Page 6 of Not Even A Mouse
Just a stranger
Andy
Andy woke in a bed that had always seemed just slightly too small for two broad-shouldered men to sleepeasily,unless they were cuddlers. Which he’d never been, not even in the first exhilarating rush of a new relationship. Certainly not with a casual hookup, or even one of the rare repeats he’d had over the years. But, something he’d discoveredabout himself last nightwashecouldbe—with the right man. He’d drifted up from his doze a couple of times to find himself wrapped around the biker in his bed like he was Andy’s own personal snuggle bunny. The temperature in the house had been a little too warm—thermostat set for solo sleeping—and instead of moving apart, they’d quickly abandoned the blanket, keeping just the thin sheet. A movethat proved to be chilly now that he was alone in the bed.
Alone.
His eyes opened a slit tosee lightcreeping in around the blinds.
Well, hell.
Still hoping, he reached out, his palm encountering only cool, entirely rumpled sheets.Fuck.
It shouldn’t have been a surprise that the apparently closeted biker abandoned his bed during the night. Andy had met enough of the Rebel Wayfarers membersthat when he’d caught what looked like curiosity in the man’s eyes, he’d assumed his radar had gone wonky at first.
He remembered the first night the woman Bexley had come in. She was the sole reason the sleepy neighborhood bar had acquired new clientele. The sudden appearance of a massive, badly-scarred-but-still-badass-looking biker had been startling as he’d swept her up and out of the bar.It had been only minutes later that Andy had gotten the full story from the kitchen staff, which meant he hadn’t put up any kind of fuss when two more burly bikers showed to drag the scumbag who had tried to drug her out the back door of the bar. A few days later she’d showed again, looking none the worse for wear, and her biker he-man had not only asked Andy to watch out forher,but clearlymade the same request of his friends. These days it was like clockwork: if Bexley showed, he was guaranteed at least one biker coming in as well, their focus always on her.
Until last night.
Late summer, a lot of the locals were away at lake houses or on vacation, which meant his night had started slow. Stools and seats had gradually filled with regulars, including Bexley, which Andy had knownmeant the appearance of one of her leather-clad cavalry was imminent. He stuck to what he did best, joking and serving drinks, and tried unsuccessfully to shake off the slow night blues. Then, oh then, he caught his first sight of a brand-new, shiny biker dude at a two-top in the corner.
The biker must have slipped in when he wasn’t looking and by the time Andy saw him had focused on his phone,firm chin tilted down, tousled hair angled across his face. Even without looking up he made an impression. A very good one. So, the first time Andy waited on a nearby table he’d paused, stepped close and asked if the guy needed anything.Tell me you want me, baby. It had been a no-go with that wish, but there remainedsomethingthat drew Andy in.
Everything about the wiry man was memorable. Notjust how appealing he looked in his vest or jeans, although those pants had looked like they fitverywell. Every time Andy had turned from ringing up a new sale on the register to sweep the crowd with his gaze, checking levels of bottles and glasses, the biker at the tiny table in the back had been staring at him. Not glaring, although Andy was accustomed to some of that, men who seemed personallyoffended that he wasn’t shy about batting for the other team. No, Andy had become convinced the luscious and lickable biker had been staring at him with interest. There was just…a presence about him.
Myron, the patch on his vest had read, and the name fit who he seemed to be. Slightly stuffy, but definitely a name that begged to be whispered during a kiss.
Lying alone in bed Andy murmured itagain, feeling his lips pursing with the sounds. “Myron.”
He pressed the heels of his hands to his forehead before rolling to the edge of the bed. Sitting there, he could hear tiny noises that signaled movement in the house. Andy shook his head. Talya was normally so good about staying in her room until he’d gotten up. Glancing at his phone, he saw it was early yet and sighed as he pushed upfrom the bed. Myron clearly hadn’t hung around long, and Andy’s eyes felt full of gravel on only three hours of sleep.
The closer he got to the kitchen, however, the less certain he was that Myron had actually made it out of the house. Sure enough, when he peeked around the corner, there stood the tough-looking biker, hair adorably mussed, with powdered sugar smeared along the edge of his stubble-roughjaw. Natalya was poised on her stepstool next to him, hands steadying the bowl as Myron dipped a cup of batter to pour in a careful circle on the griddle.
“Good job, mister man.” Talya’s praise madeMyron’slips quirk in a lopsidedgrin,and Andy stepped out, losing Talya’s next question in his rush to make sure this was real. This gorgeous man truly was standing in his kitchen after he’d expectedto never have this again, calling his little girl “sweetness” simply because she was.
The next few minutes were exciting and mundane in the same breath. There were no awkward morning-after jitters in his belly, and Andy let himself lean close, capturing Myron’s lips in a chaste kiss in a moment while Talya was otherwise occupied. He kept her busy with setting thetableand then organized theirtrek to the dining room. It was almost surreal, the happiness it gave him to watch Myron move through his house, the biker doing it with a level of comfort Andy found addicting.
He tried tostay inthe moment, not wanting to read too much into the whole encounter.Still…it was hard because he wanted this, craved more of thequietlyshy man he had met last night, and desired at least one moretaste of the sweet lover he’d discovered lay under the denim and leather.
He wanted…more.
***
Myron
Andy smiled as he pulled out the seat at the head of thetablewhile Talya moved towards what looked to be her usual chair, booster seat strapped tightly in place. Myron reached for the chair to Andy's right. This would place their little group of three clustered around one end of the table,allowing for easy conversation. Something Myron found himself very much looking forward to.
Then tiny Talya looked up at him, wide eyes swimming with tears as her face fell, pain and sadness suffusing her features. “That's Daddy's chair.” Myron froze and lookedtoAndy who was staring at Talya, a matching mask of pain stretching across his face, distorting the smile he’d worn all morning andturning ittoa twisted grimace.
Myron glanced around the room, seeing pictures he’d ignored earlier, candid photos of a smiling Andy standing next to a handsome man in a suit who was tall and lean, astrongarm wrapped possessively around Andy. A younger Talya was balanced on one of Andy’s hips, her hands on the other man’s face, pulling him around to face the camera.Daddy. Andy had a man,that’s why they’d fucked in the guest bedroom and not the master.Can’t have the sheets smelling like a stranger when Daddy got home.
Andy hadn’t argued when Myron found an immediate and pressing need to leave, following him to the door with downcast eyes. A whispered, “I’m sorry,” the only thing said between them. The,I can’t do thisremained unspoken. Nothing else needed to be said. Myronwas sorry too.
