Rowan McBride Warm Rush 1 Chasing Winter

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

Amber Quill Press

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Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
Epilogue
Rowan McBride

* * * *

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

WARM RUSH, BOOK I

CHASING WINTER

ROWAN MCBRIDE

* * * *

Amber Quill Press, LLC

www.amberquill.com

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

CHAPTER 1

I pivoted around Keith and executed a smooth lay-up,

easing the ball into the basket.

"That's twenty-one," I said as I retrieved it.
Keith laughed. "Man, Mr. Winter! I always fall for that fake

of yours!"

Grinning, I tossed him the ball. "Soon enough, you'll wise

up to my tricks."

"Want to play again?"
"Again?" I asked, wiping the sweat from my brow. Keeping

up with a teenager's energy was proving harder every day. Of
course, that might have just been an excuse on my part.
After all, I was only twenty-six. "Maybe after I get some
fluids. You want something to drink?"

He shook his head. "No thanks."
I walked to the cooler I always brought out when Keith and

I played basketball. "You're getting better, Keith." I pulled out
a bottle of water before closing the lid and sitting on top of it.
"A lot better."

"You really think so, Mr. Winter?"
Mr. Winter. I still thought of my father, God rest his soul,

every time he called me that. "Yeah, I can definitely see it."

"You think I'll make the basketball team this year?"
Good question. Keith would be a sophomore in high school

this coming fall. He'd tried out for the team last year and had
gotten cut. "Pretty good chance, I'd say. You've been
practicing like a demon."

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

"I don't think demons practice." He squared up in my

driveway and took a shot, sinking the ball.

I chuckled. "All right, you've been practicing hard. Harder

than I ever did in high school." And that was saying
something, since I'd been captain of my championship
basketball team.

He grinned as he took—and made—another shot. "I didn't

grow much over the summer, though. I'm only five foot four."

"Taller than I was at your age," I said, then took a long

drink.

He spun around, holding the ball close to his chest. "Are

you serious?"

I'm not sure why he sounded so surprised. I was barely

taller than that now, at five-six. "Yeah."

His voice was soft as he went back to practicing. "Cool."
The intent concentration on his face made me smile. He

really was a good kid, and I honestly hoped he made the
team this year. Keith Taylor was just about the sweetest
fifteen-year-old boy I could ever remember knowing. I'd first
met him when he was eleven, when I'd moved here fresh out
of college with enough money to buy my own house.
Truthfully, I could have gotten myself a much better place,
but this little suburb in central Connecticut had fit me
perfectly.

Keith sank another basket and I focused my attention on

him again. Black hair, hazel eyes, fit and slender build. As I
had many times over the years, I wondered what kind of man
he would become. Handsome, certainly. He might end up as

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

short as me, but that had never been a handicap as far as
relationships went.

"Are you ready to play again, Mr. Winter?"
I bit back a groan and set my bottle on the concrete.

"Sure."

We played three more games of twenty-one. I won all

three, but he was definitely improving.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mr. Taylor pull up to the

house across the street. "Hey, your father's home."

He cast a brief glance over his shoulder before tossing me

the ball. "Let's play another game."

I frowned. Keith had been coming over to visit me since I

moved in, but lately he was here quite a bit. His older
brother, Ryan, had lost interest in me almost immediately.
"You don't want to go and say hello to him?"

He shrugged. "I'd rather stay here with you."
"Why?"
His face darkened. "It's not like he cares."
Where had this come from? The Taylors had always

seemed like the perfect family, straight out of an old black-
and-white sitcom, and Keith's statement took me off-guard.
"Keith, your father loves you."

He looked at Mr. Taylor again, who was walking into his

house. "Yeah, well, it seems like he's always coming home
late now. And when he does come home, he's too tired to do
anything."

I placed my hand on his shoulder. "He has a job."
"You're always home by three," he said, returning his gaze

to me.

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

That was true. Especially in the last couple of years. It was

disconcerting to realize that I'd been coming home to play.
Mostly with Keith. "It's different with me. I make my own
hours."

"So why can't he?" asked Keith, his voice rising. "You own

your own company. Why can't he do the same and stay home
more?"

"It doesn't work that way. Not everyone can have their

own business."

"You mean he's not smart enough."
Oh boy. "You think I'm smarter than your dad?"
He nodded.
I ran my fingers through my hair. "Keith, I'm just some

guy who sells T-shirts and caffeine to the overworked masses.
I sold them in college, then a distant relative died and left me
enough money to open my own store. It was more luck than
anything." I thought of Bob Taylor, who wore a suit and tie to
work every day. "Your father works hard at a demanding job,
all so he can take care of you and your family. He's a very
intelligent man, and I've had the utmost respect for him from
the moment I met him."

"You..." He stared up at me uncertainly. "You respect my

dad?"

"A great deal. He reminds me of my own father, who

worked a job he despised so he could put food on our table.
But you're lucky, Keith. My dad worked nights, so I hardly
saw him at all. At least yours tries to make sure he's home
for dinner every day."

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

The darkness began to leave him, and he cracked a smile.

"Maybe I should go home now."

I grinned and gave him a push. "Go on. And say hi for

me."

"Sure thing, Mr. Winter," he said, already running off.
When he'd disappeared into his house, I took my cooler

and ball into my own home. Inside, my smile faded as I
checked the messages on my computer.

Keith was a cute kid. I was going to miss him.

* * * *

"You're really leaving? For a whole year?" Keith stood at

the edge of my living room, staring at the suitcase sitting by
the front door.

"I told you that over a month ago."
His brow furrowed. Not with anger, but with confusion and

hurt feelings. "I don't understand why."

I exhaled heavily. I didn't like to see him pained like this;

I'd had no idea he was so attached. But he was fifteen. He'd
forget me as soon as school started. "I'm opening a chain of
stores in Europe."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "And you have to go?

No one else can do it?"

"Not if I want it done right." Personally, I had my doubts

about whether Warm Rush would take off in England, France,
Italy, Germany, and so on. I mean, what did they need with
sweet, caffeinated beverages and T-shirts with odd sayings on
them? But marketing had informed me that internet sales

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

overseas had gone through the roof and now was the time to
strike.

Keith looked away from me. "I don't want you to go."
"It's only a year. I'll be back before you know it."
"Will..." His voice cracked. "Will someone else be living

here?"

"No," I said gently. "A maid service will come in once a

week to air the place out and to keep the dust bunnies at bay.
And a lawn service will be keeping my yard from turning into
a jungle while I'm gone."

To my astonishment, I saw a tear slip down his face. "Can

I still play basketball in your driveway?"

"Sure, as much as you want."
The statement didn't seem to bring him any comfort, and I

wracked my mind for something else to offer him.

"If you give me your email address, I'll write you," I said

finally.

His head shot up. "Really?"
Already I wondered if I'd made a mistake. I wasn't sure it

was healthy for a teenage boy to be friends with someone so
much older. But I didn't have the heart to take back my offer.
"Really." I took a notepad and pen from beside the telephone
on an end table. "Go ahead, jot it down, and I'll send you an
email as soon as I get there."

He carefully wrote it down, making sure every letter was

legible, and handed it back to me. "You promise?"

I tore the piece of paper from the pad, folded it up, and

placed it in my wallet. "I promise."

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

A car horn honked and I returned my wallet to my pocket.

"That's my cab."

His eyes widened. "Now? You're leaving right now?"
"I'm afraid so."
His anxiety spiked, bordering on panic. "But I still haven't

told you..." He stared at me, tried again. "I need to tell
you..."

The cab honked a rapid-fire demand, but I ignored it.

"What do you have to tell me, Keith?"

"I..." More tears slipped from his eyes. "I..."
It seemed so important to him, whatever it was. "It's okay.

You can tell me."

Suddenly his body collided with mine as he wrapped

surprisingly strong arms around me. "I'm going to miss you,
Mr. Winter."

I awkwardly patted his back, unsure if this was appropriate

behavior. "I'll miss you, too."

Without saying another word, he broke the embrace and

ran out of my house. The cab honked a third time and I
grabbed my suitcase, taking one last look at my home before
locking up.

The cabbie looked pissed, but was polite enough that I

didn't stiff him on a tip when I got to the airport. Once I was
settled in my seat on the plane, my thoughts returned to
Keith's teary goodbye.

I'm going to miss you, Mr. Winter.
Why did I feel as if that wasn't what he'd intended to say?

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

A young man put his carry-on bag into the overhead

compartment above me and, out of habit, I looked at his
shirt. It surprised me to see it was one of mine.

The real world is what you make it.
You can't let other people's
interpretations bring you down.
One of my first shirts, and to this day I thought the thing

was too damned wordy. But it was still a hot seller. Go figure.

The man closed the compartment and took a seat next to

me. "Bonjour," he said, extending his hand. "My name is
Lucien Beaumont."

Handsome guy, hot accent. And he was wearing my T-

shirt. Maybe the plane ride wouldn't feel so long, after all. I
took his hand. "Hello. My name is Jesse Winter."

He smiled, and I knew he had no idea who the hell I was. I

liked it much better that way. And, as I caught him checking
me out, I thought how refreshing it was that someone could
be nice to me without knowing about my bank account first.
Like Keith.

I straightened in my chair, disquieted by the thought.
Where had that come from?

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

CHAPTER 2

The cab pulled up to 623 Maple Street, where dusk was

just settling in. "We're here, Mister."

My eyes drifted open and I stared out the window. Christ,

it hadn't changed at all. The houses looked the same, the
lawns looked the same, the trees were where I'd left them.
Had three years really passed?

I opened the door, braced my black cane on the ground,

and pulled myself out. It hurt like hell, but then everything
hurt now. Slowly, I made my way to the cabbie's window. "Do
you..." I hated this part. "Do you think you could take my
suitcase to the front door for me? There's a twenty in it for
you."

He looked me up and down, his face softening with an

expression I knew all too well.

Pity.
"Sure, Mister, I'll do it. And you can keep your twenty

dollars, okay?"

The usual bitterness rose in me and I shoved it down. He

was being nice. It wasn't his fault I was sick of charity.
"Thanks."

He popped the trunk and got out of the car. As he walked

up my front steps, a door opened in the house across the
street.

Shit. Not now. I'm not ready for this.
"Jesse?" asked Mrs. Taylor. "Jesse Winter, is that you?"

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

I forced a smile on my face, which hurt, too. "Yes,

Marjorie. It's me."

Excited, she called into her house. "Bob! Jesse Winter has

come home."

Home. That's what I was hoping for, though I doubted I

would get it.

The entire Taylor family ran across the street to look at

me. Well, almost all of them. One was missing. Marjorie, Bob,
and a tall, lanky boy I couldn't distinguish in the dark. He was
about five-eleven, and I found myself wondering if Keith had
finally hit that growth spurt he had been praying for.

As they drew closer, I realized it wasn't Keith, but Ryan, all

grown up. He was probably in college now. Come to think of
it, Keith would be starting college this fall, wouldn't he?

I guess things had changed here, after all.
They came to a stop before me, underneath the soft light

of the streetlamp, and I waited for it to happen the way it
always happened.

First the shock, then the confusion, then the revulsion, and

finally the pity.

Marjorie covered her mouth as she caught sight of the

harsh scars on the left side of my face. Ryan's gaze fixated on
my cane.

Bob went through the cycle the quickest, and awkwardly

held out his hand. "Welcome home, Jesse. We've missed
you."

I needed my stronger right arm on the cane, so I slowly

lifted my left hand, which made him hastily switch over to
grab it. "Thanks, it's good to be back."

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

"What happened to you?" blurted Ryan.
I died, that's what happened. And I should have stayed

that way.

Miracle of modern medicine, my ass.
"Ryan!" exclaimed Marjorie, horrified. "We shouldn't pry."
"It was an accident," I answered softly, as my hand

clenched tight on the silver handle of my cane. Wanting the
attention anywhere but on me, I asked, "So where's Keith?
How is he doing?" I hadn't talked to the kid in over two years
and, for the first time, I felt a tremor of guilt about that. Then
I shook it off. He probably didn't even remember me.

The Taylors glanced at each other, looking uncertain and a

little tense.

I frowned. "Is something wrong with him?"
"Ah, no," said Bob. "He's probably at the gym. He spends a

lot of his time there now."

Seemed strange, to be at the gym after dark. But maybe

he was really dedicated.

The cabbie came back, and I reached into my pocket to

remove my wallet. Then I had to endure four people watching
me as I struggled to pull out his fare while keeping hold on
my cane. I could no longer stand without it, and falling on my
face in front of so many people wasn't something I could
handle right now. "Thanks again."

He nodded and returned to his car. "Take care, man," he

said, driving off.

Bob looked at the bag sitting outside my door. "Do you ...

Would you like some help with that?"

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

"No, I can handle it." I slipped my wallet into my pocket.

"But the trip wore me out, and I'd really like to get inside."

All three Taylors nodded sympathetically, which only made

me more tired.

"Have a good night," said Bob.
"And, again, welcome back," said Marjorie.
Ryan scuffed the toe of his sneaker against the ground.

"Yeah."

Needing to shut myself away, I started to turn. "Oh, could

you let Keith know I'd like to see him sometime?" My own
request made me pause. Why had I even said it? Why did I
want one more person to see what I'd become?

Bob answered me. "Sure, we'll tell him next chance we

get."

"Thanks."
I made my way to my door, relieved when I heard the

well-meaning family shuffle back to their own house. I didn't
want them standing there as I struggled to drag my suitcase
indoors. And it was a struggle. My body was screaming and
out of breath by the time I had it in far enough to close the
door behind me.

Slowly, I took off my shoes and straightened as I looked at

my home.

The maid service had done an excellent job. The place

smelled good—fresh—and there wasn't any dust from what I
could see. I hobbled over to the couch, leaving the suitcase
by the door, and gingerly stretched out on it. The familiarity
was nice, and I thought maybe I could spend the rest of my
life right here, in this spot.

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

"Welcome home, Jesse," I whispered to myself. Then I fell

into a dreamless sleep.

* * * *

The doorbell rang. I ignored it. The doorbell rang again. I

opened my eyes.

What time was it?
I glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. Just past

midnight. Whoever it was, they'd have to come back. I closed
my eyes again.

Then the knocking started. Not loud, exactly, but heavy

somehow.

Who the hell would be knocking on my door at this hour? I

decided I didn't care.

But, eventually, I realized that the person at my door had

no intention of giving up, and I sighed. "All right!" I called.
"I'm coming!"

I reached down and grabbed my cane from the floor. My

body protested as I pushed myself to my feet, and wasn't
much happier as I limped to the door. Without thinking, I just
opened it up. "What are you..." My voice trailed as I found
myself staring right at a pair of bulging, muscled pecs
covered by a tight gray T-shirt.

Not one of mine, I noted distractedly.
My eyes were level with his nipples. They strained the

fabric of his already stressed shirt. "What..." I tried again,
with more dismal results.

"Hey, Mr. Winter. My parents said you wanted to see me,

so I came right over."

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

The voice, low and smooth, was enough to drag my gaze

upward. Hazel eyes stared down at me. "Your parents?" I
whispered. His face was arresting. Strong, clean cut. A hint of
shadow on his jaw. Something in my brain finally clicked.
There was only one person this could be, as fantastic as that
seemed. "K-Keith?"

He grinned, showing perfect white teeth. "Have I changed

that much?"

I leaned on my cane, suddenly needing its support more

than I had a few seconds ago. "Sorry, I..."

His brow furrowed. "It's pretty late, isn't it? Did I wake

you?"

Glad to have an excuse for my muddled brain, I nodded.

"Yes. Yes, you did."

"Ah, man. I'm sorry. I don't sleep much so I tend to think

everyone is up with me. When Mom and Dad told me you
were back, I was so excited!"

Excited. I'm sure I disappointed the hell out of him now.

As I usually did when I spoke with someone, I turned my
head slightly to the left, to hide my scars. "Why don't you
sleep?"

"I don't know. Too much energy I guess."
Now that fit the image of the boy I remembered. "Energy

is a good thing to have." I wished I had more of it. As well as
a body to use it with.

"Mr. Winter?" He ducked his head, a concerned expression

on his handsome face. "You tired? You want me to leave?"

Having him so close rattled my senses. I couldn't believe

how much size this kid had put on. His arms were swollen so

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

thick that his shirt sleeves were filled to bursting; his
shoulders were much broader than mine and capped with
rock solid muscle. It was getting harder and harder to think.
"Are your parents all right with you being out so late?"

He broke into a fresh grin, his face still close to mine. "You

don't have to worry about that, Mr. Winter. I can do pretty
much whatever I want."

The heat from his body, his clean, masculine scent ... God,

it was killing me. I tried to think of some polite way to get
him to leave, but—like I'd said—he was rattling me. "Oh."

"So, can I come in?"
My hand tightened on my cane, but I stepped aside.

"Sure."

He walked in and his foot bumped my suitcase, knocking it

over. "Oh, sorry." Bending over, he picked it up with one
hand and set it against the wall. "Wasn't watching where I
was going."

I didn't mention that I'd left it there because I'd been too

weak to move it on my own. "No problem."

Keith straightened and looked around. "Wow, this place

hasn't changed a bit. You know I snuck in once while your
maid service was here? I was sixteen, and I scared the ladies
half to death." He chuckled. "They threatened to call the
police."

The husky sound of his laughter warmed me and I fought

against the feeling. "Why did you sneak in here?"

His smile faded as he shrugged. "Just wanted to see it. I'd

been having a bad day, and I wanted to be in a good place for

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

a while." He glanced down at me. "Of course, my day didn't
get any better with that police threat."

I didn't understand why he'd considered my house a "good

place." Especially at sixteen—I'd stopped writing him at that
point. I'd stopped writing everyone.

He nodded his head toward the living room. "Can I have a

seat?"

My mind snapped back to attention. "Of course. Would you

like something to drink? I have ... water."

Keith laughed softly as he turned on a lamp and sat in an

armchair not far from the sofa. "You don't have to play host,
Mr. Winter. I know you've only been back a few hours."

A faint smile touched my mouth as I stood there. Even

that had been a risky offer. I'd left the electricity and water
on so that the maid and lawn services could do their jobs, but
I doubted the kitchen sink had been used much over the last
few years. No telling how the tap water tasted.

"Mr. Winter?" asked Keith, once again pulling me out of my

thoughts. "Aren't you going to sit?"

I hesitated, then walked to the sofa. My steps were slow,

faltering. I couldn't look at him while I did it. I'd already hit
my pity quota for the day. Carefully, I sat down and placed
my cane to my side. Only then did I look up at him. To my
surprise, he still had that pleasant smile on his face. He still
looked relaxed. "How have you been, Keith?"

He leaned back in the chair. Through his shirt, I could see

the outline of each and every one of his abdominal muscles.
His legs were no less phenomenal. Long, powerful, wrapped
snug in denim. He was a textbook study of masculine beauty.

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

"I've been good. Made captain of the basketball team my
junior year. Senior year we went all the way—won the
national title."

My mouth crooked. "Was that trophy as sweet as you

thought it would be?"

His pride was evident in his face, the way he held himself.

"Hell yeah."

I remembered how that felt, and for once the memory

didn't make me bitter. "You deserve it. Your parents told me
you spend most of your time at the gym now."

"My parents said that, huh?" His head fell back as he

stared at the ceiling. "I guess they don't like to think about
what I might really be doing."

I frowned in confusion. One look at his body made it

obvious that he worked out, and worked hard. "You weren't at
the gym today?"

"I'm not at the gym most days, not anymore. The weights

there are too light for me now."

Okay, he looked strong. But I was familiar enough with the

local gym to know that they had excellent facilities. "Too
light?"

He lowered his head to look at me, a mischievous grin

shaping his lips. "I'm a lot stronger than I look, Mr. Winter."

Involuntarily, I scanned his body again. "Really."
He clapped his hands together and leaned forward. "Yeah,

it's been fucking amazing. So much has happened to me, and
I've been dying to tell you, but," his light dimmed, "you
stopped writing me. I kept writing you, but then my

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

messages started to bounce back, saying that your mailbox
was full."

I'd been living in the hospital those first months.

Undergoing reconstructive surgery and physical therapy. For
several weeks I couldn't do anything, and after that, my
personal assistant was supposed to let me know about the
messages that needed my immediate attention.

I guess he hadn't felt that conversation with a fifteen-year-

old boy was something I needed. Even after I regained some
measure of control over my life, I didn't want any more
contact with people than was absolutely necessary.

None of that was any sort of excuse, though. The fact was,

he'd wanted to talk to me, and I hadn't been there for him.
"I'm sorry." Jesus, that sounded inadequate.

Keith raised his hands, and the smile returned. "None of

that matters now. All that matters is that you're here, and I
can tell you all about it tonight. That is, if you'd like to hear
it."

I glanced at the clock, then again at his bright face. He

really didn't show any signs of being tired, and after the way
I'd treated him, I didn't have the heart to send him away.
"Sure. Tell me everything."

He scooted forward, sitting on the edge of his seat. "It

started a little while after you stopped writing me. I hit the
first real growth spurt in my life. I don't know, I just shot up.
And my appetite increased, so I gained weight, but it all
turned into muscle. It seemed like even the simplest
workouts packed it on. Sophomore year I was five foot four.
By the beginning of junior year I was five foot nine. And I

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

outweighed Ryan by almost thirty pounds, even though he
was still taller. I was more coordinated, faster, stronger. A lot
stronger."

Despite the long trip and my aching body, his excitement

was contagious. "I'll bet that felt good."

"Oh, shit. It felt great. You know that feeling you get in

your cock when it starts to get hard? My whole body feels like
that, every second of every day."

My eyes rounded.
He straightened. "Did I embarrass you, Mr. Winter? If I

did, I didn't mean it. When my dad screwed up his sex speech
with me, you were nice enough to answer the questions I had
afterward. So I figured it would be okay to tell you this."

I'd forgotten about that talk. Looking back, I think I'd

overstepped my boundaries as a neighbor. Now I had to
wonder if I was doing it again. "It's fine," I said softly, against
my better judgment. I'd always been inclined to give Keith
whatever he wanted, and I guess that hadn't changed in the
three years I'd been gone.

A slow smile curved his lips. "Thanks, Mr. Winter. It feels

good to know I can still talk to you about anything."

For some reason, that smile made me uncomfortable, and

I tried to get this conversation back on track. "So, by the time
you were sixteen, you were three inches taller than me?"
More than three, really, since the accident had somehow
managed to rip an inch out of my body.

His dark eyebrows lifted. "Yeah. I never thought about it

that way."

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

A silence fell between us as he sat there, regarding me. I

wanted the scrutiny to stop, so I said the first thing that came
to mind. "Sounds like you've had a great time these last three
years."

The first thing turned out to be the wrong thing. His

excitement vanished as he sat back in the chair. "Well, not all
of it has been great. That's why I was in your house that
day."

The remorse I saw in him confused me. What could this

sweet, polite kid have possibly done to invoke such an intense
emotion? "Is that something you want to share?"

He nodded. "But I think you'll be disappointed in me after

you hear it."

I doubted that. I was all stocked up on disappointment

already. "Why don't you try me?"

Keith took a deep breath. I tried not to notice how the

action stretched his shirt to the breaking point. "It all
happened so fast, Mr. Winter. One day I was little Keith
Taylor, who tried hard but never really got very far. Then the
next day I went from third to first string in basketball, I was
the most popular kid in school, and I kept getting better and
stronger. I loved it."

"I don't see anything wrong with that."
He looked away. "Yeah, well, I loved it too much, I think.

You always told me that no one is better than anyone else,
that a stroke of fate can give you everything or take it all
away. But I just forgot all that. I started to believe that I was
better than other people. Superior. I had serious attitude, but

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

no one seemed to mind except my family. And they caught
hell for it."

So far, it sounded like any normal teenage rebellion, but I

kept quiet and let him continue.

"I didn't think anyone had the right to tell me what to do,

including my parents. I went where I wanted, when I wanted,
with who I wanted. I made my mom cry once. My dad tried to
stop me from leaving the house, but I was stronger than him,
so—" Keith glanced up. "I laughed at him. What kind of son
laughs at his father?"

He didn't wait for me to answer. "Anyway, Ryan got the

worst of it. I was really hard on him. I think because we
fought so much when we were kids. I hurt him a few times,
not enough to do any real damage, just enough to show him
who was the new boss. And I-I made him do things."

Easy to see how hard this was for him. Easier to see how

much he needed to go on. "What sort of things, Keith?"

His eyes crinkled at the corners. "I turned him into my

slave. At first he was still taller, but he was always kinda
skinny. It was easy. Pathetically easy. He had to get my
drinks, do my chores, clean my bedroom. If he said no, then
I'd wrestle him down to the floor and twist him up until he
begged to serve me. While I watched TV, he had to crouch in
front of me on his hands and knees so I could prop my feet
on his back as a footstool. I thought I was so fucking great,
that he should feel privileged that I paid so much attention to
him."

I couldn't imagine Keith doing those sorts of things to

anyone, let alone family. But his expression was serious. I

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

couldn't imagine it, yet I believed it. And the guilt I saw in
him was real, so something must have changed his world
view since then. "What happened?"

"About a month before he was supposed to start his

freshman year of college, I caught him sitting on the front
porch, sobbing. You know how Ryan is—he never cries, not
even when he broke his arm falling out of your tree. But his
whole body was shaking so hard with it that I thought he
might hurt himself. Before I even had a chance to ask what
was wrong, a taxi pulled up and he ran into it. He didn't look
back at the house once. He didn't even have any bags with
him. I asked Mom where he was going, and she said he'd
found a family near his school that was willing to take him in
until the semester started."

Keith bent forward, scrubbed his face with his hands. "My

brother, and I'd made him feel so abused that he ran away
from home."

The old me would have been up in a flash, grabbing his

shoulders in comfort. My new lack of mobility prevented that.
"He was home tonight. Has he been home all summer?"

His head lifted just enough to let me see his eyes, bright

with unshed tears. "When he came home for Thanksgiving, I
opened the door and we just stared at each other, shocked
because I was two inches taller than him. He asked if he
could come in. He asked, because he felt like he needed my
permission to come into his own home."

Keith straightened. "After that I swore I wouldn't pick on

him anymore, that I would always protect him. And I started
to walk the line ... doing my own chores, following my

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

parents' rules. Ryan didn't come home for Christmas, or
spring break, or anything else. He finally came home at the
end of the school year, but they're all walking on eggshells
around me now. I think," he swallowed hard, "I think they're
scared of me."

My lips parted. So many things had changed so drastically,

and I didn't know how to ease his pain. "They..." I thought
about my brief encounter with the Taylors earlier. "They
didn't seem afraid when I asked about you today. Tense,
maybe, but not afraid."

His eyes were steady as a tear slipped down his cheek,

and suddenly he reminded me of the boy I'd said goodbye to
in my living room not so long ago. "Mr. Winter? Do you think
they'll ever forgive me?"

I smiled. It felt strange. Genuine. But strange. "Of course

they will. That's what families do, isn't it? Forgive you for
being an ass?"

He chuckled, wiped the moisture from his face. His entire

body seemed more relaxed, as if a huge weight had been
lifted off him. My gaze locked onto his long fingers, onto the
power of his wide hands. No doubt he could palm a basketball
now.

"Thanks, Mr. Winter. It's all so crazy, you know? I'm taller

than my dad. So is Ryan, but only by an inch. And he's not as
broad as me, so it's not really noticeable with him. You know
what it's like, being taller than everyone around you?"

A soft, rusty sound escaped me, and I realized with a start

that it was my own laughter. "I can't say that I do."

"You used to be taller than me."

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

I couldn't stop smiling. When was the last time I had

smiled so much? "You were a kid. I was supposed to be taller
than you."

"So ... I'm not a kid anymore?"
All smiles and laughter stopped abruptly. The look in his

eyes was still playful, but not with the sort of games children
liked to play. "Wh-What?"

"Do I still look like a kid?"
My breathing shallowed, and I couldn't tear my gaze away

from him. "No, I suppose not."

Keith stood, slowly rising to his full height. "So I look like a

man?"

My head tilted back and I watched helplessly as he came

closer. "Yes, you've grown up a lot."

He slid his hands into his pockets. "When I first saw you, I

couldn't believe how much taller I was now. Does that make
you feel weird, Mr. Winter? That I'm so much bigger than
you?"

"I..." He was rattling me again, and I couldn't understand

where this was going. "I hadn't really thought about it."

He grinned, as if he knew I was lying. "Stand up, think

about it now."

It was like I was under some kind of spell. I picked up my

cane, pushed myself to my feet. My gaze traveled from his
pecs, to his traps, slid up his neck, and finally rested on his
face.

Keith glanced briefly at my cane. "How are you feeling, Mr.

Winter?"

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

Not good. Pain lanced up through my leg, and something

hot was coursing through the rest of me. "All right."

He lowered his head, his brow furrowing as he studied my

face. "Your skin's gone pale. Does it hurt that much? Just
standing there?"

The long trip and the lack of rest were taking their toll. So

much so that my battered pride couldn't rise to the occasion.
"Yes," I admitted, glancing away.

Large, strong hands slid underneath my armpits, and my

gaze shot back to him when he lifted me into the air. "Is this
better?"

My feet dangled almost a foot above the ground and, in

my shock, my cane slipped from my fingers and thudded to
the carpet.

He glanced at the cane again. "Is it worse? Having your

legs hanging like this?" He brought me close to his warm,
hard body and slipped one of his hands underneath my knees,
cradling me in his arms. "How's that?"

My weight didn't seem to be straining him at all. Not

surprising, I guess. I was even smaller now than I used to be.
My head fell forward slightly as I inhaled his scent. Soap,
fabric softener, something warm and sultry. Like summer. It
had been years since I'd let anyone get so close to me, and I
felt my life spin out of control. At twenty-nine, I was far too
old to be lusting after the kid next door. "I-I'd like to sit on
the couch," I whispered.

"Sure." There was no teasing as he returned me to the

sofa, and there was no pity in his hazel eyes, either.

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

That couldn't be right, could it? There was always pity.

"Thank you."

"No problem." He sat beside me, stretched his arm out

along the top of the couch. "My parents told me you'd been in
some kind of accident. What happened?"

It wasn't horrified fascination, like when Ryan had asked

the same question earlier. In fact, he just seemed curious,
concerned. His intent eyes drew the answer out of me, the
real answer, the one I had never voiced.

"I died," I said softly.
The corner of his mouth lifted, but I could see his unease.

"You're sitting here and talking to me. You're as alive as
anyone."

That was open to interpretation. Memories of that night

flooded back. The soft, warm light. The rush of joy. The hand
reaching out to me. I could make out the outline of the
person waiting there, although I didn't recognize him. Then,
just as my fingers would have brushed his, my soul was
shoved back into my broken body. "I died on the operating
table. I was gone for five and a half minutes before they
brought me back."

He inched closer, and I wanted to get up and run. But, of

course, I couldn't do that. "So what put you in the hospital?
Plane crash? Train wreck? You slip in your shower?"

The smile I cracked took me off-guard. "Doesn't matter. It

happened, I'm here. That's the story."

Keith stared at me a long moment, and I realized that I'd

hurt him somehow.

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

"Mr. Winter, when you stopped writing me I felt like I'd

lost my best friend. I kept telling myself that you were busy,
and that you'd be home in a few months, anyway. Then you
weren't, and I ... I hated you, more and more every day you
were gone."

My eyes drifted closed a moment. "I'm sorry, Keith."

Again, totally inadequate. But I'd been to hell, and maybe I
was still there. I didn't want to drag anyone down with me.

"You don't have to be sorry, Mr. Winter. About a year ago,

I stopped hating you. I just wanted you to come home. Every
week, I'd sit on our front porch and wait for your lawn service
to come. I knew that as long as they were cutting your grass,
then you hadn't sold your house."

Oh, God. I didn't want to picture him sitting there, waiting

for me. I think I would have preferred him hating me.

"You have no idea how happy I was when my parents told

me you were here. Right now, though, I need to know why
you were gone so long. I know you don't want to talk about
it, but I need..."

I knew what he needed. He needed to understand why I'd

abandoned him. I didn't have a good explanation for that, but
I gave him what I could. "I was driving on the autobahn, and
a tanker truck jumped the median, collided with me. My car
was crushed into an unrecognizable hunk of metal. You see
this?" I tapped my left leg. "Sheared right in two. They
reattached it when I got to the hospital. My entire body was
such a mess. The doctors and nurses kept saying over and
over that it was a miracle I'd survived."

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

This time his skin paled. "How long ago did the accident

happen?"

"Two years, three months, nine days."
"That's when you stopped writing to me," he whispered.
My body started. It unsettled me to think that Keith had

been counting down the same days I had. "Yes. The first two
months, I couldn't move at all. After that I had a wheelchair
my doctors said I would never leave."

A soft smile touched his mouth. "You're on your feet now."
"Yes." I knew I should be proud that I'd proved those

bastards wrong, but I was just so damned tired. "I used a
walker for a long time. Since about six months ago I've been
using a cane." I was a living, breathing miracle. Why couldn't
I feel thankful for that?

"You always told me that willpower could accomplish

anything."

If I had known he'd remember every damned thing I said,

I would have tried harder to stay away from such trite clichés.
"Yes, I did say that." And truthfully, I still believed it. It was
just that, now, I also believed my will had been drained out of
me. There was nothing left.

"Mr. Winter? Why won't you look at me?"
Considering that I'd been drinking in the sight of him like a

parched man does water, the question blindsided me.
"What?"

"Since I got here, you've had your head turned to the left.

Why is that?"

I groaned inwardly. This was probably the longest

conversation I'd had in over two years. I wasn't used to being

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

with people anymore, and I felt more awkward than I ever
had in my life. "It has nothing to do with you."

"Then why?"
Sighing, I turned my head the other way, showed him my

scars. "That's why."

His tone didn't change at all. "What?"
Moving just my eyes, I stared up at him. He looked

genuinely confused. Didn't he see them? Using my right hand,
I reached up to touch my left cheek.

His eyebrows drew together a moment, then his face

cleared. "Oh," he said softly. "You were trying to hide your
scars?"

I turned to look at him square on. No revulsion. I'd

forgotten what it was like to speak to someone who didn't feel
that. "Yes."

He didn't say, "They don't look that bad." He didn't say,

"Oh, but they're doing great things with cosmetic surgery
these days." He didn't say, "True beauty is within."

Instead, he eased himself closer and said, "You wear them

well."

And he said it with sincerity.
"I ... I do?"
A smile ghosted on his lips, and he nodded.
I didn't know how to take that. My gaze drifted back to my

cane, still on the floor. When Keith left tonight, I'd have to
crawl over to get it.

"You know, Mr. Winter, I had the biggest crush on you."
My eyes rounded and my head shot up. "What?"

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

He chuckled, confusing me, warming me. "Yeah, it was

really bad. I liked you so much when you moved in, and
every time I got close to you, my stomach would flip over. I
was so scared you'd see it and send me home."

How could I have missed something like that? "O-Oh."
His amusement didn't leave him. "One night I was up late,

staring out my bedroom window. I saw you walk up onto your
porch with this guy. At first I thought he was your friend, and
then—"

My heart skipped a beat as I frantically tried to recall every

date I'd ever had.

"—he took your face in his hands and kissed you, full on

the mouth."

I'd always tried to be discreet about my love life, but

apparently that night I'd decided to throw caution to the
wind.

Keith touched my forehead, just long enough to sweep

back a lock of hair. I kept it longer these days, to hide my
face. "I was so jealous. But in a weird way, it made me
happy, too. Because Mr. Winter kissed a man, so maybe
someday he might kiss me."

This was surreal. "I had no idea."
He smiled, his expression gentle. "I know. You always saw

me as this little kid. You were nice to me, you treated me like
a friend, and you shattered me when you left."

At the moment, I was feeling a bit shattered myself.
The pad of his thumb glided over my left cheek. Totally

unused to being touched there by someone not wearing a
white coat, I jerked my head away. "What are you doing?"

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

Keith's smile widened a fraction. "I'm glad you're home.

Did I say that already?"

I nodded, wary now. He was so close. When did he get so

close?

He lowered his head so I could feel his breath on my lips.

"I know I should take this a lot slower, but I only have a week
before I go away to college."

I tried to lean away, and a big hand slipped around to my

back, preventing my escape. "Take what slow?"

"This," he whispered, before covering my mouth with his.
The contact was electric—as if I'd downed one of the

drinks I sold in my store in one gulp. His lips were warm
against mine, and that warmth spread to my entire body. It
had been so long since I'd kissed anyone that my eyes drifted
closed, and I couldn't help losing myself for a moment.

But only for a moment.
My entire body trembling, I broke the kiss. "We can't do

this."

His thumb was back on my cheek. I was surprised I could

feel him so acutely with so much scarring there. "Why not?
I'm legal, and you've been checking me out all night."

My skin reddened, which must have looked hideous—

bringing the twisted scars on my face into sharp relief. "I
don't ... I don't understand why you would..."

He came close again, and his warmth surrounded me. "I've

wanted you forever. Even before I knew what wanting was.
That doesn't just go away."

So he was willing to settle for some shadow of his

childhood fantasy? "I'm not the same man I used to be."

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

"And I'm not a kid anymore." His fingers slid down my

right shoulder, down my arm, and grasped my hand. He
untucked his T-shirt from his jeans and slid my hand
underneath it, pressing my palm to his abs. "All grown up,
right?"

Sweet Mary. A hard, hot brick of muscle filled my hand. He

eased my palm upward, making me experience every dip,
every swell, before settling it on his large pectoral muscle.

"I have a nice body, don't I, Mr. Winter?" Keeping my hand

trapped against him, he leaned forward and took my mouth.
That same electricity engulfed me, lit every nerve in my body
like a string of Christmas lights. Unbidden, my thumb began
to caress his hard nipple.

Keith moaned into my mouth, but didn't break the kiss.
I couldn't remember anything in my life feeling this good,

even before the accident. Wanting more, I tried to lift my left
arm, hissing from the pain it brought me.

His strong hand was there immediately, guiding my arm to

loop around his neck. "Is that where you wanted it?" he asked
huskily, kissing my cheek.

I could only nod, stunned by the sensations filling my

body. His other hand left his chest, freeing me to caress the
expanse of skin underneath his shirt.

As soon as he began to remove my shirt, however, I

jumped backward, ignoring the blades of ice slicing through
me from the motion. "Are you trying to take off my clothes?"

He grinned. "Sex would be hard otherwise, don't you

think?"

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

"S-Sex?" I hadn't thought that far ahead. Sex? Sex with

little Keith Taylor? I looked up at him.

Although he was far from "little" anymore. I remembered

those powerful muscles beneath my hand and shrank back.

His humor faded into concern. "When was the last time

you were naked in front of someone?"

I clutched at my shirt, huddled deeper into myself.
"Before the accident?"
Meeting his gaze again, I nodded.
His laughter surprised me ... and hurt. I reacted the way I

always reacted. With anger. "You should leave now."

"But I don't want to leave."
"I want you to leave. I'm not going to let anyone laugh at

me in my own house."

His face cleared. "Oh, Mr. Winter. I wasn't making fun of

you. You know I'd never do that."

