Page 92 of Refraction

Yeah, that was beautiful. You could do that when you were a bronze god. When you were a New York model whose skin hadn’t seen the sun in ten years? Not so much. He took off at a jog and let Tucker catch up when he wanted to.

Back in the air-conditioning, he set the paintings down and went to the kitchen for more water.

Tucker wandered in, wearing flip-flops and nothing else, and started laundry.

“Can you do a handstand?” Tucker asked.

Could he… what? Tucker was so funny. There was some train of thought there, he was sure, but he’d never be able to follow it. “Free-form? No. Or, well, I haven’t really tried in years. Against a wall? No problem.”

He found a section of wall and tumbled forward into a handstand, touching his heels to it for balance. “How’s that?” The blood rushed to his head pretty dramatically. He’d forgotten about that part.

“Oh my God! You can!” Tucker applauded wildly. “You just did it! I want to try.”

“Really?” Tucker doing a handstand. Huh. He flipped his legs back down and stood up slowly. “Woo. Head rush.” He fixed his hair, not that he needed to do much more than smooth it back. He hadn’t done his hair since he got here. He was letting everything relax.

Was it safe? “You’re pretty buff in the shoulders… you have decent balance….” Had to be all that woodworking and wall-building, because Tucker didn’t use the free weights in the other room. What did Tucker call that room? “Can you do a cartwheel? You kind of go down and kick up like that, only pull your feet together. I’ll spot you. You’ll feel like you’re gonna go over backwards, but you can’t—wall.”

“Right. I do them in the pool. I can walk the whole length of the pool on my hands.” Tucker looked, then bent over and slowly put one leg up.

Hmm. Well, that was going to be tough. “It’s easier with momentum, but… can you push off with the one leg and—”

Whoa. He caught the second leg by the calf and just guided Tucker’s feet to the wall. The man was obviously way stronger than Calvin had given him credit for. “Okay, then. You’re up!”

“I am! Do you think I can walk?”

“Not without hurting something important.” It seemed more likely than he’d have thought a minute ago, but he really didn’t feel like a trip to the emergency room today. “Leave that for the pool. If you fall you’ll probably take us both out. Come down and make yourself that drink.”

“Yeah.”

Jesus. Look at those abs. That was no fair. No fair that Tucker could just… it was damn hot, though.

“You are a stud. You know that? I mean, of course you know that. I’m just letting you know that I’m appreciative of the fact. The whole naked and upside down thing was kind of doing it for me too.” He grinned, watching Tucker roll gracefully out of the handstand. The next two lies and a truth might be one lie, one truth, and one feat of naked acrobatics. Damn.

“Given that you’re the hottest son of a bitch on earth, that’s pretty damn cool.”

He laughed. “We are certainly each other’s number one fans, right?” He walked past Tucker, dragging his hand across that tight, muscled middle as he went by.

“That’s how it’s supposed to work.” Tucker caught sight of one of the paintings hanging in the house. “That’s lovely there in the sun.”

“Oh! Yes. Let me show you.” He slipped his hand into Tucker’s and led him out into the house.

“Okay, so there’s that one that I really hope won’t fade there, but the sun lit it so nicely, and the colors kept changing as the sun got higher in the sky. And then….” He pulled Tucker over to two more paintings, both nearly identical except for a few details, and one was much larger than the other. “These two I put here on the other side. They look great together.”

Those were the only paintings he’d hung so far. It had taken him a while to figure out how he wanted to display them. The only other painting he’d hung was one very small one Tucker would recognize. “Come here.”

He led Tucker all the way back through the house and stopped at an angled wall outside the master bedroom. He’d hungHopehere, where it could be seen through the door from the bed. “I thought you should have it back now that we’re together here.”

Tucker reached out, stroked the painting, a smile on his lips. “It’s perfect. This is perfect.”

“You like it here? That makes me happy.” He’d been nervous about it. You never could tell with creative people. Tucker could have looked at it and hated it or something. He leaned up and kissed Tucker’s chin through those wonderful whiskers.

“I like it.” Tucker took another kiss. “I like you. Here. Us.”

It didn’t get any better. He was sure of it. “Yep. Me too.” He pulled Tucker back into the kitchen. “Limeade. Before you shrivel up. I’ve got those few more pictures I want to hang, and then I thought maybe I’d take my stuff out of my suitcase and hang it up, put it in the dresser you told me to use. Finally.” He gave his stud of a lover a little shove farther into the kitchen and went after the biggest of the paintings.

“You want one, or you just want a sip of mine?”

“I’m good. I’ve got water. Thank you.” He could tell Tucker wanted him to share, but he was picking his cheats, and straight-up sugar was a total no. He would start using the weights, but he’d have to run in the middle of the night not to die of heat, and he had better things—tigers—to do at that hour. He could maybe jump rope in the barn.

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