Hide Out (5 page)

“Excuse me,” she snapped, her voice chilly. They both jumped and Pete released his hold, stepping over to the cart and shifting it over to allow the woman through.

“Disgusting,” she muttered when she was barely within earshot. Stiffening, Trevor moved to go after her but Pete caught his arm. His grip was light but just the touch held Trevor still. A little annoyed he was so easy to control, so
willing
to be controlled, Trevor shook off the hand holding his arm.

“Guess we can’t expect everyone in Honeysuckle to be like Cindy,” Pete said under his breath, smiling wryly at Trevor. “
Hoped
they’d be but I guess not.”

Trevor couldn’t smile back. It appeared Pete was completely unmoved by the kiss. As he’d said, it’d just been a show for the deli guy. The heat that had lit Pete’s eyes a short while ago, the heat that had given him hope, had been an illusion, an invention of Trevor’s love-hungry mind.

“You okay?” Pete asked.

Shrugging, Trevor grabbed the grocery cart and began pushing it down the aisle.

“Why wouldn’t I be? C’mon, we’d better finish and get out of here before that woman brings friends with pitchforks and torches.”

* * * * *

“So what’s first?”

Looking up from the grocery bag he was emptying, Pete eyed him quizzically.

“What?”

“For the house,” Trevor elaborated. “What’ll you fix first?”

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Hide Out

“The basics on the bedrooms, I think,” Pete answered slowly, looking around as he spoke. He hadn’t really had the time to plan it out yet. The kitchen needed a makeover but everything was more or less functional, so that could wait. “Get the floors refinished and paint the walls, so we can get some beds in there.”

Trevor nodded without making eye contact as he stacked cans in one of the cupboards. “You know what you’re doing?”

“Sure.” Pete put the milk into the refrigerator. “My dad is a contractor. I worked for him every summer since I was old enough not to nail my hand to a floor joist until…”

“Until?” Trevor prompted when Pete trailed off.

“Um, until I got a d-different summer job in college,” he finished, staring at the carton of eggs he held.

Trevor looked at him. “Trying to cook those with your eye laser beams?” he finally asked when the silence had stretched out for several seconds.

“Hmm?” Pete blinked, shook his head and stuck the eggs into the fridge. He frowned. It’d been years since he’d thought about that miserable summer between his sophomore and junior years in college.

“Never mind,” Trevor said, fiddling with an apple. “Could I… I mean, I could help, if you want.”

“Good thing you volunteered,” Pete told him, grinning. “I would’ve drafted you otherwise.”

“Either way, I’m your slave, huh?” As if he’d just realized what had escaped his mouth, Trevor flushed and turned his head to the side.

With the image of Trevor as his obedient sex slave, it took several deep breaths before Pete could speak again. Even then, his voice sounded rusty. “Looks like it.”

They put away the rest of the groceries in silence.

* * * * *

“I think we need to make a list.” Pete turned a circle in the bedroom where he’d tossed his sleeping bag.

“Of?” Trevor slouched in the doorway, his hands jammed in his pockets. Grinning, Pete raised an eyebrow. “Practicing to be a Gap model?”

Trevor flipped him off.

Ripping his eyes away from the sulky, golden temptation, Pete tried to focus. “A list of what we need to get. I have my basic tools but we’ll need to rent a drum sander and a buffer. Oh and I’ll need to buy some wood putty.”

“Plates,” Trevor added. “Pans, glasses, silverware, shower curtain, beer…”

As he patted his empty pockets, Pete made a face. “Paper for lists.”

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Katie Allen

With a snort of laughter, Trevor pushed away from the wall. “Let’s just go. We’ll grab things as we see them. Does this shit town have a home-supply store?” At Pete’s incredulous look, he sighed. “Right. Stupid question.”

“Actually, there’s one about fifteen miles north in Benson, right next to a Target,”

Pete told him, looking around one last time. “We’ll need some sort of window coverings.”

Examining the tip of his shoe, Trevor muttered, “Can’t have the neighbors watching our wild orgies.”

“Or our lack of them,” Pete said, staring out the uncovered window. “These windows need replacing too.” He shook himself and headed toward where Trevor blocked the door. “Okay, let’s go,” he ordered, giving Trevor a small push. “We won’t get anything done staring at the walls.”