No, I didn't know. And I had a hard time believing him.

"Then why were you laughing?"

He grinned and smoothed the hair back from my face. "It

occurred to me that it's kinda like I'm taking your virginity
right now."

My eyes widened, and I scooted farther back on the couch.

"What?"

"Well, you died, then came back to life, and you haven't

had sex since then. And you're shy about your body." He
chuckled. "I really should have taken it slower, but now I
can't stop." He paused, sobered. "That is, unless you want me
to stop. You want me to go home?"

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

I didn't know what the hell I wanted. All I knew was that I

didn't want to be alone, not after living so long in solitude.
"My body ... It isn't pretty, Keith. The accident mangled me."

His eyebrows rose. "What if I got undressed first? Would

that help?"

Teenage logic—it had always baffled me. "I don't see

how."

He chuckled again, gripped the hem of his T-shirt, and

drew it off over his head.

My breath lodged in my throat.
Nothing had prepared me for the sight of his bare skin.

Suntanned, tight, rippling with muscle. No imperfections from
what I could see. In fact, he was the most perfect man I
could have imagined.

He stood, toeing off his sneakers as he casually undid the

catch in his jeans before sliding them down his thick legs. His
thighs were no less impressive than the rest of him, each
head of muscle beautifully defined. He said he didn't go to the
gym anymore, but I couldn't understand how that was
possible.

"Mr. Winter."
I lifted my head, saw him smiling at me. He lowered his

gaze, and I instinctively followed it, just in time to see his
thumbs hook into the band of his briefs. Slowly, he worked
those downward as well, and I was powerless to look away.
His cock was already half hard ... long ... thick ...
uncircumcised.

His hand stroked himself a few times before he started to

speak again, and I reluctantly lifted my gaze away from that

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

magnificent column of flesh. "You can stare at me all you
want, Mr. Winter. I don't mind, since I've been wanting to see
that look in your eyes for years. I'm pretty sure I can come
just by watching you watch me. But if you take your clothes
off, then we can be all over each other, hot and sweaty, skin
to skin. I'd really like that. Would you?"

Not one of my lovers had ever spoken to me that way. This

was definitely not the boy I had known. "I..."

"Say the word, and I'm on that couch with you."
My gaze slid downward, over his broad shoulders, down to

his tight, tapered waist, over powerful thighs and a cock that
was gaining size by the second. Keith was a man, in every
sense of the word, and I was a cripple who needed to be
warm for just a little while. "Yes," I said softly.

He crouched in front of me, his big hands easing off my

shoes. Those hands skimmed along my calves, curving over
my knees as he rose up to return to the couch. He sat beside
me, so close that his thigh brushed against my much smaller
one. Long fingers trailed over my shoulders, down to my
collar, and undid the first button. Then he moved to the next
button, and the next.

I sat there, quiet, as I stared at his face, his body, his

hands. I sat still as he undressed me. Didn't move as he
slipped my shirt off my shoulders and my arms. Didn't say
anything as I waited for the revulsion to come.

I closed my eyes, not wanting to see the expression on his

face. My body was little more than a roadmap of pain now—
twisted skin, limbs that didn't hang quite right. I was barely
even human anymore. How could anyone want me?

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

His tongue licked my chest and my eyes flew open. I drew

back, trying to see his face.

He grinned up at me, then locked his mouth around my

nipple.

I gasped, started to fall back. His strong arm hooked

around me and slowed my descent. Gently, he lowered me
down until my back rested against the couch cushions, his
mouth never leaving my nipple. I felt his strength all over me
as he moved from my chest to my stomach. His tongue
caressed my needful skin as his fingers undid the catch of my
slacks. The sound of the zipper seemed to fill the room as he
drew it downward.

"Keith."
He slid my pants off my legs. "I like it when you say my

name like that."

With some effort, I pushed myself onto my elbows to look

at him. He stroked both my legs with his large hands,
seemingly unaware of the twist in my left, the circular scar
around my shin that indicated where it had come off. He rose
up, slid one of his hands underneath the small of my back
and lifted my hips upward as he removed my boxer shorts.

He'd known. He'd known I wasn't capable of doing it

myself and, without a word, without expressing condolences,
he simply did what was needed.

When had he ... When had he grown up?
Keith dropped the underwear onto the floor and kissed the

head of my penis. "You're already hard," he murmured, then
took it into his mouth.

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

I moaned, tried to arch my body deeper into him despite

the pain it gave me. He slipped his hands under me, cupped
the curve of my ass and gave me the support I needed. His
mouth was warm, and wet, and it sucked me in a rhythm I'd
never experienced.

All too soon, he pulled away. "You taste good," he said. A

slow grin spread over his face as he climbed higher on the
couch, settled his body over mine. "Want to see?"

Before I even had a chance to contemplate what that

meant, he was kissing me again. Keith's unique flavor filled
me, along with the taste of my own arousal.

He pulled away, only a little, and slipped his middle finger

into my mouth. "Like I did you, okay?"

I closed my lips around him and was surprised to find that

the rhythm he'd just taught me was a part of me now. As I
sucked on him, he kissed my forehead, my cheek, the curve
of my neck. I nipped his finger and he looked at me in
surprise. Pleased surprise.

He drew his finger out of my mouth and slid his hand down

between our bodies. His wet finger slipped between my ass
cheeks, circled the tight pucker of my hole, and eased inside.

It had been so long since anyone had touched me this

way. So long since I'd felt that delicious wildfire rush through
me. I whimpered and bit my lip to kill the noise because I
didn't want to sound unmasculine.

Keith straightened onto his knees and stared down at me—

a picture of youth and pride and strength. His gaze never left
mine as his hand went to his cock, stroking it in front of me.
Pre-cum flowed generously from its head, and he caught it in

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

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his palm to lube himself up. My gaze was locked on his hand,
my breath shallow until he leaned forward to cover my body
with his.

My right hand caressed his chest, explored the deep

contours of the muscles there. He took my left arm and
looped it around his neck, allowing me to make a similar
exploration of his shoulders, his broad back.

His thick, powerful thigh eased both of mine apart.
I tried to lift my legs to wrap them around him, but only

my right one had the strength to do so.

His hand slid down, hooked under my thigh and moved it

to where I'd been trying to get it. "Is this hurting you at all?"

There was an ache in me, but it had nothing to do with my

leg. "No."

"You'll tell me if anything I do hurts you?"
I stared up at his handsome face. He didn't look as if he

thought I was more trouble than I was worth. He only looked
aroused. "Yes."

He smiled again. I'd never known anyone to smile so much

during sex.

His hand stayed firmly on my thigh as he guided his cock

to where his finger had been. The large, mushroomed head
pressed against my opening, and I tensed up.

What if I'd forgotten how to do this?
Keith stroked my body with his free hand, soothing the

tension out of me. He knew the exact moment it happened,
and pushed himself into my hole.

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

The stretching was almost unbearable. He was so damned

thick. And he just kept going deeper and deeper, until I
thought I might taste him.

God, it felt good.
His pelvis pressed flush against my ass, and he held

himself still, allowing me to get used to having a man inside
of me for the first time in years. I signaled I was ready to
continue by squeezing his dick. Hadn't forgotten how to do
that.

He smiled.
It really was a nice smile.
Slowly, he drew himself out of me, leaving only the head

of his cock inside. I felt bereft and empty, but only for a
moment. Keith slid forward again almost immediately, and
again I was filled. Soon he was repeating the same rhythm
we'd used three times before. It was hot, tight, sweet. But
the consistency was also ... comforting somehow.

He quickened his thrusts, his hand never leaving my thigh.

The desire rose higher, and higher still.

For the first time since the accident, I was able to forget

my broken body and enjoy something.

I moaned, and the floodgates inside me burst open. The

outpour of emotion propelled me into an orgasm so intense
my entire body jerked with the violence of it.

Keith held me close, kept the pain away. He came soon

after, the muscles of his body swelling around mine as he
released a surge of warmth into me. I clung to him the best I
could, but in the end it was his strength that held us together.

"Wow, Mr. Winter," he breathed.

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

My eyes snapped open. "Keith, under the circumstances, I

think you should call me Jesse."

He lowered me back onto the couch cushions and gently

pulled out of me. "Jesse." He stroked my hair—now matted
down with sweat—back from my face. "I always liked your
name. It's so cute."

Cute? I was eleven years older than him and he thought

my name was cute?

Keith grinned. "I'm making you uncomfortable, aren't I?"

He left the couch and searched out his briefs. "I'll get out of
your hair."

I grabbed the top of the couch with my right arm and

pulled myself up to watch him dress. Now that he wasn't
touching me, I felt ... oh, God, I felt more alone than I ever
had in my life. "Thank you."

"No, Jesse." He grinned as he grabbed his jeans. "I should

be thanking you."

I watched as he pulled them on, my eyes rounding when

his big thighs tore through the seams of the pants.

"Look at that," Keith said, chuckling. "Too big for my

britches."

I stared at his bulging muscles in shock. "How did...?"
"Oh, don't worry. Sometimes it happens this way. I get a

little burst of growth." He picked up his shirt. "Ten bucks says
I rip the shirt, too." Before I could accept or decline, he pulled
it on.

Sure enough, his body ripped the material.

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

A tear down the center of his chest, giving his pecs room

to breathe. Two long tears appeared over his upper arms as
his biceps demanded room.

Keith seemed to find it all very amusing. "Good thing I live

right across the street."

I could only stare at him, dumbfounded, as I tried to make

sense of what I saw.

His humor faded as he looked around my living room. "You

know, I've just noticed that this place doesn't feel very lived
in. Like a hotel or something; not like home." He glanced
down at me. "Want me to spend the night?"

His offer knocked all thoughts of his clothes out of my

head. Yes, I wanted him to stay. More desperately than I had
the strength to admit. "It's late. Your parents are probably
worried about you." His parents. Oh, I was so dead.

"My parents are used to me staying out all night." He

crouched before me and his bulging thighs ruined his over-
stressed jeans beyond repair. "You always used to give me
straight answers, Jesse."

I sat quiet, embarrassed and unsure.
His mouth crooked and he scooped me up into his arms.

"I've never seen your bedroom," he said, striding to my
stairway. "Even that day I snuck in, I didn't make it up that
far before I got caught." He took the stairs two at a time,
reaching the top quickly. "Which way?"

I looked down my hall, which I hadn't seen in three years.

"Last room on the right," I whispered, still trying to
comprehend where I was.

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

Keith entered the room and looked around at the sage

green walls, the light, pinewood furniture and the matching
trim. "Nice."

I'd all but forgotten what it looked like. "Yes, I suppose it

is."

He shifted my weight to one arm and pulled back the sage

comforter, revealing clean, gray sheets. "Doesn't smell musty
at all."

"I called and had the maid service give everything a good

wash."

Gently, he placed me into the bed and crawled over my

body to the other side. "You call a lot of people?"

"Not really. Maid service, lawn, and the phone company."
"Oh," he said, draping the comforter over us. "So you

didn't make any personal calls?"

The sigh that left me was so soft that I doubted he caught

it. I'd messed up a lot these past few years, and I'd hurt
someone who'd apparently felt very close to me. "I should
have let you know I was coming back."

His face softened as he gathered me into his arms. "The

important thing is that you came back. I wish you had earlier,
but I'm not about to dwell on that." He kissed my cheek, the
cheek most people couldn't even look at, let alone touch.
"This is going to be a great week."

I stared at his smiling face, but I didn't really understand

it. "W-Week?"

"Sure, it's Saturday, right? I don't have to leave until next

Sunday."

This was meant as an explanation, I'm sure. It didn't help.

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

His arms tightened around me. "You look tired. Shit, I

should have waited until you'd settled in before making a
move on you, but," he grinned, "you know."

I didn't, but I was too exhausted to ask.
"Go ahead and sleep, Jesse. I don't mind."
Keith still didn't seem tired, and I wondered how much he

slept even as I drifted away.

I dreamt in warmth and light.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

CHAPTER 3

My body shivered, sending faint tremors of pain

throughout it. The sun was shining right on me, and I
shouldn't have been chilled, not in late August. But I was
always so damned cold now—something inside of me was
permanently frozen over.

Although, last night, I'd felt warm in Keith's arms.
I opened my eyes, turned to look at the empty space

beside me on the bed. It didn't surprise me to find him gone.
It did surprise me to see my suitcase sitting by my closet.

I sat up and looked around. My cane was propped against

my nightstand, and a tall glass of water had been placed next
to my clock.

He hadn't left a note, but Keith's consideration left a

message all its own.

The water looked inviting, so I reached out and picked it

up. I took a cautious sip, and it tasted good. You'd never
know that I'd been gone three years. As I took a longer drink,
I found myself smiling.

If I'd had anything in the fridge, would he have tried to

make me breakfast? The same little boy who had nearly
blackened my kitchen trying to make toast?

My smile faded as I reminded myself that Keith was no

longer a little boy. I didn't fully understand what had
happened last night, but I understood that much.

The doorbell rang. I lifted my comforter a bit to look down

at myself, confirming that I was nude. No point in trying to

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

rush down to answer it then. I rested against my headboard,
finished my water. It was nine a.m., and no one but the
Taylors knew I was back.

Who could it be?
By three in the afternoon, I'd learned several times who it

could be. Now I was sitting in a long padded lawn chair on my
backyard deck. I had a blanket thrown over my legs and,
although my skin was starting to burn underneath the sun, I
made no effort to return indoors.

It was quiet out here. I liked the quiet.
"There you are. I'm glad I came around to check."
I turned my head, and there was Keith, his head peeking

over my fence. The wood planks were six feet tall. I'd pegged
him at around six foot three last night. Was he standing on
his toes?

"Hello, Keith."
He grinned and lifted a basket over the fence so I could

see it. "Look what I found on your front porch."

"A fruit basket," I said, looking at the bright pink

cellophane paper. "That's new. It's been mostly casseroles
today."

Keith tilted his head to the side. "You been getting a lot of

food?"

"Since this morning. Apparently news has spread that I'm

back."

He chuckled. "Bet you'd forgotten that about this

neighborhood, huh?"

A soft smile touched my mouth. "I guess I did."
"Can I come in?"

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

"Sure." I reached for my cane. "Just give me a second."
"Hey, you don't have to get up. You look comfortable."
I frowned. "Then how will you get in?"
Pride and cockiness shaped his face as he dropped the

basket into my yard. He disappeared for a moment and I
straightened, trying to figure out what he had in mind. Then I
heard sneakers stomping the ground, saw a hand grasp the
top of my fence, and watched in awe as Keith flung himself
over it.

He hit the ground with a hard thud, bending his knees

deeply to absorb the shock. Smoothly, he picked up the
basket by his side and straightened, his mouth curved in a
broad grin. "How cool was that?"

I watched as he held a tall plastic cup to his mouth and

sipped from the straw. Not only had he vaulted over a six foot
fence, he'd done it holding a drink in his hand. "Very, very
cool."

He strode toward me. "Sorry about leaving you this

morning. I had a lot of things to do, and you looked like you
needed the rest."

"No problem," I said as he approached me. It may have

been the angle, but he looked huge. "I see you've found
yourself some clothes that fit." Albeit just barely. The white T-
shirt and faded jeans looked stretched to their limits.

He glanced down at himself. "Yeah, I always keep a few

outfits in the back of my closet for when I grow like that. I
even have a few of your shirts." He winked at me. "Only one
or two of them fit me now, though."

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

Keith spoke as if this was nothing out of the ordinary, but I

couldn't wrap my mind around it. "So every once in a while
you just swell up for no reason?"

"Mostly it happens when I'm," his skin tinted red as he

scratched his cheek, "thinking about stuff."

"What stuff?"
A smile played on his lips as he cast me a look I couldn't

begin to decipher. "Most people don't even notice; they just
think I'm pumped from the gym. You're the first person I ever
told."

Sex? Was that the "stuff" that sparked his growth? Or

maybe it was just fantasizing about sex? I felt my own skin
flush at the thought and looked at the fence again, changing
the subject. "Exactly how strong are you, Keith?"

He shrugged, but it seemed more like feigned modesty

than anything else. "No idea. I was curling eight hundred
pounds before I stopped going to the gym, though."

My eyebrow lifted. "Eight hundred pounds?"
He grinned. "You don't believe me, do you?"
Knowing he had to be teasing me, I shook my head.
He crouched down, placed the fruit basket on the deck,

and slid his hand underneath my chair. "Stay really still,
okay?"

"Keith?" I asked cautiously. "What are you doing?"
"Trying to find the sweet spot." He was quiet a few

seconds, before looking down at me. "Think I've got it.
Remember what I said about staying still."

Slowly, impossibly, he straightened, bringing me and the

chair up with him. The distance between the ground and me

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

kept growing until I was level with his face. Keith's hazel eyes
were playful as he took another sip from his drink.

"I know you don't weigh eight hundred pounds, but it's

easier to believe me now, isn't it?" He did three, easy reps;
presumably for emphasis.

He was balancing me, as I sat in a maple lawn chair, on

the palm of his hand. "I-I'd say so."

His brow furrowed in concern as he brought his head closer

to mine. "You're looking kinda burned there. Want me to
move you into the shade?"

It was getting harder to breathe. I'd always been attracted

to size and strength, and now Keith had both in spades. I
wasn't prepared for this. How could anyone be prepared for
this?

"Jesse?"
Giving him permission to use my first name had been a

bad idea. His low, velvet-lined voice sank into me like no
one's ever had before. Taking a careful breath, I fought
against it, fought for calm. "That sounds good."

Taking smooth, even steps, he carried me to the tree in

the center of my yard and gently set me down. He took a seat
on the grass, his back against the trunk. "So exactly how
much food have you gotten today?"

Didn't he know what he'd just done to me? Didn't he know

I didn't want this? I stared down at the plaid blanket covering
my lap, felt my hair slide forward to cover my face.
Somehow, I managed to answer calmly. "Enough to feed a
football team, probably. Six well-meaning neighbors came by
before my body started to ache from getting up and

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

answering the door so much. Since about three, I've been
sitting out here."

He leaned forward, tucked my hair behind my ear to reveal

my profile, and settled back again. "I don't blame you."

It was jarring—his natural familiarity. "What time is it? Do

you know?"

"Almost four."
My head fell back against the chair, and I stared up at the

branches of my tree. It had some kind of disease, and the
lawn service wasn't sure if they'd be able to save it. As a
result, the leaves were changing color over a month early, a
vast array of brilliant reds and golds.

Dying leaves, but at least they went out pretty. We were

both withering away before our time, but somehow I figured
the tree got the better deal.

"So, how does it feel to be back?"
It felt like a mistake. I should have gone someplace where

the people couldn't remember who I used to be. The stream
of neighbors, two of whom had burst into tears at the sight of
me, was a testament to that fact. But I turned my head away
from the dying leaves and smiled. "About how I expected."

He grinned, finished off his drink. For the first time, I

noticed the cup had my logo on the front. "You went to Warm
Rush today?"

"Yeah, got an OMB Volt. Definitely my favorite."
That meant he'd downed an orange, mango and banana

smoothie with as much caffeine in it as a Mountain Dew. I
shook my head. "You ever think that those things might be
the reason you have trouble sleeping?"

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

He laughed, and it was with the whole of his being. "I don't

have trouble sleeping, Jesse. I just don't get tired."

Given everything I'd seen in the last twenty-four hours, I

thought I should give him the benefit of a doubt. "How's the
local store doing?"

"Seems good." He set his cup on the grass. "It's always

crowded."

Should have been music to my ears. Why couldn't I care

anymore? "Glad to hear it."

"Hey, would it be okay if I took an apple from your fruit

basket? I could use a snack."

Although I would have said yes under any circumstances,

Keith was actually doing me a favor. I had a feeling most of
the fruit would spoil. "Knock yourself out."

He hopped up and went to retrieve the basket. His agility

was ... poetry. No wonder he'd made captain of his team.

Keith returned to his seat on the grass. The cellophane

wrapping crinkled loudly as he peeled it back. "There's a
card."

I'd been staring up at my leaves again. "Oh?" I said

absently, not really interested. Then the sentence clicked in
my mind and I whipped my head around to stop him from
reading it aloud.

But it was already too late.
Grinning, he plucked out the card. "Welcome home, Jesse.

The Watson family hopes this basket will give you some small
comfort as we offer our..." His voice trailed and his smile
vanished.

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

"Condolences," I finished for him. "Probably with a

'heartfelt' or a 'deepest' in front of it."

He glanced up at me. "I-I don't understand."
All traces of the cocky young man who had hopped my

fence were gone. Which meant I'd caused him pain. Again. I
should have been faster with that card. "Looks like the
Watsons know that I died."

The card slid from his fingers. "I didn't tell anyone, Jesse. I

swear."

"I never believed you did." The cold seeped in, and I

adjusted my blanket. "It's not supposed to be visible, but I
think everyone can see it. Doesn't matter whether they know
me or not." I plucked at a loose thread. "On some level, they
know I died, and they can see I'm not supposed to be here."

"I don't see that." His voice turned fierce. "I don't see that

at all."

He would, eventually. Soon enough, his fascination with

his childhood hero would burn away, and he would see me for
what I really was. A walking corpse. "Why don't you have
your apple?"

Keith reluctantly reached into the basket, picked out a red

apple. "There's another card in here."

"Business card?"
"Yeah."
I held out my hand. "Give me that, you don't want to read

it."

Ever try to tell a teenager what to do? It's damned near

impossible.

"It's for a cosmetic surgeon."

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

I sighed and dropped my hand back into my lap. "Sounds

about right."

"What kind of fucked up shit is that?"
"They're just trying to help."
"That's bullshit!" His vehemence was enough to jar me out

of my melancholy for a few moments. "I'm going over there
right now to talk to them."

Great, a would-be knight in shining armor. "Are you?"
"Hell yes!"
"Then on your way you might want to stop by the Cochran

house. And the Scotts, the Hoopers, the Baileys..."

He frowned. "They sent you jacked cards like this?"
"Every single person who came by today gave me some

sort of condolence card, as well as a business card for either a
cosmetic surgeon, a physical therapist, or a reconstructive
specialist. There's a little pile of them on the coffee table
now."

His hand curled around the card, crushing it. "I can't

believe it. Assholes."

"They don't deserve that language, Keith. In case you

haven't noticed, I am crippled and disfigured. They're nice
people, trying to do a nice thing."

He shook his fist at me. "You think this is nice? It's a slap

in the face."

"A hard enough slap might actually improve my looks,

don't you think?" I shouldn't have said that. Lately I'd gone
morbid. It was one of the reasons I hadn't written a decent T-
shirt slogan in months.

Keith's eyes flashed. "Why do you keep talking like that?"

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

I straightened and turned so I could look at him dead on.

The movement made me wince, and I wanted him to see it.
To see the pain I lived with every day. "Why do you keep
trying to pretend I'm not a twisted mockery of a man?"

We stared each other down a few, tense seconds, before

Keith growled and slammed his elbow into my tree. The
impact splintered the bark and sent a shudder up the trunk,
sending golden leaves falling around me. I looked up a
moment, watched as a few of them settled onto my blanket.

God help me, I was aroused now, and I couldn't have that.
My eyes narrowed as I met his gaze. "It's time for you to

leave."

"No."
This was a turn I hadn't been expecting. "No?"
"I'm not goin' anywhere."
Maybe being the adult would get him out of here. I could

pull that off. I had eleven years on him. "It's my property,
Keith. You are now trespassing."

He crossed his muscled arms over his broad chest and

leaned back against the trunk. "Go ahead. Make me leave."

I couldn't decide whether he was disobeying me because

he was a grown man standing his ground, or because he was
a kid throwing a tantrum. Either way, I was in no position to
eject him from my yard. I couldn't even stand—my cane was
still on the deck. "Why are you doing this, Keith? I'm sure
you've got better ways to spend your time."

That determined expression didn't change. "You need to

hear what I've got to say."

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

"And what could you possibly have to say to me?" I didn't

like this hollow, bitter side of me. The side that grew stronger
every day. At the moment, though, I was powerless to pull it
back.

"Your face is torn up and your body is worse."
My anger cooled and bitterness reigned supreme. With

some effort, I pulled my legs onto the chair and laid back.
"Alert the media."

I could hear the tension in his voice. I could feel it. "My

parents said you were home, and I was so excited that I was
running for the door before they'd even finished the sentence.
Then they stopped me, told me I had to be careful with you,
because you'd been in some horrible, disfiguring accident.
That you were just about unrecognizable now."

I stared up at the leaves still clinging to my branches,

didn't respond.

"But I didn't believe them. I came over right away."
At this point I decided to let him talk. The sooner he was

finished, the sooner he would be gone.

"When you opened that door ... God, I was so lucky that

you seemed hypnotized by my chest, because I was shocked
as hell at the sight of you, and as long as you were staring at
my body, I had time to get used to it."

Hypnotized? Embarrassment crept in when I realized that

was an accurate word for it.

"I was about to do something really stupid, like cry or

something, and then I thought about how I would feel in your
place. I didn't think you'd want people feeling sorry for you,
so I pretended that I didn't see anything wrong."

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

That had been one damn good piece of acting. Forget

basketball, the boy should join a drama club.

"You finally looked up at me, and I saw that your eyes

hadn't changed at all. Brown, soft. Really sad, though, which
almost had me crying again. But even though you obviously
didn't want anyone there, even though you were filled with ...
with sorrow, you asked me why I didn't sleep. You still cared
about me. That's how I knew."

Silence fell. Seconds. Minutes. If I wanted him out of here,

I'd have to move this along. "That's how you knew what?"

His voice dropped. "That's how I knew that you were still

Jesse Winter. That's how I knew that my feelings for you
hadn't changed. And that's when I stopped pretending."

Jesus. I half expected some sappy Henry Mancini tune to

start playing in the distance. "So the power of your heart
makes you blind to my scars. Thank you and," I turned my
head to look at him, "goodbye."

A muscle in his jaw ticked. He rose up to his knees and

yanked my chair close. "I still see them," he said, his voice
dark. His fingers traced the contour of each and every scar on
my face. "But I see you, too. And it's you I want."

My breathing shallowed, almost stopped altogether.

"There's nothing about me anyone could want."

He took my hand and pressed its palm to the growing

bulge in his jeans. "You feel that? That's not something I can
fake. I thought last night would finally get you out of my
system, that I'd finally let go of you. But all day my body's
been throbbing, begging me to come back. Trust me, Jesse.
There's definitely something here I want."

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

My hand felt as if it were on fire, and a matching fire lit his

eyes. He actually believed the things he said, with all the
naivety of youth. I wanted to believe him, too. But he
deserved so much better than a crippled man hiding out in his
backyard. I was filled to the brim with cold, bitter pain, and I
sure as hell didn't want to subject him to that. "You should go
now."

He released my hand, went back to caressing my face.

"You look tired. Really tired."

"I'm always tired, Keith," I whispered. "Go out and find

yourself someone who can keep up with you."

Instead of taking my advice, he slipped his arms under my

body and lifted me up. Carefully, he got into the chair and
settled me, face down, on top of him. "I don't mind slowing
down, Jesse."

His hot, hard body stretched beneath me, dwarfing my

own. I tried to push myself up, and his arms wrapped around
me, holding me close. My face pressed against the swell of his
pectoral muscle, and I could feel the strong, steady beat of
his heart on my cheek.

Trapped. I opened my mouth to say something callous, to

use the biting words that had served as my shield for so long,
but nothing would come. I had no defense against his
strength.

No. I couldn't let this happen. I couldn't let—
His large hands stroked my back. "Get some sleep, Jesse.

Maybe then you'll have enough energy to come to our
barbeque."

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

The word "barbeque" was so far from what I thought I

might hear today that it took me several seconds to decide
that I had heard it correctly, and to trust myself to know it
meant what I thought it meant. "What?"

One of his hands drifted up to the nape of my neck. "My

parents are having a barbeque. Just family. You should
come."

"I'm not family."
"Yeah, but I'm sure they wouldn't mind."
Marjorie Taylor hadn't been among the visitors today. She

was a morning person, so it was unlikely that she had come
after I'd retreated to my backyard. "Your mother told you to
invite me, didn't she? She say something about how someone
like me should have a home-cooked meal?"

His hands stilled. "Well, she..."
"Tell her thank you, but I have plenty of food in the

house."

His arms tightened around me. I expected it to hurt, but it

didn't. "I'd really like you to be there."

That inclination to give him everything rose up in me, and

I shoved it down. "I assume this get-together will be in your
backyard?"

"Yep."
"Then I'd rather not. My cane doesn't do well on lawns."
Keith remained undeterred. "You haven't seen our place in

forever, Jesse. Mom and Dad totally redid the yard. It's got a
koi pond and stone paths leading to all the important places. I
think you'll be able to get around just fine."

"No, thanks."

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

His tone softened, slipped past my defenses. "Please?"
Shit. Who the hell could resist that? Even my heart wasn't

completely iced over. "What time?"

"Seven-thirty. That gives you plenty of time to rest up."
Sighing, I tried to move away from him again. "Tell your

mother I'll be there. Maybe I'll bring a casserole." If I could
figure out how to carry it across the street.

Gently, he eased me downward, back onto his body. "I

think she'll figure it out when we show up."

We? "You intend to lay on this chair, with me on top of

you, for three hours?"

"That's the plan, unless you're uncomfortable."
"I imagine you're the one who would be uncomfortable."
"Nah." His warm palms glided up and down my back.

"You're really light, but I like your weight on top of me."

The feeling of my life spinning out of control returned.

"Your parents are going to kill me."

"Why?"
"Because I slept with their youngest son, that's why."
The humor in his voice wasn't exactly comforting. "Yeah,

you did. And you were great, by the way."

I groaned inwardly. "Your father have any new hunting

trophies up in the den? He still a crack shot?"

He chuckled, and the sound rumbled through my entire

body. "My dad's not going to shoot you, Jesse."

I was certain now that allowing him to use my first name

had been a mistake. The damage was done, though, and
there was no taking it back. Keith's muscles flexed a bit as he
settled himself into a better position, and I could feel his

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

thighs against mine, the ridges of his abs pressing into me,
and the pecs that were currently serving as my pillow. Hard
as a rock. I didn't understand how I could be comfortable, but
I was. Maybe this was worth a shotgun shell. "You're sure it's
all right for me to sleep here?"

"It's fine, Jesse." He paused a moment. "Your blanket fell

on the ground. You want it?"

I felt the sun on my back, Keith's body underneath me,

and realized I didn't. "No. I feel ... I feel warm."

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

CHAPTER 4

I stared down into the Taylors' koi pond. The blue stones

on the bottom gave an unexpected depth to the shallow pool
as a large, red and white fish swam lazily by. A smaller black
and red one appeared more interested in me, pausing as it
seemed to stare right into my eyes.

"Do you guys have names?" I asked softly.
The black fish swam in a tight circle, looked at me again.
I smiled. "Didn't think so. You're not missing anything.

Once you have a name, people know who you are. Once
people know who you are, they expect things from you. And
that can be more trouble than it's worth."

Suddenly I realized I was trying to have a conversation

with a fish. "Man, Jesse. You're really losing it."

And was talking to myself really any better?
Not wanting to dwell on that, I glanced up to survey the

Taylors at their family barbeque. Bob was grilling up more
burgers and chicken breasts—no doubt for me and my
overstuffed refrigerator. Keith was getting up for thirds by my
count. Ryan had eaten considerably slower, and he got up a
few moments after Keith to get himself seconds. The tall boy
stood timidly behind his younger brother as he waited.

Keith turned, looked surprised to see him standing there.

He asked him something, and Ryan nodded. Keith smiled,
handing him his own plate, which already had a hamburger
on it. Ryan gingerly took it and said something that looked
like a thank-you.

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

When Keith patted him on the back, Ryan's body jumped

as the plate trembled in his hands. He cast an uncertain smile
up at his brother before walking away to a small bench at the
far end of the yard.

The look on Keith's face reflected his pain. Raw, artless. It

held none of the sophistication of the pain inside me, and I
didn't want it to achieve such a level.

"You've hardly eaten anything tonight, Jesse. Are you sure

you wouldn't like a second helping?"

I turned my head and forced a smile. "I'm afraid I don't

have much of an appetite these days, Marjorie. But it was a
lovely meal."

Her expression sympathetic, she reached out to pat my

shoulder, thought better of it, and awkwardly pulled her hand
away. I pretended not to notice. "Well, we'll make sure that
you go home with plenty of food, and you can eat at your
own pace."

Would she be so generous if she knew I'd spent the better

part of the afternoon asleep on top of her son? "Thank you,
Marjorie. That's very kind of you."

She nodded and left to join her husband.
I glanced at Ryan. He looked every bit as alone as Keith.

They had the same dark hair and the same hazel eyes, but
right now they were as far apart as two brothers could be.

I shouldn't get into this. I should let them sort it out for

themselves.

Taking a deep breath, I ignored my own advice and limped

over to him.

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

Since he'd been staring at my scars all evening, I sat on

his left side to minimize his fascination. "Hello, Ryan."

He looked at me, then back at his burger, which he hadn't

touched. "Hi, Mr. Winter."

"You've grown up quite a bit since I saw you last. Are you

still running track?"

"Yes, sir."
"You fast?"
A smile curved his mouth. "The fastest on my team."
"Wow, that's quite an accomplishment."
The smile faded and he shrugged. "I used to think so. But

I guess it's not as cool as basketball."

I remembered how, when Keith was young, he used to tell

me how much he wished that he was as good at sports as his
brother. Now it appeared that Ryan felt as if he were the one
living in the shadow of the better athlete. "I think being a
track star on a college level team is very impressive."

"But you played basketball, didn't you?" He lifted his head

to look at me. "I'll bet you're really glad to hear that Keith
plays it now."

"That doesn't make me any less impressed with you."
His shoulders relaxed. "Really?"
"Really." I glanced at Keith, who was talking to his father.

"You and Keith seem a little tense around each other today.
You guys have a fight?"

Ryan went back to staring at his hamburger. "Something

like that."

"Want to talk about it?"
"It's not like talking will fix it."

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

I leaned forward on my cane. "It's always tough, when you

have a fight with someone you love. The forgiving part comes
easy, because it's, well, love. It's the forgetting that trips you
up."

He set his plate beside him. "I think I'm having trouble

with both."

"Ah." I glanced at him briefly, then faced forward again. "I

had a fight like that once. With my father."

Ryan was quiet a long moment, before he tentatively

broke the silence. "Was it bad?"

"I shouted at the top of my lungs that I hated him."
A touch of sarcasm threaded into his voice. "But you didn't

mean it, right?"

"Oh, I meant it. I meant it and he knew it."
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him rest his elbows on

his knees. "What was the fight about?"

"I can't remember. It seemed very important at the time.

What I'll never forget is the look on my father's face when I
said it."

"Did you feel guilty?"
"Not right then. I was so full of heat and anger that there

wasn't room for anything else. It just seemed to sneak up on
us. My dad and I were best friends. My mother passed away
when I was a baby and since then it had always been the two
of us."

"So what happened?"
I blew out a long breath. "Hell if I know. I was fifteen or

sixteen at the time, and all boys are a little crazy at that age.

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

We started arguing, it escalated, and suddenly I was shouting
that I hated him."

"What did you do next?"
"I ran away, can you believe it? Snatched up my jacket

and stormed right out of our apartment." I could feel Ryan's
eyes on me. I knew he could relate, but I also knew better
than to point that out. "I was gone for six days. Finally, the
police caught up with me and dragged me home, kicking and
screaming."

"Because you were still angry?"
"A little. But mostly I was afraid."
He straightened slightly. "Afraid?"
I chuckled. "I thought for sure Dad was gonna whip out

that belt and whup me good. You can't tell from looking at
me, but my father was a big, burly guy. You didn't want to
cross him."

"Yeah," he said softly. "So I guess you were punished

pretty badly, huh?"

I shook my head. "It was the damnedest thing. I stood in

front of my door as the cop rang the bell, expecting the devil
himself to throw it open. That door flew open, all right. But
the person standing there wasn't the devil, it was my father.
Only he had six days of growth on his face, and dark circles
underneath his eyes. He saw me standing there and he ...
burst into tears. He fell to his knees and dragged me into his
arms, sobbing against my body."

Ryan's voice fell, as if he didn't want anyone to overhear.

"So he wasn't angry with you?"

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

"He was plenty angry, and I got grounded for two months.

But he was more scared than anything else. Scared that
something had happened to me. Scared that he would never
see me again." I turned my head to find Ryan's gaze locked
on me. "Scared that we would never be father and son
again."

Hope crept into his face. "But it all worked out, right? You

guys were father and son again?"

I smiled. "Yep. It was awkward as hell for a while. I had

guilt, he had guilt. Neither one of us wanted to risk anything
that might spark a fight. Then one day my father was
watching me play basketball. I sank a shot—nothing
spectacular—but he jumped to his feet and yelled my name in
that booming voice he had. In that moment, I was happy
again. We both were."

Ryan had always been reserved with his feelings, but I

could see the ball of emotion inside of him trying to tear free.
"Mr. Winter, I think that some of what happened with me and
Keith ... I think I kinda deserved it."

"Been punishing yourself?"
His eyebrows lifted, and he nodded. "A little."
"No one deserves to lose their brother, Ryan."
He hesitated, staring at me as his eyes begged for help. "I

don't know how to fix it."

Straightening, I brought my cane closer to my body. "Start

small. Eat that burger he gave you. Sit in the same room.
Eventually have a conversation. Things will work out, you'll
see."

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

Ryan was quiet a while, absorbing what I'd said. Then he

put his plate on his lap and took a bite out of his hamburger.

A large shadow fell over us, and we both glanced up to see

Keith standing there.

"Hey, Mr. Winter," he said, winking at me. "I thought you

might like a lemonade."

Keith had been calling me "Mr. Winter" all evening, so

thankfully I didn't have to find out whether his father was still
good with a rifle. "Thank you, Keith."

He held another glass out to Ryan, the playfulness

vanishing from his face. "I got an iced tea for you, bro."

Ryan stared up at his younger brother a long moment,

then took the glass from him. "Thanks," he said, taking a sip.

Keith tilted his head to the side, before surveying the both

of us. "What have you two been talking about?"

"Basketball and track," I said calmly. "Ryan told me he's

the fastest guy on his team."

His head whipped over to Ryan. "Seriously?"
He nodded.
"Holy shit! That rocks!"
At that moment, Ryan did something I got the impression

he hadn't done in a long time. He laughed.

Keith's lips parted. Looked like he'd been missing that

sound.

He crouched in front of Ryan, his excitement growing. "So

you've probably won some meets, right? Do you have
ribbons? Medals? Trophies?"

"Y-Yeah," said Ryan, as if he couldn't believe Keith was

interested, "I have all of that."

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

"Did you bring them with you?"
He shook his head. "But I have a few pictures."
Keith jumped to his feet. "Can I see?"
"Now?"
He grinned. "Yeah."
Ryan set his glass and plate on the bench and rose to his

feet. "It's cool you're back, Mr. Winter. Thanks for the talk."

I eased into a more comfortable position on the bench. "It

was nice catching up with you, Ryan."

