Where the Allegheny Meets the Monongahela (20 page)

fifteen to twenty minutes congratulating the students and the instructor

before rushing back to North Hills. Nick grabbed a bag off the

passenger seat and jogged up the steps.

When he entered the shop, the class was already in full swing,

though the festive atmosphere bespoke more of a party than a learning

module. The girls were in a small knot, Tish in the center, obviously

holding court. Nick‘s eyes immediately sought out Logan. He was

standing slightly aside, looking as happy and relaxed as Nick had seen

him since Kennywood.

Nick cleared his throat theatrically to get the group‘s attention,

and Logan‘s smiling eyes found his. Maybe it was because he needed

to believe it right then, but Nick could have sworn the smile deepened

before being covered by a grease-stained hand.

Tish looked up and hooted, ―Well, look who‘s decided to grace us

with his royal presence.‖

Putting on a relaxed front, Nick shot back, ―Yeah, I can see I was

holding up the class. What‘s up?‖

―Me!‖ Tish laughed. ―You‘re looking at Dish‘s newest waitress,

that‘s what‘s up.‖

―That‘s great news.‖ Nick held the bag aloft, saying, ―How

fortunate that I brought presents.‖

Tish‘s dark eyes sparkled. ―For me?‖

―For all three of you.‖

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The women rushed to him, demanding to know what the gifts

were, and Nick quickly handed each one a small, slim, silver rod.

Norah and Cheryl thanked him immediately, though they sounded

slightly puzzled; Tish stared at the gift for a few seconds before saying,

―You shouldn‘t have.‖ She looked at Nick while emphasizing,

"
Really
.‖

―They‘re digital tire pressure gauges,‖ Nick explained.

Logan eyed the presents and nodded approvingly at Nick,

offering, ―Damn nice ones, too.‖

There seemed to be more he wanted to say, but nothing else was

forthcoming, so Nick said, ―I‘m sorry I‘m late. Got caught up at work.

And I can‘t stay long either; I got….‖ Nick had long since wearied of

expressions of sympathy veering into pity about his mom; besides, he

rationalized that bad news would put a damper on the occasion, so he

finished, ―My mom‘s got a doctor‘s appointment this afternoon.‖

―Ever‘thing okay?‖ Logan asked.

―Guess that‘s what I‘ll find out.‖ Nick forced what he hoped was

a convincing smile. ―From what I‘ve heard, it doesn‘t sound too bad.‖

Norah interrupted the general murmurs of concern to say, ―Hey,

Nick, before you go, I wanted to tell you I‘m not going to make our

session next week.‖

Nick searched her face for signs of distress, asking, ―Why not?‖

While waiting for an answer, he mused that canceling sessions could

sometimes be a good sign, a recognition on the part of a client that they

were ready to move on and no longer needed counseling.

He breathed easier when she gave him a sunny smile, responding,

―I‘m going home to Arkport for a visit.‖

―I think that‘s a good idea. You‘ve been wanting to see your

folks.‖

―Yeah, it‘s long overdue.‖ She gestured at her car, saying, ―And

now with this fine running vehicle, I got no excuse.‖

Nick turned to Logan. ―So, what do you think? Will the Cavalier

get her to Arkport?‖

―Hell, shape this car is in now, it could get ‘er to Alaska.‖

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121

After Logan started the girls on their final lesson, Nick said

goodbye and moved towards the door. As he reached for the knob,

Cheryl called, ―Do you want me to bring the keys back for you again?‖

Impulsively, Nick called back, ―Nah, just give ‘em to Logan.‖ He

looked over and caught sight of Logan‘s blank face and wondered if the

mechanic was surprised or annoyed. ―You can lock up and give ‘em to

me… later, right?‖

A nonchalant air fell over Logan as he mumbled, ―Sure.‖

ON SUNDAY morning, Logan arrived at Acken‘s shop at quarter to

nine. All the way to the city, he‘d tried to shrug off the feeling that

Nick bestowing the keys to the shop on him had been a big deal.
He

probably didn’t wanta bother Dave again, in case he’s late.
His

dismissive thoughts couldn‘t stop Logan feeling, as he let himself in,

that he‘d been granted a rite of passage.

