Page 35 of Missile Tow
He placed his hand on my bare torso, outlining my abs with his fingers. I was instantly stiff again. “These are how I know you rarely eat sugar.”
I studied him intently, my eyes dancing back and forth from each perfect detail of his face. Van was able to maintain eye contact without seeming flustered or uncomfortable, while I stared at him from inches away. His fingers continued to exploremy stomach. There was a familiarity about his actions and the way he was at ease around me that I found stimulating.
I wanted to know everything about him. And I instinctively knew he wouldn’t hide details from me. He’d been quite open and communicative so far. I’d found the quality rare these days.
“You’re quite open, aren’t you?” I asked. He smiled. “I sense you’re naturally a people person.”
“That’s a nice thing to say, mister.”
I loved how he addressed me as ‘mister.’ I wasn’t sure why, but it hit me squarely in the heart every time he said the word. I wondered why what had happened the previous night wasn’t freaking me out. And I didn’t have the feeling I wanted him to leave, or worried he’d overstay his welcome.
“I like you,” I whispered, unsure how I’d allowed the admission to be vocalized. “Pooch likes you, too,” I added, needing to keep the confession light by adding my dog so as not to expose my raw feelings too quickly.
His fingers traveled up my stomach and between my pecs until he held my chin in his hand. “I like you too,” he said. “And thank you for inviting me to stay with you last night. And of course, with Pooch too.”
The yearning to reveal more of my overwhelming feelings to Van was hard to squash. His body language and the way he held himself were extremely attractive. Of course, he was maddeningly handsome, with a body to die for, but his mannerisms were what had me spellbound.
“You’re welcome,” I said.
After a few seconds had passed, he let go of my chin and turned back to the kitchen sink. His shoulders were broad, with well-defined lats. It took all my willpower not to plant my lips on the muscular outline of his spine, just between his shoulder blades.
He continued gazing out the window at the white landscape beyond before sighing deeply. I sensed regret in the slow exhalation of breath. “I suppose we should see if the roads are passable yet,” he said.
The quiet way he spoke touched me. There was a sadness in his voice I recognized all too well. Loneliness was what I heard. Like me, I assumed he enjoyed our shared time and hated the thought that, as strangers, reality would force us to face the lives we had twelve hours prior. A sad certainty that something good was ending too soon.
“The roads won’t be plowed by the county today,” I stated. “On Friday, the news said at least another six or more inches are expected throughout today, and maybe even into Sunday.”
“Oh,” he whispered, still watching the snowfall through the frosty window. “Is that going to be an issue for you? I mean… should we try to see if my SUV can make it to the highway?”
“You probably shouldn’t risk it,” I advised. “I know these roads better than you do, and I’d worry if you tried to get to Missoula in these conditions.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, unexpectedly unwilling to turn around and talk to me face-to-face.
I slid my hands around his waist, interlocking my fingers against his lean tummy. I knew the move would be intimate, but I placed my chin on his shoulder anyway. I knew he felt he was intruding, and I didn’t want him to feel that way.
We watched the winter wonderland in my backyard for several more moments until he joined his hands with mine. The gesture was heartwarming, so I broke the silence, wanting to soothe any concerns he might have about staying with me longer.
“I’d feel way better if you stayed right here with me and Pooch.”
There was an unspoken connection I felt when his hands squeezed mine. Tenderness and a desire to care for this man invaded my heart. Van’s softness, yetvery maleboyishness, fascinated me. Both strength and vulnerability emanated from him. He was warm and outgoing, while also seeming to need assurance.
How I knew that about him was impossible to say. Perhaps I saw myself in his approach to people. I sensed he was a man, like me, who hated to be seen as someone else’s problem. Unfortunately, there was no way he could know he’d met a man with a very receptive heart. I understood that my ability to resist traits I adored could become a difficult proposition with him.
“We’ll check the roads tomorrow?” he asked.
“We can check the roads tomorrow,” I assured. “When I deem them safe, I’ll let you go.”
He turned around and gazed into my eyes. His were glassy. I’d said something he’d responded to. I suspected it was showing him care and concern for his safety that touched him. My ability to recognize a need in others had been my gift since I was a boy. The skill to identify—and solve—the needs of people I cared for came naturally to me. An innate need to protect and care for my partner would always be my life’s blood.
“Okay. If you think that’s best,” he agreed, laying his hand on my chest. “Now, about those eggs I mentioned earlier. You still up for them?”
For some impulsive reason, I repositioned his hand to cover my heart. “Wehave potatoes too.”
“Wedo, dowe?”he laughed. “I suppose extra butter in the frying pan is a must?”
“How’d you know?” I whispered.
“Instinct, mister,” he replied.