Both brothers waved to me as they disappeared into the

house. Nice to know my degree in psychology was good for
something.

Don't get me wrong, the story I told was true. I just hadn't

expected it to be quite so effective.

I took a drink from my glass and my mouth puckered. It

was real lemonade with almost no sugar, just the way I liked
it. Did Keith know that? I couldn't remember.

Bob and Marjorie were still standing by the grill, quietly

speaking with each other. I knew I should tell them about
what Keith and I had done last night. Secrets of that nature
were rarely secret for long, and they often blew up in your
face. Unfortunately, my degree in psychology proved totally
useless for this particular problem.

Bob? Marjorie? Last night I fucked your eighteen-year-old

son on my couch. We didn't even use protection.

Oh, shit. We didn't use protection. What was I? Fresh out

of the closet?

Well, I was clean. That was a guarantee. If Keith wasn't, I

doubted my body could take one more ailment. I'd probably

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

disintegrate into a pile of dust. Go back into the cold, where I
belonged.

Man, I really was morbid now. Even I was getting tired of

it.

Jesse Winter is an extraordinary problem solver.
That's what one of my high school teachers had written on

my recommendation letter to college. It was true, too. My
father was a janitor, and although I always had everything I
needed, money was tight. But I got myself into college, and I
survived his death my freshman year. I'd opened my first
store before I'd even graduated, and everything conceivable
went wrong. I figured it out. I persevered. I was featured on
the cover of Forbes magazine.

So why couldn't I figure this out? Why couldn't I solve this

problem?

Maybe there was only so much perseverance a human

body could take.

God, I was thinking in circles and it was giving me a

headache.

Bracing my cane on the stone walkway, I dragged myself

to my feet so I could walk over to Bob and Marjorie and hand
them my glass. "Thank you for dinner. I should be going
now."

"Oh, no," said Marjorie. "Stay five minutes more. We're

packing up leftovers for you."

Sure enough, Bob was loading hamburger patties, chicken,

and corn-on-the-cob into a huge Tupperware container. One I
knew I'd never be able to carry.

"Please, don't go through the trouble."

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

"It's no trouble," said Bob.
How could I get out of this without appearing rude? Most

times I didn't care about offending people if they pushed me
far enough, but I honestly liked the Taylors. "Really, I
couldn't possibly eat all of that, and you have growing boys to
feed. I appreciate the offer, and you two have a good night,
all right?" I turned, hobbled to the house so I could walk
through it to the other end. My weaker left hand managed to
slide open the patio doors, and I entered the kitchen, limping
into the living room.

Keith and Ryan were sitting together on the couch, looking

at pictures. Keith looked up as soon as I entered the room.
"Leaving?"

"Yes." I started to walk past the couch. "Goodnight, guys."
Ryan raised a hand. "Night."
Keith hopped over the couch and landed right in my path.

"Did you have a good time, Mr. Winter?"

I was thrown by his larger frame. Last night I had been

eye level with his nipples, and now I stared at the bottom of
his pecs. Hypnotized. Again. "I had a very nice time, Keith."

Those big pecs bounced within the confines of his shirt and

my gaze shot up. His face was straight, but I was rapidly
becoming familiar with the playfulness in his eyes. "Would
you like me to walk you home, Mr. Winter?"

I glanced at Ryan, but he seemed engrossed in whatever

was on the television. "No. Thank you."

Disappointment colored his handsome features. "Really?"

he asked, lowering his head. "Are you sure?"

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

He inched closer, and I realized he meant to kiss me—in

his house, with his brother in the room. Almost against my
will, my head tilted upward. It was crazy, but I was about to
let him.

"Oh! Jesse! I'm glad you haven't left."
I guess the sound of a mother's voice is enough to quell

even the most hormonal teenager's libido, because Keith
instantly straightened. In the next instant, tension filled his
body, and I saw his fist clench. His forearm swelled with the
force of it.

Curious, I turned around.
Marjorie was waving a small white card in her hand.
"I wanted to give you the name of a physical therapist in

the area," she said brightly. "He comes highly recommended."

Keith started to reach for the card and I moved quickly to

beat him to it, despite the pain it shot through my arm.
"Thank you, Marjorie," I said, keeping my tone polite as I
pocketed the card. "That was thoughtful of you."

She beamed at me.
"Hey Jesse, I got that food packed. You can take it home

now." Bob strode in with the massive Tupperware container.

These people were persistent. I should offer them positions

in my sales division.

"Oh, honey," said Marjorie, looking up at Keith. "Would

you be a dear and carry it over for him?"

I didn't have to see him to know he was grinning.
"Sure, Mom. No problem." Keith walked past me, took the

container his father held, and tucked it under one arm.
"Ready to go, Mr. Winter?"

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

Funny, how that worked out.
Resigned, I walked out of the Taylors' house. "Let's go."
As we left, Keith paused and said over his shoulder, "Mom,

Dad, I'm going out tonight. Don't wait up."

What kind of teenager made announcements like that? I

chanced a glance backward and saw his parents nod, almost
nervously. There had been nothing menacing or disrespectful
in his tone, but he did exude power and confidence. Given
what Keith had told me last night, his parents' reaction was
understandable.

Having spent too much time thinking about this and not

enough thinking about where I was going, it was also
understandable when my foot snagged on something and I
plummeted toward the concrete walkway.

Casually—almost absently—Keith's free arm hooked

around my body, lifted me up, and set me on my feet again.
Without saying a word, he reached behind him and shut the
front door.

I stood there, shaken by what had happened. Even more

shaken that his parents had seen it.

His large hand caressed my hair, skimmed down the nape

of my neck, and rested on my back. He didn't push me
forward. Instead, he applied a light, gentle pressure that was
enough to get my feet shuffling across the street. Out of
necessity, I moved slowly, which had to have frustrated his
naturally long stride.

Wanting to break the silence during our long walk across

the street, I asked, "You're going out tonight? Anywhere
special?"

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

"Yep." He grinned down at me. "Your place."
I climbed up onto the sidewalk in front of my house. "I

don't recall inviting you, Keith."

He jumped in front of me, making me feel as if I were

standing before a solid wall of muscle. "You said I could come
over anytime."

I frowned. "When?"
"When I was twelve," he quipped, his laughter floating

down to me.

All of a sudden, I was smiling. It was starting to feel

familiar again.

Keith walked patiently with me as I made my way up my

porch steps. I fished out my keys and opened the door. He
breezed by me, as if this was his home, and went into my
kitchen. I caught up with him just as he was sliding the food
container into the fridge.

"Damn, you weren't kidding about the food." He shut the

door, giving it a firm push to make sure it stayed shut. "I had
to move around a lot of stuff to get ours in there."

"That's too bad. I'd been hoping to purchase some juice

and milk, but I can't if I have nowhere to put it."

"No big deal. Just eat yourself room in your fridge."
I imagine he hadn't paid much attention to my plate this

evening. Throwing the food out would be easier than eating it
all. "I'll keep that in mind."

Keith braced one hand on the island counter and one on

the counter lining the wall, totally filling the space between.
"Where would you like it tonight, Jesse?"

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

Every time he said my name, the effect was more sensual,

more profound. Shouldn't I be developing some sort of
resistance to its power? "I-I don't understand what you
mean."

He leaned forward, his hands still flat on the counters,

showing off his rounded shoulders. "Couch again? Here in the
kitchen? You like me enough to give that nice, big bed of
yours a workout?"

That warm summer scent of his floated around us,

caressed my senses. "I-I'm not sure—"

Keith released the counters and closed the distance

between us, towering over me. "You can't decide? Can I? You
can probably tell I'm partial to the bed."

"Keith." I thought carefully about my words. At least, I

tried. It didn't work out very well. "We can't."

"All right." He lowered his head and kissed my cheek.

"Couch it is."

Persistence must be a Taylor family trait. I found myself

staring at his broad chest again, remembering how his skin
felt beneath my fingers. I had to stop this before I fell too far,
but—once again—my problem-solving skills failed me.

Okay, Jesse. Get him out of the house now, figure out how

to keep him out later. "I don't have any condoms in the
house."

He straightened, but just enough to look into my face.

"Condoms? How can you not be clean?" His mouth crooked. "I
took your virginity last night."

Caught off-guard, and incredibly embarrassed, I shoved at

him. My hand pressed against his rock-hard abs, but was—

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

predictably—incapable of pushing him backward. Keith
glanced down at himself, then back at me, grinning.

Cocky as hell, and damned if it wasn't sexy.
"Jesse, what's the deal? Why do you think you need a

condom when you haven't had sex in over two years?"

I dropped my hand, my voice sharper than I'd intended. "I

know where I've been. I have no idea about you, though."

He didn't look offended. In fact, his cockiness only seemed

to increase. "I've been"—he chuckled—"around. But I don't
get sick, so you have nothing to worry about."

Typical. "Why do teenagers always think they're

immortal?"

"I don't know about immortal. I do know I don't get sick

anymore. Ever."

I didn't even have anything to say to that. Good thing my

skepticism showed well enough on my face.

"I'm serious, Jesse. I can prove it."
My legs were killing me, but I propped both my hands on

my cane. "Please, go right ahead."

His words rushed out of him after he glanced at the cane.

"Remember when I was thirteen and I had the chicken pox?
You took a week off from your business to watch me while my
mom and dad were at work. You made me soup and played
video games with me. Even sick I could stomp your ass pretty
good. Remember?"

"Well, it was your game system and your games. Unfair

advantage." I realized I sounded like a kid, and forced myself
to focus on the important part of this conversation. "The fact
that you had chicken pox isn't very good for your argument."

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

"Remember how you caught me scratching the hell out of

myself, and you duct taped oven mitts to my hands to stop it
from happening again?"

Man, I would have been a terrible parent. "Yes."
"But I'd already done a lot of damage, hadn't I? I had

more than a dozen little scars up and down my torso.
Remember that?"

Slowly, I started to see where he was going with this. "I

remember."

Keith grabbed the hem of his T-shirt, drawing it upward,

revealing his muscle-plated abs, the bottom curve of his pecs.
"See any of those scars now?"

I stared at that expanse of perfect, tanned skin. I tried,

but I couldn't look away. "No," I whispered.

"Every time I scrape myself up, it heals right away now.

Faster and faster every time. Illnesses can't even touch me. I
haven't so much as sneezed in two years."

Of its own accord, my hand left my cane to touch his

flawless skin. His torso tensed as soon as my fingers made
contact with him, causing the grooves around his abdominal
muscles to etch themselves even deeper. "What are you,
Keith?"

"I'm safe." His hands encircled my waist, lifted me up. He

brought me close and wrapped his thick, hard arms around
my body. "You can trust me. I..." His eyelids closed for a brief
moment, before revealing their light hazel color once more.
"I'd never hurt you, Jesse."

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

It showed me for the fool I was, but I believed him. At

least for tonight. I kept myself from wincing as I lifted my left
hand to caress his face. "So you're partial to the bed?"

He broke into a grin and nodded.
"Well, after three years of inactivity, the mattress does

seem to need some breaking in. Do you think you can handle
it?"

His smile widened as he lowered his head. "Think you can

handle it?"

I rested my arm on his shoulder. No, I knew damn well I

couldn't handle a man like this. "Only one way to find out."

Keith laughed, shifted my position so that he cradled my

body in his arms, and strode up the stairs.

* * * *

It was freezing. I huddled deeper into my blankets, but

realized it wouldn't help. I rubbed my eyes and looked at my
empty bed, then at the clock.

One a.m.
Well, the boy didn't sleep. Couldn't expect him to spend all

his time in the bed.

The sound of movement downstairs surprised me. He was

still in the house?

I looked around for my cane, smiling when I found it

propped against my nightstand, just like yesterday. I gingerly
got out of bed and maneuvered myself into some clothing
before I made my way down the stairs. The harsh light of the
kitchen made me blink, and when I was able to focus, my
breath actually stalled somewhere inside of me.

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

Keith leaned against the island counter, eating the pie Mrs.

Bailey had dropped off earlier, without a stitch on.

My gaze traveled over his naked body. From his broad

shoulders, along his bulging arms, over his tight waist. It
rested briefly on the hard, rounded muscles of his glutes,
then traveled down his long, powerful legs.

A teenage god was eating pie in my kitchen.
He turned his head and smiled. "Hey, Jesse. Hope I didn't

wake you."

My hand went to my chest. Did my heart just skip a beat?

I felt thirteen again, trying to deal with my first crush. "N-No.
You didn't wake me." I forced my gaze to the counter, to the
rainbow of food containers arranged across its surface. "Quite
a spread you've got there."

"Oh, yeah." His grin turned sheepish. "I got hungry. Is it

all right that I'm eating your food?"

I limped to the counter. "Have as much as you want." It

looked like he'd tried every food item the neighbors had
brought today. I guess I would have room for juice, after all.
"Is it good?"

"Yeah, but," he speared another piece of pie, "this apple

pie is the greatest."

His energy chased the chill away, and I couldn't help

smiling. "I'm sure. Mrs. Bailey always loved to bake."

"Want me to cut you a slice?"
"No, thanks."
"You didn't eat much at dinner today."
He was still staring at his pie, his face relaxed. But now

there was no playfulness. I'd only eaten half of my hamburger

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

today. I thought he hadn't paid attention, but apparently I'd
been wrong about that. My track record with this kid was
getting worse by the second. "I wasn't hungry."

"None of this food had even been touched when I started

in on it. Did you eat anything before dinner?"

I tried to remember. "Probably not."
"So have a piece of pie."
"I'm really not hungry."
He loaded his fork and held it toward me. "Just try it."
I jerked my head away. "I'm not a child, and I'm not an

invalid. I can decide when to eat." Angry now, I started to
walk back to the bedroom.

Keith's arm looped around me, and suddenly I was sitting

on top of the counter. He smoothed the hair back from my
face and kissed me.

Reminded of all the fire we'd shared, my body reacted

instantly, willingly. My lips parted, and he slid his tongue into
my mouth. He'd taken a bite of pie, and he pushed it past my
teeth.

It tasted of apples and cinnamon and syrupy sweetness. I

swallowed the small bit of pastry, and then I sucked on his
tongue, wanting more. My hand slipped around his neck,
holding him close as I swept his mouth clean.

He broke the kiss, breathed husky words into my ear.

"Wasn't that good?"

"Yes," I whispered.
"You think if I put some on my cock, your appetite might

come back?"

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

My breath caught as I stared into his eyes. Intent, adult,

sensual. Fighting him was getting harder and harder. "A
possibility."

A smile played on his lips as he reached for the pie.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

CHAPTER 5

I sat in a folding metal chair as I watched Keith shoot

baskets in my driveway. Today he was wearing a tank-top
that hugged his torso while exposing his biceps, triceps,
deltoids. Power and grace personified him, and I was as
drawn as always.

Too bad he would leave for college tomorrow.
For the best, though. He'd spent almost all of his time at

my house this week. I still didn't understand the appeal. I
wasn't good for him. I wasn't good for anyone.

"What do you think, Jesse?" he asked, taking a jump shot

and running forward to retrieve the ball. "I deserve that
athletic scholarship they gave me?"

In truth, I'd never seen anyone play so well. It made me

wish I'd been there to catch a few of his high school games.
"Definitely."

He tucked the ball underneath his arm, making his

shoulders seem even broader. "I still can't do that fake-out
move you taught me, though. It works maybe one out of five
times."

"If it makes you feel any better, I can't do it either."
His eyebrow lifted. "It really doesn't."
Since the accident, no one could get used to the morbid

tone in my humor. But Keith no longer seemed bothered by
it. "Why do you need it, anyway? Some of the moves you've
shown me today are much better."

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

"Aw man," he said, shifting the ball to his hands. "It's so

cool."

I chuckled. It still sounded rusty, but had gotten a little

more natural. "Show me."

He walked to the center of my driveway, faced my basket,

and executed the move.

I smiled, seeing the problem immediately. "Show me

again," I said, to make sure.

He frowned, did it again.
Same problem.
"You broadcast what you're going to do. It's hardly a fake-

out when you tell the secret."

"No way!" He straightened, offended.
I leaned forward on my cane. "Do it again."
He squared up and slipped into the move.
"You're going to turn left."
He paused, then tried again.
"Going for right this time?"
Growling, he turned to me. "How can you tell?"
"You throw your body in one direction to misdirect the

other player, but you've already told your opponent where
you're going long before that."

"How?"
It had been so long since I'd talked sports with anyone.

"You dip your shoulder and lean in the direction you really
intend to go. I can't see you from the front, but I'm betting
that your eyes give it away, too. An average player might be
fooled by your burst of energy, but a good one looks for the
more subtle signs."

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

His face sobered with concentration as he attempted to

follow my advice. "How was that?"

"A little better."
"Just a little?" he asked, looking very much like a pouting

child.

I grinned. "Think of it all as one smooth movement. The

fake, the pivot, the shot. Finesse the ball, finesse your
opponent. Let him think you're giving him something, then
take it all away."

The pouting expression turned into determination. "Okay, I

get it."

Half an hour later, he really did.
Keith whooped and threw his fist into the air. "Yeah!

They're not going to know what hit them when the season
starts!"

Just spending an afternoon here, watching him, was nice.

"I don't doubt it."

He bounced the ball a few times, cast a sidelong grin at

me, and sprinted up my driveway to slam it into the basket.
His hand locked on the rim and he hung there. "What do you
think of that, Jesse!"

His explosion of energy would have had me rocketing to

my feet if my legs had been strong enough to accomplish it.
As it was, I just sat there in awe. I had been a good ball
player. Better than good. But I'd never been able to dunk.

His pecs, barely restrained by his sweat drenched tank-

top, heaved with every breath. When I failed to respond,
amusement crept into his expression. "Not impressed? How

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

about this?" Easily, with only one arm, he pulled himself
upward until his chin was above the rim.

It amazed me that my basketball hoop could withstand his

weight. It astounded me to watch Keith pull himself up, over
and over again. His face was cocky, but relaxed. It didn't
strain him at all as he accomplished rep after rep. With every
rep, the muscles in his arm swelled bigger, until his biceps
had risen to a hard, glistening peak.

"Well, Jesse?"
And I still couldn't speak.
He dropped to the ground and strode toward me. "I hate

that I'm leaving tomorrow. I'm gonna miss you."

Finally I found my voice. "No, you won't."
He crouched before me. "You don't think so, huh?"
Because we were in front of my house, for all the world to

see, I restrained myself from touching him. "That first year of
college is unbelievable. Busy, fun, challenging. You'll want to
meet everyone, to see everything, to do everything. Trust
me, within a few days you'll stop thinking of me altogether,
and that's the way it should be."

His long fingers toyed with the bottom of my cane. "Jesse,

I..."

I lowered my head, trying to catch his gaze. "What is it,

Keith?"

He looked up from my cane, his face more serious than I'd

ever seen it. "I want to fuck."

My eyes rounded. "What?"

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

"If I'm going to forget you in a few days, then I want to

spend the rest of today fucking in bed, on your couch, in your
den. Everywhere."

"That's what you want?" The proposition scalded my

senses. I should have been used to his boldness by now, but
it always blindsided me. "So..." I looked away, then back at
him. "So the desk lamp I'd planned to give you later would be
inadequate?"

The teasing grin I'd been hoping to see didn't appear.

Instead, he rose to his feet and held out his hand.

I let him help me up and, mindful of the neighbors,

released him.

His face seemed grim, harder somehow. It wasn't the

expression of someone about to have sex.

"This week went by too fast." Keith scooped up the

basketball and went into my house.

I stood there, immobile, as I watched his broad back

disappear through the doorway.

Why were goodbyes always so hard for him?

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

CHAPTER 6

Had I heard that right? "You want to sell caffeinated cocoa

in my stores?"

The educated male voice coming from the speakerphone

on my coffee table was very excited about this idea. From the
murmurings of the men and women in the background, so
was the rest of the marketing team. "Yes, Jesse. We believe
that it will be a popular item on the menu."

"Stephen, when I think of cocoa, I think of quiet, rainy

days. Of curling up with a good book. Of peace in front of a
fireplace just before bed. In fact, I can't think of a single high
energy situation where cocoa might be involved."

"That's the beauty of it. It's new, fresh, unexpected. We

thought we could call it Warm Rush, because it's warm and,
well, gives you a rush."

At the moment, I regretted ever creating a marketing

department. I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Let me get this
straight. You want me to approve an untested, unfamiliar
beverage, and name it after my store? People will think it's
our signature drink, and if it fails, then they will associate that
failure with us. Or have you not thought of this?"

The voice faltered. "We ... um ... It tested extremely well

in the focus groups."

I knew better than to trust a focus group. They were often

asked so many questions that the product itself lost its
meaning. "Brendan, what do you think of this?"

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

Brendan Smith was one of my oldest employees. He was a

closer, a realist, and the reason I'd created the department in
the first place. "It's cayenne spiced cocoa with two shots of
espresso, Jesse. I didn't think I'd like it either, but man, I'm
addicted to them now."

Brendan had a good palate, and his favorite drinks were

usually everyone else's favorites as well. "This is what we'll
do. Give the product a test run in a sampling of stores across
the country. Start December first, have a market report ready
by New Year's." My head fell back against my couch as I
closed my eyes. "And rename it ... Cocoa Combustion."

More murmurings. But it was Brendan's friendly voice that

came through. "Hey, Jesse. That's pretty clever."

My mouth quirked. "Thanks."
"When are you coming back to the office?"
Not many people from the main office had seen me since

the accident. After all this time, I still wasn't ready to see
their collective reactions, despite the fact that it was only
forty-five minutes away. "I'm not sure, Brendan. Now, switch
me over to Sherri, will you?"

His voice cooled, changed to a tone I just couldn't help

drawing out of him these days. "Sure thing, boss."

There was a click and a brief silence before Sherri picked

up. "Yes, Jesse?"

"Sherri, have my flight arrangements been made?"
"Your flight is scheduled to leave for Florida tomorrow,

November seventeenth, at 2:33pm. I've emailed you the
itinerary."

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

Sherri Matheson had started working for me last year, and

she was the most efficient assistant I'd ever had. I'd offered
her a position heading one of the divisions in my company,
but she declined, saying she liked her job. So I'd given her a
big, fat raise instead. "Did you score me a window seat?"

"Yes, Jesse," she sighed, as if I should have known. Of

course, she was right. "In first class."

"Hotel?"
"Ritz-Carlton, executive suite."
"Did I mention I love you, Sherri?"
"If I weren't married, and you weren't gay, we'd be quite

the pair."

I laughed softly. "Have you tried this cocoa thing they've

cooked up over there?"

"Yep, drinking one now."
"How is it?"
"My third one today, if that tells you anything."
I smiled. "I don't feel so apprehensive about it then. Is

there anything I've forgotten?"

"Want me to send a car to pick you up from your house?"
"Taxi."
"And from the airport to the hotel?"
I thought about the letter I'd received last week. About the

tough, Jersey accent that sounded in my head while reading
it. "Not necessary. A friend is meeting me there."

"Then that would be it. Try not to drink too much

champagne on your flight."

"Thank you, Sherri. I'll check in with you soon."

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

"You'd better. You make my life hell whenever you decide

to disappear on us."

Not exactly proper behavior for someone in my position.

But I'd never been out of touch for more than a week or two.
"Bye, Sherri."

"Have a safe trip, Jesse."
I leaned forward and hit the button.
It was going to be an interesting Thanksgiving.

* * * *

I stood in the middle of the crowded airport, looking

around. People rushed by me, and I was thankful that they
were giving me a wide berth. Sometimes being disfigured had
its advantages.

Where was he? Would I even recognize him? After all, it

had been ten years and we were a long way from Jersey.

A loud, baritone voice boomed through the din of the

airport. "Little Jesse Winter!"

I turned at the greeting and instantly recognized the big,

robust man hurrying toward me. "Uncle Harry," I said,
although in a much softer voice.

He wasn't really my uncle. I didn't have any family left.

Harry Caruso had been my father's best friend.

Heedless of my cane, he swept me into a bear hug, lifting

me off my feet.

Uncle Harry loved to hug.
"It's good to see you, boy! I didn't think you'd get my

letter!"

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

He set me on the floor and I quickly set my cane in front of

me to keep myself from falling forward. I stared up at his
face, weathered by age, but still so familiar. "It's good to see
you, too. I'm sorry I didn't keep in touch after Dad's funeral."

"Hey, it was as much my fault we drifted apart. But I

thought you had enough on your plate. Settling his debts,
going to college." He placed his hand on my shoulder. "And
starting your own business. I didn't find that out until a few
months ago, when I had taken it into my head to look you up.
That's quite a thing you did."

Embarrassed, I glanced away. "I didn't do much. That

great uncle I'd never met died a year after Dad. I just used
the money he gave me."

"Don't even talk like that. You were always a crackerjack

kid, and your pop would be proud." He gently gripped my chin
and tilted my head to look at my scars. "Seems like the years
have been tough on you, though."

Strange, but his scrutiny didn't make me self-conscious.

Maybe because he'd changed my diapers when I was a baby.
"Yeah."

"I read about your accident when I was looking you up.

That's what made me write. The article said you were hurt
pretty badly, but there weren't any details or good pictures. I
had to see you for myself." He released my chin and ruffled
my hair. "To see Abrahm Winter's boy."

Everything after the funeral had happened so fast, but now

I wished I had stayed connected to this man. Instead, I'd left
New Jersey and never looked back. "The press doesn't really
follow me. I'm not that well known."

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

He grinned broadly, showing off the gold tooth he had

behind his canine. He'd had that thing in his mouth for as
long as I could remember. He always said, if worse came to
worst, then it would be his retirement fund. "What are you
talking about? You own stores all over the world."

My lips twitched. "Uncle Harry, do you know who owns

Starbucks?"

He frowned as he thought about it, then chuckled. "Okay, I

get your point."

My legs hurt already, but I didn't want this conversation to

end. "So you came to Florida to retire. How are you liking it?"

"It's all right. I get bored, though." He ran his fingers

through his thinning hair. "I went back to school, got myself a
degree in accounting. Got certified and everything."

He'd always been good with numbers. He used to help me

with my math homework. "You're an accountant now?"

His light faded. "Not exactly. Turns out, no one wants to

hire an old man over sixty."

This time, I frowned. "You're good at it?"
Harry shrugged. "I think I am. I haven't had a chance to

prove it, though. I actually applied to Warm Rush a while
back, before I knew you owned it."

"You applied to my accounting department?"
More light went out of him. "Ah, no. I applied to work at

the store on Fifth and Main."

I tried to make sense of the statement. "At one of my

retail stores? To do what?"

"What I do best. Sweeping up."

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

My hand tightened on my cane. "A janitor? But ... you

have a degree in accounting."

"It's just a piece of paper, Jesse. Clara and I are living fine

on my pension, but I'd like to buy her a few nice things, you
know?"

It wasn't just a piece of paper. Not to him. "Uncle Harry,

do you happen to have a cell phone on you?"

He patted his pockets. "Yeah, somewhere ... Oh, here it

is." He handed it to me. "Is your battery dead or something?"

I flipped open his phone. "I don't own one. Makes it too

easy for people to contact me." I dialed Sherri's direct
number and held it to my ear. "Hi, Sherri."

"Jesse? Why does it sound like you're standing in the

middle of an airport?"

"Because I am."
Her voice grew angry as I heard a flurry of typing. "Did

your friend forget you? Do you want me to arrange a car?"

"No, Sherri, he didn't forget me. Even if he had, I'm quite

capable of flagging down my own taxi."

I could almost see her smirk. "All right then, Mr. Bigshot.

What do you need me for?"

"Check to see if we have any openings in our accounting

department."

Harry nudged my arm. "Jesse."
Pinning the phone between my cheek and shoulder, I held

up my hand. It was an automatic gesture, and it surprised me
when he fell quiet. The big man had never done what I said
before.

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

Another flurry of typing. The line went silent a minute or

two as she called down to personnel. "It seems we have two
openings. One is available today, while the other will be in
three weeks when Carl Jones retires."

I pressed the phone against my chest and looked up at

Harry. "How do you feel about Connecticut?"

His eyes rounded. "Connecticut?"
"If you move there, I guarantee the benefits will be worth

it. Plus, I'd make sure we'd never lose touch again."

Two hundred and sixty pounds of stunned Italian stood

before me. "I-I have to talk it over with Clara."

"That's fine." I uncovered the phone. "Sherri, when Jones

retires, hold his position until I say otherwise. Got it?"

"Sure thing, Jesse. Anything else?"
"That's all. Thanks."
"No problem."
I closed the phone and handed it back to Harry.
"Jesse, I did not write to you so you could get me a job."
"I know. You were always too proud for your own good."
He looked startled by my statement, but soon he was

grinning again. "Yeah, well, your father taught me that. From
the looks of things, he taught it to you, too."

"Do you ... Do you think I'm like him?"
He tapped his fist against my cheek. "You got your

mother's looks, but that fire in your belly is all Abrahm."

Smiling, I wondered if I could arrange a house for him in

my neighborhood.

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

An hour later, as we sat on the outdoor patio of a small

restaurant he liked, I found myself wondering if I could sell
him my house.

"It's pretty here," I said, pushing my half eaten pasta to

the side. "I've been to Florida before, but I've never noticed
how blue the sky is."

"Yeah, it's a nice place to relax, and to be warm."
Warm. I watched the pedestrians go by. Many of them had

canes; some of them had walkers or wheelchairs. I'd fit right
in here.

All right, most of them were twice my age, but that

seemed a minor detail. "I have to tell you, I'm seriously
considering purchasing a place down here."

Harry chuckled and rested his forearms on the table.

"What about your promise to stay in touch if I move to
Connecticut?"

The corner of my mouth lifted. "Did any of those articles

you read tell you how much money I have? Just say the word,
and I'll come visit you."

He shook his head as he stood. I think he believed I was

joking. "Let's go. Clara is looking forward to seeing you again,
and she wants to run the Thanksgiving spread by you."

I glanced at my plate and pulled myself to my feet. "Is she

planning a large meal?"

"You know Clara."
Yes, I did. I remembered my father and me eating

Thanksgiving dinner at the Caruso home, one floor up from
us. Both families would live on the leftovers for days.

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

I hoped Clara wouldn't take my lack of interest in food

personally. My appetite hadn't gotten much better since Keith
left for school.

Keith, who hadn't written or called. I wasn't surprised, but

the warmth I'd had that week had left with him.

So maybe I could get it here, in the Sunshine State.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

CHAPTER 7

The doorbell rang, and I got up from my laptop to answer

it. I don't know what it is about Laurel, Connecticut, but I
almost never thought to check my peephole when I was here.
Everywhere else, I had more sense.

So it was my own fault that I was unprepared for the wall

of muscle standing before me. The forest green T-shirt could
not obscure the six, distinct bricks of muscle underneath it.
My gaze traveled upward, to the pecs that jutted out above
the crown of my head.

Dream of tomorrow.
Live life today.
Never regret yesterday.
The words were warped by the big muscles underneath

them, but they were readable, and they were mine. I'd
written it just before the crash. I smiled, thinking that—
perhaps—I should take my own advice. Lifting my gaze, I
looked up at his face. "Hello, Keith."

"Hey, Mr. Winter."
The cold December air rushed in, surrounded me, sank

into my bones.

Mr. Winter.
I should have expected this. Why hadn't I expected this?

"Wh-When did you get back?"

He slid his hands into his pockets. "A couple days ago."
"Ah." I floundered for something to say. "How are you?"

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by Rowan McBride

100

"Fine. Mom sent me over to see if you were coming to the

party tonight. She said you never RSVP'd."

No playful light in his eyes. No teasing grin. I had no doubt

that his mother had sent him here. I tried to focus, tried to
steady myself. But I was confused on more than one level.
"Party? Is it ... Is it Christmas Eve already?"

He nodded.
The card. I remembered getting it. Where had I put it? I

looked around briefly, as if I could find the answer in my
dimly lit house. "I'm sorry. I hadn't realized."

"So, what should I tell her?"
My gaze riveted on to him again. Marjorie's parties were a

neighborhood event. Pretty people in pretty clothes making
pretty conversation. I didn't have the strength for that. "Tell
your mother thank-you, but I will not be attending her party.
Please give her my apologies for not getting back to her
sooner."

His expression didn't change. "Sure," he said, turning

away.

"Goodbye, Keith." I started to close the door.
"Mr. Winter?"
I paused. "Yes?"
"You been out of the house today?"
It took me a moment to go over the day in my head. "No."
He glanced over his shoulder. "What about yesterday?"
I shivered from the cold. "No."
Keith walked away from me. "Then you should think about

coming. Would probably be good for you, and I know my
parents would like to see you."

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

101

Quietly, I shut the door. Leaning against it, I replayed

Keith's expression in my head. The distance, the total lack of
interest. Before, at the very least, we'd always been friends.

I guess he'd finally outgrown me.
My laptop beeped softly, indicating that I'd just received

an email. Though the sound was enough to rouse me from
my inertia, I didn't check it. Instead I closed the lid, putting
the computer to sleep.

Dream of tomorrow.
Live life today.
Never regret yesterday.
All right. I wrote the damned thing. I could follow it.
I'd had a hot, sweaty fling with the boy next door:

Yesterday. I had dozens of decisions to make about my living
arrangements and my business: Tomorrow. And I'd been
invited to a Christmas party:

Hell, I had nothing better to do today.
Knowing I was fueled more by pain and anger than

common sense, I headed up the stairs to get ready. Normally
I detested suits, but I'd been a business owner long enough
to know that they were sometimes a necessary evil. I pulled a
black one out of my closet, sniffed it to make sure it didn't
smell like mothballs, and laid it out on my bed. Then I
selected a black dress shirt to join the suit.

Fuck the tie. Had to draw the line somewhere.
By the time I reached my bathroom, my anger had

evaporated. I think it was the sight of my shower stall that
did it. The chrome grab bar and the L-shaped seat mounted
on the wall reminded me that I was ... me.

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

102

"Jesus," I murmured, staring at my assisted living fixtures.

"What did you expect, Jesse? He's in the prime of his life. He
shouldn't have to slow down to keep a cripple company, and
he realizes that now."

I stood in the center of my bathroom, done in chrome and

white, trying to decide what I wanted. It took me a while, but
I figured it out. I wanted to see Keith in his winter suit, then I
wanted to get the hell out of Laurel.

I stepped forward and turned on the shower.
Stripping was always awkward, because I still liked to do it

standing up, which meant I had to hold on to my cane. Soon,
though, I was sitting underneath a stream of steady, hot
water.

My skin turned red almost immediately; the water hitting it

was probably too hot to be healthy. But it felt good, and so
few things felt good these days.

Once done, I went to the sink to shave the uneven growth

of hair off my face. I stared at myself for a long time.
Something I rarely did.

I noticed my shoulders were crooked. And that my right

one was slightly more developed than the other. The scars on
the left side of my face traveled down my neck, engulfing my
shoulder, my arm, my chest. If you watched them long
enough, they developed an odd sort of reason. But that might
have been my belief because I'd had them for so long.

Picking up my razor, I carefully cut the shadow from my

face. The scars made things difficult, however, and I ended
up nicking myself. It wasn't bad—I'd had enough practice at
this not to slice myself open. There was a small trickle of

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103

blood, though, and I couldn't help watching in morbid
fascination as it painted a bright red trail down my pale skin.

What was the right word for me? Repulsive? Sickening?

Grotesque?

Grotesque. That one seemed to fit.
The razor slipped from my fingers, clattering against the

faucet as it dropped to the counter. All my rage and
bitterness exploded out of me in an inarticulate shout as I
grabbed the ceramic mug that held my toothbrush and
slammed it into the mirror. Dozens of fissures snaked
outward from the impact, shattering my reflection.

But it wasn't enough. I could still see it.
My grip tightened on the mug and I really went to work.

Glass fell to the counter, into the sink, to the floor. At one
point, the mug fractured in my hand. It didn't deter me from
accomplishing my mission, though, and I didn't stop until
every last bit of the mirror had fallen away. I tossed the
remainder of the mug to the floor, where it, too, shattered.
Numbly, I stared down at my bleeding hand, my breath
coming in harsh, unsteady rasps. A hell of a mess. But I did
feel better.

I didn't mind the seven years of bad luck. I was in it for

the long haul.

* * * *

"Jesse! I'm so glad you could make it!"
Marjorie stepped aside to let me in, but I hesitated.

Catharsis—it does wonders for your common sense. "I'm

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

104

sorry for not replying to your invitation. Are you sure I won't
be inconveniencing you?"

"Nonsense." She waved me inside. "Keith said that you

were busy and weren't sure whether you'd be able to come,
so we set an extra place for you, just in case."

He'd said that? Why?
Marjorie closed the door behind me. "Would you like

something to drink?"

I looked around. Marjorie had been having these parties

since before I met her. As usual, the house was filled with
guests, and they all glanced up to look at me.

For the first time since my accident, I stood as straight as

my cane would allow, and I stared back unflinchingly. Let
them gawk. I didn't care. "No, thank you."

"All right. I'd better check on the meal," she said, already

leaving for the kitchen. "We'll be serving dinner in about ten
minutes."

By now, the gawkers had broken my gaze, unable to

indulge their fascination. Another first. I walked deeper into
the main room, nodding politely to the people who said hello
to me as I put away my coat. I took in the brightly lit
Christmas tree, the poinsettias scattered throughout the
room. Mistletoe hung over the doorway leading to the den. I'd
have to avoid that.

Christmas carols floated from the stereo, loud enough to

add to the atmosphere but low enough to allow easy
conversation. All in all, the Taylors had done a pretty good
job of invoking a feeling of "peace on Earth, good will toward
men."

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by Rowan McBride

105

There was a minor commotion to my right, and I saw Ryan

sprint across the room. Along with everyone else, I followed
his path, watched as he jumped onto Keith's back.

Keith's body wasn't even jostled by the impact. He glanced

over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow at his brother.

Ryan laughed. "Sorry, couldn't resist."
Keith grinned and grabbed hold of Ryan's body. He easily

flipped him over his shoulder and gently set him on the
ground. "Anytime, bro."

There were some chuckles through the room as people

went back to their conversations. I overheard bits and pieces
of one going on near me.

"Isn't it nice that those two are getting along so well?"
"They're both in college now. I imagine they have more in

common."

I maneuvered myself so that I could lean against the wall

by the Christmas tree. Relatively quiet, out of the way. No
one would notice me here, and my whole reason for coming
to this party was to take a look at Keith's suit. I might as well
take the opportunity.

He looked, quite possibly, better than any man in the

history of suits.

It wasn't as dark as mine—charcoal, I think it's called. He

wore a crimson, silk dress shirt and a gold tie with flecks of
something that caught the light as he breathed. His shoulders
filled his jacket; his chest provided an excellent shelf for his
tie. His pants had obviously been tailored to fit. No way a suit
off the rack could hug his relatively narrow waist and his

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

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106

round ass while hanging loose over those thick thighs. Long,
long legs. How tall was he now?

I let myself take him in for a few seconds more before

reluctantly turning my head to pretend interest in the
ornaments on the Christmas tree.

Marjorie returned to the main room and announced dinner.

I didn't look up, waiting until most of the guests had filed past
me until I straightened away from the wall.

