Tate leaned forward and kissed him again. Slow and languid, and totally G-rated. Linda would be proud.
“C’mon,” he said, “I’m turning into a prune.”
* * *
It was an odd dichotomy,Reno thought, as he exited the hot springs hand in hand with Tate. How could he feel so relaxed and languid and so amped up with anticipation and desire at the same time? The hot springs had been amazing, and then the kiss . . . There were no words to describe the barrage of emotions that kiss had unleashed. One thing was for sure. Reno’s memory of their first kiss had been nothing compared to what had just happened in the hot spring. A kiss that almost landed them in a not-so-relaxing version of hot water. If Linda hadn’t shown up when she did . . .
“Let’s walk a little,” Tate said and steered them toward a pathway that wrapped around the property. Victorian lampposts cast warm yellow domes of light into the snowy night like beacons. The snow was coming down heavier now, falling gently to the ground. It was refreshing after their time in the hot springs, and Reno felt no need to speak. Tate seemed content to stroll quietly too, and the easy silence held a sort of magic to it Reno couldn’t put into words. But he heard the notes it played in his mind—a song of reunion and hope and love.
He drifted with the music only he could hear as the path led them past evergreens with snow-covered branches that glittered like diamonds and along the sparkling river with short waterfall ledges that gurgled merrily, while the snowy banks rose and fell in layers that rolled like waves. They came to a footbridge that crossed the river, lit up with white lights strung along the railing. On the other side was a skating pond that was currently empty of skaters. The whole thing was like a scene out of a Hallmark Christmas movie.
Ahead was a gazebo, also lit up with a string of lights.
“This is gorgeous,” Reno said reverently as they stepped up into the gazebo, and he gazed out at the scene before him. “I feel like we’re living inside a snow globe right now.”
Tate turned to him, smiled, gave him a soft, lazy kiss, and then followed Reno’s gaze. “It feels magical.”
Reno nodded. “I’m composing the score to it in my head right now.”
“Really?” Tate raised their clasped hands and kissed Reno’s gloved knuckles. “I hope I get to hear it someday.”
“You will,” Reno replied without thought, but shock didn’t follow.
He paused to take internal stock of his emotions. It should have surprised him that he’d responded so confidently. Should have scared him, but the more it rolled around in his mind, the less he could deny the truth of it. He didn’t want his time with Tate to end when the roads cleared. He’d always imagined a life with Tate as a kid. It had been a fantasy since he’d never really believed their paths would cross again. But now . . . Now here they were, together, and he wanted nothing more. Now was the beginning of that future. He felt it right down in his bones.
“There was supposed to be a wedding here yesterday,” Tate said as he looked up at the lights adorning the gazebo.
And just like that, an image of him and Tate in tuxes under a flowered arch lit up in his mind. He gave himself a mental shake. “Here, as inrighthere, in the gazebo?”
“Yeah.” Tate nodded and met Reno’s gaze. “But the groom got stood up.”
Reno gasped. “No.”
He wondered who the groom was and if he was still here, stuck with the rest of them. His heart hurt a little for the man. He couldn’t relate to being stood up at the altar, but he knew how it felt when the love of your life left you without a word. He hoped the groom was doing okay and would one day find the man he was truly meant to be with.
“It would have been a beautiful wedding,” he said softly.
Tate gave Reno’s hand a squeeze but didn’t say anything. Reno wondered what was going through his head right now. If he was feeling as moved by the night as Reno was. Everything felt so perfect, so right, but a niggle of doubt tapped its finger on the back of his mind. Would Tate feel the same once the roads were open again, and they could go their separate ways?Wouldthey go their separate ways? Reno hoped not. He’d just concluded that now was their time, after all. Probably hearing about the wedding that didn’t happen was what had given doubt an opening.
He pushed the negative thoughts away and gazed out over the winter wonderland of The Retreat. He could happily stand out there in the gazebo all night and watch the falling snow as it danced through globes of light, he and Tate arm in arm, his head resting on Tate’s shoulder, but his stomach chose that moment to make itself known once again.
Tate chuckled. “Seriously?”
“What? I can’t help it if I have a healthy appetite,” Reno defended. He had a high metabolism and was often so absorbed in his music that if it wasn’t for his stomach speaking up, he would probably go an entire day without eating.
“More like you have a hole in your gut,” Tate joked and bumped his shoulder. “You should see a doctor about that.”
Reno snorted. He was reluctant to leave the gazebo, but he couldn’t deny he was starting to feel the cold again. And yes, he needed a quick snack before calling it a night.
“Let’s go,” he said and smiled all the way back to the cabin because Tate held his hand the whole time.
After kicking off their snowy boots and hanging their jackets and gloves on the hooks in the entry, Reno headed for the kitchenette while Tate turned in the opposite direction toward the wood stove.
“I’ll get a fire going while you’re feeding the machine,” Tate teased.
Reno snickered as he busied himself by placing a couple of slices of bread into the toaster. While waiting for it, he leaned against the counter and watched Tate load wood into the stove. His shirt molded to his body as he stretched forward to stack and poke the chopped pieces of wood. Shadows from the low light delineated the well-defined muscles in his back and arms, and highlighted his strong shoulders. For a science geek, he was certainly fit. He probably spent as much time at the gym as he did at work, Reno mused.
The toast popped ,and he turned to dress up the slices—one with strawberry jam and the other with honey. He braced himself against the counter again and ate standing up as he watched the tantalizing show that was Tate Boylan.
