lot?” he asked, one eye on the already increasing flurries.
“You mean am I religious?” Noah asked. “I went to private Christian schools all the way through my doctorate and now I teach at one.”
“That doesn’t tell me anything about you. I want to know what you believe, not what’s on your resumé.”
“Curriculum Vitae.” Noah’s tone was all professorial as he clarified. “And as for your question, it’s...complicated.”
Traffic had slowed to a crawl—still no sign of an accident, but that was the only logical conclusion given the glacial pace.
“We’ve got nothing but time,” Adrian said, motioning at the cars in front of them.
“I’ve spent a lot of time wrestling with exactly what I believe,” Noah said, his tone reluctant. “I grew up in a very conservative household, and for years I simply believed what my folks believed. But the last few years, my beliefs have...evolved. God and my faith are fundamental to me, but I haven’t been able to find a spiritual home at any of the Landview churches.” He said the last bit like it was a big confession.
“I take it your work isn’t crazy about that?”
“We’re supposed to have an active and ongoing relationship with our faith, but so far no one’s said much to me about not having a church. And I’m still a believer, it’s just more...personal these days. How about you? Is your family religious?”
“Well, first off, my folks are divorced. My dad’s Jewish and my mom’s a lapsed Catholic, so I get both Hanukkah and the occasional trek to Midnight Mass at Christmas. But me personally?” He shrugged, seat belt pulling against his shoulder. “I’m a pretty open-minded guy, but I’m more into science.”
“You can be into both,” Noah said mildly, and Adrian remembered Noah’s profession.
“You’re a fascinating bundle of contradictions, Professor—oh wait, I don’t even know your last name!”
“Walters. And I’m not that big of a mystery.”
“Oh yeah?” Adrian was about to unleash more probing questions when the sky opened up, sending thick white flakes raining down on the road.
“Sorry. We better check the weather again.” Noah turned back to the radio, catching a local Grand Junction station.
“It’s a veritable blizzard on the way folks.” The announcer’s voice crackled. “If you’ve got holiday travel plans, you may need to change them. We’re looking at up to three feet by midnight, and more coming overnight. This may break a thirty-year-old Thanksgiving snow record for Colorado.”
“Oh heck.” Adrian let his head thump back against the seat.
“I’m going to need you to search on one of our phones for campgrounds close to the next few exits. Right off the interstate would be ideal.”
“Wait. What? We’re just giving up?” Adrian looked at the powder starting to stick to the cars in front of him.
“We need to start making alternative plans. The bad traffic isn’t the only issue. The roads are quickly getting unmanageable.”
“I haven’t done it in a long time, but I grew up driving on snow. You just go slow—”
Wobble. Wobble. It wasn’t a full-out skid but the rear of the vehicle gave a definite wiggle, and Noah dropped his speed to arthritic turtle.
“I’m sorry, Adrian. I know how much you wanted to be home tonight. We can keep checking on the roads and go as soon as it’s safe, but we need somewhere to hole up, and if we think ahead right now, we can avoid being trapped when the interstate becomes a big parking lot in an hour or so.”
Grandmother Gottlieb served her turkey promptly at noon. If this blizzard was as big as the folks on the radio were predicting, the chances of him getting a slice of her cherry rhubarb pie were dropping by the moment. His mother would serve her turkey at 5:30, and woe to the guy who missed both family dinners.
As if on cue, his phone made cuckoo clock noises, startling both dogs and the white-knuckled Noah.
“What the devil is that?” Noah demanded.
“My mother. I better answer. Mom?” he said into the phone.
“Adrian. Tell me you aren’t trapped behind this storm.”
“I’m not behind this storm,” he said carefully, watching the fat, white flakes pile up on one another.
“Adrian. Are you on I-70?”
“We’re just past Grand Junction. Traffic’s barely moving.”
“That’s because there’s a huge accident ahead of you. It’s on the news, and there’s talk of shutting down the interstate completely if this snow’s as bad as predicted.”
Adrian groaned.
“Honey. This is why I wanted you to fly. You’d be here already. You could be helping.”
“Pixel and I hate flying. And road trips are fun.”
“Well, now you have to make alternative plans. You do have a plan, right?”
God, his mother would love Noah—all plans and contingencies and looking ahead.
“I know you. You’re probably planning to keep going until the highway patrol says to stop, but Adrian, a bit of forethought wouldn’t hurt...” She rattled on, warming up to her main point of attack. “I knew driving in November was too risky. I would have happily paid for your ticket. And boarding for your dog.”
“I can get my own tickets, Mom.” Adrian sighed. Why did everyone insist on acting like he was some slacker on the verge of homelessness? Sure, the first year or two out of school had been lean, but since the game got funded, he was making more than enough.
“All right.” His mother didn’t sound convinced. “I’m just worried about you, honey. Of course, I want you here, but promise me you’re not going to take stupid risks.”
“I’m not going to take stupid risks. I think we’re going to find a campground at the next exit.”
“Oh good. That boyfriend of yours must be able to talk some sense in you.”
Yeah. About that...”Uh-huh.”
“Can I talk to him? I should thank him for taking such good care of you.”
With that, Adrian’s stomach landed somewhere around his so-not-a-boyfriend’s feet.