When I entered the dining room, Marjorie was holding a

chair out for me near the center of the long oak dining table.

"Jesse! I saved you a seat."
Marjorie's voice could get jarringly loud. I'd never noticed

that before.

I limped over to the chair and realized that she meant to

help me into it. I leaned forward, dropped my voice as low as
I could without whispering. "Thank you, but I can seat
myself."

Her eyes widened. "Oh," she said, her voice at the same

level as mine as she awkwardly patted the top of the chair.
"Okay then. If you need anything, just ask, all right?"

She took a seat by her husband. I eased myself into my

chair and propped my cane against the table.

There was an enormous amount of food laid out, even

when considering the two dozen guests present, some of
whom ate at the main dining table while others made plates
for themselves and took places that were set up in adjacent
rooms. Ham, turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, mashed
potatoes, potato salad, crescent rolls, green beans. Every
holiday food imaginable.

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None of it appealed to me.
Still, after prayers were said, I made a show of placing a

slice of ham on my plate, as well as a crescent roll and a bit
of Caesar salad.

"How did you hurt your hand, Jesse?"
I glanced up at Mrs. Scott and answered smoothly. "I cut

myself shaving."

Everyone at the table laughed softly. I doubt they would

have found me so clever if they could see the state of my
bathroom. Flexing my fingers a few times, I glanced down at
my hand. I'd bandaged it myself—I was lucky it hadn't
needed stitches.

People made idle conversation around me as I picked at

my food. It took me a moment to realize that Teresa Avery, a
woman in her early forties who lived two blocks up from my
house, was sharing a story of some sort with me. Apparently
she'd been talking for some time.

"He is absolutely fabulous, Jesse. You can't even tell, can

you?"

My brow furrowed slightly as I tried to pick up the thread

of her conversation. I didn't want to be rude by asking her to
repeat herself, but as it turned out, I wouldn't have to do
that.

"It only took an hour. He corrected the droop in my eyelids

and removed the puffiness under my eyes."

I focused on her face. She'd had work done, and she was

right—I wouldn't have been able to tell. "It looks very good,
Teresa."

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Her graceful hands fluttered around her eyes. "And no

visible scarring whatsoever."

Absently, I noted that the rest of table had gone quiet.

They all knew what was coming. I waited patiently for her to
say it.

"I'm sure he could do wonders for you, Jesse."
And there it was. Keeping my voice pleasant, I asked, "You

have a beautiful face, Teresa. Is the work on your eyes the
only surgery you've had?"

"Yes," she said proudly. Her hand fluttered down to her

slender neck. "I've never even had my tonsils removed."

My voice was still level, calm. No trace of the anger or

bitterness that had me smashing my mirror less than an hour
earlier. "I've had a hundred and seventeen surgeries in three
years. I'm never going under the knife again, not unless it's a
medical emergency."

She straightened, taken aback. "I-I'm sorry. I don't know

what to say."

I glanced around. Apparently, no one else did, either. My

gaze rested briefly on Keith—who sat across the table and a
few seats to the left from me—before settling on a plate piled
high with pies no bigger than silver dollars. "Marjorie?" I
asked, pointing to the plate. "What are those, exactly?"

Mrs. Bailey answered me. "It's a new recipe I'm trying out,

Jesse. Bite-sized apple pies."

"Apple." A soft smile touched my lips. "Could someone

pass me one?"

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"Of course." Marjorie picked up a small plate and used a

pair of serving tongs to place three on top of it. Then it was
passed down the row to me.

"Thank you." I took a careful bite. It tasted good. But

then, apple pie always tasted good nowadays.

Glad that the tension seemed to have been broken,

Marjorie moved on to safer subjects. "Jesse, I saw you
speaking with Janice Sinclair the other day."

Oh, we were back to me? "Yes, she came by to appraise

the house."

Bob helped himself to another slice of turkey. "Are you

thinking of selling?"

"I've received offers for my business." I bit into another

silver dollar apple pie. "There's not much point in staying here
if I no longer have to be close to my office."

The people around me listened intently.
"Where would you go?" asked Mrs. Bailey.
"Florida, probably." I smiled. "Isn't that where most old

people go when they retire?"

Everyone chuckled.
Everyone, that is, except Keith. His low voice cut through

the sound.

"You're not old."
I turned my head to find hazel eyes lighting into me.

"What was that?"

His hand tightened around his fork, causing it to bend

slightly. "You're not old. You're only twenty-nine."

There was a quiet, timeless moment when all the other

guests disappeared, leaving only the two of us. The grim

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determination on his face did nothing to detract from his good
looks. And they would always be good, because he healed
instantly. I thought about my reflection just before I
shattered my mirror, and I realized that I didn't want to
bridge the gap between us. Not because I begrudged him his
abilities, but because I was old, and old people get tired.

I broke the gaze and smiled. "Marjorie, could I have more

of this delicious pie?"

Marjorie served me a second helping, and the conversation

veered away from Jesse Winter for the rest of the meal.

After dinner, we were herded back into the main room.

Someone offered me a cup of coffee, but I declined. The night
had worn on me a great deal more than I'd let on, and I had
no inclination to add the jitters to that. Ironic, considering I'd
built my livelihood on caffeine.

"Ah, Jesse. I heard you were thinking of selling your

store?"

Old man Cochran limped toward me, sporting a snazzy

cane of his own. My mouth crooked. "It's a possibility, Mr.
Cochran." Since the accident, a slew of retail giants,
department stores, and specialty shops had been making
offers for Warm Rush. They'd smelled my weakness like
sharks smelled blood in the water, but my financial standing
was too solid for them to force my hand. It was still solid, but
every day I felt more and more brittle.

"How much do you think you might sell it for? It's such a

charming place."

I raised an eyebrow. Often, I got the impression from my

neighbors that they didn't have an accurate concept of what I

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did. That they thought I'd just opened some corner store in
the mall, maybe had a few others scattered about here and
there. And now I seemed to have confirmation of that. Was it
the T-shirts? The drinks with the goofy names? "At this point,
I'm not sure, Mr. Cochran. I'm crunching the numbers right
now."

He nodded appreciatively. "When you have a figure, will

you let me know? I believe my daughter would have a great
deal of fun running a cute business like that."

"Sure, Mr. Cochran." I decided not to mention that last

year, my "cute business" had raked in almost three billion
dollars in sales.

He smiled and patted my shoulder before hobbling away.
As I found myself a seat in a dark corner of the room, I

couldn't help but chuckle. Maybe I should draw up those
numbers for Mr. Cochran, just to see the look on his face.

The black clothes I wore helped me to blend into the

shadows, and no one paid me any mind after that. It gave me
a chance to see happy people in their natural environment,
and I indulged myself, knowing this might be the last
Christmas Eve I spent with them.

Walter Bailey drew his wife under the mistletoe and

dropped a tender kiss on her mouth.

Teresa Avery whispered something into her husband's ear,

and he pulled her closer under the pretense of listening
better.

Keith Taylor...
Keith stood on the other end of the room, head and

shoulders above most of the guests present. He had a throng

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of young men and women around him, hanging onto his
every word. They'd laugh in unison; the girls would touch his
arms as they flirted with him. This was Keith in his element,
where he belonged, and he appeared to be enjoying every
second of it. His full lips curved in a smile no longer meant for
me.

Ryan had a similar, only slightly smaller, crowd around

him. It wasn't hard to understand their appeal. Two
handsome men, both college athletes. They were friendly and
charismatic.

And they were happy.
I didn't know if I had it in me to be happy anymore. But I

had this idea that if I just let everything go—my business, my
house, my past—and went someplace faraway, someplace
warm ... well ... maybe I could have a shot at peace.

Gripping my cane, I pulled myself up and emerged from

the shadows. I said a few cursory goodbyes and a longer
farewell to Bob and Marjorie. They tried to convince me to
stay, but a few moments later I was standing on their front
porch with the door closed behind me.

It had started to snow sometime during the party. I

watched as the large, white flakes lazed down through the
air. The hush outdoors was a stark contrast to the din of
voices and Christmas music inside. Right now, Maple Street
resembled the scene inside a snow globe.

Something like this should bring a man joy ... shouldn't it?
A sharp ache went through my flesh and bones. My body's

way of telling me to get the hell out of the cold. I made my
way down the Taylors' porch, to the sidewalk, and stepped off

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the curb. My right foot found what was probably the only
patch of ice on the entire street. My loafers—very expensive
and very Italian, but completely lacking any sort of traction—
were not up to the task of keeping me upright. I toppled over,
and the asphalt rushed up toward my face.

This time, there was no one to catch me.
I crashed into the street, my cane went flying out of my

hand. My vision went white a moment, and then the pain
ripped through me. Fingers of cold clawed at every nerve in
my body, and if my face hadn't been smashed into the
asphalt, my cries might have reached the Taylor house.

No time for this, Jesse! Get the fuck out of the street!
Stifling the pitiful sounds trying to escape me, I reached

for my cane, only to find it had landed a yard away from my
hand.

All right then. Do it the hard way.
I gritted my teeth and tried to push myself upward. My

legs couldn't handle the weight, though, and I collapsed onto
the cold, hard ground again.

Determination set in.
I would not be found like this.
Fighting through the agony, I started to drag myself to my

cane.

I would not endure one more moment of their pity.
Inch by inch, over the roughened asphalt.
I could take care of myself, dammit!
My shaking hand closed around the black lacquered wood

of my cane, slid to the silver handle. My breath made puffs of

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clouds in front of my face as I set the rubber stopper against
the street and tried to pull myself up.

Every cell in my body screamed, but I clamped my mouth

shut, determined not to give voice to it. My left leg gave on
me just as I was about to get back to my feet, and I was on
the ground once more.

Get UP!
Tears slipped from my eyes, but I set that stopper on the

street again.

Suddenly, I was surrounded by warmth and strength.
"I've got you," a low, smooth voice said into my ear.
I was already cradled in his arms before I realized who

held me. "K-Keith?" Instead of feeling relieved, panic flooded
my system. "Oh, God. Who else is out here with you?"

"Shh." He drew me closer, his chest pressing into me. "No

one. Just me."

The panic bled away, replaced by shock and confusion. I

couldn't say anything. I could only tremble there in his arms.

Keith stroked my back. "Let's get you back to your house."
When he began to walk, I bolted upright in his hold,

heedless of the pain moving caused me. "Keith!"

He stopped in his tracks. "What is it? I hurt you?"
My chest heaved, and I tried to calm my labored breathing

because it hurt. "M-My cane. I need my cane."

Delicate crystalline snowflakes clung to his dark lashes as

he stared at me a few moments. "Okay," he said finally, going
back to where I'd fallen. He bent his knees and picked up my
cane, all the while keeping me secured against his body. "Are
you ready, now?"

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Shamed that he'd seen me helpless in the street, shamed

that I couldn't ask him to put me down because I wasn't sure
I could walk, I couldn't meet his gaze. But I nodded.

Long, smooth strides had me at my front door in seconds.

I thought he might set me on my feet then, but it appeared
he had other plans.

"Where do you keep your keys?"
I stared at my cane. "What?"
"House keys. They in your jacket or your pants?"
Frowning, I fumbled with my coat, reaching inside as I

searched out my jacket pocket.

Keith was faster. He removed my keys, opened my door.

Once inside, he kicked it shut and went into my living room,
setting me on the couch.

"Jesus," he said, straightening. "It's like a furnace in here."
I settled deeper into the couch, let the heat chase a bit of

the chill from my skin. "I think I keep it at about ninety
degrees."

He looked down at me, his eyes showing me that same

anger I'd seen at the dinner table. "You trying to create your
own personal hell?"

My head fell back. I didn't have the energy for this.

"Contrary to what you seem to believe, hell is not fire and
brimstone. It is cold and ice, and I am just trying to keep it at
bay."

The anger faded from his eyes, replaced by some other

emotion. Unease, maybe. He knelt before me and swept my
hair back. "Are you hurt bad, Jesse?"

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For some reason, the question seemed too complicated to

answer. "Back to calling me 'Jesse,' are we?"

He winced, pulled away. "Yeah, sorry about earlier. I was

just so fucking pissed at you."

My eyebrows rose, but I was still hurting, and I was still

tired, and right now it wasn't in me to be diplomatic. "What
the hell did I ever do to you?"

He shot to his feet and began to pace the expanse of my

living room. Those long legs made it easy for him. "I came
home for Thanksgiving and you weren't here."

"No kidding." I honestly couldn't tell whether my apparent

boredom was an act or the real thing. The heat hadn't yet
penetrated my skin. "That ticked you off, huh?"

"Damn right, it ticked me off! I asked around, and no one

knew where you'd gone. They didn't even know if you'd be
back." He paused, turned to look at me. "Where did you go,
anyway?"

"None of your god-damned business."
His fist clenched, and I could see his jacket sleeve tighten

around his forearm. "You really don't want me, do you? I
mean, you want my body—everyone wants my body—but you
don't want me. I'm just the tagalong kid next door, and you
don't like me in your life." He whipped off his jacket, dropped
it to the floor, and resumed his pacing. "I knew it that last
day before I left for school, when you gave me that speech
about getting into college life and forgetting all about you. I
knew you were pushing me away."

For a while I watched his feet as they moved across the

living room. Back and forth, back and forth. Then my gaze

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traveled up his pleated slacks, to the red silk shirt clinging to
every curve of his body, and finally to his face. His open,
arresting face. "Is that why you didn't call me?"

His pacing quickened. "Well, you wanted me to forget you,

and I did. I fucked everyone who wanted me and, like I said,
everyone wants me. When Mom sent me over to talk to you, I
figured we could go back to being neighbors. I was still angry
with you, though, so I wasn't as nice as I should've been."

As apologies went, that was probably the worst one I'd

ever heard in my life. "Go home, Keith. Enjoy your party."

He frowned, crossed his arms over his broad chest. "Do

you need to go to the hospital, Jesse?"

I glanced down at myself, noticed that my slacks were torn

over my knees and that I'd scraped them pretty badly.
"Nothing is broken. I'll live." I always seemed to live.

Keith stood there a long moment, before he snatched up

his jacket and started to leave.

I wrapped my coat closer around me, and my right hand

brushed against the hard, square object in my pocket.

"Shit," I murmured under my breath as I removed it, then

raised my voice. "Keith."

He turned, his expression bordering on surly. "What?"
Keeping my face bland, fighting through the pain, I tossed

the small box at him. "Merry Christmas."

He easily caught it, going from surly to surprised. "You got

me a gift?"

"I'd meant to give it to you as a going away to college

present, but it wasn't ready on time. That's why you got a

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desk-lamp. Sorry I didn't wrap it. I didn't think the velvet box
needed it."

"N-No, it's fine you didn't wrap it." He opened the box and

pulled out what was inside. "A key?"

It was easy to tell the exact moment his gaze hit the logo

emblazoned on the keychain. His eyes rounded to the size of
saucers. "No way ... A Hummer? You got me a Hummer?"

"An H1 Alpha, to be exact."
"Holy shit! These things run a hundred forty grand!"
My mouth quirked. "More than that, actually. It has all the

options and amenities a man your age could possibly want. At
least, that's what my assistant assures me. About the only
thing I understood was the fact that it's metallic black and
has a six-disc CD changer."

"Jesse." He took a step forward. "How can you afford this?"
For crying out loud. Out of everyone in this neighborhood,

I'd thought Keith would know that I was worth a pretty
penny. He'd said he had a crush on me! Didn't people Google
the men they liked? "Are you not aware that I have over ten
thousand stores worldwide?" I saw the answer on his face and
shook my head in disbelief. "I've got to call marketing.
Something has gone very wrong over there."

Keith was less than sympathetic to my plight. I imagine he

was dealing with his own stunned feelings. "I can't believe
you're giving this to me. After the way I treated you."

My head dropped back against the couch as I decided I

couldn't look at him anymore. Too damned beautiful. "I
missed a lot of your birthdays, Christmases, ballgames. I

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wanted to give you something special. All those presents I
should have given you rolled into one."

"Jesse..."
I continued on, refusing to turn my head. "Big guy like you

needs a big car. The interior is scaled to fit a man of larger
stature. There's a card in the glove compartment—if you ever
need to readjust it for your size, or you need it repaired, or
you just need a tune up, then take it to a Hummer dealership
and they'll fix you right up. It's good for as long as you own
the car."

"Holy—"
"It's in my garage. You should take it for a drive, see how

you like it."

I expected him to bolt for my garage to see his present. I

didn't expect to hear the key clink against my coffee table
and to have him abruptly fill my field of vision.

"I've got a better idea." Grinning, he braced one hand by

my head and leaned against the couch as he removed his tie
with the other. "Why don't you take a drive with me in the
morning?"

He started to lower his head, and I jerked my face to the

side before he could kiss me. "Don't."

His body started before he lowered himself to his knees in

front of me. "Why?"

My hands curled into fists. "It's a gift, Keith. For your

enjoyment, with no strings attached. It is not an attempt to
purchase sex."

"Is that what you think?"

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"You're the one who said that sleeping with everyone on

campus scratched that itch you used to have for me."

"Fuck you."
"Go home."
"No."
I looked up. "No?"
His face determined, he shook his head.
Christ. "I think you're the only person I know who doesn't

do what I say." Even Uncle Harry obeyed me, although my
orders were almost always given by accident. A by-product of
what I'd become.

He reached out, scooped me up, and stood. "Maybe it's

good for you."

"I doubt that. Now, put me down."
"No."
"I'm serious, Keith. Put me down, take your car, and leave

my house."

He did none of those things, ignoring me as he walked into

the kitchen.

A tremor of fear went through me. I really had no power

here. Keith could do whatever he wanted, and right now he
was doing it to me.

Something inside of me broke, and my voice dropped to a

whisper. "Please."

He glanced down at me in surprise before gently placing

me on the island counter. When he flicked on the light, the
harsh fluorescents made me blink and rub at my eyes.

One of these days I was going to totally redesign the

lighting system in this house.

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Big hands on one of my legs made me stop rubbing at my

face. Keith lifted it slightly as he examined the scrape on my
knee. "This must be killing you, but you didn't cry out for
help. Why didn't you cry out for help?"

"Because I can stand on my own two feet."
He switched his inspection to my other leg. "But you can't

stand on your own two feet."

If I'd had enough strength, I would have kicked him. "Go

home, Keith."

"I'm going to clean these scrapes up, and then we'll talk

about me going home."

I warily stared up at his intent face. "We?"
"Is it okay to tear your pants? It would make it easier to

clean your knees."

The fact that he didn't answer my question wasn't lost on

me. But I looked down at my slacks. "They're ruined
anyway."

Keith's long, nimble fingers tore a bigger hole into my

pants. "Sorry to do this; they look expensive. What did they
run you? Two hundred, three hundred bucks?"

"One thousand dollars."
His head shot up. "Your suit cost a grand?"
Despite myself, the corner of my mouth lifted. "I thought

we were just talking about the pants."

An expression shaped his face that seemed familiar, but I

couldn't place it. It made me straighten a little, gave a faint
boost to my ego. What was it? What was he feeling?

Before I could puzzle it out, he tore a paper towel off the

spool and went to the sink to dampen it.

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It disquieted me to be left alone on the counter. Although I

wasn't high up, my legs weren't strong enough to let me hop
to the floor. I was at Keith's mercy, and it humbled the small
boost my ego had received.

He returned and dabbed at my knees, carefully cleaning

my wounds. I watched his hands, his bowed head, and had to
restrain myself from touching his dark hair.

"Sorry, I know this must hurt."
In truth, I'd barely noticed it. "Pain is relative, I guess."
His hands paused a moment, then continued with his task.

One or two nice, quiet minutes passed before he
straightened.

"I think I'm done," he said, walking away from me again to

toss the red stained paper towel into the trash.

My gaze followed his every movement as I tried not to

become entranced by him. "You've grown."

"Yeah. It's happening faster now." He leaned back against

the refrigerator. "You think the extra size looks good on me?"

Another expression I couldn't identify. I was usually so

good at reading people. Why did I have so much trouble with
someone eleven years my junior? "You are a handsome
young man."

His smile was wry, and so close to bitter that it broke what

was left of my heart. "That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean then?"
He crossed his arms over his chest. "Do you like how I

look? A few minutes ago you seemed almost afraid of me." He
glanced away. "You don't think big guys are hot?"

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There had definitely been a moment of fear, and a shade

of it was still present. The thought that I could possibly find
him unattractive, however, was absurd. Especially for me. "I
think you are very, very hot, Keith."

He slowly lifted his head, a smile touching his lips. "Yeah?"
My gaze dipped to his arms. "Yes."
"Not nearly as hot as you looked in that suit tonight,

though."

Startled, my attention riveted back to his face. The smile

was still on his mouth, but there was a focus in those eyes I'd
never seen in him before. "Wh-What?"

He slid his hands into his pockets and straightened away

from the fridge. "When you walked into our party dressed all
in black and rockin' that badass black cane..." He whistled.

My ears had to be playing tricks on me. "Badass?"
"Hell yeah." Keith approached me and, as he came closer,

the kitchen seemed to get smaller. "You walked in, stared
everyone down." He fingered the open button at the collar of
my shirt. "Then, at dinner, you told Mrs. Avery off. You were
so fucking cool about it; I started to get hard at the dinner
table just watching you."

Confused, I leaned back on the counter. "Y-You thought

that was cool?"

His other hand left his pocket as he leaned forward. "It

was torture. I wanted to drag you across the table and onto
my cock. It's the reason I came looking for you after you left
my house."

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As I fell back onto my elbows, I found myself incapable of

doing anything but parrot his words. "You came looking for
me?"

His hand slid behind my back, pulled me up into a sitting

position as he brought his mouth close to my cheek. "I lied to
you, Jesse."

His warm breath against my cheek broke the mimicry

spell. "Did you?"

He nodded, his cheek rubbing against mine. "I didn't forget

you when I went to school. Not for a minute. Not for a
second."

I drew back to look into his face. "No?"
"No." He swept my hair back. "Believe me, I tried, and the

trying made me a legend on campus. But I wanted every
hand that touched me to be your hand, every moan I heard
to be your moan." He brushed his thumb over my lips. "Every
mouth that kissed me to be your mouth."

It was getting hard to breathe again, and it didn't help that

Keith's pecs rhythmically pressed into me with his breaths.
"Keith, you should—"

"Don't tell me to go." His hand slipped under my jacket.

"I'm begging you, because this time I'll do what you say, and
I don't want to go."

His fingers soothed the pain in me, and finally I began to

feel warm again. I didn't want him to go, either. "All right."

The tension flowed out of him, and he eased both my coat

and my suit jacket off my shoulders. A smile touched his lips
just before he pressed his mouth to mine.

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Familiar heat coursed through me and, as soon as my

arms were free, I draped them over his shoulders.

Keith turned his head to look at my left arm.
"What is it?" I asked, nuzzling his neck.
"You couldn't lift your arm so high before."
I licked his skin. "My new physical therapist has been

working me like a dog. I guess it's paid off a little."

"Does it still hurt?"
I spread my legs and he pressed himself closer. "It always

hurts."

His arms tightened around me, and I realized with a start

that he was trembling.

"What is it? What's wrong?"
His voice sounded wet, as if he were about to cry. "I hate

that this happened to you."

"A coincidence, then, because so do I."
"Stop it," he said, his voice breaking. "Not tonight, okay?"
My breath caught, and I pulled back to see his eyes

shimmering with tears. "All right," I said softly, tracing the
curve of his ear with my fingers. "I'm sorry." I ran my hands
down his hard chest, caressing the muscles through the silk
of his shirt. "If it makes you feel any better, I forget a lot of it
when I'm this close to you."

My thumbs slid over his nipples, and his entire chest

jumped. "Yeah?"

I worked my way downward, to his cobblestone abs,

dipped my fingers into his waistband as I untucked his shirt.
"Yes."

"Then I must be a real stud, huh?"

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I lifted my head, and my first genuine smile of the evening

emerged. "Haven't we already covered that?"

He grinned and blinked away his tears. "I like to hear you

say it."

My hands, which had been caressing his biceps, gave them

a squeeze. Rock hard, bigger than before. "I could sit here,
on this counter, and touch you forever. You wouldn't even
have to undress."

Keith chuckled. "Fuck that." He flicked open his top two

buttons and whipped his shirt off over his head. "It's too
damned hot in here."

Apparently so. A faint sheen of perspiration covered every

hard, bulging muscle on his torso. I trailed my forefinger
down the valley between his pecs, traced the path around
each and every abdominal muscle.

He took a deep, shuddering breath and reached for my

shirt.

"Wait."
His hands hovered in front of me. "Why?"
"Turn off the kitchen light. There's a lamp in the corner I

want you to turn on instead."

"Why?"
Why? Why? It was like he was eleven again. My hands fell

away. "I don't like the light on my skin."

He glided his knuckles down my chest. "Is that why we

always had sex in dim rooms before?"

I shrank back. "Yes."
Keith slipped his hands around me and pulled me to the

edge of the counter. "I want to see you."

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Glancing away, I thought of my uneven shoulders, my

twisted, scarred skin. "You can't have everything you want." I
knew that all too well.

"I'll trade for it."
That got my attention. I met his gaze again. "What do you

mean?"

"You let me see you in this light, and I'll give you

something in return."

A few minutes ago I'd given him a Hummer. What was he

going to do? Give it back? "Like what?"

"Anything."
I laughed. "You should never, ever make open-ended

offers like that."

"I mean it. Anything."
I laughed again, softer this time. He wanted it so badly

and, as usual, I felt myself giving in. My gaze rested on his
strong, sculpted body. What did I want from him? Oh, so
many things. But they were not things I could admit. Well,
except maybe ... "Keith, do you know how to do a lat
spread?"

"Yeah," he said cautiously. "Why?"
I pushed myself backward, into a more secure position on

the counter. "Do one for me now and," a smile ghosted on my
lips, "if I like it, then you can remove my shirt."

He crossed his arms, his biceps and triceps swelling huge.

"So if you say you don't like it, then I get nothing? That's not
fair."

"You're the one who said 'anything.' Consider this a lesson

on making open-ended offers."

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He smirked, exuding confidence. "Whatever." He rolled his

shoulders—his massive delts two boulders of muscle capping
his shoulders—before placing his hands on his hips. "You
ready, Jesse?"

I had a feeling I wasn't, but I nodded.
Taking a breath, he spread his wings.
No, I definitely wasn't ready for this. His shoulders

widened as two huge slabs of muscle slowly spread out from
his back. It almost doubled his width and I'd never seen
anything like it. Not in person, not on television. His form was
perfect, his muscles were perfect, he was perfect.

"Tell me you don't like this, Jesse. C'mon, I dare ya."
Cocky sonovabitch. Not that he didn't deserve it. A

resigned smile touched my lips as I gave up. "Fine. Shirt's all
yours."

Breaking into a grin, Keith released the pose and

proceeded to unbutton my shirt.

As I usually did when I let him undress me, I sat quiet,

still. Even while he did something as simple as remove my
shirt, his muscles moved exquisitely beneath his tight, tanned
skin. As the material fell away, I shifted my gaze from his
body to his eyes. My breath lodged in my throat when I saw
him frowning.

I should have lied and said I hadn't liked his pose.
"You look different," said Keith, caressing my skin.
It took me a moment to realize it wasn't disgust I saw in

his face. "Different? How?"

"I don't know. Healthier, I guess."
Healthier? I glanced down at myself. "I don't see it."

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"Trust me, I can definitely see an improvement." His warm

palms glided over my narrow shoulders. "You're getting
stronger—that's how you were able to lift your arm. You're
getting better."

Easy to hear the hope in his voice. I didn't want to crush it,

but I couldn't let him go on like that. I reached up, cupped his
chin. "Keith, I have gotten stronger, and the trend might
continue for a while." My grip tightened. "But my body has
limitations, and I am never, ever going to be the man I was.
Those thoughts you have floating around in your head of
playing basketball with me in my driveway again, they're
never going to happen. If that's what you're waiting for, then
this can't go any further. Understand?"

Lines of pain creased the corners of his eyes as he nodded.
I let go of his chin and dropped my gaze. "Could you

please get me off this counter?"

He gathered me into his arms and strode out of the

kitchen. When he should have turned left toward the living
room and my cane, however, he turned right. Toward my
staircase.

"Where ... Where are you taking me?"
He paused, drew me closer. "You said you wanted off the

counter. Wasn't that because the hard surface was getting
uncomfortable for you? Didn't you want to move to the bed?"

My mouth moved silently a few seconds before I was able

to force sound through it. "You're not going home?"

Keith turned and leaned back against the wall. "You put

me in my place just now. Fact is, I had been thinking you

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would miraculously get better. Realizing that you won't,
though, doesn't make me want you any less."

His hazel eyes looked so earnest. "I don't understand."
"Look, I loved playing basketball with you. I miss playing

basketball with you. But there are so many other things about
you that turn me on." His gaze sharpened as he studied me.
"You don't get that, do you? You don't get that you're sexy as
hell."

Forgetting I was high above the floor, I tried to shove

myself away from him.

His long, powerful arms tightened around my body,

immobilizing me. "That week before school, in those times
when you were relaxed enough to be yourself around me, you
were fun and sweet and tender. I was supposed to be
hanging out with my friends, my family, but I couldn't tear
myself away from you." His hold gentled, his voice dropped.
"And tonight, I couldn't get enough of you at the party. You
walked in and acted like you ruled the world."

He skimmed his lips over my cheek. "Then you tried to

make yourself fade, standing next to our tree. But you didn't
know those Christmas lights were making you glow, did you?"

My head shot up, and I was caught by his smile.
Keith brushed a kiss across the bridge of my nose. "Even

when I tried to start a fight with you at the table, you just
blew me off and asked for pie. You have so much pride, and
you have this hard shell around you, but your eyes are always
soft, caring. The contrast ... God, Jesse." He lifted me higher
and nuzzled me. "It's so fucking hot."

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His words flowed over me like liquid fire. Before I even

realized it, my hand had tangled in his hair, gripping fiercely
as I trailed kisses over his face.

He groaned and stumbled up the stairs, never dropping

me, never jarring me. "We'd better get to your bed soon, or
I'm gonna end up ripping off your pants."

My eyes widened, but he couldn't see my expression

because I'd been sucking on his ear. My heart skittered in my
chest as my mind pictured his hands on my slacks. "Rip?" I
whispered.

Keith drew back, slowing his ascent, but still climbing. His

eyes locked onto mine, and I prayed he couldn't see what was
really inside of me.

The walk down the hallway was silent, and because Keith

wouldn't look away, it felt unbearably long.

He went into my bedroom and laid me out on top of my

mattress. I watched, transfixed, as he removed his pants,
revealing the defined muscles in his thighs and his large,
hardening cock. I couldn't break his gaze as he leaned over
me, his hands skimming my chest, caressing my waist, and
sliding into my slacks.

I felt his hands grip the material, and I pushed myself up

on my elbows. My breathing died away as he slowly spread
his hands apart.

The sound of my pants tearing filled the room. With no

effort at all, Keith split them down to my crotch. Then,
mindful of the stress on my legs, he switched his focus to rip
one pant leg off before delivering the same treatment to the
other.

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By the time Keith had reduced my clothing to rags, I was

painfully hard with arousal. He crawled up the bed, and the
mattress sank with his weight as he loomed over me. He
wasn't smiling. In fact, he looked as if he were contemplating
something. Something serious.

Could he see it? Could he see the fetish I'd never shared,

with anyone?

He slipped his arm underneath me and repositioned my

body to the center of the bed as he brushed his lips over my
cheek.

My chest heaved as I dragged in a lung full of air,

betraying my relief.

Keith didn't comment on that either. His hand curved over

my shoulder, slid down my arm in an oddly comforting
gesture. He lowered his body so that it pressed lightly along
the length of mine.

I closed my eyes, took another, calmer breath. "You still

smell like summer."

"I'd rather smell like you." He rubbed his body against

mine. I moaned as each hard, hot ridge of his abs slid against
my prick and sent pleasure rippling through every nerve.

The power innate within him seemed to radiate outward, a

caress in and of itself. This man could curl me and a lawn
chair in one hand. He could quake a tree with an irritated rap
of his elbow. He could probably knock it down if he put his
mind to it.

I wanted to see it. I wanted to see him unleash his

strength.

But, right now, I wanted this so much more.

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My hands slid around him. The muscles in his back

writhed, as if his skin could barely contain them. I held him as
tight as I could, needing him close, needing him inside of me.

His husky voice made me shiver as his warm breath teased

my ear. "You ready, Jesse?"

I turned my head, was caught by his bright eyes. "I..."

Shit, I always felt as if I was the young one when he looked
at me that way. "Yes."

He took my hand, guided it between us and down to his

big cock, which was already leaking a startling amount of pre-
cum.

Realizing what he wanted me to do, I caressed his dripping

head, and then slicked my palm over his pole.

Even this part of him had grown. Thicker, longer. The

veins under my fingers throbbed with every beat of his heart.

He groaned, a rumble of sound that reminded me of

thunder, and gently removed my hand from him.

Instinctively, I lifted my legs to hug his hips, surprised by

the grunt of pain that escaped me. I forgot too much when I
was with him.

Keith caught my thigh, shaking his head as he chided me.

"Even now, you'd rather hurt yourself than ask for help."

"That's not why I—"
He kissed me silent. "It's all right. I like your pride,

remember? But I'm here, and I want you to know that."

Whatever I'd been about to say was cut short with a gasp

as the head of his cock pressed against my hole. Eagerly,
maybe too eagerly, I welcomed him in. I had tried to deny it,
but I'd been starved for him these past months. His larger

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size had me relinquishing my so-called pride and whimpering
his name in seconds, and yet his warmth, his gentleness felt
so familiar that I found myself tugging at him, urging him
deeper.

"Jesse," he whispered when he'd buried his entire length

into me. "You feel so good."

I opened my mouth to return the compliment and

suddenly his lips were on mine. His tongue thrust deep and,
as he withdrew it, his hips withdrew from me as well.

I didn't know which loss upset me more and I clung to

him, begging him with my feeble body not to leave me.

Both his tongue and cock filled me again. The sensation

overwhelmed my senses and wiped away all thought. As he
repeated the dual stroke and reacquainted me with the
rhythm I'd missed so much, the last of the frost melted away.
I was warm once more.

His body glistened with sweat, seemed untiring as he

stoked a fire within me. My world became nothing more than
heat and muscle and sleek, tight skin. The intensity of his
thrusts magnified, his grip on me tightened. He could have
easily crushed me, but instead his hands made me forget the
pain so intrinsic to my life, leaving only pleasure.

His cock swelled inside of me, and it was enough to set me

off. My climax was an explosion, sending convulsions
throughout my body.

Keith pinned me against him, tore his mouth away from

mine to roar so loudly that I swear the walls shook with it. As
he shot his load into me, I heard myself begging for more.
More warmth, more passion, more Keith.

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He didn't hesitate to grant it all, shuddering hard and deep

when he was finally emptied. Still holding me flush against his
body, he turned over, settling me on top of him as he pulled
his spent cock out of my ass. His chest heaved with his
breathing, pressing me up and down. I groaned as I dropped
my head onto one of his pecs.

This was too much. He was tapping into something inside

me I wasn't entirely sure I wanted tapped.

"Aw, fuck, Jesse," he said, his voice thick and rough.

"Fuck."

He kept murmuring that on strained breaths, over and

over. I smiled against his chest, his profanity sounding like
music to me.

Like music? Man, I was already in too deep to save.
His swearing began to taper off as he stroked my back.
If I had to be honest with myself, I didn't really want to be

saved. Not from this.

"Can I stay the night, Jesse?"
I took a deep breath, inhaled the scent of summer and sex

and sweat. I shouldn't allow him to sleep here, but in my
current state, I had no resistance to anything he desired. He
could have asked to move in, and I probably would have said
yes. "All right."

He hugged me close, his hard biceps pressing into my ribs,

the contours of his body unyielding underneath mine.
"Thanks."

My eyes drifted closed as I simply enjoyed the feel of him

around me.

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Keith had no idea what he was getting into, and truthfully

neither did I. But, for tonight, I was content to lose myself in
the moment. It was Christmas, after all.

Even I deserved a present.

[Back to Table of Contents]

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CHAPTER 8

My eyelids snapped open when Keith bolted upright beside

me.

"Keith?" I pushed myself up, ignoring the protests of my

body. Whatever grogginess I felt evaporated the moment I
laid eyes on him.

His body was silhouetted against the moonlight, every

muscle tensed and swollen. He was shaking like a leaf, and he
was drenched in sweat.

I reached out and laid a hand on his wet arm. "Keith?"
He jumped, looked down at me. His eyes widened. "I-I've

grown."

My hand slid around to his back, stroked the length of it up

and down. "You've just had a bad dream. You're all tense."

"Tense? You think I look like this because I'm tense?" He

frowned, straightened his back. "You still think that, Jesse?"

My lips parted. He was right, he had grown. At least two or

three inches. "Oh my God," I whispered.

Still trembling, Keith ran his hand over his chest. "Oh my

God?" Looking down at himself, he flexed his arms. "Am I
scaring you?"

"N-No," I said quickly. I tried to absorb this, to stay calm.

He'd told me these bursts happened; I'd seen him tear his
clothes as he put them on. But this time I found myself as
shocked by my own arousal as by his growth. "You're not
scaring me." It wasn't exactly the truth, although at the
moment I didn't exactly care.

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He stared down at the mattress, clenched his fists. "Am I

... Do you like how I look?"

I'd never seen him so vulnerable, as if his entire world

rested on my answer. "Yes."

His body shuddered hugely. "Okay." He leaned forward,

scrubbed his face with his hands. "As long as you like it, then
this is okay."

Worried, I slid my hand to his forearm, tugged his hand

away from his face. "Does it hurt?"

His face cleared. "Oh, no. It feels really good. But it's been

happening a lot more lately, and I'm not sure when it's gonna
stop."

I reached up, ran my fingers through his hair. "Is that why

you're still shaking?"

The tremors finally started to subside as he looked down at

me. "Bad dream. You were right about that part."

"You want to talk about it?"
His mouth crooked. "Like you talked to my brother? Fixed

the both of us right up, didn't you?"

I dropped my hand, unsure how to respond. "You knew

about that?"

"He told me over Thanksgiving break, when I was walking

around pissed. Ryan wouldn't let me talk shit about you."

Standing up to someone like Keith couldn't have been

easy, and I made a mental note to get Ryan a spectacular
gift. "I shouldn't have stepped in like that."

"I'm glad you did. Ryan's still skittish sometimes,

especially when we come home for a holiday and I show up
bigger than I was before, but we're closer now than when we

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were kids. It's all because you were taking care of me.
Again."

Embarrassed now, I glanced away. "That's good."
The smile left his voice. "You're gonna think my dream is

stupid if I tell you."

I placed my hand on his thigh, tried not to be distracted by

its size and hardness. "I'd never think that, Keith."

He took a deep breath, but didn't meet my gaze as he told

me about his dream. "I've been having it for a while now. It's
always the same. There's a man I want to be with. He's
standing right in front of me. I reach for him, and h-he starts
to fall. I try to catch him, but no matter how fast I move, it's
never fast enough. He falls into the darkness, disappears. And
that's when I wake up."