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Hide Out

Chapter Three

As he stepped out the front door, Pete stopped and swore.

“What?” Trevor asked from behind him.

“Forgot about the porch,” he grumbled.

“That’s ’cause you weren’t the one who fell through it.”

Pete shot an annoyed look over his shoulder. “Did you think it was a good idea to put all your weight on the spot right next to where a
suitcase
fell through the floor?

“Are you calling me fat?” Trevor asked with mock-offense. Running an eye up and down the muscled body in question, Pete smirked. “Well, you
are
a little—”

“Don’t say it,” Trevor interrupted, his eyes narrowed.

“What?” Widening his eyes in pretend innocence, Pete casually moved away from the other man. “Chubby? Curvy? Rubenesque?”

Trevor lunged for him and Pete ran, hurdling the porch and any suspicious board that might give under his weight. Trevor was close behind and caught him within half a dozen strides, snaking an arm around Pete’s waist and jerking him back against him. Although Pete had a couple of inches on the other man and was just as well muscled, he let himself be pulled against Trevor’s chest. After all, he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“I don’t know,” Trevor was saying as his hand ran over Pete’s stomach, making the muscles ripple beneath his touch. “It’s feeling a little squishy here. Maybe a little breaddoughy. Should I poke it and make you giggle?”

“Only if you want to die.” Pete had tried for a threatening tone but the words emerged more breathy than anything. He rolled his eyes at his own lack of coolness.

“What’s with the death threats?” Trevor murmured next to his ear. “Aren’t you supposed to be my protector?” His hand was still moving, stroking lower. Pete caught it with his.

“Where’re you going with that?” Although his voice was a warning growl, his hips had a life of their own, pressing back against Trevor’s groin. He heard a catch of breath behind him.

“Oh! I’m sorry to interrupt…”

Pete jumped, jerked out of the oddly sensual moment by a woman’s voice. He pulled away and Trevor let him go. The woman was small with light brown hair and pale blue eyes that darted around when she talked, never settling directly on them. Pete recognized her as the hedge-trimming neighbor from earlier. 29

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“I don’t mean to intrude but I brought some things, just a few things, I made them myself but if you’re on one of those low-carb or gluten-free or whatever diets then you don’t need to eat one just to make me feel better,” she said, stumbling over her words as if they were coming out of her mouth too fast to organize. The woman shoved a plate of cookies at them.

“Thank you…” Pete cocked an eyebrow at her and she flushed.

“Oh…right, sorry,” she babbled. “I’m Marsha Hayes. Yes, that would be like

‘Marsha, Marsha, Marsha!’ from
The Brady Bunch
. I’ve heard that quite a bit.”

Pete smiled. She made
him
feel composed, and this was only seconds after Trevor’s hands were just inches from his crotch. “Thank you, Marsha,” he told her, accepting the plate. “I’m Pete and this is Joey.” He waved a hand toward Trevor, who was already foraging beneath the plastic wrap for one of the cookies.

“You made these?” Trevor mumbled around the edges of a bite. She nodded, her eyes huge as she stared at him. “I got the recipe from the Honeysuckle Lutheran Church’s cookbook. Normally I get all my recipes from the internet but I thought welcome cookies should come from the town’s cookbook, don’t you think?” She flushed, dropping her eyes. “Oh, and you two don’t care about stupid recipes, do you? I’ll just shut up now.”

Somehow, Pete doubted that.

“They’re really good,” Trevor told her, snagging another couple cookies from the plate. “Thank you.”

She colored again but from pleasure this time. “No, thank
you
! I’m so glad to have a neighbor again. This house has sat empty for so long, just falling down around its own ears. Marty next door and I take turns mowing the lawn so it doesn’t look like it’s empty because I’ve heard that attracts thieves and delinquents, so it will be nice to not have to do that anymore.”

Catching a laugh before it could escape, Pete changed it into a cough. “Thank you. We have our work cut out for us.” He waved at the porch.

“Yes, I almost came over this morning when Joey crashed through,” she admitted.

“He seemed fine though and you helped him out and then you seemed to be having a private moment, so I didn’t want to interrupt but then here I am interrupting anyway.”

Pete and Trevor just blinked at her.