Twenty minutes later, Logan had started feeling like Nick had

given him the keys perhaps because he
knew
he‘d be late.
’Course, he

ain’t really late, I was kinda early.

Logan used up some time by dragging a rusty, battered step stool

over and forcing open the ancient window; it was hardly worth the

effort, as the heavy, muggy air made little difference in the stifling

garage. The humidity was so high, Logan expected it to start raining

any second, and he wasn‘t surprised when a clap of thunder erupted a

few minutes later.

While he listened to the drumbeat of rain on the roof, Logan

unpacked the few parts the machine shop had made ready in a week.

Suddenly the shop door banged open and Nick dashed into the garage,

carrying a cardboard takeout tray containing two Styrofoam cups and a

waxed paper bag. The tray—like Nick—was soaking wet. ―Damn! It‘s

pourin‘ out there.‖

Logan couldn‘t help but laugh. ―Yeah, I noticed.‖ He also noticed

that Nick was wearing a black T-shirt and knee-length shorts. If the

clothes had been dry, they might have been unremarkable, but as it was,

they clung to every curve and plane of the body they covered. Logan‘s

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eyes took a journey that his hands were aching to follow, sliding up and

down Nick‘s drenched form. As he felt the stirrings of desire, Logan

hurriedly shifted his eyes to the tray, asking, ―Whaddya got there?‖

―Breakfast.‖ Nick put the cups down on the workbench,

explaining, ―I stopped at the Liberty Grill and picked up coffee and

crullers.‖

Gladly accepting the coffee, Logan said, ―Crullers. What the

hell‘s that?‖

―They‘re these doughnut things; they fry ‘em up fresh every

morning—can‘t beat ‘em.‖ Nick took a twisted strip of fried pastry out

of the bag and tore into it; he swallowed hastily and tilted the bag

towards Logan, asking, ―Want one?‖

Mesmerized by the sight of Nick‘s tongue snaking out to snatch a

flake of glaze from the corner of his mouth, it took Logan a second to

answer, ―Sure,‖ as he reached inside the bag, pulling out a cruller.

Both men leaned over the workbench, chomping down the

pastries and gulping the coffee in companionable silence until Nick

asked, ―We got a lot to do today?‖

―Nah, not much at all,‖ Logan said, hoping Nick wouldn‘t ask

what the hell they were doing there, in that case. In an effort to extend

this leisure time together, he asked, ―How‘s your mom doin‘?‖

Nick peered down into his cup before answering, ―She‘s okay.‖

There was a beat, and then he added, ―I guess I should say, she will be

okay.‖

―Why? What‘s goin‘ on?‖

―She‘s in the hospital.‖

Logan thumped his cup down on the bench and stared at Nick.

―What? When‘d that happen?‖

Nick finally met Logan‘s gaze as he answered, ―Thursday.‖

It took him a moment to connect the dots, and then Logan asked,

―Is that why you rushed out of class?‖

After another swallow of coffee, Nick admitted, ―Yeah.‖

―Why didn‘t you say somethin‘?‖

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123

A melancholy shrug accompanied his explanation. ―I don‘t know.

Maybe I was hopin‘ if I didn‘t make a big deal out of it, then it

wouldn‘t be a big deal.‖

―Is it?‖

―The doctor tells me no. But she looks… not good.‖

―What happened to her?‖

―She‘s got pneumonia—had it for a couple weeks now,

probably.‖ Nick slammed his fist down on the bench, exclaiming,

―Damn it! I should‘ve gotten her to the doctor then! I knew somethin‘

was wrong, but she kept insisting she was fine, and so did Polly….‖

―Who‘s Polly?‖

―She‘s the aide I have in to watch my mom. She used to be a

nurse, so I guess I thought she must know what she was talking about.‖

―But the doctor said your mom‘s gonna be okay, right?‖

Nick exhaled forcefully before saying, ―I know, can‘t help

worryin‘ though.‖ He went back to his breakfast, seeming lost in

thought as he stared down at the workbench.