"Ah, Keith." Guilt overwhelmed me, and I tugged at my

hair with both hands. "Ah, Keith."

I felt his big arm loop around me. "What's wrong?"
Now he was trying to comfort me. "These dreams. Did you

start having them after I stopped writing to you?"

"Yeah, how did you know that?"
Regret sank into my broken, wretched body. "I'm so

sorry."

One of his hands slid underneath my chin and tilted my

head to look at him. "Why?"

"Don't you see, Keith?" I pulled away from his hold. "Your

dream is about me. A manifestation of your feelings of
abandonment. If I had known you were so attached, I would
have..." I couldn't finish the sentence. I wasn't sure if
knowing would have changed anything.

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"Jesse—"
"Can you see his face? The man you want?"
"No." He tried to put his arm around me and I leaned away

from his touch.

"Did the dreams become more frequent when you came

home for Thanksgiving to find me gone?"

I could feel his eyes on me, but I couldn't look up. "You,"

he said softly. "Now that I think about it, that makes sense.
All this time..."

God, I'd scarred a fifteen-year-old boy. "I screwed up. I

was so wrapped up in my own pain that I didn't care about
the pain I might be causing others."

Strong hands covered my shoulders and pressed me back

onto the mattress. Keith slid his body over mine, a gentle
smile on his mouth. "You." He swept my hair back, caressed
my face. "I understand now. I get it."

His shift in mood threw me. "You're not angry?"
"No, Jesse." He lowered his head and kissed my cheek.

"I'm here, in your bed. How can I be angry?"

His warm, hard body pressed into me, but I knew I was

only feeling a fraction of his weight. He had so much control,
and mine was slipping. "I d-don't think I can do this."

The weight lifted as he pushed himself up. "What?"
I tried to look away from those bright hazel eyes, but I

couldn't. "I'm not good for you, and I'm beginning to see that
I never was. I don't want to hurt you anymore, Keith, so you
have to leave now."

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His face hardened, but it was determination, not anger, I

saw. "I'm all grown up now, Jesse. I can decide what's good
for me."

Because of his inherent confidence, I had chosen to believe

that. It was time to stop lying to myself. "Your infatuation
with me isn't healthy, and you're not seeing things clearly.
I'm over a decade older than you, I'm crippled, and I'm ...
I'm..." Grotesque.

To my surprise, he chuckled. "You're older, but not old.

You're crippled, but still sexy." He ran his knuckles over my
cheek. "You've got scars, but you're not ugly." The laughter
faded and he grew serious. "You say I don't see you clearly,
but maybe I see you more clearly than you see yourself."

This wasn't right. He was rattling me like he always rattled

me. "I..." Think through this problem, Jesse. "I..."

His voice was soft, husky, so persuasive. "You want me.

It's okay to say it."

Then it came to me. Maybe Keith wasn't a problem. Maybe

he was a solution. I hesitated a long moment, trying to decide
which it was, and just surrendered. "I want you."

A slow grin spread over his mouth. "You and me are right

together. You'll see, Jesse. I'm more than strong enough for
you."

My brow furrowed as I tried to decipher his words. Why did

I feel as if Keith knew something I didn't?

He growled and rolled to the side. "I might not be strong

enough for this house, though. How can you stand having it
so damned hot?"

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I forgot the puzzle, laughing softly. "It's not that bad, is

it?"

"African deserts are cooler."
"Have you ever been to an African desert, Keith?" He shot

me a look, which did nothing to suppress my laughter.
"There's a thermostat by the bathroom. You can turn it down
if you want."

He leapt out of the bed.
"But no lower than eighty degrees."
Grumbling, he adjusted the temperature on the digital

readout. "Fine. I'm going into the bathroom to wipe this
sweat off me."

"All right," I said absently, grabbing my headboard and

pulling myself up into a sitting position. I heard a strange,
crunching sound coming from the bathroom and glanced up.
All I could see from my spot on the bed was the shaft of light
pouring out the doorway. What was he doing in there? What
could be causing that sound?

Oh, no. Now I remembered. "K-Keith?"
He walked out of the bathroom, several large shards of

glass in his hand. "Your mirror's all smashed up. There's glass
all over the floor."

Without thinking, I swung my legs over the side of the

bed. "Are you all right?"

"Stay put," he said, holding up his other hand. "You can't

stand without your cane, remember?"

I froze, then looked down at his feet. "You were walking all

over it, weren't you? Aren't you hurt?"

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"I'm stronger than this stuff. See?" He lifted one of his legs

to show me the sole of his foot. "Not a scratch."

Holy shit. What sort of being did I have standing in my

bedroom? My gaze traveled up his tall body to his steady,
serious eyes.

He held out his palm, and the light from the bathroom

glinted off the shards of my mirror. "Is this how you hurt your
hand?"

My stomach knotted as I realized I'd probably just ruined

Christmas Day for him. "Keith—"

"Is it?"
He hadn't shouted at me, hadn't even raised his voice, but

my body jumped at his question. "Yes."

His fingers curled around the glass as his hand tightened

into a fist, crushing it. The muffled sound seemed so loud in
the room, and it chilled me. His gaze never leaving mine, he
threw the shards—nothing more than powder now—into the
bathroom. "Don't ever do that again, do you hear me?"

The command in his voice brooked no argument and I tried

to explain, fumbling my words horribly. "I just ... I felt ... I
couldn't..."

"I'm not some dumb kid, Jesse. I can figure out why you

would smash a mirror."

Falling quiet, I waited for him to make the next move.
I couldn't read the expression on his face. He'd never

looked at me that way before. "I'm going to clean up in there
so that your maid service doesn't get cut up when they come
in tomorrow. But I don't want you going in until they've
scrubbed the whole place down, got it?"

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Knowing he wanted an answer, I nodded. "How did you

know my service would come tomorrow?"

He turned his back on me. "They've been coming every

Monday for three years. It's not rocket science."

I watched as he disappeared into my bathroom, listened to

the cold scrape of glass against tile. Shivering, I retreated to
the center of the bed and wrapped my comforter around me.
The play of shadows against the wall drew me in as I rubbed
my bandaged hand.

By the time Keith reemerged, I'd gone numb.
His gaze traveled over me and he went to the thermostat,

hiking the temperature back up to ninety. "If you were cold,
why didn't you call for me?"

"It's three a.m."
He crossed his arms over his chest as he turned. "Yeah,

so?"

"You should go home."
His eyebrows rose. "It's been, what? Half an hour? And

you're already pushing me away again?"

"It's Christmas. You should be with your family on

Christmas."

"And who will you spend the day with, Jesse?"
Since my father died, I'd spent every Christmas in my life

alone. I guess Keith didn't know that, didn't watch me so
closely after all. "No one."

The mattress sank deeply, and I would have tipped over if

Keith hadn't caught me. He shifted my position, moved
behind me and stretched his long, thick legs along mine as he

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wrapped the blanket around both of us. "I'm here. Why can't
you understand that?"

I tried to move away from him, and he embraced me from

behind, holding me close. Aware of the futility, I struggled
against him anyway for several seconds before my body went
limp. "Please, just go away."

"Can't get rid of me that easily. It might be different if you

hadn't admitted you wanted me, but I'm not leaving."

I closed my eyes, trying to ignore how his body

surrounded mine. "Please."

"You can't hurt me, Jesse."
Although I had my eyes squeezed tight, a tear slipped past

my control. "But you can hurt me."

His arms tightened around my body as he made a soft

sound of comprehension. "Can I, really?"

My chest hitched as I tried to smother the rest of my tears.

"Yesterday you called me 'Mr. Winter' and I shattered my
mirror. I don't want to think about what you could do to me if
I fell any deeper into you."

He kissed the top of my head, the curve of my neck. "I

was a jerk. I'll never hurt you again. Promise."

"I'm scared of you."
His soft mouth caressed my ear. "You're safe with me. I

told you that once before, remember? Give me a chance, and
I'll prove it." He pressed his chest against my back, and I
could actually feel his heartbeat. "Don't go to Florida, Jesse.
Give me a chance."

My eyes fluttered open. "Florida?"

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"At dinner, you said you were selling your house and

moving away."

That seemed so long ago. "I have to go someplace warm."
He rubbed his hands over my chest, my stomach. "Aren't I

warm?"

My head fell back against him. "Yes."
He leaned forward, smiled down at me just before

dropping a gentle kiss on my lips. "Then what can Florida give
you that I can't?"

At the moment, I couldn't think of a single thing. "I-I

haven't made any definite plans yet."

"Good." He pressed a kiss to my temple. "You can stay in

Laurel long enough for me to prove that this thing we have is
right."

He sounded so sure, and his conviction was hard to fight. I

fingered the blanket wrapped around us. "Aren't you hot?"

Keith chuckled. "This conversation isn't over, Jesse. But,

yes, I'm hot."

I pulled the blanket away, uncovered his legs. It surprised

me to see his feet so far beyond mine, and I tried not to
make my fascination obvious. "Better?"

"Am I keeping you warm enough?"
I shivered, but this time it had nothing to do with the

temperature. "Yes."

"Then this is fine."
"You really should go home, Keith." I tilted my head back

to look at him. "Your family will miss you."

He was quiet a long time, studying my face, I think. I got

the impression that he could read me better than I could read

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him, and the idea was disconcerting. "In a little bit. Maybe
after you fall asleep."

I stared up at his clear eyes. "You're wide awake, aren't

you?"

"Yep."
"How many hours a night do you sleep?"
Shrugging, he wrapped his arms around my body again.

"Between two and four hours, usually."

Old psychology lessons floated back to me, and I knew it

wasn't healthy to sleep so little. "You don't get tired?"

He grinned. "Nah, I'm always full of energy. I'm sure it

drives my roommate nuts."

Starting to feel comfortable, I leaned back against him.

"What's your roommate like?"

"He's okay, I guess. Football jock. We pretty much stay

out of each other's way. Sometimes we'll watch TV
together..."

For over three hours, I simply listened to him talk. It was a

pleasure to have a real conversation with someone. Even so,
there were several times I reminded him that he should go
home.

"In a little bit. I want to tell you about my coach."
"In a little bit. I want to tell you about the campus."
"In a little bit. I want to tell you about my classes."
The sun rose before he finally ran out of things he wanted

to tell me.

"Keith, it's past time to go home."

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He hugged me closer, smiled against my cheek. "I know. I

don't want to let go of you, though. I've never ... I've never
just held someone and talked with them before."

"You can always talk to me, Keith. I think I can promise

you that much."

Although he seemed to like that statement, he still

wouldn't let me go, not even when the phone rang.

I reached out to answer it, only to find myself locked

against his body.

"I'll get it," he said, his arm stretching way past mine to

pick up the receiver and hand it to me.

I stared at his biceps a moment before remembering the

phone in my hand. "Hello?"

The baritone voice boomed through the receiver so loudly

that I jerked it away from my head. "LITTLE JESSE! MERRY
CHRISTMAS!"

Cautiously, I brought it back to me. "Uncle Harry, my

hearing is one of the few things in my body that still works
well. I'd like to keep it that way."

The voice immediately softened. "Sorry, kid. Got excited."
His shouting had actually knocked loose a few old

memories of my childhood, and a tender smile touched my
mouth. "Merry Christmas, Uncle Harry. How are you and
Clara?"

"We're doing good. Clara is already in the kitchen, cooking

away."

I chuckled. "Glad to hear it."
"You know, we have plenty. We would have liked to have

you here."

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Harry didn't know that I spent today alone, either. "I'm

sorry."

"We understand. Probably wanted to spend the day with

your boyfriend, right?"

Shock froze my body as my eyes rounded. "B-Boyfriend?

How did you ... I mean ... How long have you..." Keith's arms
tightened around me, but I couldn't look at him.

"Relax, LJ. Your father and I have known since you were in

junior high. Cute kid like you, girls callin' all the time, but
never having a girlfriend. Wasn't hard to figure out."

Only one part of his statement caught my attention. "D-

Dad knew?"

"Yes, Jesse. Abrahm knew. He wanted you to tell him in

your own time, though. That's why he never brought it up."

He never let on. Not once. "How did he feel about it?"
"He didn't know how to feel about it at first, and then he

got used to the idea. He loved you, and no way was that ever
going to change."

I pushed the hair out of my eyes. "I-I don't know what to

say."

"Sorry, didn't mean to drop that bomb on you. But your

father's last wish was for me to tell you that he knew, that he
loved you, and that he was proud of you. It didn't seem like
the right time to tell you at the funeral, then we lost touch..."

"Ah, Uncle Harry," I said softly. "That's not your fault." It

was like a weight had been lifted off of me. The one secret I'd
ever kept from my father had never been a secret at all. "I'm
glad you told me today. It's the best Christmas present I
could imagine."

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Harry chuckled. "Well, you offered me a job over

Thanksgiving. It's good I got the nerve to tell you today."

I cradled the phone close to my ear with both hands.

"Have you decided on that yet? The job, I mean."

"If the position is still open, Clara and I would very much

like to move to Connecticut."

"Of course the position is open. I'll have my assistant get

in touch with you after the New Year, and we'll arrange plane
tickets, movers, and a temporary place for you to stay."

His voice turned gruff. "Thanks, Jesse. Really, I'm looking

forward to feeling useful again."

My voice thickened a bit, as well. "Thanks for tracking me

down, Uncle Harry."

"Well, I'd better get off this phone before I start bawling.

I'll be calling you soon. Take care."

I nodded, then realized he couldn't see me. "Bye."
"Bye, LJ."
The line went quiet and I tried to return the phone to its

cradle.

Keith removed it from my hand and did it for me. "You

okay?"

I glanced up at him, smiling sheepishly. "Yeah. I just ...

Yeah."

"I didn't know you had an uncle. You never talked about

him."

"He's not my biological uncle. He was my father's best

friend, and I hadn't seen him since I was nineteen. My dumb
luck he tracked me down just before Thanksgiving."

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He shifted my entire body around so he could get a better

look at my face. "Is that where you went?"

That he could handle me so easily was bemusing. And

humbling. "Yes."

His expression softened. "I really shouldn't have been so

pissed at you."

"No, you shouldn't have been. But I suppose I could have

let someone know where I was going."

Keith grinned. "Little Jesse?"
Great. I could already tell I wasn't going to be living that

one down any time soon. "That's what he always called me.
That's what most people in Jersey called me, because I was
the shortest kid on the basketball team. Little Jesse, or LJ."

"And the boyfriend part?"
I knew he was fishing for some qualification of our

relationship, but that part of the conversation held a much
deeper significance for me. "It's personal, Keith. Give me time
to take it in, all right? Then I'll tell you all about it."

"Oh, sure."
"I hurt you?" I asked, catching his gaze.
He smiled. "No. I get it."
The grandfather clock downstairs chimed seven. "You

should—"

"I know, I know." He finally released me and climbed out

of bed. "You happen to remember where my pants are?"

I jerked my thumb to the other side of the bed.
Shameless, Keith grinned and walked around. He bent

over, but he didn't pick up his own slacks. Instead he held a

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piece of what was left of mine in his hand. "Jesse, exactly
how rich are you?"

"Very rich."
He glanced up, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Really?"
My back thumped against the headboard. "Why is that so

hard for everyone to believe?"

Keith hesitated, thoughtful as he stared at me. "You're so

down to earth; you don't act snobby at all. And I know this
neighborhood is nice and everything, but we're strictly middle
class here."

Thinking back made me blow out a slow breath. "Growing

up, I slept on the couch in a tiny, one bedroom apartment.
This neighborhood, these people ... it was my childhood vision
of paradise."

"That's not all of it, though." Tossing my pants aside, he

searched out his own. "You don't have a lot of the stuff a rich
guy would have."

I raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"
"I don't know. Gold and jewels, I guess."
I burst into laughter. "I've never been big on jewelry."
He tugged on his pants. They didn't tear this time, but

they looked as if they were painted on, and the bottom cuffs
rose above his ankles. "Shouldn't you have a big screen
plasma TV or something? You don't even own a TV."

"I don't watch much television." I opened a drawer in my

nightstand and pulled out a remote control. "But I do like to
keep up with basketball." Keeping my attention on Keith, I
pressed the little round button at the top of the remote.

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His eyes rounded as a 62 inch, LCoS screen television

silently lowered itself from the ceiling a few feet from the wall
opposite my bed.

"Whoa." He went to the TV to take a closer look. "This is so

cool." He peered up at the ceiling, at the narrow slot that
housed it. "I can't believe..."

"That I have the money to get something like that

installed? How do you know so little about me, Keith?"

He frowned, and the TV was forgotten. "I know the

important things. A long time ago, you told me that you
always hated it when people formed an opinion about you
from information they'd found on their own. That your best
friends were the ones who got to know you, who spoke to
you."

A memory like a god-damned steel trap. "I said that?"
He approached me, and I couldn't stop my gaze from

dipping to take in his broad shoulders, the pecs that jutted
out from him like a shelf. "I wanted to be your very best
friend, Jesse. So I didn't look up any information on you. Not
even when you stopped writing to me. I wanted you to tell
me everything."

It was disquieting to learn he had taken so many things I'd

said to heart. I didn't know how to be the center of someone's
world. I wasn't sure I wanted such responsibility.

His mouth on mine startled me, nudged all worries right

out of my head. My eyes drifted closed as his firm lips
pressed against mine, full of patience and passion and
promises. All things I needed, but was too proud to ask for.

Reluctantly, he pulled back. "I don't want to go."

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I slipped my hand behind his neck. "Your family will miss

you."

"Will you miss me?"
As I inhaled his summer scent, I realized that I already

did. "Yes."

Keith straightened, taking a deep breath that inflated his

chest admirably. "All right, I guess I'm out of here."

He started to walk away and I slid to the edge of the bed.

"Wait."

"What is it?" he asked, looking concerned as he spun

around.

"I'd like to walk you out, but," I swallowed my pride, "I

need you to get a pair of pants out of the closet for me."

Grinning, he went to my closet, flipped through a few sets

of clothes before pulling out a pair of black slacks. He laid
them over my lap and went to my dresser.

I stuck my legs into my pants. Using my nightstand, I

levered myself up with one hand and pulled the slacks up to
my waist, fastening the catch with my left hand as I sat back
onto the mattress. Practice made it look easy, but the first
time I'd tried to get dressed this way I'd fallen to a heap on
the floor.

Before I could glance up to see what Keith was up to, I

found myself covered in dark, forest green cashmere. I
panicked, fighting against it, until suddenly my head was free
again.

"A sweater?" I asked stupidly, looking down at myself.

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"Wouldn't want you to get cold walking me out." He

searched out my arm and began to guide it through the
sleeve.

"Hey!" I snapped, yanking away from his touch. "I can

dress myself."

My outburst didn't offend him as he crouched before me. "I

know that."

Nettled, I thrust my right arm through the sleeve. I was

considerably slower with my left, but no less annoyed.
"Where's my cane?"

"Downstairs, where we left it."
Shit. And now my pride wouldn't let me ask him to go and

get it.

Keith reached for me, and I pushed myself farther back

onto the mattress.

"I want to walk."
His eyebrows lifted and he stood, holding out his arm.
I glared up at him. "You want me to lean on you?"
"Would that be so bad, Jesse? Just for a little while?"
Those two soft questions killed my temper. Christ, I was

twenty-nine years old and behaving like a child. Trying to
work past my pride, I slowly reached out and placed my hand
over the hard cords of his forearm. His arm didn't waver at all
as I pulled myself up. He held my weight easily.

"Ready?"
I slid my feet into a pair of slippers and nodded.
Keith led me out of my bedroom, keeping the pace slow.

When we reached the stairs, he shifted my grip to his hand

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and walked down the steps backward. His hand was steady as
I leaned heavily on it and carefully followed him down.

My ego wasn't taking this well. "You don't mind doing

this?"

"Why would I mind?"
Words like burden and unworthy rose into my throat, but I

couldn't voice them. "You shouldn't have to—"

"How many times have you been there for me? Even since

you've been back? I like being able to take care of you for
once."

We reached the foot of the stairs and he returned my hand

to his forearm.

I wasn't used to people looking after me. I'd been taking

care of myself for so long that I didn't know how to operate
any other way. But I tried to be gracious about this. "Thank
you, Keith."

"You're welcome," he said simply, leading me to the living

room. He picked up my cane, handed it to me, and went into
the kitchen to retrieve his shirt.

The cool silver handle of my cane had me missing the

warmth of his arm.

"You are in so much trouble, Jesse," I whispered to myself.
"What was that?"
I glanced up, surprised to see him bare-chested, his silk

shirt draped over his arm. "You're not going to wear that?"

"Nah." He picked up his tie, jacket and, of course, his new

key. "It's a nice shirt, and I don't want to tear it."

Shame. I would have liked to see that. Shaking off my

disappointment, I followed him to the garage.

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"Wow," he said, his voice hushed as he circled his

Hummer. "Fucking amazing."

I leaned back against the wall and watched him enjoy his

present.

"Hey." He looked around. "Where's your car?"
The sound of squealing tires, of glass shattering, of metal

tearing apart filled my ears. My knees buckled, and I started
to slide to the floor.

In an instant, he was there, bringing me back to my feet

and steadying me. "Are you okay?"

I stared up at him, realized I was trembling. "I don't drive

anymore."

"Because of the accident?"
"Y-Yes."
He stroked my hair. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you

relive it."

I looped my left arm around his waist, clung to him as my

breathing calmed. "You couldn't have known." It was the last
piece of my independence, and I couldn't reclaim it. I might
never reclaim it.

"But you can ride in a car, right? As long as you're not the

one driving?"

I nodded against the wall of his abs.
"Then how about going for a ride with me tomorrow

morning?"

I glanced up, had to disentangle myself from his embrace

because his pecs obscured my view of his face. "I can't."

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"Don't worry, Jesse. I'm a good driver." He patted the top

of the Hummer. "And this thing you got me is practically a
tank."

"I have an ... appointment tomorrow. Two, actually."
His expression was considering, as if he were trying to

decide whether I was pushing him away again.

I decided to circumvent that conversation. "You can come

by in the evening, if you want."

He broke into a wide grin and brushed his lips over mine.

"I'll be here."

Knowing I'd ask him to stay if he stood there one more

moment, I reached behind me and flipped the switch to open
the garage door.

Keith glanced at the door as it rose up, shaking his head.

"Is that a hint?"

"If you don't know what it means, I can explain it to you."
Chuckling, he twirled his keychain around his finger and

got into his car.

I watched him drive out of my garage, not surprised when

he took a left. He probably wanted to take a swing around the
block before parking it again across the street. Frigid air
swept into the empty space, and I wasted no time hitting the
switch before returning to my house.

My head filled with doubts. What was I doing? Running

around with an eighteen-year-old boy? I glanced down at my
cane. Hell, I couldn't even call it running.

Give me a chance.

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For reasons I couldn't fathom, Keith truly believed that we

were right for each other. All he wanted was a chance to
prove it.

I could do that, couldn't I? After all I'd done to him, he

deserved something.

Sinking onto my couch, I rubbed at the headache growing

at my temples. I wasn't sure of anything anymore. I didn't
know what to do. I couldn't figure out the best course of
action.

The only certainty I had was that Keith didn't deserve a

wreck like me.

[Back to Table of Contents]

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CHAPTER 9

The day after Christmas, I sat on a hardwood bench

outside of my store at the mall, watching people walk in and
out of it.

It was filled to capacity. People buying shirts, people

buying drinks, people just hanging out. My gaze drifted to the
empty storefront next door. Although a crowded store was
something to be thankful for, I knew that many customers
had to be turned off by the mass of people jostling them
about. Maybe I could buy the space next door, knock out the
wall separating it from my place, and give people room to
move around.

I made a mental note to look into it and returned my

attention to my store. A young lady walked out of it holding a
clear cup filled with red liquid. A Cranberry Dash—my
personal favorite. Right now, though, I was trying to focus on
the people holding the opaque, promotional cups. Those held
Cocoa Combustion, the new drink.

Surprisingly, it seemed to be doing quite well. In a couple

of days I would receive Marketing's report on how it was
selling nationwide, but here in Laurel, about one in four
people purchased it. At least, they had been since I'd been
sitting here.

They looked happy, these people going in and out of my

store. I used to live to see that expression. I spent my life
fostering an environment where people could come and
laugh. At first I only targeted college students, but now

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people of all ages came to Warm Rush to grab a drink or
purchase a T-shirt. Many of them stayed, sitting at the small
round tables to have a conversation or to work on their
laptops.

Three years ago, this would have been my vision of

heaven.

Three years ago, I would have been in there, learning

about the people who frequented my store.

"Hey man, you have to get out of here."
I glanced up at the slender young man standing before

me. The black slacks, burgundy shirt, and forest green apron
told me that he was one of my employees. "Excuse me?"

"I've already called security, so you'd better leave if you

don't want any trouble."

I set my cane onto the floor and rose to my feet. The kid

couldn't have been more than twenty, but he was taller than
me and full of attitude. "Why would you call security? I
haven't done anything."

"Look, I realize it's cold out and the shelters are probably

full, but you can't stay here."

Shock made it hard for me to speak. "You ... You think I'm

a vagrant?"

"You're scaring the customers, man."
I peered around him, at my packed store. "Business seems

to be going well enough."

Two men in blue uniforms strolled up to us. They were big,

looking more like nightclub bouncers than mall security.
"What seems to be the problem?"

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The kid pointed to me. "He's the one, the bum I told you

about. He's been sitting outside the store for two hours."

The bigger of the two guards turned toward me. I couldn't

locate his name tag on his barrel of a chest. "It's time to
leave now, Mister."

My hand tightened on my cane. "But I'm not a—"
"You can't sit here, sir," said the smaller of the guards. His

name tag read, "Duncan." I got the impression that he was
attempting to be nice, but I still couldn't comprehend the
situation I found myself in.

Anger simmered inside of me. "I can't sit here? Then why

put a bench here at all? For decoration?"

The kid had to put his two cents in. "It's for people who

actually shop here."

My gaze dipped to his chest. All Warm Rush employees

had their names stitched on their shirts, and this one's said
"Manager," as well. "Do you know who I am, Sean?"

He stiffened. "I know what you are."
I had never wished so much that I could stand on my own

two feet, because I would have sorely liked to crack my cane
over his head. "My name is Jesse Winter."

"So?"
Fuck. How could he not recognize it? My name was

mentioned in the training manual at least a dozen times! "I
own Warm Rush."

Sean snorted and looked at the security guards. "See?

Homeless and crazy."

By now a small crowd had gathered around us, including a

female employee from my store. I could see them, staring at

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my face, making judgments. I felt like the god-damned
elephant man. "I am not crazy. This is my store, and you
work for me."

"That's enough, Mister," said the big guard. "Come on, let

us walk you out."

My feet remained rooted to the floor. "No."
Security guard Duncan raised his hands. "We don't want

any trouble. Let's not make a scene."

Too late. "I ... said ... no."
The bigger guard grabbed my elbow, yanking me away

from the bench.

My left elbow, which was held together with a thin steel

pin.

His grip felt as if it was about to rip my arm apart. My

knees started to buckle as shards of ice-cold pain sliced
through my entire body.

"What the fuck!"
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a large figure in a

bright yellow T-shirt hurtle over the bench and grab the big
security guard's wrist.

"What the hell are you doing?" Keith bent his hand back,

driving him to his knees. "Does it make you feel good, big
man? Roughing up a guy less than half your size?" He
increased the pressure, making him cry out. "Well, feels like
fuck now, doesn't it?"

Duncan rushed forward and Keith used his other hand to

shove his chest, sending him flying back into the crowd.

Still holding the other guard in an iron grip, he turned his

head to look at me, his face a mask of fury. "Are you okay?"

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"Y-Yes," I said quickly, afraid he was going to break the

security guard's wrist.

His gaze dipped to my left arm, now hanging limp at my

side, and his fury intensified as he faced down the crowd.
"Somebody had damn well better start explaining things to
me, or I'm gonna tear this guy's arm right out of his
shoulder."

"Easy, big guy," said Duncan, cautiously eyeing his partner

as he got to his feet. "We're trying to escort a drifter out of
the mall, that's all."

"Drifter?" His hand tightened on the guard he held. "You

think he's homeless?"

"Keith," I said softly. "Let him go."
He glanced down, having apparently forgotten the pain he

was inflicting, and released the guard. The big man slumped
to the floor, and Keith's fierce tone didn't change as he
continued speaking. "What are you guys, on crack? He's not
homeless."

Duncan rushed to help his partner to his feet. "Do you

know him?"

"Hell yeah, I know him! He owns the house across the

street from me."

Both guards cast accusing glances at Sean.
"I-It's not my fault," he said in a haste to defend himself.

"He says he owns Warm Rush. He's crazy."

"Um, Sean?" The young woman from my store stepped

forward, her flip phone in hand. "Jesse Winter does own
Warm Rush." She held it up so that he could see the screen.

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He frowned, staring down at it, then shook his head. "No

way. He doesn't look anything like this freak."

Keith's fists clenched and he took a menacing step

forward. "You wanna say that again? Come on, I dare you."

Sean stumbled backward. "N-No. I j-just meant—"
"Everyone, calm down," said Duncan, although his own

voice sounded far from calm. He looked at me. "Can you
prove who you are, sir?"

Stunned to have the attention back on me, I winced as I

tried to reach into the breast pocket inside my coat. My black
wool, eight hundred dollar coat, which apparently made me
look like a hobo.

Keith bent over. "I've got it," he said gently, slipping his

hand into my pocket and removing my wallet. His voice
hardened as he opened it up and turned to Duncan. "There,
you see? He is Jesse Winter."

A murmur went up among the crowd, and I was glad that

Keith's big body blocked me from view for the most part.

Duncan turned to Sean. "I think you owe this man an

apology, son."

His dark eyes were almost perfectly round as he stared at

me. "I-I'm sorry, M-Mr. Winter. I didn't know."

My voice was soft, level. "You're fired. You know that

much, right?"

His body started and he glanced away from me.
"Finish out the week to give the new manager time to hire

a replacement. After that, I don't want you anywhere near my
store, understand?" When he nodded, I looked at the young
woman with the phone. "What's your name?"

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She swallowed. "Tara, sir."
"How long have you been working here, Tara?"
"A-Almost a year and a half."
The ache in my arm was killing me, but I was good at

hiding my pain. "Over the past two hours, you always seemed
to have time for customers' questions, and you were very
efficient in serving them. Are you always that way?"

She gave me a cautious nod. "I-I try to be, sir."
In a different life, I might have smiled to set her at ease. I

simply didn't have the energy for it now. "Congratulations,
Tara. You're the new manager. Your first order of business is
to find a replacement for Sean."

Tara straightened. "Th-Thank you, sir."
I nodded toward the store. "You should get back to work."
"Yes, Mr. Winter," she said, hurrying back inside with Sean

shuffling behind.

I looked around me, at the crowd still clinging to this train

wreck. There were so many people, and I just wanted them
to go away.

Keith spoke, still sounding pissed. "I can't believe you guys

thought he was homeless. What gave you a stupid idea like
that?"

The bigger guard, whose name tag I still couldn't see,

answered. "He was loitering."

"So?" Keith crossed his arms over his chest. His biceps

swelled frighteningly large, pushing the short sleeves of his
yellow T-shirt up to make room for themselves. "It's a mall.
There's no rule against hanging out."

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Duncan tried to diffuse his anger. "You're right. We're

sorry."

"It's not me you harassed."
Both guards turned to me, apologizing profusely.
I couldn't do anything but nod.
They walked away, the bigger man cradling one hand in

the other.

Keith looked down at me. "I can't believe they did that to

you, Jesse."

The crowd still hadn't dissipated, and I found myself

unable to speak. I just wanted to hide somewhere, I just
wanted to be shut away from prying eyes.

He watched me a moment before his eyes narrowed and

he glanced up. His voice cracked the air like a gunshot.
"What're you staring at?"

Almost instantly, the crowd was gone, except for a few

kids his age standing behind the bench.

"Keith?" asked one of them, a young man with blond hair.

"Is everything cool?"

"Yeah, Mike. Everything's cool. You guys go on ahead, I'll

catch up with you later."

The kids glanced at each other before reluctantly walking

away.

"Jesse? You okay?"
My gaze fixed on the sign above my store. Burgundy

letters against a forest green backdrop. I'd designed it
myself.

"Jesse?"

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"Do you think my hair is too long?" I asked, still staring up

at my sign.

Now there was no anger in his voice, only confusion.

"What?"

"My hair. Is that why they thought I was a vagrant? Would

having it short have helped? Or would revealing more of my
scars have strengthened the impression?"

"You shouldn't listen to those fucks. They're idiots.

Besides," he swept my hair back, "I like it long. It makes me
feel like I'm unwrapping a present every time I see your
face."

Unmoved by his sentiment, I watched Tara help a

customer. "I was here for the construction of this particular
store. I oversaw the placement of every counter, every table,
every blender and espresso machine. With this store I
experimented with having the shirts displayed on the walls,
instead of on clothes racks. Now I use that design in every
store. Did you know that, Keith?"

"No, I didn't." He placed his hand on my arm.
I couldn't quite stifle my gasp, and the anger flooded back

into his voice.

"That guard really hurt you, didn't he? I'm gonna break

every bone in his body."

He began stalk off, and my gaze still wouldn't leave my

store. "Keith."

"Yeah?"
"I can't stand." Right on cue, my legs gave out.
His arms were around me long before I hit the floor, and

he set me on the bench. "Shit, Jesse."

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"I should sell."
He cupped my chin, gently forcing my gaze away from my

store. "What?"

"I should sell Warm Rush. The offers I have on the table

border on extravagant. Business is great. I have no debt to
speak of. Now is the time to let it go."

His thumb caressed my cheek. "You're just upset because

of what happened today."

"What happened today brings it all into focus. I'm not

welcome inside; I'm not even welcome to sit outside of my
own goddamned store."

"But you can't sell it. You love your store."
"It doesn't love me back." I started to shake with the

epiphany. "Nothing loves me back. Nothing can love me.
That's just the way it is, and I have to come to terms with it."

His arms slipped around me, dragged me against his hard,

warm body. He lowered his head, spoke soft words into my
ear. "I love you, Jesse."

Everything inside me went still. "You ... You can't. You're

not even old enough to know what—"

"Love is needing to hold you, aching to hear your voice, to

breathe the air you breathe." Heedless of the busy mall
around us, he touched his lips to my cheek. "Love is
protecting you, wanting you, feeling like you're a part of me.
The good part. The best part."

I could barely manage a whisper. "Keith..."
His hand stroked my back. "I've wanted to tell you forever.

I tried just before you left for Europe, and again before I left
for school. I was never strong enough, which is crazy because

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you are really easy to love, Jesse. No matter how tough you
try to make yourself, you can't help caring. You can't help
looking out for people. For me."

In a few, surreal moments, Keith had managed to totally

wreck my epiphany. The noise of the mall faded, and his
warmth surrounded me. I couldn't move. All I could do was
let him hold me.

"I know this wasn't the right time to tell you, Jesse. But

you need to understand that people can love you. I love you,
and I'm pretty sure your uncle loves you."

Uncle Harry ... We'd been apart so long, I wasn't entirely

sure about that.

"Don't let some ignorant prick convince you that you

should sell your business. You're the heart and soul of Warm
Rush. That's why I'm there so much. I can feel you."

Feel me. Had anyone ever said that to me before? I looked

up at him. "You can?"

He nodded. "Good thing I was here to tear that gorilla off

of you today. What are you doing here, anyway? I thought
you had an appointment."

His arms were still around me. Were people staring? I

realized I didn't care, and laid my head against him. "This
was my second appointment today. I hadn't been to this store
since I got back, and I wanted to stop by and see how it was
doing."

"Hell of a reception, wasn't it?"
I chuckled. "Thanks, Keith. For being here." I thought

about the people he'd been with, the disappointed looks on
their faces. "You had something planned with your friends?"

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"Nah. I was just hanging out because I didn't think I'd see

you until this evening."

"Oh." I still hadn't moved away from him. Out of character

for me.

His hand brushed over my left arm. "Jesse? You need to go

to the hospital?"

My elbow ached, but I was familiar enough with my own

pain to know it didn't warrant a trip to the emergency room.
"I'll be fine."

His voice turned playful. "You wanna go home?"
I smiled against him. "Won't your friends need a ride?"
"We met here at the mall."
He always had an answer for everything. "What will we do

once we get to my house?"

"Anything you want. I could do another lat spread for you,

and I know a lot of other poses, too."

My eyes drifted shut. He was so close. Pretty soon he was

going to have me all figured out, and I was powerless to stop
it. "What did I tell you about making open-ended offers?"

"I'm not worried," he said huskily. "You can't think of

anything I can't give you."

"Is that a challenge?"
"No, it's just a fact."
Never in my life had I ever had that much confidence.

"Tonight might be fun."

"Good, you could use a little fun."
That I could. I wasn't sure how to take his declaration of

love right now, but I did know that Keith was light and
warmth. I also knew that, the moment he'd found the

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strength to say it, I'd lost the strength to push him away. "All
right. Let's go," the word tasted foreign on my tongue,
"home."

Keith kissed my forehead and stood. He started to help me

to my feet, paused when he spotted something on the floor.
"Oh hey," he said, stooping over, "I dropped your wallet." A
slip of paper fell out as he straightened, and he caught it in
midair. "What's this? It's all brown and..."

When his voice trailed, I tilted my head back. My gaze

locked to that scrap of paper, recognizing it immediately.
"Your email address," I murmured.

"You kept it?" He took a closer look. "This is my

handwriting. That means this is the same note I wrote you
the day you left."

I nodded, wondering how he would react.
The color drained from his skin. "It's brown because blood

got on it during your accident."

My defense mechanism kicked in—I couldn't help my

chuckle. "It would be more accurate to say my blood soaked
it through." He winced, and I reigned myself in. Because I
was being caustic, because he'd just said he loved me. "The
first time I woke up, I was crying out for ... something. They
didn't know what the hell I wanted, so they brought my
wallet," my mouth crooked, "since it was the only thing
besides me that survived the crash. They started pulling out
the money and the credit cards and the business cards.
Nothing would quiet me down. The doctors were already
preparing to sedate me when a nurse pulled out that bit of
paper. I looked at it, and passed out again."

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His brow furrowed. "You wanted it that badly?"
"Don't read too much into it, Keith." I scrubbed at my face

with my hand. "I don't remember any of it. Pain induced
delirium. It's just a story I was told afterward."

"But you kept my email address."
I let my hand drop to my lap. "Yes."
"The money, the cards? Did you keep those?"
This time it was my turn to frown. "No."
Keith slid the note into my wallet. "Did you think of me,

Jesse?"

He didn't ask why I'd kept that filthy scrap of paper. He

didn't finally demand to know why I stopped writing him after
the accident. He only wanted a glimpse into my life from the
last three years.

I could give him that.
"Yes," I admitted. Then, realizing he might get the wrong

idea, I lifted my good arm so I could hold my palm parallel to
the floor. "I thought of little Keith Taylor, who was worried he
wouldn't make the basketball team when I left."