“I hope you don’t think I’m being…inappropriate or anything,” Marsha continued,

“but we’re really happy you’re here. I mean, not everyone, of course, but most of us just couldn’t be happier. Not just that you’re fixing up this old place but that the two of you felt you could live here comfortably. I think you’ll find Honeysuckle to be a very accepting town. Would you like to come over to a barbeque tomorrow night?” She switched topics with barely a breath between them.

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Hide Out

Stealing a glance at Trevor, Pete saw he was looking a little panicky. There’d be no conversational help there. “Sure,” Pete agreed, although he winced inwardly. “We’d love that.” He had to restrain a yelp as Trevor pinched his ass—hard. Marsha beamed. “It’ll start at six. You won’t need to bring a thing—there’s always loads of food. I should let you go so you can go wherever you were heading. I’m so glad you’re my new neighbors. Bye now!” With a final wave, she headed back over to her yard.

“Fuck,” Trevor breathed.

Pete slapped the other man on the ass sharply with his free hand.

“Fuck!” This time it was a lot louder. “What was that for?”

“You
pinched
me!” Pete accused.

“You said we’d go to a fucking picnic!”

“Barbeque,” he corrected. “And keep your voice down.”

“I don’t give a shit if it’s a fucking Satan-worshipping, fire-dancing, naked hoedown,” Trevor hissed. “When I agreed to this protection deal, nothing was said about getting friendly with the Honeysucklers!”

“We need to blend in,” Pete told him.

Trevor gave a short laugh. “Right. The only openly gay couple in this pissant town. We blend right in.”

“You,” Pete said, holding the cookies away from his body to keep them from being crushed as he wrapped an arm around Trevor’s waist and jerked him in close, “need to suck it up.” His eyes dropped to Trevor’s mouth, so temptingly close. Trevor’s tongue darted out to dampen his lower lip and Pete felt the wet tickle against his own mouth all the way down to his swelling cock.

“I don’t think anyone’s watching,” Trevor murmured, his eyes fixed on Pete’s parted lips.

“Good,” Pete murmured before jerking back as he realized what Trevor was saying.

“I mean, right. What’s the point then?” Taking a deep, shaky breath, he released Trevor and stepped back. “Better get going.”

He turned and walked toward his truck, mentally swearing at himself. This wasn’t a carefree vacation where he could get to know his boyfriend better. As he climbed into the driver’s seat of the pickup and balanced the plate of cookies on the center console, Pete watched Trevor circle the front of the truck. The scowl was back. Frowning, Pete drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. He might not have the most experience but it seemed to him Trevor was either a natural for undercover work or he was attracted to Pete.

Trevor climbed into the passenger seat and slammed the door. “Well?” he demanded when Pete just sat there, eyeing the other man. “We going to go or what?”

Pete opened his mouth to ask, “Are you gay?” but the words froze in his throat. What if Trevor said no? How uncomfortable would that be? Even worse would be if he 31

Katie Allen

said yes. All those possibilities that would open up if Trevor was gay were better off kept stuffed in the back of the closet.

“You okay?” Trevor asked, looking closely at him.

Pete started the truck. “Sure.” He would be. He just had to get these too-tempting daydreams out of his head.

* * * * *

By the time they were driving home from their shopping trip, Pete had his lust under control. He also had a clearer plan of action worked out for the house. He’d fix the porch first. The upstairs floors could wait—they weren’t trying to kill anyone. He glanced over at Trevor and snapped, “What are you doing?”

“Checking my e-mail.” Trevor looked up from his phone, his eyebrows drawn together.

“Turn that off!” Pete reached for the phone, only to have Trevor hold it out to the side. “Don’t you know how easy it is to track someone by their cell phone?”

“Sorry,” Trevor huffed, holding down a button and powering the phone down.

“When we get home, you need to mail that to Detective McDonald at the station,”

Pete told him. “He’ll hang on to it until you get back.”

“But—”

Cutting him off with a glare, Pete repeated, “You’re sending it back. There’s a fucking GPS chip in that thing!”

Trevor shot him a glare. “Fine.”

There was silence for a few minutes before Pete spoke again. “I brought my laptop. You can check your e-mail on that when we get back to the house if you like.”

“Whatever,” Trevor grumbled.

Pete’s knuckles whitened as his hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I’m not yelling at you for fun. I can’t keep you safe if you do stupid shit like that.”