Logan looked over at Nick‘s hunched back, longing to put a hand

out in a gesture of comfort.
Should I? Why not?
He could show Nick

that they could touch without it meaning… anything, really.

Liar! That ain’t what you want at all.
Logan couldn‘t fool himself

for long; he ached to touch Nick, and consolation wasn‘t the reason.

The sight of Nick‘s muscles moving and shifting under wet cloth drew

him in—an irresistible lure. Like a toddler to a hot stove, like a moth to

a flame, Logan reached out, powerless to resist. When his hand finally

landed, the hot skin burned him through the damp of the T-shirt,

sending a streak of fire up his arm, licking across every nerve.

Suddenly he was facing Nick, fingers still stretched across that

strong, masculine—no mistaking that—back; their eyes met and held.

Logan was lost in that gaze, drowning in Nick, frozen in time. He

would never know how they got there—who moved first, or if they

moved together, it didn‘t matter, nothing mattered except he was

kissing Nick and Nick was kissing back.

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A thrill shot up Logan‘s spine as Nick groaned into the kiss, his

vibrating tongue filling Logan‘s mouth with the taste and texture of

Nick—layered with an undertone of coffee and pastry, a new flavor as

necessary as air. Just as exhilarating was the feel of Nick‘s chest

crushed against his denim workshirt, the feel of Nick‘s gripping,

searching hands. Logan shifted, fitting their bodies together until he

could feel Nick‘s cock prodding his own aching hardness. Logan broke

the kiss to gasp for air before diving back in, his hips thrusting

desperately, needing the contact, needing the friction, needing…
oh

God
, needing… Nick.

Logan felt an orgasm starting to build when suddenly he was

yanked out of the vortex of desire by a shove from Nick that rocked

them apart. ―No, Logan!‖

Panting breathlessly, Logan asked, ―What?‖ He was still holding

on to Nick‘s shirt, holding on fast as if to life itself—because it was, his

authentic life, finally within reach, and he wasn‘t letting go. ―What the

hell, Nick? You don‘t wanta—‖ He stopped, since he hadn‘t even filled

in that blank for himself. Logan just knew he could go on kissing for,

oh, hours, at least.

―No. I don‘t want to be the thing you regret. After,‖ Nick clarified

as he shook his head sadly, eyes shifting away, fixed on a spot over

Logan‘s shoulder. ―Or tomorrow. Or… ever.‖

―I won‘t,‖ Logan gasped, reaching up to pull Nick‘s face to his so

Nick could see the truth—the one Logan felt in every cell of his body.

He might regret a lot, but not Nick. In fact, this dark-haired man was

one of the few things in his life right then that he didn‘t regret. ―I

swear, I couldn‘t.‖ Logan stared into Nick‘s eyes, praying, hoping,

silently chanting,
Please, oh please, you gotta believe me.

He got his answer when Nick leaned in and renewed the kiss.

There was no hesitation, and the passion built faster, burned hotter,

more primal than before. Nick‘s rough hands were biting into Logan‘s

ass, welding them together, and Logan was shaking with desire, wild

with need, and he leaned into Nick and whispered huskily, ―Where‘re

we gonna…. We gotta find—‖

―A bed,‖ Nick groaned. ―I know. I know.‖ Logan could feel

Nick‘s heart pounding under his hand as he continued, ―There‘s a little

Where the Allegheny Meets the Monongahela

125

motel… on Carson.‖ Logan watched Nick swallow, then add, ―You can

follow me there.‖

Breaking out of his stupor, Logan answered, ―Yeah. I‘ll follow.‖

Sitting in the parking lot of a Motel 6, Logan remembered

absolutely nothing about the five-minute trip there except Nick‘s

parting words.
“If you decide not to show, it’s okay.”
Nick had given

him one last chance to back out, an option Logan had no intention of

taking. He watched from the cab of his truck as Nick walked out of the

motel office swinging a key, oblivious to the rain, not looking at

Logan, fixed on his destination. He quickly unlocked the door and