He smiled, bending over to slip the wallet into my coat

pocket. "That's fine." Propping his fists on each side of me, he
leaned down, his mouth grazing against mine as he spoke.
"As long as you were thinking about me while I was thinking
about you."

My eyes drifted closed as my lips parted. After the

accident, I'd dissolved all my friendships, every meaningful
bond I'd ever had. I'd done it ruthlessly, telling myself it was
for their own good. But Keith had found a way to stay
connected through the age difference, the physical distance,

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my own bitterness. He'd always been right here, waiting to
kiss me, just like this.

Maybe he was right. Maybe he really did know what love

meant.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

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CHAPTER 10

I stood on the sidewalk outside my house, trying not to let

the cold December air get to me.

"Jesse!"
Glancing up, I saw Keith jog across the street. He was

wearing another T-shirt—long-sleeved this time. Warm coffee
color, stretched tight over his torso and tucked into a pair of
dark blue jeans. It made me smile just to look at him, and I
knew we'd have a hard time of it soon. "Calling me 'Jesse' out
in the open now, are we? Guess this means we'll have to have
a talk with your family about us."

He hopped up onto the sidewalk. "Really? You're cool with

that?"

"It's not a question of being cool with it. It's the right thing

to do."

Keith grinned as his body brushed against mine. "I'm glad

we won't have to sneak around anymore."

I inhaled deeply, breathing in summer. "You are standing

very close to me, Keith."

"Well, I know you hate the cold weather and, in case you

haven't noticed, I tend to run a little hot."

His teasing drew a chuckle out of me. "Yes, I picked up on

that."

"So what are you doing out here?"
"Waiting for my cab. He called and said he'd be here in a

couple of minutes."

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The sudden tension in his body took me by surprise.

"You're leaving?"

I stepped back to get a better look at his face. "I'm just

going to physical therapy, Keith. I'll be back this afternoon."

Every muscle in his body relaxed. "Why are you taking a

taxi? I could drive you."

Grinning, I checked the street again. "You're just loving

your Hummer, aren't you?"

"No. I mean yeah, but I really could drive you."
Wasn't hard to see where this was going, and my smile

faded. "No thanks."

"Why not? I'd like to see you work out."
I sighed. "When you work out, it's energizing,

empowering, and probably sexy. When I work out, it is a
pride swallowing, soul-sucking experience, and I'd rather you
not see me that way."

His face softened. "Can I pick you up, at least?"
It took me a while to decide, but I gave in the way I

always gave in. "5275 Stone Oak Parkway. Three o'clock."

"Cool." The cab pulled up and he lowered his head to

speak into my ear. "I love you, Jesse."

My eyes widened and he grinned, opening the door and

helping me into the car. As the cab drove away, I twisted
around and stared out the window, holding his gaze for as
long as I could.

* * * *

"One more step, Jesse. You can do it."

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My hands tightened on the parallel bars and I dragged my

left foot forward. My left arm gave out on me, and I started to
fall to the mat.

Josh's strong arm hooked around my waist and pulled me

up to my feet. "You're doing about half as well as yesterday,
LJ."

It figured that Sherri would find me a physical therapist

who'd gone to my high school. Josh Hatcher graduated two
years before me. He'd been on the swim team, but he told me
he'd been to most of my games when he was in school. Now
he was one of the top physical therapists in the country.

Small world.
I grabbed the bars again. "Tired, I guess."
"Nope, little Jesse," he said, pulling me away from them.

"You're done for today."

Reluctantly, I let him guide me to a padded bench.
He crouched before me. "Your left arm is a lot weaker than

yesterday. Now, why is that?"

"It's nothing."
Josh snapped his fingers and held out his hand. "You know

the drill."

His blond hair and bright blue eyes made him appear

easygoing, but Josh didn't take shit when it came to his job.
Slowly, I pulled my sweatshirt off over my head and dropped
it into his waiting hand. I didn't feel self-conscious doing it.
The white tank-top I wore helped, as did the knowledge that
he'd seen worse than even me.

His gaze immediately hit my bruised elbow. "How did that

happen?"

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"Long story."
"Jesse, you know you're supposed to tell me about any

injuries prior to our sessions."

Yes, I knew. When I'd arrived, though, I still hadn't figured

out how to tell him that a beefy security guard had mistaken
me for a bum. "It's not that bad."

He reached out, gently took my arm to examine it. "It

probably wasn't so bad this morning, but now your elbow's
the size of an orange." He shook his head and rose to his
feet. "Stay here and I'll get you something for your arm,
okay?"

"Sure," I said, not really caring.
When he disappeared, I took a few moments to watch

some of the other patients in the clinic. There was an older
man picking up marbles with his toes, a woman working a
shoulder wheel. Two of the three treadmills were occupied, as
well as one of the stationary bikes. There were also people
working with pulleys, varicolored exercise balls, and rubber
tubing. All of which I was quite familiar with.

The people ranged in age. Some older, some younger.

Their faces were familiar now, but I'd never had a
conversation with any of them. No interest. And although I
liked Josh, and worked hard under his watch, I hadn't really
bonded with him, either.

"Hey, Jesse."
I didn't look up. "You're early."
"I know. Sorry." Keith sat beside me, straddling the bench.

"Traffic wasn't as heavy as I expected."

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"Liar." I looked at him, unable to find it in myself to be

angry. "You wanted to see me work."

A faint, charming blush colored his skin. "Yeah. You on a

break or something?"

"I'm actually done for today."
"Dammit." He grinned and swept my hair back. "Looks like

you got what you wanted then."

Josh walked in, paused when he spotted Keith. "Friend of

yours, LJ?"

"This is Keith Taylor." I didn't offer any more information

than that. I wasn't sure what to say.

Josh held out his hand. "Good to meet you."
Keith took it, and I saw Josh wince at the strength of his

grip. "Nice to meet you, too."

I glanced at Keith. He'd always had perfect control with

me. Why had it slipped with Josh?

Josh knelt on the floor and held up a blue wrap. "Got

something cold for your elbow."

My body stiffened. "I don't like ice, Josh."
"I know, but it's the best thing for you."
"No."
"It'll help the swelling go down."
I drew my arm away. "Won't it go down eventually on its

own?"

He took a deep, patient breath. "Jesse, it's only for a little

while, and you'll get better a lot faster."

It was the truth. I knew that. It still didn't make me feel

good about giving him my arm.

"Jesse."

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I turned my head to look at Keith. "Yes?"
He grinned, leaned forward, and bounced his pecs inches

from my face.

I burst into laughter.
"Now, that's a sound I haven't heard since high school."
Still chuckling, I turned back to Josh. "He's very good at

that."

"I'm sure. Most kids are."
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Keith stiffen. "He's not

a kid. He's eighteen."

"Nineteen in two months," Keith said tightly.
"Oh." Josh smiled at him. "Sorry, I guess I tend to think of

anyone under drinking age as a kid."

Maybe I should have told Josh how Keith had nearly

snapped a security guard's wrist yesterday.

Josh fastened the cold pack around my elbow. "There we

go. We'll keep it on for about ten minutes or so."

I glanced down at my arm, surprised. "I hardly even

noticed it."

He lightly cuffed my ear. "Don't I always take care of you,

LJ?"

We hadn't been close in school, but now, as adults, I was

able to appreciate him for the man he'd become. "You do, at
that."

He smiled again, showing teeth almost as perfect as

Keith's. "Now, where's your food diary?"

I nodded toward the gym bag by my feet.
Josh reached in and pulled out a black journal. He opened

it up, shaking his head as he flipped through the pages.

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"Apple pie. Apple pie. Apple pie. Tell me, Jesse, what's so
special about apple pie?"

Now it was my turn to blush. "It tastes good."
He cocked an eyebrow. "Every day?"
"It's not like that's all I eat."
"Pretty close to it." He glanced down at my journal again.

"You're not taking care of yourself, LJ. Although, in the last
couple of days, you have been eating slightly better."

"It's hard," I said softly. "Food doesn't interest me."
His expression grew thoughtful. "How about this? Keep

eating the pie, but use it as a reward. Only let yourself have it
if you've met your nutritional requirements for the day."

Sounded reasonable. "I don't suppose you have a list of

what a man like me might require?"

Josh chuckled and slid my journal into my bag. "Just so

happens," he said, rising to his feet, "I printed up a list with
suggested foods, calorie amounts, and sample menus this
morning. I'll be right back."

I watched him leave, wondering how I could possibly meet

his expectations.

"He calls you LJ?"
"Yes," I said, glancing at Keith.
"Can I call you LJ?"
"No."
He frowned. "Why not?"
"Because it is a child's nickname and, frankly, I couldn't

have sex with someone who called me that."

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Instead of smiling, his face actually darkened as he jerked

his head in the direction Josh had gone. "Maybe you should
tell that to him."

Confused, I tried to sort through his logic. "Why?"
"He wants you."
My laughter surprised me so much that I choked on it.

"What?"

"He does, Jesse. I can see it."
The idea ... I couldn't begin to take it seriously. "Keith, you

are the only one crazy enough to want me."

He crossed his arms over his chest, and I blew out a soft,

aroused breath as I took in his biceps, the broad scope of his
body.

"He's gonna make a move on you."
"Relax," I said, dragging my gaze up to his hazel eyes.

"You've got nothing to worry about."

Before he could say anything else, Josh returned. He held

up a manila folder. "Everything you need is in here, all right?"
At my nod, he put it into my gym bag. Josh settled onto the
floor in front of me, his face serious. "We need to talk."

This was a new tone. "So talk."
He glanced up at Keith, then back at me.
It took me a second to catch on. "Oh, it's fine. I don't mind

that he hears it."

Josh was quiet a long moment, then drew his knees

upward to rest his forearms on top of them. "How are your
pain levels?"

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Was that it? For some reason, I thought he'd had

something more dire to say. "Aside from my elbow, about the
same."

"Dr. Richards called me this morning."
Ah. I began to understand the sober tone. "Did he?"
"He checked with your pharmacy, found out you hadn't

been filling the prescriptions he'd been writing you."

The problem with living in a smaller community is that

doctors actually did things like follow up with pharmacies.
"Painkillers. He thinks I need them, but I don't."

"Is the pain still waking you up at night?"
I glanced away. "Sometimes."
"How often?"
I hesitated before answering. "Five, six nights a week."
Josh leaned forward, caught my gaze. "Jesse, if any of my

other clients felt even half the pain you live with, they'd
spend every second screaming and begging for relief."

Suddenly I wished I had sent Keith away. As it was, I

couldn't tear my attention from Josh's concerned face. "You
get used to it, I guess."

"If you were used to it, you'd be able to get a good night's

sleep. Why don't you take your meds?"

I hated this. Hated thinking about those first months after

the crash. "You don't know what it was like, in the beginning."

The gentle tone in his voice didn't change. "Then now is as

good a time as any to tell me."

My right hand tightened on the edge of the bench. "The

pain I feel now is nothing compared to how it used to be. The
doctors gave me plenty of medication and, truthfully, I might

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have gone insane without it." I glanced down at my lap, at
the asymmetry of my body. One of my thighs was noticeably
larger than the other. The difference used to be much more
pronounced, and I could remember a time when they were
both withered twigs. "They pumped me so full of drugs that I
didn't feel the pain. But there was nothing else, either."

I lifted my head, refusing to acknowledge the tears that

wanted to rise. "Now, for the most part, I only feel cold, and
pain. But at least I feel something, Josh. Without it, I couldn't
tell whether I was alive or dead."

His eyebrows drew together. "I'll talk to Dr. Richards and

see if we can't find other ways to control your pain. As for the
cold, there's nothing physically wrong with you that would
explain that."

I forced a smile. "You saying it's psychosomatic?"
"A ten dollar word from the psych major. Give the man a

prize."

"It's not all caffeine and T-shirt slogans up here," I said,

tapping my temple.

"Didn't think that for a second." His humor faded. "Let's

see if I can earn myself a prize." He straightened, his blue
eyes sympathetic, but also sharp. "In my experience, most
people who have come as close to dying as you have can be
divided into two groups. The first set are joyed that they're
alive, thrilled that they cheated death. The second, well, they
tend to believe that death cheated them."

Wasn't hard to figure out where I fell. "You do deserve a

prize, Josh. But you aren't telling me anything I don't already
know."

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"LJ, you don't sleep, you don't eat. You work hard with me,

but your heart's not in it. And if your heart's not in it, your
body won't heal."

"It's never going to heal, so what's the—"
"Point?" he finished for me. "If you start taking care of

yourself, then maybe we can get you to a place where you're
not feeling enough pain to lay out a pro football team."

Was there even a man left under all this ice? I wasn't sure

anymore. "I don't know where to start."

"I read your file, Jesse. You dragged yourself out of that

wheelchair even when everyone told you that you never
would. Where did all that fire go?"

An image of that white light, that figure holding out his

hand to me, came to mind. I had no idea what that had to do
with anything, but I'd thought about it a lot those first, long
months. Then I realized, as long as I was alive, I would never
see it again. Hell, there was no guarantee I'd see it when I
died, either. So I found myself trapped in between. "Fires
burn out."

"Then we'll have to find a way to get yours going again,

won't we?"

Lately I seemed to be surrounded by confident men. "If

you say so."

Josh reached forward, removing the cold wrap from my

arm. "I'm putting this in your bag, too. I want you to apply it
off and on for the rest of the day, all right?"

I cupped my hand over my elbow, now the size of a

slightly smaller orange, to warm it up. "All right."

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He picked up my sweatshirt. "Here. In the meantime, you

should do what you can to keep warm."

I took it, eased it on. Josh handed me my cane and I

pushed myself up. "Same time tomorrow?"

"You bet."
Keith stood, grabbed my gym bag and looked down at me.

"Ready?" he asked, his big body blocking my view of Josh.

It still disconcerted me to find myself staring straight at his

abs. Josh, who was six foot one, only came up to his chin.
And this jealousy ... I didn't have a clue on how to deal with
it. "Yes." I leaned to the side as much as my body would
allow. "Thanks, Josh. Have a good evening."

He grinned. "Back at you."
I righted myself and walked with Keith out of the clinic. He

opened the passenger door to his Hummer and placed my
bag behind the seat. Slipping his big hands around my waist,
he lifted me into the car. It didn't piss me off, surprisingly. It
didn't even make me angry when he buckled me in. On
impulse, I leaned forward and brushed my lips against his.

He straightened. "What was that for?"
"Just because."
His face finally lost the hardness it had developed when

Josh had called him a kid. "I like that reason." He closed the
passenger door and walked around, climbing in and fastening
his own seatbelt.

Automatically, I turned my head to stare out the window

when the car began to move.

"Jesse? When can we tell my parents about us?"
Tired, I rolled my head to the left. "What?"

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"You said it was time to tell them. You still want to, right?"
Strange, to see him so insecure. It bordered on awkward.

"Yes."

"When?"
I thought about it a moment. "The day after New Year's, I

think."

"You want to wait that long?"
The corner of my mouth tilted. "Is four and a half days

really so long?"

"No," he said, his voice strangely subdued. "I guess not."
"I just want to wait until after your mother's New Year's

Eve party. That way, she won't be distracted from her fun.
And you should think about hiding the key to your father's
lockbox."

Keith chuckled, some of his tension leaving him. "My dad is

not going to shoot you, Jesse."

"I'd rather not take that chance."
He cast a quick glance at me, still smiling. "I'd never let

anything happen to you."

Although he sounded casual—even playful—there was a

certain absoluteness to his tone that let me know he really
believed that.

"Keith, why are you suddenly so anxious to tell your family

about us?"

His brow furrowed, but he kept his eyes on the road. "I

just want ... Well, I want people to know that you're taken, is
all."

My lips twitched, but I tried to keep my face serious.

"Taken?"

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"Yeah," he said, growing more uncomfortable by the

second. "Like that guy Josh. He should definitely know, and
the sooner we tell my parents, the sooner I can tell him to
step off."

Step off? What did that even mean? "Josh is an old friend

from high school, and he is my physical therapist. I would
prefer it if you'd refrain from telling him to 'step off.'"

"But he's going to—"
"Keith, I know you want me, and I know your feelings are

genuine. But you have to understand that the rest of the
world sees me as a charity case. Or a bum. No one's going to
hit on me, so stop worrying about it."

"I don't just want you," he said quietly. "I love you, and

that guy ... He goes way back with you, and now he gets to
see you damn near every day. He ... He knows so much that I
don't know."

I'd had jealous lovers before, but this was something more

profound. "Like what?"

"What you eat, how you feel ... how to take care of you.

Everything."

I adjusted my seatbelt because it was starting to cut into

me. "If it's that important to you, then you can look at my
food diary. If you want to know how I feel, then ask. As for
taking care of me ... I can take care of myself. But you
always seem to be there when I need you, and I haven't had
that in years. I'm..." I paused as I tried to think of the right
word, "grateful that you're in my life."

"Grateful? So you don't think of me as a pest? The kid

who's always running across the street when he sees you?"

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"Ah, Keith." Memories, from when we first met to what

we'd done last night, flooded my mind and body. "I have
never, ever thought of you as a pest."

"Not even when I refuse to leave your house?"
"You can be stubborn as hell. During those times I tend to

think of you as a mule, not a bug, if that's any consolation."

A soft chuckle rumbled out of him. "Jesse, how do you feel

about..."

I leaned forward, trying to see more of his face without

distracting him. "Yes?"

He hesitated as he took a left on Maple Street. "New

Year's. Are you looking forward to Mom's party?"

Although I didn't think that was what he'd meant to ask, I

settled back into my seat and answered him. "I have nothing
against New Year's, but I will not be attending your mother's
party." Marjorie had the energy of ten hostesses. When Uncle
Harry arrived with Clara, I'd have to introduce them. "I've
already RSVP'd her."

He looked at me for so long that I pointed to the road to

guide his attention back to it. "Why not?"

"I don't have the energy for two parties in a week."
"Jesse, I'd really like you to be there."
Now he had a new tension in him, and I wasn't sure of the

cause. "It's only a night, just like any other."

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. "Please?"
Dammit. I groaned inwardly. "We'll see."
"I'll trade for it."
A slow smile curved my mouth. "What will you give me?"
"Anything."

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Amusement and affection welled up inside of me. "Deal."
"Yes," he whispered triumphantly. Then his tone turned

teasing. "I'm sure Mrs. Bailey will bring pie."

This time my groan was audible.
He chuckled, in a much better mood now. "I guess that's

one thing I know about you that Josh doesn't."

"And we'll be keeping it between us."
His smile softened as he pulled into my driveway. "Good."

* * * *

"He's suing me?" I asked, staring in shock at my

speakerphone. "I was sitting on a bench."

"No, Jesse. He's suing the Taylor boy. But his lawyer

obviously believes you'll come to the kid's rescue."

At the moment I was glad that I'd locked myself in my den

for this call. I doubted Keith could handle being called "kid"
twice in one day. "How much is he suing for?"

"One million dollars."
"A million? What did this guy get? A diamond studded

cast?"

"Actually, nothing was broken. From what I understand,

the emergency room doctors wrapped up his wrist and sent
him on his way."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Wait, he didn't even

spend the night in the hospital?"

"Nope."
"Did he miss any work?"
"Two days. Well, a day and a half."
Unbelievable. "Did his lawyer even pass the bar?"

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Connor Reed, the head of my legal department, chuckled.

"Yes he did. The man calmly explained to me that he would
turn this into a media circus, tell the press how you have a
goon on hand to rough up upstanding citizens."

Goon? My eyes narrowed at the speakerphone. "Tell him

that if he goes to the press with this, we will be forced to
explain how that guard tried to drag a crippled man away
from his own store. Then we will publicly thank Keith Taylor
for being a good Samaritan and coming to my aid."

"That's a good plan, Jesse. It may not exempt your good

Samaritan from criminal prosecution, though."

I stopped short, unsure I'd heard correctly. "He's

threatening to press criminal charges as well?"

"Apparently the guard thinks he's gone through an undue

amount of pain and suffering."

"Pain and suffering?" My hand tightened on my cane.

"When he has a limb sheared off and stitched back on, then
he can come and whine to me about pain and suffering."

"Relax, Jesse," said Connor. "I'm going to take care of it. I

just wanted to keep you up to date."

"What are you going to do?"
"Offer to pay his hospital bill and compensate him for lost

wages. If he turns me down, then I'll remind him that you are
also well within your rights to sue him for battery."

I grinned. "So, in other words, you're going to scare the

shit out of him?"

I could hear an answering smile in his voice. "It's my

favorite part."

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Sometimes I wondered about the people working for me.

Not that I'd ever trade them for anything. "All right, I'll leave
it to you then. Is there anything else?"

"Other than the usual corporate raiders sniffing around, it's

been pretty quiet around here. When are you going to pay us
a visit?"

You're the heart and soul of Warm Rush.
I rested my chin atop the silver handle of my cane.

"Soon."

"Vague, but better than what you usually say. I'll be sure

to let the crew know. They'll be excited. I'll ... I'll let Brendan
know, too."

Maybe Keith was right. Maybe my business did love me

back. "Thanks, Connor. I'll talk to you later."

"Bye, Jesse."
I leaned forward, hit the off button, and pulled myself to

my feet. Keith was still somewhere in the house, and the
quiet worried me. I limped out of the den, checked the living
room, the kitchen.

"Keith?"
"In the bedroom!"
I raised my voice. "What are you doing up there?"
"What do you think?"
My answer was warm, easy laughter.
"So, you coming or what?"
Needing no further prodding, I climbed up the stairs,

walked down my hall, into my bedroom...

And stopped in my tracks.

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There was Keith, completely and gloriously naked, lying on

top of my bed with an assortment of fruits scattered over his
skin. Strawberries, cherries, blueberries. Slices of kiwi,
peaches, and pineapple. The array of color was stunning
against his tanned skin. My gaze slid downward, taking in the
food nestled against the muscles of his body, and got caught
by the purple bunch of grapes resting on his crotch.

"What ... What..."
His voice drew me out of my stupor. "I've been looking

over this list of foods your physical therapist gave you," he
said, holding up a sheet of paper. "He suggests fruits,
vegetables, proteins." His grin turned wicked. "Tomorrow
we'll cover vegetables, but I haven't figured out how to get
you your protein yet."

I stared at the strawberries, arranged in a line between his

pecs. "I..."

"Come to bed, Jesse," he said gently.
As if I were under some kind of spell, I quietly obeyed.

Keith used one of his arms to help me crawl onto the
mattress, bringing attention to the bright green slice of kiwi
resting on his biceps. He curled me forward, making his arm
swell, making the fruit rise.

"Does that look good?"
Speechless, I nodded.
"It tastes good, too. I promise."
Totally enthralled by now, I leaned forward, my mouth

already watering. Slowly, I bit into the tart kiwi, my teeth
scraping against the taut skin covering his hard muscle.

He was right, it did taste good.

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[Back to Table of Contents]

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

195

CHAPTER 11

"Ten! Nine! Eight!"
I looked around the Taylor household, filled to the brim

with drunk, happy people; most of them wearing goofy hats.

"Seven! Six! Five!"
Men and women took a last drink from their champagne

glasses and looped their arms around loved ones.

"Four! Three! Two!"
Excitement. Anticipation. Although I stood alone, apart, I

couldn't help smiling.

"One!"
Suddenly I was lifted off my feet, wrapped tightly in strong

arms. Warm lips pressed against mine, and I was too stunned
to fight. Once I realized it was Keith, I didn't want to fight,
despite the fact that he was kissing me in front of most of the
neighborhood. I lost myself in him, in his light, in the
explosions erupting in my body. His lips moved against mine
in that all too intimate caress reserved exclusively for lovers,
and I reveled in it.

"Auld Lang Syne" played around us as he broke the kiss,

sliding me down the front of his body until my feet touched
the floor. He lowered his head, smiling just for me. "Happy
New Year, Jesse."

I reached up, trailed my fingers down his cheek. "We are

in so much trouble."

* * * *

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At two a.m., after the last of the guests had departed, I

sat on the Taylors' sofa as Bob and Marjorie stared down at
me. I felt like a teenager who'd been caught making out in his
parents' bedroom, which was ironic because I'd never been
caught when I was actually a teenager.

Marjorie was the first to break the silence. "Jesse, how

could you do this to us?"

Keith, who was standing beside the sofa, answered for me.

"He didn't do anything, Mom. I went after him."

Her hand fluttered to her mouth, her gaze still on me. "Did

you ... How long has this been going on?"

I started to answer, but Keith beat me to it again.

Apparently this was his show.

"Just since he's been back. He never once touched me

before; he always treated me like a kid."

"You are a kid," said Bob. "Our kid."
"Our baby," whispered Marjorie.
Impossible not to sympathize with them. If I were in their

place, I'd probably go berserk.

Keith crossed his arms over his chest, taking a stance I

knew all too well. "I'm old enough to make my own
decisions."

Marjorie's next question was tentative, as if she didn't

really want to know the answer. "Have you two been ...
intimate?"

I wanted to break it to her gently, but Keith spoke before I

had a chance.

"Yes."

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Bob groaned, scrubbing his face with his hands. "We've

always known that Keith was unusually attached to you, but I
can't understand how a grown man could take advantage of a
child's crush."

This time I didn't bother to respond.
"It's not a crush," Keith said, his voice hard. "I love him."
Both Taylors gasped.
"And he didn't take advantage of me. If anything, I took

advantage of him. He didn't really have much say in the
matter."

God, how embarrassing.
From the looks of things, the Taylors were right there with

me.

Marjorie turned and wrapped her arms around her

husband. "This is all so much to take in."

Bob embraced her. "I ... I don't see how we can allow

this."

"Allow this?" Keith took a step forward, looming over his

parents. For the first time, I could understand why his family
might be afraid of him. "It's what I want, and you know how I
get when I—"

"Keith."
All eyes riveted onto me, and finally it was my turn to

speak. With both hands on my cane, I stared down at the
carpet. "Your parents have valid concerns. I'm sure they
envisioned a much better match for their youngest son.
Someone who could walk, at the very least."

"Jesse," said Marjorie, pulling away from her husband. "We

didn't mean—"

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"I'm sorry I've caused you two such pain. When I returned

to Laurel, I assure you that I did not intend to hop into bed
with your son. It all happened so fast, and I was unprepared.
I've handled it badly, but," I cast a brief glance at Keith, "I
don't regret it. I feel ... good, for the first time in years. It's
hard for someone in my position to let a thing like that go.
It's selfish of me, I know."

"Jesse," he whispered.
I stood, leaning heavily on my cane. "Now I'm going to do

the right thing. I'm going to let you, as a family, decide what
happens to me. I'd like to keep seeing Keith, but I will not
allow him into my house again unless I have your blessing. I
won't be responsible for breaking up your family."

"Wait a second!" yelled Keith, "You can't just—"
"If you break down my door and let the cold inside, I will

never forgive you." I looked up at him. "Understand?"

"Jesse, you don't have to—"
"Do you understand?"
He jumped, nodded.
It was funny, really. He had to be six foot nine now,

jumping at the bark of a small, crippled man. I turned to Bob
and Marjorie, who looked about as shocked as their son. "I
want you to know that I would never deliberately hurt Keith,
and I'll be praying that you'll give us your blessing."

Without saying another word, I walked out of the Taylors'

household.

I forgot my coat, of course. Since I didn't have the

strength to go back in, I picked my way across the street.
Careful of the ice, careful of the snow. By the time I reached

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my house I was shivering violently, and I turned the
thermostat up a few degrees as soon as I was inside. I
hobbled over to my couch, eased myself down to it. I tried to
curl up, realized that it hurt, and just huddled into the
cushions.

* * * *

The doorbell rang. I ignored it. The doorbell rang again. I

opened my eyes.

Four a.m.
Who would be...
I bolted upright, ignoring the sharp pains in my body, and

grabbed my cane. I made it to the door in record time and
swung it open.

Keith stood there, his hands in his pockets, his big frame

blocking the cold from coming inside. A soft smile played on
his lips as he looked down at me. "Hi, Jesse. Can I come in?"

My heart was pounding, but somehow I managed to

appear calm. "Your parents said it was all right?"

He nodded.
"If I find out otherwise in the morning, I will be very, very

angry with you."

His smile widened. "They said it was okay. Really."
I stared up at his beautiful face a long, warm moment, and

stepped aside.

* * * *

I'm not sure what, exactly, woke me up. It happened

slowly, a gradual awareness that sleep was slipping away.

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And the trembling. I noticed the trembling. But it wasn't me,
it was the man with his arms around me.

"Keith?" I opened my eyes, noticed it was still dark. Which

meant I'd only been out for about an hour.

"I'm sorry. Did I wake you?"
My eyes adjusted to the lack of light, and I reached up to

touch the moisture on his face. "You're crying. Why are you
crying?"

He didn't try to deny it. "B-Because tonight you told my

parents that you were selfish, and that was wrong. I'm the
selfish one, Jesse."

I frowned. "You are probably the most unselfish person I

know."

"I never explained why I stopped hating you, after you

went away."

No, he hadn't. But I couldn't understand what that had to

do with the current conversation. "I'm not following you. How
does that make you selfish?"

His eyes shined with more tears. "After I turned

seventeen, I realized if you had come back when you said you
would, that you wouldn't touch me. No matter how strong I
got, no matter how many other people wanted me, I wouldn't
have you. So I wanted you to stay away, for just a little
longer. Then, a few months after I turn eighteen, you come
home. It was like ... fate or something. And I was glad,
because I knew you'd have no excuse to push me away."

I wiped his tears away with my thumb. "Still not seeing the

selfishness, Keith."

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A sob burst out of him, taking me by surprise. "You were

in a horrible accident, and I was glad. Even when I saw what
it had done to you, I was just so damned happy you were
home that I didn't care about any of it. But when I listened to
you talk at the clinic about your pain, I realized that while I
was happy, you were hurting. Really hurting."

Something inside me gentled as I finally caught his thread.

"You've been feeling guilty? All this time?"

He buried his face in my shoulder and nodded against me.
I stroked his hair, speaking softly. "You weren't driving

that truck, Keith. You didn't make it rain that night. You didn't
cause the crash."

His arms wrapped around me, drew me closer. "Are you in

a lot of pain right now?"

"No." I kissed his bare shoulder. "Not a lot."
"Are you cold?"
Closing my eyes, I ran my hands over his broad back. "I'm

never cold when I'm with you."

He shuddered. "I'm so sorry you were in that accident,

Jesse."

No sarcasm, no bitterness rose inside me. "I know you are,

and you need to let it go. Sometimes bad things happen. It's
not anyone's fault. The trick is keeping yourself open for the
good that will come afterward." I paused, realizing that I was
talking to myself as much to him. I also realized that my
advice might look good on a T-shirt if it weren't so wordy.

I smiled against him. "You're the good that came

afterward, Keith. You make me laugh. You make me warm.
You make everything easier."

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He pulled back, traced the scars on my cheek. "I do?"
The pads of his fingers felt so good against my skin. "I

have no idea what you see when you look at me, but I'm
thankful that you see it."

Keith loosened his hold on me, his gaze locked to mine as

he covered my body with his much bigger one. "Is that why
you let me stay, Jesse? Because you think I'm the only one
who could want you?"

The question took me off-guard. "What?"
"Are you settling for me?"
For a few seconds I couldn't even respond. "Why would

you even ask me that?"

He didn't seem angry, just vulnerable. "That Josh guy is

going to hit on you. He's closer to your age, and you've
known him a lot longer than you've known me. When you
finally realize that I'm not the only one who thinks you're hot,
are you going to drop me?"

"You're crazy." I cupped his chin. "How could anyone

compare to you? I'm not the one who's settling."

He smiled and rubbed his hard body against mine. "When

you've wanted someone as long as I've wanted you, settling
is not an option."

How I could have been so clueless about his crush was

beyond me. Even his parents had known. "There you have it.
Neither of us are settling. Can I get some sleep now?"

Keith swept my hair back. "Jesse, I'm going back to school

in a few days."

My mood sobered. "I know."
"I want to get as much of you as I can before I leave."

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His cock startled me as it swelled against my leg. "Oh."
He grinned, flexed his pecs into my chest. "Is that okay?

You're not going to fall asleep on me, are you?"

"Impossible." Chuckling, I linked my arms around his neck.

"I'm not dead." My body stilled.

I'm not dead. Why did it feel as if I'd said something

important just now?

Keith didn't seem to find the statement nearly so

enlightening. "Good. And in a few hours, we'll have breakfast
together."

"I don't usually eat break..." My voice trailed as my mind

focused on the important part of that sentence. "Hours?"

Already his mouth was on my skin; his hands were

roaming my body. "Don't worry, Jesse. I'll go easy on you."

My eyes drifted closed as desire washed all rational

thought away.

A sexy, powerful man wanted to fuck me for hours.
What better way to start the new year?

[Back to Table of Contents]

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CHAPTER 12

"Hello?"
"Hi, Jesse."
My hand tightened on the phone. "Keith? What's wrong?"
His warm, low chuckles caressed my ear. "Nothing's

wrong. I just wanted to hear your voice."

"Oh." I sat down on my couch. "You've only been gone two

days. Have you forgotten the sound already?"

"I can miss you, can't I?"
I smiled into the receiver. "How is school?"
"About the same. There was something I wanted to tell

you before I left, but I never got around to it."

His sober tone caught my full attention. "What was that?"
"I wanted to tell you that I'm not going to have sex with

anyone while I'm here. I promise."

My lips parted as I searched for something to say.
"Jesse?"
"I ... You shouldn't limit yourself that way, Keith. I got a

taste of that libido of yours in the past couple of weeks, and
it's intense. If you find someone you like, then you should—"

"Jesse," he said sharply, cutting me off. "I don't want

anyone else but you, and I was sorta hoping you'd make me
the same promise."

My back fell against the couch. "It's a pretty safe bet that I

won't be sleeping with anyone while you're gone."

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His voice hardened. "I'm serious. If you don't want to

promise me, you don't have to promise me. But I'd like to
know, either way, what kind of relationship we have."

Relationship? Wow, I suppose that's what I found myself

in. Although I shouldn't have been surprised—I'd stood up
before Keith's parents and asked for their blessing. "You have
my promise. No sex till summer."

"Spring break."
"What?"
"I'm coming home for spring break, Jesse."
I pulled the phone away, looked at it a second, and put it

back to my ear. "Aren't college students supposed to hightail
it to Florida or something?"

"First, you're obsessed with Florida. Second, what could be

more fun than being with you?"

Cute. A six foot nine marshmallow. "All right then. Looking

forward to it."

"Me, too." Someone called his name in the background.

"Hey, I gotta go. You have my number, right?"

I glanced at the notepad by the telephone. "Yes."
"Call me tomorrow?"
"You should be focusing on your school work."
"Friday then."
Unable to resist teasing, I said, "You should go out and

have fun with your friends. Same goes for Saturday."

He blew a frustrated breath into the receiver. "Call me

Sunday."

I grinned. "You're not going to church?"
"Jesse..." he warned.

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Laughing, I took pity on him. "I'll call you this Sunday."
"Thanks." The person called his name again and he said a

hurried goodbye before hanging up.

I shook my head as I placed the receiver back into its

cradle. It was flattering that Keith believed I'd be flooded with
opportunities for torrid affairs in his absence.

But so very absurd.

* * * *

"How are you feeling, Uncle Harry?"
He pulled at his collar. "Nervous."
I grinned. "You know, you didn't have to wear a tie. Warm

Rush has a pretty easygoing atmosphere."

"I wanted to make a good impression, Jesse." He glanced

down at me. "I guess I should call you 'Mr. Winter,' shouldn't
I?"

"Please, don't. Everyone calls me Jesse." I leaned forward.

"But keep a lid on the 'LJ' thing, or I'll never hear the end of
it."

He laughed, more at ease now. "All right." His gaze drifted

upward. "That is one big building, Jesse. And it's yours?"

"Yep." I stared up at the seven story structure. "This is the

main office, the nerve center of my company."

He squared his shoulders, looking so uncomfortable in his

new grey suit. "Okay, I'm ready."

"Relax, Uncle..." I stopped, checked myself. "Relax, Harry.

If it makes you feel any better, I haven't walked through
these doors in over three years."

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"You know, that does make me feel a little better. 'Course,

now I'm having doubts about whether you're the best person
to show me around."

I laughed, and he opened the door for me.
The smell was the first thing I noticed when I stepped

inside. A hint of sweetness, like fruit. Next came the colors,
the subtle mist green accented by splashes of bold emerald. I
looked up, saw the ruby colored Warm Rush logo hanging
from the center of the ceiling at a 45 degree angle. That was
new.

And so cool.
Harry whistled. "Quite a setup you got here."
"Yes it is." I walked across the expanse of the lobby, Harry

easily keeping pace with me. A receptionist glanced up at my
approach, one I didn't recognize.

Her eyes rounded and I held my breath, hoping I wouldn't

be embarrassed in front of Uncle Harry like I'd been with
Keith at the mall.

"M-Mr. Winter. Y-You're here!"
Well, at least she recognized me.
Harry leaned down a bit. "I thought you said everyone

called you Jesse?"

"She's new," I whispered, before looking at her again.

"What's your name?"

"Dana, sir. Dana Pruitt."
I held out my hand. "Nice to meet you, Dana. You can call

me Jesse."

She smiled brilliantly as she shook my hand. "It's an honor

to meet you, Jesse."

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Honor? "I wouldn't go that far. How long have you been

working here?"

"About six months. But I've been drinking your drinks and

wearing your T-shirts for years."

I couldn't help grinning. "Got a favorite drink?"
"Pineapple Pizzazz, definitely."
"That's a good one," said Harry, jumping in.
"Isn't it!"
Chuckling, I shook my head. You'd think they were at

Disneyland. "Well, Dana, welcome to Warm Rush. I imagine
I'll be seeing more of you."

"Yes, sir. Thank you."
"Will you call Sherri Matheson and let her know that I'm on

my way up?"

Dana dialed the number, adjusted her headset. "Sure

thing, Jesse."

I motioned for Harry to follow me to the elevators.
"She seemed nice."
"Yes, she did."
"Most of your employees that nice?"
I pressed the button for the third floor and glanced up at

him. "I believe most of them are." I thought about Sean at
the mall. The memory unsettled me so much that I jumped
when the bell sounded and the elevator doors opened.

"You okay?"
My hand tightened on my cane as I limped out of the

elevator. "I'm fine. Third floor houses our accounting
department. Sherri said that your office is the fourth one on
the right."

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He paused. "I have my own office?"
I'd deliberately held that piece of information back,

wanting to see his face. "It even has a window."

A dark haired man in his thirties nodded to me as he

walked past. Obvious that he couldn't quite place me, but his
smile seemed genuine. As I opened the door to Harry's office,
I finally began to relax.

"Wow," he said softly, walking in.
"I know it's small, but I'm sure you'll work your way up to

bigger ones."

He looked around, ran his fingers over the surface of his

desk. "This is amazing."

Another man, this one in his mid-twenties, stuck his head

in. "Hi, are you Harry Caruso?"

He glanced up, nodded.
The man strode in and held up his hand. "I'm Noah James,

your personal assistant."

Harry's gaze shot to me. "Personal assistant?"
"I told you the perks would be worth moving here."
Noah turned, took a long look at me. "Jesse Winter?"
Some of my caution returned as I nodded.
"Whoa!" He broke into a huge grin. "I can't believe it!

People have been buzzing all week that you were coming
back, but I thought it was just another rumor. Do you
remember me?"

I tilted my head to the side, the memory gradually coming

back. "You were working in the mail room the last time I was
here, weren't you? Spilled coffee on my new sweater, as I
recall."

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Embarrassed, he nervously scratched the back of his head.

"I guess what they say is true. You never forget one of your
employees. Thanks for not firing me that day."

I chuckled. "You seem to be doing all right, Noah."
"More than all right. This is the best place I've ever

worked."

It was good to know people still felt that way, even though

my heart hadn't really been in it these past few years. "Take
care of this man, and let him get his own coffee."

A faint blush touched his skin. "Yes, sir."
I returned my attention to Harry. "My office is on the top

floor. Whenever you feel like taking a lunch break, come and
get me?"

He placed his briefcase on top of his desk. "Count on it,

Jesse."

For a moment, I wondered what he might actually have in

his briefcase. Maybe Clara had packed a snack for him. A
smile touched my lips as I walked out of his office and made
my way to my own.

The top floor was fairly quiet as I walked out of the

elevator. People greeted me as I passed their desks, but
otherwise remained focused on their work. I paused in front
of my corner office, noticing that Sherri was nowhere to be
found.

Where could she be? She knew I'd be here today.
Disquieted, I opened my door and went inside.
Nothing had changed. Not a pen or pencil out of place

anywhere. And, despite my long absence, not a speck of dust.

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I limped over to my window, easily four times the size of

Harry's, and took in the view.

This, however, had changed.
When I'd first set up shop here, this building had been the

only one in the area, and my view consisted mostly of a thick
growth of trees. I owned a good part of the land around us,
so we were still surrounded by trees—covered in snow at the
moment. But beyond my boundaries a business district had
cropped up. Good for the community, not so great for my
view.

"The emperor finally returns to his throne."
I turned to see Brendan Smith, the head of my marketing

department, leaning against my doorway. "Emperor?"

"Eleven thousand, two hundred and fifty-three stores

globally. Even Cuba knows what a Tangerine Zing is. Wouldn't
you call that an empire?"

"A lot of that had to do with you, with the work you've put

in these last few years."

"Well, yeah. It's not like you were totally useless, though."

His green eyes sparked with humor, and it reminded me that
we used to be best friends. He and Sherri were the only
people in this entire building to see me at all in the last three
years. Not by choice. I'd told him not to come to the hospital,
and he showed up the next day. At first he wouldn't go away
no matter the hard words I flung at him. But, eventually, he
did leave. I shoved him away like I'd shoved everyone away.
"How are you, Brendan?"

"I'm good. Pissed that I haven't seen you in a year and a

half."

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"I didn't want you to see me looking like hell."
"You still look like hell," he said with his usual bluntness.

He straightened away from the door and approached me. "But
a lot better than you did when you were stuck in that
wheelchair."

Automatically, I turned my head slightly to the left.

"Thanks."

He caught on to my trick and stepped to my left side.

"Your hair is longer. What's up with that? Phantom of the
Opera masks all sold out?"

My eyes narrowed. Although Brendan and I had managed

to keep our business relationship remarkably civil, our
personal relationship had deteriorated past redemption.
"Some people like it long."

"Those people wouldn't happen to think that tie-dye shirts

are still in style, would they?"

"Do you hate me so much that you've forgotten I sign your

paychecks? Want to lose that pretty villa you have in Italy?"

His arms slipped around me, gently drawing me against his

body as he rested his chin on top of my head. "It's impossible
to hate you, Jesse. You're too damned easy to love."

Easy to love.
I stood stiff in his embrace, stunned into silence.
"Why the fuck did you stay away so long? Don't you know

you've got a building full of people here who miss you?"

Bewildered, I tried to find a cogent answer to his

questions, but I was too distracted by his embrace to form
one. "What the hell is this? Aren't we in the middle of a feud?"

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He chuckled—that soft, inviting sound I used to enjoy so

much. "Don't you remember the last time we saw each other?
I said that you were a bitter sonovabitch and a piss-poor
facsimile of a man. I told you that when the real Jesse Winter
finally walked through the door again, then I'd be waiting."

I did remember that. I hadn't understood what he'd

meant, though. "What makes you think I'm any more 'real'
now than I was then?"

He pulled back, grinning down at me. "Because before you

were nothing but a hollow husk of a human being. Now I can
see more of the man I used to know."

After over two years of battling with him, I suddenly found

myself desperate for his approval. "Really?"

The corner of his mouth lifted even higher. "Don't get me

wrong. You're still ugly as sin."

And, just like that, we were best friends again. "I still look

better than that mug passing for your face."

He laughed, squeezed my shoulder. "So how does it feel to

be back?"

I looked around my empty office. "Quiet. Do you happen to

know where Sherri is?"

Brendan stepped back and shouted out the door. "Sherri!

He finally got around to asking for you!"

My eyes widened as a huge crowd of people flooded into

my office, Sherri leading the way.

"Well it's about time! I'm supposed to be your right-hand

gal! You don't ask about your right hand when you find it
missing?"

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My gaze dipped to the cake she held in her hands. "What's

going on?"

The first row of people standing behind her—which

included my normally stalwart lawyer, Connor Reed—held up
a three-foot long banner.

Welcome home, Jesse!
Unexpected tenderness arose within me. Home. It finally

started to feel right. "Thanks, guys. It's good to be back."

A cheer went up, and the warmth of my family rushed

around me.

[Back to Table of Contents]

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CHAPTER 13

"Yo."
Yo? Who answered a telephone that way? "Um, hi. May I

speak with Keith Taylor?"

"He ain't here right now."
"Oh." I tried to picture the person on the other end. All I

could see were a pair of overpriced sneakers. "Could you tell
him I called? Jesse Winter. He has the number."

"Sure, man," said the disinterested voice. "I'll tell him."
"Thank"—the line went dead—"you."
I hung up the phone, trying not to feel hurt that Keith

wasn't in his room waiting for my call. He couldn't be
expected to stay indoors the entire day.

So, no big deal. He'd call me back.

* * * *

"You've gained four pounds since New Year's."
I glanced up at Josh from my chair. This scale was

ingenious, really. It had been calibrated with the chair on top
of it, and was able to get an accurate measure of my weight
while I sat. "Is that good? Four pounds in a month?"

Josh scribbled some notes into a file. "Considering you

weren't gaining any weight before, and that these four
pounds aren't fat..." He broke into a wide grin. "Hell yes. Glad
to see you eating something other than pie."

"It's still my favorite."

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"No crime in that," said Josh, handing me my cane. "How's

your pain?"

I thought a long moment, considering. "Better."
"A lot better?"
I shook my head. "A little."
"You're making progress, LJ. Your musculature is

developing nicely, your pain is decreasing, and your appetite
is improving. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were a whole
new man."

Slowly, I rose to my feet and stepped off the scale. "Does

a new body come with that?"

"I wouldn't give up on this one just yet," he said, winking

at me.

My free hand skimmed over my tank-top, trying to feel

those four pounds I had gained. I couldn't tell by touching
myself, but it was getting easier to move around. "Thanks,
Josh. For everything."

"Hey, you did all the hard work." He swept my hair back.

"You've come a long way in a relatively short time."

Startled, my head shot up. But Josh was only standing

there, waiting for me to say something. "Couldn't have done
it without you."

He cuffed my ear the way he always did. "It's my job."
His job. I decided Keith had gotten to me and I'd read too

much into the gesture. Just because Keith felt like he
unwrapped a present every time he smoothed the hair from
my face sure as hell didn't mean Josh felt the same way. "See
you Monday?"

He grinned. "I'll be here."

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Nodding, I watched him walk away from me before I put

on my sweatshirt.

Maybe I'd wanted to see something in Josh's touch.
Keith hadn't called me in two and a half weeks.

* * * *

I dialed the number for the third time in a month,

promising myself that it would be the last time.

"Yo."
"Hello," I said, biting back a sigh. "Is Keith there? It's

Jesse Winter."

"No, man. He ain't around."
Another Sunday, another absence. "You'll tell him I

called?"

"Yeah," he said curtly, before hanging up on me.
Three calls. One month. I guess that was that.

* * * *

"A home gym?" I glanced up from the brochure in my

hand.

Josh crouched before me. "This one is especially good for

rehabilitation. It's an all-in-one machine, so it's fairly
compact."

"You trying to get rid of me?"
He laughed. "This will help you transition from being an

outpatient of the clinic to taking care of yourself. Isn't that
what you want?"

"Yes," I said softly.

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"You'll still come in once a week for a while, and then once

a month."

"And after that ... What? A couple times a year?"
"That's the ultimate goal."
I leaned forward, not wanting the other patients to hear

me. "I've ... We're friends, aren't we?"

He smiled. "Of course we are. We were friends before this,

and we'll be friends after."

I stared down at the brochure. My independence. It was so

important to me, so why was I hesitating to snatch up more
of it? "All right," I said finally, meeting his blue eyes again.

Those blue eyes crinkled at the corners. "Got plans for

tonight?"

Valentine's Day. I'd never thought of it as important

before, but this year it was hitting me hard. "I'm having
dinner with Brendan."

"You two have been going out a lot lately. Getting

serious?"

"No," I said, snorting at the thought. "Brendan and I are

just friends. He's the closest thing I've ever had to a brother."

"Ah." He moved to sit on the bench next to me, resting his

elbows on his knees as he stared straight ahead. "LJ, would
you be opposed to having a drink with me sometime?"

"Not at all," I said quickly, glad to have evidence that he'd

meant what he'd said about staying friends. "We can go after
my next session with you."

His mouth crooked, but the expression seemed sad. "You

aren't going to be my client anymore, Jesse. You'll be seeing

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Tricia Ferguson from now on. She's very capable—I
handpicked her myself."

"What?" I frowned, tried to catch his gaze. He kept it fixed

on some point in front of him. "Why?"

"I..." He linked his hands together, looking uncertain,

distressed. "I've got feelings for you, and they go way beyond
friendship. I can't be your physical therapist anymore. It
would undermine my professionalism."

"F-Feelings?" I asked dumbly. "What kind of feelings,

exactly?"

Josh turned and straddled the bench so he could face me

square on. "The kind that have me wondering what your
mouth tastes like."

My eyes rounded. "But..." Confused and shocked, I lifted

my hand, covered the left side of my face.

He reached out and gently pulled my hand away. "I find

you very, very attractive, Jesse. Those big brown eyes of
yours make my heart stop every time I look at you."

I stared up at his intent face, not understanding how

someone this handsome could even look at me that way. My
gaze traveled down his body, over his broad shoulders, his
cut arms, the pecs pushing seductively against his shirt. A
relatively narrow waist flared to accommodate nice, thick
thighs.

He was more than handsome. He was gorgeous.
"How..." I looked up. "How long have you felt this way,

Josh?"

He grinned, although the gesture couldn't quite hide his

nervousness. "Truth?"

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I nodded.
"Since high school."
Did everyone have a crush on me when they were a kid?

How could I be so damned oblivious? "I-I didn't know."

His large hand still cradled mine, and his thumb caressed

my wrist. "You were always friendly, and you cared about
everyone around you, but I always got the impression that
you didn't understand how much people cared about you."

That much was getting very obvious, very quick. "I..." Still

dazed, I fumbled for something to say. "I..."

He gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. "I never intended

to let you know how I used to feel about you. When your
assistant called and asked if I would take you on as a client, I
agreed because we were friends, and I believed I had
outgrown my crush on you. But getting to know you again
over these past months showed me that the man turned out
to be even better than the kid I used to see around in the
hallways."

It was hard for him to admit these things to me. I could

see that just staring into his face. "I'm not sure what to say."

He moved closer, just a little, and I caught the faint scent

of some masculine cologne I couldn't place. "Say you'll have a
drink with me tomorrow."

There really was no reason to decline.
Well, except...
Fuck. So I'd made a promise. So what? I'd been spending

too many hours casting pained glances at my telephone. Josh
was handsome, smart, funny—everything I should want in a
man. And he wanted me.

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Except...
Keith had said he loved me. I'd honestly believed I would

never hear those words from anyone else. Not like that. Now
I found myself confronted with a good, kind man asking for a
chance to try. For the first time, I had to truly examine what I
felt.

"Jesse?"
What did I feel?
"If you need time to think about it, I understand."
Keith's playful, hazel eyes. Keith's warm, powerful touch.

Keith's infuriating, hard-headed, mulish stubborn streak.

I took a deep breath. It didn't really matter that he hadn't

called. Whatever had brought me back to life, it belonged to
him. "I'm sorry, Josh. You're great—better than great—but
there's ... there's someone else."

It killed me to see his face fall like that. "That's okay. It

was worth a shot."

I leaned forward. "Does this mean we can't be friends

anymore?"

His mouth crooked as he cuffed my ear. "Of course not.

But I think I'm going to need a week or two to lick my
wounds."

"You'll call me when you're ready?"
Still smiling, he rose to his feet. "Sure thing."
An awkward moment passed between us before he

shrugged and left the main room of the clinic.

I eased my gym bag onto my shoulder and picked up my

cane.

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I'd just given up a very tempting man for one who hadn't

called me in five weeks.

I didn't need my degree in psychology to know I was

crazy.

* * * *

It was just after ten p.m. when I got back from dinner with

Brendan. As soon as I stepped into my house, the phone
started to ring.

My foot snagged on the carpet as I rushed to answer it and

I landed on my face, sprawled on the floor. It knocked the
wind out of me, and hurt like hell, but my body absorbed the
fall surprisingly well.

Realizing that the phone was still ringing, I turned onto my

back, reached up to the end table and searched out the
receiver. "Hello?"

"Where the hell have you been?"
I took a moment to decide whether the ache in my body

was worth hearing Keith's voice.

"Answer me, dammit!"
My eyebrow lifted. This is what I'd waited five weeks for?

"Out. Dinner."

"Until ten at night? On Valentine's Day? Who the fuck were

you with?"

I stared up at the ceiling. "Brendan Smith."
"Is that who you've been with all month? Is he why you

haven't called me?"

Frowning, I pulled myself into a sitting position, on the

floor with my back against the couch. "What?"

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"We haven't talked since the beginning of the semester. Is

he why?"

After such a long day, Keith's logic made even less sense

than usual. "I've called you."

His voice was hard and angry. "Bullshit."
I cradled the receiver closer to my face. "It's not. I called

you three times, on three different Sundays."

He finally started to quiet down, but he was no less angry.

"If you called, then why didn't you leave a message?"

"I did, every time. With your roommate."
The line was silent so long that I thought we'd been

disconnected.

"Keith?"
"Hold on a second, Jesse." His receiver clattered onto

something hard. "Banks!"

In the distance, I heard the voice of the young man who'd

been taking my messages. "Yeah?"

Keith sounded farther away from the telephone. "Has Jesse

Winter been calling here, asking for me?"

"Oh, yeah," he said, still sounding bored. "He called a few

times."

I heard something hit the wall hard and Banks yell, "What

the fuck!"

"Why didn't you tell me he called?"
The something hit the wall again, and I realized that it had

to be his roommate's body.

"Hey man!" I heard the sound of struggling. "It's no big

deal. He called back, didn't he?"

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Keith's voice dropped, but I could still catch his words. I'd

never heard him sound so menacing. "You ... son of a bitch."

The commotion I heard afterward was intense. Furniture

toppling, ceramics breaking, Banks shouting obscenities. I
thought he might be trying to fight back, but with every
swear word came another hard thump.

"Keith!" I called into the phone.
I doubted he could hear me and, even if he could, I

doubted he would have stopped.

Banks's swearing diminished as more ... pleading words

replaced them.

"Come on, man, stop. I'm sorry!"
Keith's low voice held no sympathy. "Damn right you're

sorry."

There was one more resounding crash before everything

went quiet.

I sat on my carpet, shaking as I wondered what had

happened.

"Jesse? You still there?"
My body started. "Y-Yes, I'm here."
"I'll be getting your messages from now on." He pulled his

mouth away from the phone. "Isn't that right, Banks!"

All I could hear in the background was some indistinct

whimpering.

"K-Keith?" I asked, really worried. "Is he okay?"
"Yeah, he's fine. He's crying in the corner." His voice

darkened with disgust. "It took Ryan a whole year to break,
and Banks is over there sobbing like a baby in under five
minutes."

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I couldn't believe what I was hearing. It didn't even sound

like the Keith I knew. "You shouldn't have done that."

"He had it coming. His shit's always all over the place, he

plays his music loud when I'm trying to study. I've been nice
to him all year and he can't even be bothered to give me my
messages? Trust me, he needed a lesson in manners."

My heart pounded in my chest. "But ... hurting him..."
"Oh, don't worry, Jesse. I didn't do any permanent

damage." He pulled the phone away from his mouth again.
"But all that changes if I ever miss another message, got it?"

More whimpering.
Keith turned his attention back to me. "Man, Jesse. When I

didn't hear from you, I thought ... Well I thought I'd lost
you."

I tried to get past the violence I had just witnessed. "Wh-

Why didn't you call me then?"

He chuckled, instantly sounding like the man I knew again.

"You're not the only one with pride, you know."

I could still hear Banks in the background, and the soft

sounds distracted me. I had no idea what I should say next.

"Jesse? I scare you?"
In my current state, I found it impossible to lie to him. "A

little," I whispered.

His voice gentled. "First, you don't ever have to be scared.

Of me, of anything. I'd never let any kind of harm come to
you. Second, when you have two guys, and one of them is an
asshole, a fight will eventually break out. I'm sure you've
gotten into a scuffle or two."

"No, actually."

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He chuckled again. "I guess that shouldn't surprise me.

Everyone loves you."

The question was out before I could stop it. "Do you still

love me?"

The smile in his voice brought warmth with it. "Yes, Jesse.

I still love you. Banks wouldn't have made me so crazy
otherwise."

I wasn't sure how to take that. "You won't hurt him

anymore, will you?"

"Nah, I think he's learned his lesson."
His lesson? "And if he hasn't?"
He paused a moment. "We'll cross that bridge when we

come to it."

Jesus. "What if I piss you off?"
"You've pissed me off plenty, haven't you? And I've never

hurt you, have I?"

I hesitated. "That's true."
"Relax, Jesse. It was just a fight. Happens. You know for

damned sure I could have killed him without breaking a
sweat."

As chilling as that statement sounded, it did make a

certain kind of sense. "All right."

"I guess it's pretty late over there; I don't want to keep

you from sleeping. Will you call me tomorrow?"

Some of the tension left my body. "Sure."
"Cool." There was another pause, before Keith lowered his

voice. "Happy Valentine's Day, Jesse."

"Happy Valentine's Day," I said softly, and hung up the

phone.

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My head fell back against the couch. I didn't know what

was more disturbing. That Keith was capable of that kind of
violence, or—now that the shock had worn off—I found myself
aroused by it.

[Back to Table of Contents]

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CHAPTER 14

It surprised me to find Ryan sitting on my porch steps

when I came back from the office. It took me a moment to
realize why he would be home. "Hi, Ryan. You home for
spring break?"

He smiled up at me. "Yeah. I'm gonna stay a few days so I

can hang out with Keith when he gets here, then I'm taking
off with some friends on a road trip."

"Sounds like a great plan." I unlocked my door and opened

it. "Want to come in?"

"No offense, Mr. Winter, but you know how this

neighborhood is. If I go inside, a lot of people are gonna think
you're sleeping with both the Taylor boys."

My hand stilled on the doorknob. "Ah. Well..."
"It's okay, I'm cool with you and Keith hooking up."
Cautiously, I turned to look at his face. He did, in fact,

seem fine with it. "Thank you."

His expression sobered. "There were a few things I wanted

to talk to you about, though. Is that okay? I mean, I know it
was mostly Keith you talked to when we were growing up.
But I thought maybe..."

"Sure," I said quickly. I closed my door and eased myself

down onto the steps next to him, careful not to sit too close.
"I've always got time for a neighborly chat."

He nodded, leaned forward on his knees. "First of all, I

wanted to thank you for getting that Olympic scout to come
out and watch me run. Hell of a Christmas present."

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I smiled. "Well, Warm Rush is a proud sponsor of the

Olympic Games and so on, so forth. But he actually thanked
me for setting up the meeting. He says you have a lot of
talent."

His skin colored. "I love to run."
Several seconds of silence passed between us before I

gently prodded him on. "Is there something else you wanted
to say?"

Ryan took a deep breath. "I wasn't surprised when you

and Keith hooked up."

I glanced at him, then looked forward again. "Oh?"
"He's been obsessed with you since he was a kid, and

when Keith fixes his mind on something ... Shit, even when
he was little, he'd just go and go and go after it. He wouldn't
stop until it was his. It was part of why we fought so much,
because there was no reasoning with him when he wanted
something. And then he got too strong for me to beat on."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his hands clench. Not

wanting to push him to confide anything more than he
wanted, I sat quiet, patient.

"It was bad, Mr. Winter. Really, really bad. If he wanted

something, it was his, and God help anyone who got in his
way. And I'd never known Keith to want anything half as
much as he wanted you."

Finally, I started to catch on. Ryan wasn't giving me the

standard, "Don't you hurt my brother" speech. "You're
worried about me?"

He nodded. "When you came home, and Keith ran out of

our house to come over here, I knew what he was going to

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do. Then he was here every day after that." He turned his
head to look at me. "I need to know, Mr. Winter. Did he ... Is
he forcing you to be with him? Because, if so, I'll figure out a
way to get him to stop. I swear I will. I know we weren't that
close, but you were always the coolest adult I knew. You still
are. I'd hate to see you in a situation you weren't happy to be
in."

My lips parted. I'd had no idea that Ryan cared so much,

that he'd been under so much stress since I'd been back. "I
like your brother very much, Ryan, and he's never forced me
into anything."

His shoulders sagged with relief. "Thank God. He's my

brother and I love him, but he can be really intense, you
know? Even now, although I think you've mellowed him out a
lot."

I smiled to put him at ease. "He's done the same for me."
He ran his fingers through his hair. "That's good, Mr.

Winter. You deserve the best and, as long as you're happy
with it, then I'm glad that Keith finally got you."

When did everyone around me become so concerned with

my happiness? Maybe I really was oblivious. "That means a
lot to me, Ryan."

He hopped to his feet. "If I ever need to talk, or if I need

some advice, would it be okay for me to sit on your porch?"

Now that he faced me, I noticed he was wearing one of my

T-shirts. The new one bearing the first slogan I'd written in
over a year.

Keep yourself open
for the good that will come.

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Grinning, I stood as well. "Anytime."
"Bye, Mr. Winter." He slipped his hands into his pockets

and walked back to his house.

I knew there was a reason I'd chosen to move to Laurel.

* * * *

My heart skipped a beat when the doorbell rang, and I

went to answer it smiling like an idiot. I knew who it was, and
I'd been excited about it all day. All week. Hell, since January.

I was not prepared, however, to open the door and find

myself eye level with his belly button. My gaze traveled up his
body, now so big that I couldn't see his face because it rose
well above the top of the door. "Keith?"

He crouched down, bracing his hands on his knees as his

hazel eyes met mine. "Who else would it be?"

I felt every bit as hypnotized as I had the first night he'd

shown up at my house. Unbidden, my hand came up to
caress his face.

His eyes closed a moment before he reached in, swept me

up into his arms and straightened, holding me on the porch
for the world to see. "I missed you, Jesse."

I only hesitated for the barest of moments before I

dropped my cane and wrapped my arms around him. "I
missed you, too." I kissed his cheek, lost myself in the wealth
of hard muscle that surrounded me. "You're so damned big," I
whispered into his ear.

He pulled back to see my face, an enigmatic smile playing

on his lips. "Yeah, I am. Like it?"

I gave him a single, tentative nod.

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"That's good." He touched his forehead to mine. "I have

something to tell you, Jesse. Something important."

His eyes were still playful, and I didn't think it could be

anything ominous. "So tell me."

He glanced over his shoulder and back at me. "Not right

now."

I straightened in his arms, looked over his broad shoulder

to see a young man standing there, obviously uncomfortable.
My skin went instantly red. "Hello."

He raised a hand. "Yo."
Surprised, I looked back at Keith. "Banks?"
Keith chuckled, the sound and motion of it making my

entire body vibrate. "Jesse Winter, this is Tommy Banks. My
roommate back at school."

Feeling awkward and embarrassed, I said, "Nice to meet

you."

"Yeah, same here."
Keith's arms tightened around me as he turned, totally

unabashed that he held a full grown man in his arms. "My
house is right across the street. Go on over and introduce
yourself; my family's expecting you. Tell them that I'll be over
in a few hours." He stared down at me a long moment, then
lifted his head. "Well, more than a few hours."

Tommy nodded and started to turn away.
"Oh, and Banks?"
He paused, looked over his shoulder. "Yeah?"
"My brother Ryan is skittish around big guys. Don't go

spouting off that football jock superiority bullshit, got it?"

"Got it, Keith."

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"If he looks at all uncomfortable when I come home, then

you and I are going to have another talk. You understand?"

His skin paled. "I understand, Keith."
Keith nodded his head toward his house. "Get your stuff

out of the car and go on then."

Tommy hurried to obey.
I stared at Keith in shock. "You brought him home with

you? Like a pet?"

He burst into laughter. "It's not like that, Jesse. He didn't

have anywhere to go for spring break, so I offered him a
place to stay."

"He seemed afraid of you."
Keith smirked. "Yeah, he is. But he shaped up, and now for

the most part we're pretty good friends."

My uncertainty must have shown on my face, because he

brushed his lips over mine. "Can I come in?"

It was probably a character flaw, but I forgot all about

Tommy Banks in that moment. "Of course."

He slid me down the front of his body, allowing me to feel

every hard curve of muscle on my way to the porch deck. My
breathing had already shallowed by the time I was on my
feet, and it damned near stopped when Keith bent over to
retrieve my cane and hand it to me.

Grinning, he gave me a gentle push toward my door.
Befuddled, I walked into my house and turned to see

exactly how he would accomplish the same task.

He crouched lower, looked at me as he playfully bumped

his shoulders against the wall on both sides of the door.

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I gripped my cane with both hands as I took in how my

doorway couldn't even frame the width of his chest.

Keith twisted to the side and slid into my house. I couldn't

help but notice how, even sideways, his pecs almost touched
my doorframe. Once inside, he slowly straightened and kicked
the door closed behind him.

My head craned backward as I looked up at him, and I was

suddenly very glad I had a fondness for high ceilings.

"I must look huge to you," he said, his rumble of a voice

filling the room.

I couldn't do anything but stand there.
His mouth crooked as he kicked off his shoes, ran a hand

over his chest. "It turns you on, doesn't it? Having to look so
high just to see my face."

Oh, God. He knew. And I was too enthralled to deny it.
Crouching before me, Keith trailed his big hand down my

shirt. His strong fingers gripped the material and gently
tugged me closer. His mouth covered mine, warm and slow.
It did nothing to clear my head, but I don't suppose that was
his intention. Instead, his taste, his heat, drugged all of my
senses, and soon I was leaning on him as much as my cane.

He broke the kiss and ripped the shirt off my body.
My eyes rounded, but I couldn't even find the voice to

utter a gasp.

"You like that, too, don't you?"
I tried to nod. I'm not sure I accomplished the gesture.
His hand glided over my trembling torso. "Shit, Jesse. You

look damned good. You've been eating, haven't you? And
exercising hard, from the looks of it." Not waiting for me to

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answer, he leaned forward and touched his lips to my chest,
my shoulder.

My eyes drifted closed as I let him taste me.
"Do you know why you can't speak, Jesse?"
With some effort, I opened my eyes again.
One of his long arms hooked around my legs while the

other slid behind my back. "You can't speak," he started,
lifting me up and gently laying me onto the carpet, "because
you are face to face with your deepest fantasy."

He did know. My fetish ... the reason I'd gone into

psychology. His voice deepened, smoothed. I stared up at
him, a little scared and very aroused.

"You want my muscles, especially when I flex them."
Sthenolagnia: sexual arousal from the display of muscles.
"You adore it when I lift things, when I show off what my

body can do."

Cratolagnia: sexual arousal from the display of strength.
"And you love the fact that I'm so much bigger than you."
Macrophilia: sexual arousal from images or stories

depicting giants. Or, in my case, right here, right now ...
Keith.

A triad of terms intricately tied to my sexuality. On the

surface I was perfectly normal, and I had always been able to
have fulfilling, healthy relationships. I'd never shared what I
really wanted, for simple self-preservation. Being gay was
hard enough, but what I had ... It could cross the line into
deviancy. And so, although I'd had many lovers and fond
relationships, my level of intimacy had always held a certain
distance to it.

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Until Keith.
And it stunned me into perfect silence.
He grinned, braced his hands on each side of me. He held

himself over my body, lowered himself to kiss my mouth,
then pushed himself up. "I've wanted you from the moment I
first saw you." He repeated the pushup, his pecs grazing my
body. "You were helping movers carry boxes into your house.
You were wearing shorts and a tank-top, and your skin
glistened with sweat. I was only eleven then. I didn't
understand what the hell I was suddenly feeling. I just knew I
wanted more of it."

With every sentence, he did another pushup and I stared

at him, transfixed. His biceps stretched his sleeves taut, his
chest strained the material so much that I could see the fibers
beginning to separate.

"You were my first wet dream, Jesse. You were so many

wet dreams. And, as I played with you and talked with you,
you were so much more." He kissed me, holding himself
above me effortlessly, before pushing himself up. "You didn't
love me the way I loved you. I wasn't mad or anything; I
knew I was just a kid. But I wanted you anyway. I thought
that if I became your most secret fantasy, someone you
couldn't possibly resist, then I could finally have you. So
that's what I prayed for. I wished on every birthday cake,
every falling star. Every stupid thing I could think of."

I dragged my gaze away from his body and looked into his

warm, hazel eyes.

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"Then I started growing and getting so fucking strong. At

the time, I didn't know why it was happening. But I know
now. Have you figured it out yet, Jesse?"

Hypnotized, enthralled. Whatever the reason, I couldn't

answer him.

He lowered himself into a position that would have been

impossible for any normal man to hold for any length of time.
"It happened because of you, Jesse. I changed into the one
thing you couldn't resist, and now you can't speak."

The heat rolled off of him in waves now. His body, huge

over mine, addled my brain. This ... couldn't be happening.
Tapping into the most intimate part of someone's psyche and
then becoming a man's fantasy? How was such a thing
possible?

Yet, there was Keith, everything I could never admit I

wanted.

He looked down at himself and back at me. His full lips

curved into a smile as he flexed the muscles of his arms and
chest, still holding himself in mid-pushup.

His biceps swelled and I reached up to touch one of his

arms. They kept getting bigger and bigger, until the shirt
sleeve could no longer contain them. A small tear appeared at
the base of the muscle, and my fingers traced the path it
made. Up his biceps, to the warm, hard peak, and down
again.

Another ripping sound caught my attention and I turned

my head to look at his chest.

His pecs pushed forward, causing the material covering

them to thin and finally pop open. My breath hitched, but my

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hand slipped into the tear, underneath the tight material of
his T-shirt. I searched out his nipple, caressed it.

Keith hissed with pleasure. "You always feel so fucking

good." Balancing himself on one hand, he reached up and
tore his ruined shirt off his body. "I told you that we were
right for each other. I'm everything you ever wanted, aren't
I?"

I finally found my voice, although it was barely more than

a whisper. "You really are."

He straightened to his knees and undid the catch in his

jeans. "I have to get my clothes specially made now, so I'd
rather not rip up my pants. Besides, I wouldn't want to go
home naked, would I?"

I shook my head.
His long fingers slid his zipper downward, and mischief lit

his eyes. "Wouldn't be a problem if I could move a few of my
things in here. Can I do that?"

My gaze locked on his hands as they pushed his jeans

down his thick thighs. "You can do anything you want, Keith."

Those hazel eyes grew smoky. "I was hoping you'd say

that." He stood and removed his pants, tossing them to the
side. He wasn't wearing any underwear, and the massive
evidence of his arousal stalled my breath for several seconds.

"It's really big, isn't it?" he asked, stroking himself to full

mast. "Too big for you—I don't think your little body could
take it." His thumb caressed the large head of his cock. "But
then, that must be your fantasy, too, right? Having me so big
that I can't top a normal man without hurting him."

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Dear God, he really did know all my secrets. I pushed

myself up to my elbows and stared at his giant body. If it was
true, if I was the one who'd done this to him, then it meant
I'd changed a normal boy into a freak. He should be angry
with me—furious—but he didn't look angry. I watched as he
continued to stroke his cock with one hand, his torso with the
other.

In fact, he seemed quite happy with his body.
"You want to touch me, Jesse? I'm not too big for you to

do that, am I?"

Slowly, I sat up, stared up at him uncertainly.
His mouth crooked. "Say the word, and I'm right there

with you."

That's all it took, wasn't it? One word, one choice, one

stroke of fate. Life had taken everything away from me, and
now it was about to give something even better than what I'd
had. "Yes."

Keith made a low sound of approval before dropping to his

knees right in front of me.

The floor shook with the impact and I went quiet again,

unable to move.

He grabbed hold of my slacks. "Expensive pants?"
I nodded.
He grinned and tore them off my legs.
His hands moved up to cover my shoulders, glided over

my arms, down to my own hands. Then he guided them to his
cock.

Needing no further instruction, I curled my fingers over his

thickness. My hands couldn't even encompass his girth. Awed,

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I traced every inch of him, every pulsing vein. His head fell
back as I caressed his engorged flesh; he groaned when I
licked it.

I opened my mouth wide, tried to take him into me. But he

was too thick, and I ended up just sucking on the tip of his
penis.

Keith growled and grabbed me as he fell back onto the

carpet. I looked down at his face in shock.

He swept my hair back, his eyes hazel fire. "You're so

light." He trailed his fingers over my skin. "Your weight
doesn't mean anything to me, but I still love the feel of you.
Does that make any sense?" He groaned again, arched his
back, lifted me higher. "Oh, fuck. I know it doesn't. You make
me crazy, Jesse."

That I could make anyone crazy was a miracle, in and of

itself. I lowered my head, kissed his mouth, his cheek, the
curve of his neck. I started to slide downward and his arms
tightened around me.

"Are your legs feeling okay?" he asked. "I don't want you

to get hurt fucking me."

I chuckled. "I think I can handle it."
Slowly, cautiously, he let me go.
Free to move, I licked his Adam's apple, dropped a kiss

into the hollow at the base of his throat. I bit the trapezius
muscle rising out of his shoulder, only to find it rock hard
beneath my teeth.

Keith seemed to like it, though, if the sounds rumbling out

of his broad chest were any indication.

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I worked my way down his body. My teeth grazed his

nipples, my tongue tasted his pecs, my mouth worshiped his
abs. Every muscle flexed when I touched it, every caress
brought forth low, hot sounds.

My hands found his cock again and, as I stroked the long,

thick column of flesh, he lifted his legs for me. I lowered my
head, let my tongue trace the tight pucker of his ass. His pole
twitched under my palm and I wondered if I'd be able to time
this right. It had been a long time since I'd found myself in
this position.

Although, truthfully, I'd never been in quite this position.
My palms slid over the thick thighs on both sides of me as

I caressed each head of muscle in his quadriceps. I cupped
his glutes, tried to knead them, but even this part of him was
hard as stone.

Kneeling on the floor this way was murder on my legs, but

the pain no longer mattered. I was lost in the midst of my
own fantasy—the heat of this man's skin, the strength of his
body, the sultry scent of him. I just wanted more.

As always, Keith was dripping an amazing amount of pre-

cum, and I used it to lube myself up. He spread his legs
farther and gasped as I eased myself into his tight hole.

A smile curved my mouth. I'd caused a giant to gasp. If

that wasn't a fantasy-come-true, what was?

Remembering the rhythm he'd taught me so many times

before, I withdrew, returned. Gripping one of his legs for
leverage, I kept the pace steady, relishing every sound that
escaped him. My free hand continued to stroke his dick, and

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his moans grew so loud that I was almost afraid the
neighbors might hear.

Almost.
I moved a little faster, thrust a little harder. There was a

limit to what my body could do—there would always be a
limit—but as Keith's body tightened and every muscle
swelled, I realized that I was, as of now, enough.

His cock jerked violently. Roaring, he came in a torrent

that drenched his rippling torso, ran in thick rivulets down his
body and soaked my carpet. One of his fists slammed against
the floor, smashing a crater into it.

Knowing that he'd just shattered my floorboards was more

than enough to drive me into my own orgasm. Although I was
much quieter about it, my intensity equaled his as I
shuddered hugely. My body drained into him, and I could no
longer hold myself up.

Keith's thighs clamped on my ribs, stopping me from

falling. He reached down and dragged me upward. His torso
was still warm and slick, and fuck if it didn't feel good.

His big, long arms wrapped around me, engulfing me.

"Holy shit."

With my cheek pressed against one of his pectoral

muscles, I could hear his heart racing in his chest. "Yeah."

"I've never ... I've never had anyone inside of me before.

It was fucking awesome!"

My eyebrow cocked as I lifted my head. "Never? So I just

took your virginity?"

Keith stared at me for one flawless, silent moment before

bursting into laughter. "I guess I deserved that."

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I threaded my fingers through his hair. "You did."
His head turned as he looked at the sizable dent in my

carpet. "I fucked up your floor. Is it gonna cost a lot to fix it?"

A smile ghosted on my lips. "I think I have enough to

cover the repair bill."

He caught my tone and looked at me, the playful spark

returning to his eyes. "And what if I fuck it up again? Or put a
hole in your wall?"

"I have enough to cover that, too." I touched my mouth to

his. "Whatever you want, whatever you need, I'll give it to
you."

His lips parted as the teasing left his face. "You mean that,

Jesse?"

One word, one choice, one stroke of fate. "Yes."
And I had a life once again.

[Back to Table of Contents]

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CHAPTER 15

"Jesse, wake up."
I groaned, rubbing at my eyes as I turned away from him.

"Not all of us are gigantic men who do not need sleep, Keith."

He chuckled, gently pressing me onto my back. "You need

to get dressed. I want to show you something."

Sighing, I pushed myself up. Three a.m. I frowned when I

saw that he had put on his jeans. Still bare from the waist up,
though, because he'd torn off his shirt for me yesterday. "It
can't wait until sunrise?"

He handed me a pair of slacks. "What I have to show you

is just for you."

Still frowning, I swung my legs over the side of the bed

and tugged on my slacks. The moment I had them on, Keith
threw a sweater over my head. The soft material disoriented
me, and I shot him a dark look when my head hit the open air
again. He searched out my arms and guided them through
the sleeves of the sweater. I surprised myself by letting him.

Keith handed me my cane and straightened to his full

height.

Very slowly, I stood, tilted my head back. I still couldn't

get over the sheer size of him.

He grinned, flexing his pecs as he put his hands into his

pockets. "In a better mood now, Jesse?"

I nodded.
"Then let's go."

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"Where are we going?" I watched him bend and twist to

slip through my bedroom door, letting my gaze linger on that
sublime ass.

"Just outside. Come on."
Curious, I followed him down the stairs, out my front door,

down my porch steps. "Keith? What's going on?"

"Stay right there, okay?"
I rested both hands on my cane.
He jogged down the street, where his Hummer was

parked. The big car only came up to his chest, and I found
myself aroused just watching him stand next to it. Keith
glided his hand over the metallic black roof, and the
moonlight glanced off both his muscles and the vehicle.

I should have brought a camera.
Shaking myself out of my stupor, I called, "I've seen your

car before, Keith. I bought it for you, remember?"

He turned his head, a smile on his mouth as he held a

finger to his lips, signaling me to be quiet. My mouth closed
as he crouched low and slid his arms underneath the car.

No. He couldn't be trying to...
Before I could yell at him to stop, the muscles in his arms

and thighs swelled, and the muscles in his back flexed hard.
Then the impossible happened.

His legs started to straighten.
All four wheels of the Hummer lifted off the ground.
Shock and awe held me immobile and silent as the car

rose higher into the air.

An H1 Alpha. What did those things weigh? At least eight

thousand pounds, right?

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Keith lifted it to chest height and slid himself underneath

it. His long arms easily spanned the width of the car as he
gripped it on both sides to push it over his head. He looked at
me, and I didn't see the colossal strain I'd expected to see in
his face. He was still smiling.

This wasn't taxing him at all.
Carrying the Hummer above his head, he walked down the

street and stepped onto the sidewalk, striding up my walkway
and straight to me.

Between his body and that car, my world suddenly seemed

very small.

"You like this, Jesse?"
Like it? "I..." I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Yes."
"I knew you would." He glanced up and started to press

the car up and down, causing his arms to bulge wildly.
"Damn," he said after several reps, "this gets easier every
time." He looked down at me and winked. "Exactly how
strong do you like your men, Jesse?"

I gaped up at him.
Chuckling, he turned, giving me a view of his broad back

as he did a few more reps. His rhomboids and lats looked
fierce and savage as they worked beneath his smooth skin.

I blew out a slow, careful breath and looked away,

embarrassed to be so enamored with the display. Then I
realized that he wanted me to see this, and I went back to
indulging my abject fascination.

Keith began to walk away and I fell forward a step.
"Wh-Where are you going?"

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He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes knowing, playful.

"I'm gonna go park my car. Is that okay with you?"

Trying not to look disappointed, I nodded. He took his car

to my front curb and gently set it down in the street. Then he
returned to me, looking cocky as hell.

And damned sexy.
"Aren't you glad now that I woke you up?"
A smile touched my mouth as I nodded.
He slipped his hands into his pockets. "Yesterday you said

that you'd give me anything I wanted or needed. I ... I don't
have a lot of money, Jesse, but I'll do the same for you. I
promise."

The unexpected sweetness made my smile tremble.

"Thank you, Keith."

I hadn't realized the tension he'd been holding until his

shoulders relaxed. He crouched before me. "You turned on?"

The sound that came out of me was caught between a

laugh and a groan. "God, yes."

"Good." He swept me up into his arms. "Me, too."

* * * *

Taking a deep breath, I reached up and grabbed the bar

above me. The bar was attached to a pulley, and the pulley
was attached to a pitifully small amount of weight behind me.

"Okay, Jesse," I whispered. "One more set."
"Hey, Jesse! You in here?"
I released the bar, glanced up just in time to see Keith

squeeze through the door and into my den. "Did I leave the
front door unlocked?"

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He grinned. "You gave me a key this morning, don't you

remember?"

Oh, yes. I rolled my left shoulder, the simple motion

making me wince. "Actually, I'd forgotten. Glad to see you
using it, though." A little apprehensive that I'd taken such a
big step so quickly, but really, really glad.

He crossed the room, ducking under a low hanging light.
I was never going to get tired of that.
"I didn't know you got yourself a home gym."
"Back in February."
He looked over the machine. "You starting or finishing up?"
Embarrassment began to creep in. "Final set. Five reps."
"How much weight are you using?"
I glanced away, trying to hide the color staining my skin.

"Ten pounds. I-I'll be done in a few minutes. You can wait for
me in the living room."

Keith walked around to the back of the machine. "Hey, this

thing goes up to four hundred pounds. Not many of them go
that high."

"Keith..." I heard the light sound of metal scraping against

metal and twisted around. "What are you doing?"

"Thought I'd work out with you." He returned to the bench,

where I sat. "Is that okay?"

He was kidding, right? "I don't see how we can do this."
Keith straddled the bench, pushed me forward to make

room for himself behind me.

His thighs hugged mine, dwarfing them. Each head of

muscle in his quads flexed in sharp relief, and I ran my hands
over them. "You don't look very relaxed."

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He chuckled. "I don't think your bench can take my full

weight, so I'm holding myself up with my legs."

My head fell back. "You're going to hold yourself this way

the entire time?"

His arm slipped around my waist and pulled me flush

against his body. "No sweat." He reached up and grabbed the
bar. "Let's get that last set out of the way."

Remembering the scrape of metal I'd heard earlier, I

asked, "How high did you set the weight?"

He spread his fingers, pressing his hand flat against my

stomach. "The full four hundred."

"Keith, you know that's too much for me."
He pulled the bar downward. "That's why we're working

out together. So I can spot you."

When I just sat there in his embrace, he flexed his pecs

into my back. "Go on."

Slowly, I reached up and curled my fingers around the bar.
His voice grew husky. "Now, give it all you've got."
Uncertain, I pulled down on the bar. It didn't move.
"That's not all you've got, Jesse."
I cast a brief glance upward before giving it everything I

had.

The thin muscles in my left arm strained, burned with the

effort, but I was rewarded by the movement of the bar.

"There you go," he said, although he obviously handled the

lion's share of the weight. "That's what I like to see."

I completed the rep, breathing hard with a mixture of

exertion and arousal.

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"That's one," said Keith, flexing his muscles against me.

"Four to go."

With another shuddering breath, I completed the second

rep.

"Two."
On the third rep, I stalled, lost in his scent and warmth

and strength.

The bar stilled. "You're not working your arm, Jesse."
I looked up again. "How can you tell?"
His big hand caressed my torso. "I know your body. Grit

your teeth and put a little muscle into it."

A "little" muscle, was right. But I closed my eyes and

dragged the bar downward.

"Three."
I hissed through my clenched teeth.
"Four."
The last rep hurt, but I fought through the pain. Because it

was a good pain, a satisfying pain.

Keith returned the bar to its original position and hugged

me close. "Five." His hand went to my arm and massaged the
soreness away.

When did he get so good at knowing what I needed? With

my eyes still closed, I leaned back against him, let him hold
me.

"So why'd you buy this thing? That physical therapist not

working you hard enough?"

My body tensed, and Keith went back to stroking me. "It

was his suggestion. He's ... not my physical therapist
anymore."

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He slid his warm hands underneath my shirt. "Did he hit

on you?"

I was afraid of how he would react, but it was always so

hard to lie to him. "Yes."

His body shifted, and he pressed his lips to my cheek. His

voice was gentle, husky. "And you chose me?"

My hand went to his forearm, caressing the thick cords of

muscle there. "Yes."

"Even before you knew just how big I'd gotten?"
I turned my head and nodded.
A soft smile I didn't understand shaped his mouth. "I love

you, you know."

Under his gaze, I didn't feel crippled, or scarred. "I know."
"I'm not the only one."
My hand joined his beneath my shirt. "I'm starting to learn

that."

He leaned down, and I felt his tongue slide along my neck.

"Salt and sweat. You really have been working hard."

The growing bulge in his crotch pressed into the small of

my back. "Pretty expensive piece of machinery," I said,
pressing myself deeper into his embrace. "Would be a shame
to waste it."

His hands slid along my skin; my hands slid along his

arms. "Want to take a shower together?"

"Yes," I said without thinking. Then, when I did have a

chance to think—"Ah, no. That wouldn't be much fun."

His fingers teased the waistband of my pants. "Why not?"
"I..." There was a problem here. I tried to remember it. "I

have to sit in the shower."

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"So? Sit on me."
My eyebrows drew together. "On you?"
His deep, smooth voice filled my ear. "You can sit on my

thigh, or on my arm, or my shoulder." His teeth nipped my
earlobe. "Or my cock."

"Your...?" My breath hitched. "You're too big for that."
He chuckled, and his lips caressed my skin with every

word. "Too big to slide inside of you. But your little body can
sit on my pole, with room to spare."

My voice dropped to a whisper. "Sweet Jesus."
"Is that a yes?"
Hot water. A slicked, soapy man. It didn't get much better

than that. "I think the answer is always going to be yes,
Keith."

He grinned against me. "Yeah, same here."

* * * *

Keith surveyed my black shirt and slacks. "Do you ever

wear anything other than black?"

With his help, I put on a long sable coat. "I look good in

black."

"You also look good in blue, green, white. I'd like to see

you in red sometime. I'll bet you look great in red."

I laughed softly. Nowhere near as good as he did, I'm

sure. Today he wore a burgundy shirt with a pair of tan cargo
pants. I'd been captivated all day with how they clung to his
body. "Tell me again why we're going to the Hummer
dealership?"

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"Because I'm too big to drive it now. Banks drove it the

whole way home for spring break, and even though I'm sure
he loved every minute of it, I miss my car. I want to see if I
can get it modified to fit me."

The giant car was too small for the giant. So very hot.

"Why are we going at seven in the evening?"

"I called to make an appointment today, and they said

they were booked until next week. Then I read them the
numbers on the card you gave me, and they said I could
come by after the rest of the place closes."

I shook my head. Good thing I was loaded. "And why do I

have to go with you?"

His mouth crooked. "Because I want you to."
That sounded about right. I followed him out of my house.

Mrs. Cochran walked past us when we reached the sidewalk,
and I smiled.

"Hello, Mrs. Cochran. How are you this evening?"
The old woman didn't even glance my way as she walked

on by me.

I paused. What had I done to get snubbed by such a nice

old lady?

Oh, yeah. Slept with the kid next door.
Keith glanced down at me, then at her. "Mrs. Cochran."
She turned, smiled up at him. "Yes, Keith?"
Although his tone remained polite, there was no mistaking

the edge it held. "Jesse said hello to you. Didn't you hear?"

Her face blanched, but she quickly looked at me. "I'm

sorry, Jesse. I suppose I didn't. How are you?"

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Easy to see she didn't want to speak with me any longer

than necessary, so I let her off the hook. "I'm doing fine,
thank you."

She nodded, checked to see if Keith approved, and walked

away from us.

Keith crossed his arms over his chest. "Has the whole

neighborhood been treating you like that?"

My gaze slid up to him. "Just a few people."
"I'll fix it when I come home this summer."
I frowned. "Fix it? How?"
"I just will."
His determination was always a pleasure, but that didn't

stop me from fighting it. "You can't force people to like me."

"Maybe not, but I can make them treat you with respect."
I shuddered. "Not like you made Banks?"
The tension disappeared from his body as he grinned down

at me. "Nah. I won't have to go that far, I'm sure."

Which implied that he wouldn't hesitate to use violence if

he thought it necessary. "Don't—"

We were interrupted by Ryan jogging across the street.

"Hi, Mr. Winter. Ready to go?"

"Hi, Ryan." Seeing Ryan standing next to the Hummer ...

thrilled me. At five-eleven, the top of his head couldn't even
reach the roof. "I take it you're driving?"

"Yep. Thought I'd do Keith a brotherly favor."
My worries slipped away and I smiled. "Sounds great."
He started to help me into the car, but Keith took over

almost immediately. He lifted me up into the passenger seat
and buckled my seatbelt while Ryan walked around and got in

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behind the wheel. The seats behind us were folded down, and
Keith opened another door to squeeze himself into the back.
He bent his knees, wiggled around as he got comfortable in
the cargo hold.

Ryan turned the key in the ignition, and I twisted around.
"Keith."
He glanced up. "Yeah?"
My gaze traveled over his body, and I tried not to let my

anxiety show. "I guess you really can't wear a seatbelt in that
position, can you?"

"Seatbelt?" He studied me a long moment. "Oh," he said

softly. "You don't have to worry, Jesse. I'm pretty tough."

"I-I know." I tried to get over my fear, knowing it was

ridiculous. Besides, wearing a seatbelt didn't help me a whole
hell of a lot the night of the crash. "I know."

Keith regarded me for several long seconds before

speaking again. "Hold up, Ryan. I'm getting out."

Ryan turned around. "Out? How are you going to get

there?"

He opened the door and got out the driver's side. "I'll race

you."

Ryan snorted. "As in you against the car? What kind of

race is that?"

"You're right." He lifted his arms above his head, gave

himself a good stretch. "You can have a five minute head
start."

I watched as he stretched his quads. When he lowered

himself out of my field of vision, Ryan leaned out the window
to look down at him.

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"Keith, you can't be serious."
"Your five minutes are burning away, bro."
Ryan looked at me. "He can't be serious."
I thought about how easily he'd lifted this Hummer into the

air. "I really, really think he is."

He sat quiet a moment before shifting the car into gear

and driving off. "Do you think he can pull it off? Keep up with
us?"

I fingered my seatbelt. "I think your brother can do just

about anything he sets his mind to, Ryan."

He cast a quick glance my way before focusing on the

road.

Exactly five minutes later, a blur of burgundy and tan

whizzed by us. At first, I wasn't sure I'd even seen it, and
then it slowed down.

Keith winked at us, tapped the hood of the Hummer, and

kicked up his speed again, disappearing from view in a matter
of seconds.

"Holy shit!" shouted Ryan. "Did you see that!"
I placed my hands on the dashboard as I leaned forward.

"I certainly did."

"Holy shit," he said again, softer this time. "I'm glad he's

never been interested in track."

Laughing, I settled back into my seat.
"You've changed a lot, Mr. Winter."
I touched my face as my tone turned teasing. "You're just

now realizing that?"

A smile curved his lips, although he didn't look away from

the road. "I mean since you've been back. I remember the

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night you returned to Laurel—I thought you'd never laugh
again."

My hand slipped from my face, fell to my lap. "Oh?"
"Yeah." His smile faded. "It was like you were ... dead or

something. You kinda scared me. I guess it showed, huh?"

It had, and I couldn't blame him. "But not anymore?"
"No, not anymore. Is that because of Keith?"
I thought about that one for a long moment. "It started

with Keith. I've also gotten reacquainted with old friends, and
I've remembered how much I love my business. A lot of
different things brought my life back to me, but he opened
the door and shoved me through it."

"That's good. He really does love you. All his life, it's like

there was this part missing in him. Nothing made him happy."
He shook his head. "It made him such a brat, and when he
got older, it turned him into a terror. But lately, especially
since he's been back for spring break, he seems whole. For
the very first time."

A lot of responsibility, there. I knew it wasn't good that all

of his happiness seemed to rest on me. But my unease wasn't
rooted in psychology. It went deeper, touched something I
couldn't put my finger on...

"Mr. Winter?"
My body started, and I was jarred out of my introspection.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

He was smiling again. "Just that I think you're really good

for my brother, and not just because he's easier on me now. I
didn't say that part during our talk the other day."

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"Thank you." Ryan's statement comforted me, but there

was still something...

His smile widened. "Don't hurt him, okay?"
Something...
"I'll do my best."
He seemed satisfied with the answer, and we fell into a

comfortable silence.

The dealership came into view about twenty minutes later,

off the highway and down an access road. Ryan drove past
the first entrance—which led to the sales lot—and to the
second.

My eyes found Keith almost immediately, sitting casually

on a bench underneath a sign that read, "Parts and Services."

"What took you guys so long?" he boomed as we pulled up

to the garage.

"Speed limit!" Ryan yelled out the window.
His laughter rumbled over us.
As soon as the car came to a stop, I unbuckled my seatbelt

and opened the passenger door.

Keith jumped up and helped me to the ground. "You have

a nice ride, Jesse?"

"Ryan is an excellent driver."
He grinned and swept my hair back. "Did you like that little

show I put on for you?"

People were beginning to file out of the garage. Not

wanting them to see a grown man blush, I ducked my head. I
frowned when I saw that Keith was barefoot. "What happened
to your shoes?"

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"I forgot how hard running so fast would be on them. They

sort of ... melted."

I glanced up. "Melted?"
He pointed to a small pile of fabric and rubber by the

bench. "Shame. They were my favorite sneaks."

Ryan walked around the Hummer to join us. "Damn, Keith.

Those were some nice shoes, too."

He chuckled. "Yeah, I know. I bought them just before—"
"What size shoe do you wear?" I asked suddenly, my head

whipping up.

His eyebrows lifted. "Thirty-two."
Ryan whistled. "Big ass feet you got there, bro."
My fascination must have been pathetically obvious, but I

pressed on. "You can't just walk into a store and buy those,
can you?"

Keith's playful eyes remained focused on my face as he

indulged me. "Naw. I have to order them special. My
basketball coach taught me how."

"Must be pretty expensive," said Ryan.
"Really expensive. But Coach also upped my scholarship,

so I can swing the extra cost."

"I-I'll buy you new sneakers," I said, trying hard to keep

myself from fawning. Failing, obviously. "Whenever you need
them."

His big thumb caressed my cheek. "Thanks, Jesse." He

lowered his head and spoke into my ear. "I'll bet you'd like to
see me ruin a few more pairs, huh?"

Scary how well he knew me. I wasn't sure how to deal with

it. "I..."

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"You Keith Taylor?" said a man dressed in mechanic's

overalls.

Mercifully, he straightened away from me. "Yep."
As Keith rose, the man's eyes widened. "I-I'm Zach. What,

exactly, do you need?"

He smirked. "I need to be able to drive my car, man."
"Ah." Zach glanced back at the other mechanics, who were

huddled by the Hummer. "Wh-Why don't we take a look and
discuss our options?"

Keith nodded and followed him, Ryan and me trailing

behind.

The first couple minutes of the conversation were clear

enough. Take out the back seats so they could bolt the front
one into a better position. Resize and reposition the brake
and gas pedals. Redesign the steering column for both
practicality and aesthetic beauty. Simple.

Then, quite suddenly, it spiraled into much more complex

details. Making reinforcements to maintain standard ground
clearance. Adjusting open end coil springs and hydraulic
shock absorbers. Total overhaul of the interior for ergonomic
viability. Both boys listened intently, and both of them gave
their own, equally complex suggestions. I'd had no idea they
liked cars so much.

By the time they began talking about shearing off the top

to give him more headroom, I was completely lost. The bench
looked inviting, and I hobbled over to it and took a seat. Keith
glanced up, smiled, and returned his attention to the
discussion.

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These modifications were going to be expensive. I knew

that much. But it wouldn't be any sort of problem for me. I
was glad to give him this.

The sun had already set. The garage area was well lit,

though, so the group was undeterred. I leaned forward on my
cane as I watched them.

Why in the world had he asked me to come along? He and

Ryan seemed to have everything well in hand. It's not as if I
was needed to sign a check.

Then I remembered that Keith's happiness depended on

me.

He needed my presence. Despite his cockiness, there was

still a measure of insecurity in him, so he held me close. It
wasn't his fault. I knew damned well I could wash all that
insecurity away with a few simple words. Words I hadn't yet
been able to bring myself to say.

I love you, Keith.
How hard was that? I felt it, so why couldn't I tell him?
It was like you were ... dead or something.
Ah. That was what I'd been trying to figure out. What had

kept me from making our relationship real. It wasn't a fear of
commitment, it wasn't because of his age, it wasn't because I
didn't want to be responsible for his happiness.

It was because, three years ago, I had died.
And death would come for me again.
Whether it came in the form of that warm light I

remembered so fondly, or in the form of the ice I
remembered just as well, death would finish what it had
started with me.

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I'd known it from the moment I'd awakened in the

hospital. It was why I'd pushed everyone close to me away.
There was a certain order to things. My car had been crushed.
I'd been told hundreds of times that I shouldn't have
survived. Fate had blinked, and I'd barely escaped. For years,
all I could think about was how death had cheated me. How
many times had I wished for things to set themselves
straight? Even while I worked so hard to walk again? And that
was the root of my conviction.

If Keith's wishes had power, then that meant mine did as

well.

Never mind that I wanted to stay now. I'd spent so much

time hating life, despising the gift I'd been given, cursing the
miracle that saved me. I'd been an ungrateful wretch.

Things like that always came with consequences.
Better that Keith not know I loved him. Maybe that would

make his grieving process easier.

Oh, fuck. Who was I kidding? Better for me that he not

know. If he did, the thought of losing him would hurt so much
more. I was so goddamned selfish.

A chill sliced through me and suddenly I needed space.

Space to breathe, space to calm myself down. I dragged
myself to my feet and began to walk off. Not in the direction
of the sales lot. The harsh floodlights illuminating the
inventory held no appeal. I headed in the opposite direction,
toward the darkness.

Keith looked up. "Jesse? Where are you going?"
I smiled, hoping he didn't know me inside out yet. "Taking

a walk to stretch my legs."

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His eyes crinkled at the corners—I'd been granted a small

blessing. "Okay."

I walked into the darkness.
Away from the garage and lot, the stars above me were

actually visible. A canopy of twinkling lights. Perfect for stolen
kisses, perfect for...

I chuckled, feeling some of my tension ease out of me.
Perfect for a great many things.
"Think, Jesse," I said to myself. "You have a fucking

degree in psychology. What's wrong with you?"

A form of post traumatic stress syndrome, maybe. I'd

experienced a hell of a thing with the crash, and now that
experience overshadowed everything in my life.

Guilt. There's no reason I should be alive now, so why was

I? Some people didn't feel they deserved miracles. Not a big
stretch to think I was one of them.

What else ... What else...
Fear. Maybe I was just too scared to trust that my life was

finally all right again. Better than all right. On the verge of
deliriously happy.

Happy. I could be happy, couldn't I? That was something I

deserved...

I'm not sure how, exactly, I ended up in the street. The

surface beneath my feet didn't change at all. I didn't step off
a curb. I don't think I walked down any sort of incline.

I also have no idea how I could not have seen the

headlights rushing toward me. Maybe the car had just
rounded a corner, or maybe I'd been just that lost in my
thoughts. I don't know.

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It all happened so fast, and I tried to run out of its way,

totally forgetting that it was physically impossible for me to
run anywhere.

I stumbled to the ground, lost hold of my cane.

Instinctively, I curled into a ball and covered my head with
my hands. The street was so cold. I was so cold.

It was happening again.
The sound of squealing tires, of glass shattering, of metal

tearing apart filled my ears.

It filled my ears ... but it didn't touch me.
Warmth surrounded my body. Was I dead? Or had I

somehow managed to escape again? I whimpered and shook
as I realized I couldn't tell.

"Shh. You're okay. I was fast enough this time."
My eyes snapped open. There was light, and I could see

Keith's face. "Wh-What..." He was crouched down on the
street with me, holding my small form against his body. "H-
How..."

He stroked my hair. "I've got you, Jesse."
His voice was real, he was real, but the crash had been

real, too. Comprehension came to me in a flash, and I
clutched at him, panicked. "Oh God! You used your body as a
shield, didn't you? Are you all right!"

Keith chuckled, reached behind him and casually pushed

the crumpled car back from him. "I'm fine."

The headlights were still working; that's why I could see

his face. But his body had made a massive dent in the hood
and grill. The wreck hissed and spat steam, looking like a
monster from my nightmares. "Y-You saved me?"

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He ran his knuckles up my cheek. "Yeah."
An unfamiliar voice shattered the moment. "What the hell

were you doing, standing in the middle of the street!"

Keith's face went hard as he shot to his feet. He spun

toward the speaker, and I caught a glimpse of his tattered
clothing before the headlights washed all details of him away.
He was just a silhouette now. One that seemed familiar, and
not because I knew it was Keith. The familiarity was deeper
somehow, more profound.

"How about asking if he's okay, asshole?"
The man kept shouting, which told me he must have been

insane. "He was dressed entirely in black! What kind of idiot
dresses in black and stands in the middle of a street at
night?"

Still curled up in the street, I saw the silhouette's fist

clench. I knew Keith was balanced on the edge of real
violence, but I couldn't let go of my thread of thought. Why
did the sight of him, right here, right now, strike this chord in
me?

"You fucking ran into two people with your car! Don't you

care at all about that?"

The man's tone shifted, but not with fear. "You're fine.

How am I going to explain this to my insurance company?"

Not just insane. Certifiable.
"Your insurance company?" With one hand, Keith grabbed

the edge of the car and flipped it sideways onto its hood. The
car crumpled as the hood collapsed, but somehow the lights
stayed on. "Explain that to your insurance company!"

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Finally, the man started to realize his situation, and his

voice became much, much softer. "What the hell?"

"Get the fuck out of my sight, or I'm gonna pick it up again

and drop it on you."

Keith's silhouette blocked my view, but I could hear the

unmistakable sound of footsteps pounding pavement.

"Fuckin-A," said Keith. He tore his ruined shirt off his body,

his broad back still turned to me. "Can you believe that guy,
Jesse? I should run after him and grind him into pulp."

Dazed, shaken, incredibly confused, I stared up at him and

said the first thing that came to mind. It turned out to be
totally inapplicable to his question. "I-I can't stand."

His huge frame turned, and he held out his hand.
And then it hit me, why he seemed so familiar. I could only

see the outline of his body, but the rush of joy I felt at the
sight of him was more than enough to jog my memory. I
huddled into a tighter ball. I couldn't reach out and take that
hand.

I'd done this before. I knew how it would end. With cold

and pain and a broken body.

His gentle voice washed over me. "It's all right, Jesse. I

won't let you fall this time."

Those words ... soothed me. Trust had always been hard.

And having trust in myself, trust in my friends, trust in life
had been almost impossible these last few years. But I did
trust Keith, body and soul, so I tentatively reached out and
placed my hand in his.

His long, powerful fingers closed around my hand, and he

tugged me to my feet. "See? I've got you."

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My thoughts were still disjointed, and I struggled to brush

away the nonsensical ones so I could obtain answers to the
important questions. "What did you mean when you said, 'this
time'?"

He crouched, and I could finally see his strong, handsome

face again. "How are you feeling, Jesse?"

"Disoriented." Focus. I placed my hands on his broad

shoulders. "Tell me what you meant."

His gaze traveled over my body—I imagine to check for

torn clothing and scrapes. "I love it when you lean on me."

"Keith, something important has just happened, hasn't it?"

My trembling hands went to his face. "Tell me."

A soft smile played on his lips as his gaze met mine. "I

wasn't going to tell you about this part."

Our lives ... It was a puzzle, I realized. I still needed more

pieces to understand it, but Keith already had it all figured
out. "What part?"

He swept my hair back. "Remember when I told you about

that dream I'd been having? The one where I can never catch
the falling guy?"

A small nod was all I could muster.
"Well, I didn't tell you that those dreams started the exact

day you stopped writing me." He pulled me closer. "That was
the day you were in your accident, wasn't it?"

His warmth sank into my skin, my muscles, my bones.

"Yes," I whispered.

"When you explained my dreams had been about you, it all

fell into place." The light from the wrecked car behind him
began to dim, but I could still see every feature, I could still

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see those hazel eyes. "I was there when you crashed, Jesse. I
know that now. I tried to save you, but I wasn't fast enough,
strong enough. You slipped away from me." He caressed my
face. "When I understood that you were the man in my
dreams, I also realized that you were making me fast enough.
You needed someone to protect you, and you chose me. And
you were shaping me into everything you'd ever wanted from
a man. It made me happy. I felt honored."

No, this was too much. It overwhelmed me, made my

mind reel as I tried to wrench myself from his grasp.

Keith gently held me in place. "You can't stand on your

own two feet, remember? That's why I'm here." His voice
softened, slipped past my defenses and my preconceived
rationality. "It's the truth, Jesse. If you'd just let yourself feel
it, you'd know it, too."

I stared at him, at the man who had saved my life. Not

just tonight, but so many times. My rock, the only thing in the
world I truly trusted. "Your dream..." I lost my courage a
moment, then forced myself to continue. "Was there a light?
A beautiful, warm light?"

His lips parted as he nodded. "It's why I couldn't see your

face."

God in Heaven.
The soft smile returned to Keith's mouth. "You've had the

same dream, haven't you? You remember me being there."

Awestruck, I nodded.
He wrapped his arms around me, held me close. "I'm sorry

I let you down the night of your accident. I swear that I'll
never, ever let anything hurt you again." One of his big hands

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stroked my back. "I know you always walk around a little
scared. But you don't have to be scared anymore. I'm here,
and I'm strong enough for you."

I closed my eyes, took a shuddering breath, and

surrendered my life to him. "Keith, I—"

"Hey! Are you guys okay?"
Keith slowly straightened, making sure I had a firm hold

on his waist before turning his head in the direction of the
voice. "Yeah, Ryan," he said, his thunderous voice carrying
easily. "We're fine. Go back to the dealership. We'll meet you
there in a few."

I could hear Ryan's hesitation, but there was no fighting

the command in Keith's tone. "O-Okay."

Keith looked down at me and threaded his fingers through

my hair. "Ready to go?"

I glanced at the street. "Where's my cane?"
"Smashed up."
"Oh. So I'll be leaning on you?"
He smiled. "Is that okay?"
I wrapped my arms tighter around him, buried my face

into the lower wall of his abs. "It's fine."

His amused voice made me shiver. "You can tell me what

you want, Jesse. I'll always give it to you."

"I want..." I kissed the bare skin of his torso. "I want to be

in your arms."

He scooped me up, cradled me against him. "Like that?"
Stretching upward, I kissed his mouth. Warmth radiated

from him, permeated my body. I felt alive, really alive, and I
wasn't afraid to acknowledge it. "Always, just like this."

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Keith began to stride back to the dealership. "I can do that

for you, Jesse."

And I believed he could.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

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271

Epilogue

My eyes fluttered open, and I smiled when I saw my giant

staring down at me. "Don't you ever get tired of watching me
sleep?"

He fingered a lock of my hair. "Nope."
Chuckling, I sat up. "There must be better ways to spend

your summer vacation."

"Can't think of any." Keith remained stretched out on his

side as he looked at me. Even so, his shoulder came up to my
chin. A slow grin spread over his sensual mouth. "Especially
now that you've got this supersized bed."

My gaze traveled down the length of his naked body, his

massive chest, his hard abs and narrow hips, his thick thighs
and calves, all the way down to his huge feet. I'd
commissioned this bed for his dimensions, and he looked
magnificent in it.

I glanced at my bedroom door. "I'm glad you like the bed.

I should call a remodeling company, get my doors enlarged so
you can walk around the house with less trouble."

"Does it turn you on to watch me squeeze through them?"
My attention snapped to his face. A playful expression

danced across his features. "Yes, but—"

"Then don't change the doors. I like turning you on."
Uncertain, I looked over his body again. "Is it all right with

you? That you're so big?"

He bounced his pecs, smirked at my awe. "As long as it

makes you hard, I'm okay with it."

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I was getting hard, but I tried to focus. "I did this to you,

and now you're different from anyone else on the planet.
You're not at all angry with me?"

His smile gentled. "I chose this, Jesse. It was what I

wanted."

"Really? All this?"
He nodded. "I wish I could control whatever happened to

me, though. I'd heal you in a heartbeat."

My entire body warmed. "You did heal me, Keith. In every

way that's important."

His big hand reached out to sweep my hair back. "Why'd

you wake up, Jesse? Pain?"

I tried to remember. "No, something else. I'm not sure

what."

"Is it still waking you up a lot?"
"No." I leaned forward, kissed the rounded deltoid capping

his shoulder. "I can sleep most nights all the way through
now."

He flexed the muscle for me. He always flexed his muscles

for me. "Temperature is pretty low in here. What is it, around
seventy-five? Aren't you cold?"

My mouth moved to his arm. "I'm never cold anymore."

His biceps swelled against my lips and I licked his warm skin.
"I am enamored with your body, Keith."

"Really? Hadn't noticed."
Smiling, I straightened. It was his first day home for

summer break, and there was something I'd wanted to tell
him since that night—the night he told me the truth about
everything. "I love you."

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

273

His body stilled, and his grin wavered. "How can you not?"
A god had dedicated his life to me, and yet he was so

insecure. I trailed the tips of my fingers over his golden skin.
"Your body is amazing. And the truth is, if I hadn't crashed, if
you hadn't changed, I never would have slept with you." His
muscles tensed under my touch. "But your appearance and
your abilities only shocked me into dropping my defenses. It
allowed me to let you in, to see you as the man you were."

He hesitated, then pressed me on. "Keep going."
"It's not just your body I love."
Slowly, carefully, he sat up, towering over me in the bed.

"What else do you love about me?" he asked, the question
quiet and cautious.

The tenderness inside me made my own voice husky. "I

love your protectiveness, and your humor, and your insane
logic."

He frowned. "Insane?"
"And I love your gentleness, and your intelligence, and

your passion for life." I skimmed the palm of my hand over
his chest. "You've been feeling guilty for not rescuing me
when I crashed, but I don't think you were meant to save me
that night. When I died, I saw you in this form. Not because I
was projecting my desires onto you, but because it embodied
the strength and essence already within you. It was a stroke
of fate that connected us that night, and you used it to tap
into a part of me I'd intended to keep secret forever, but I
think that maybe we were always meant to be together. It
just had to happen at the right time."

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

274

Keith shuddered, drew back. "So you're saying you're glad

you were in that accident?"

"I'm saying the accident was a part of everything. Without

it, and without the magic that came afterward, I never would
have opened myself to the possibility of you. Even then I
pushed you away every chance I could. It wasn't your
physical strength that held us together, it was your
determination and your faith. That's your true power, and
that's what finally made me embrace life." Admitting these
things felt good, right. I only hoped that I was able to convey
what was inside of me. "I love you, Keith. Do you
understand?"

Silence stretched between us as I watched him absorb my

words. Then he glanced away.

"Hey," I said, concerned. "What's wrong?" I tried to

straighten to my knees, hissed with the effort.

Without looking at me, he snaked his arm around my waist

and lifted me tight against his body, taking the pressure off
my legs. "Nothing's wrong."

My hand rested on his triceps. "Then why won't you look at

me?"

His other arm wrapped around me as he lowered me back

onto the mattress. "Because I don't want you to see me cry,"
he said gruffly, his eyes shining.

A soft smile touched my lips as I caressed his face. "And

why are you crying?"

"You're gonna think I'm a sap."

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

275

"I'd never think that," I said, keeping my face serious as I

shook my head. "I'm too fond of thinking of you as a
marshmallow."

He laughed, sniffling. "A marshmallow? Really?"
I used my thumb to wipe his tears away. "Why are you

crying, Keith?"

"I was happy with the thought that you loved my body."

He hiccupped, the most adorable sound. "You know that,
right?"

I nodded.
"But when ... When you said all that other stuff ... you ...

you..."

Gently, I pressed him on. "Yes?"
He cringed, appeared to screw up his courage. "You made

my fantasy come true. The only one I ever had."

As real as my love was, I knew I had no concept of how

deep Keith's feelings ran. But I also knew I'd have a lifetime
to learn.

I propped myself up on my elbows. "I guess we make each

other whole."

His tears cleared. "Yeah, that's right. Like two pieces that

fit perfectly together."

Rubbing my right leg against his body, I winked up at him.

"You want to fit together now?"

His eyes rounded. Then he grinned and lowered his head

to take my mouth, filling me with a warm rush of love and
light.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

276

Rowan McBride

Born an Air Force dependent, Rowan McBride traveled the

world and totally missed the 80s as most Americans know it.
In exchange, he's gotten to walk in clogs, break an arm at Mt.
Fuji, and say prayers at a Korean Buddhist temple. So far it
seems like a fair trade. Although he graduated from high
school in Hawaii, he didn't learn to hula and make leis until
going to college in Iowa. After leaving the Midwest, he moved
to Washington, DC, and very nearly got himself a Juris Doctor
degree. Now he's chilling out in Texas, diabolically planning
road trips that could span years.

People tell him his life is random, and that's probably true.

Rowan comforts himself with the working theory that a
random life makes for good stories. When that doesn't work,
there's Pocky. Lots and lots of Pocky.

For more information about Rowan and his writing, please

visit his web site: rowanmcbride.com

* * * *

Don't miss True of Heart

(Book I of The Draegan Lords), by M. L. Rhodes,

available at AmberAllure.com!

A hundred years ago, the high sorcerer of Velensperia

launched a swift and deadly attack against the draegans—a

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

277

race of dragon shapeshifters who'd always lived in harmony
with the humans. The draegans were all but destroyed, with
the few who remained scattered and in hiding. Now, a group
of them have united and begun to fight back. Their leader,
Keiran Hareldson, seeks to free his people from the cruel
repression the high sorcerer's reign has imposed on them.

Gaige Rizik is captain of the sorcerer's High Guard, and

known for his lethal ability to hunt down his prey with no
remorse. His orders are to infiltrate the draegan rebels' camp,
learn their plans, and identify their leader so he can be
destroyed. But when Gaige joins the rebels, posing as a
human sympathizer to the draegans' cause, he discovers the
shapeshifters aren't the bloodthirsty beasts he's been led to
believe, and their leader is a passionately captivating man
who only wants what's best for his people. Keiran sparks
powerful emotions in Gaige, tearing down his walls of steely
control, and stirring a longing in him he can't deny.

Torn between his duty to the high sorcerer and his growing

feelings not only for Keiran, but for the draegan way of life,
Gaige knows he's damned no matter which side he chooses.
In a world of lies, deception, and dark secrets, one false move
will bring destruction to all he's begun to hold dear. With the
fate of so many lives on his shoulders, Gaige's only hope is to
follow his heart ... and pray it's true enough to save them all.

* * * *

Don't miss Vampyre Falls: Animal Heat,

by Adrianna Dane,

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

278

available at AmberHeat.com!

Hot. Hard. Handsome. And dangerously ravenous—for

Rainna Spaulding.

Rainna knows there's something different about Treynor

Black and if she could just keep her hands off him for five
seconds she might find out what it is. But five seconds in his
company and she's overwhelmed by the most intensely
lustful, searing heat she could imagine, and common sense is
not on the menu. So what if he likes his meat rare and his
rendezvous at midnight during a full moon? She could handle
it. He had secrets, well so did she.

And then she meets his brothers, Carson and Donovan.

Talk about turning up the heat to scorching! Who were these
brothers?

Or maybe she should ask what were they?

* * * *

Don't miss Surrender's Edge, by Pepper Espinoza,

available at Amber-Allure.com!

Geoffrey Kirk has been in love with his best friend, Nash,

since almost the moment they met. Convinced that Nash
would never return his feelings, he forced himself to move on,
and fell for his assistant, Sunny. Despite his strong feelings,
he never acted on them, and when he discovered Sunny and

Chasing Winter [Warm Rush Book I]

by Rowan McBride

279

Nash together, he thought he lost his chance for happiness
forever.

Until Sunny and Nash make it clear that he hasn't lost

anything ... and he still has a great deal to gain...

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