Or maybe not. It was late now. Carter had probably gotten a ride home, and now he was sprawled in bed, wondering if Jeff would call. Maybe he’d even decided to give his ride a break and just asked to be dropped at Jeff’s cabin, and it wasJeff’sbed he was lying in—
The car pulled to a stop and Jeff shook himself. No point in idle daydreams. “Thanks,” he told the driver as he climbed out. “Have a good night.”
She waved at him as she pulled away into the darkness.
Jeff shouldered his gig bag and managed his acoustic in his left hand so he could dig for his keys with his right. Nigella, the doorperson, offered a friendly smile as he approached. “Good evening, Jeff.” He hated being called Mr. Pine. “Good show?”
“Uh,” Jeff said. He didn’t want to be rude, but he didn’t have the energy to lie to her either. “I think that depends on the metric.”
“My B.” She winced as she reached out to take a guitar so Jeff didn’t have to wrangle two at once. “You want me to send somebody for ice cream, or?”
He opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, a hulking shadow in the darkness next to the condo entrance stepped forward. Nigella already had her hand on her radio by the time he was within five feet. “Jeff, do you know—”
The man shuffled closer, gait uneven, until finally the light spilling from the entrance to Jeff’s building illuminated his face.
He has got to stop doing this to me.
Carter apparently had not shaved that morning, and since he was genetically related to Bigfoot, that meant he had what would’ve been three days’ beard growth on any other man. Jeff was extremely into the whole look—the flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, the nice jeans that fit really well except where the walking boot ruined the line, and particularly the way Carter looked at him like the rest of the world didn’t exist.
Jeff half felt like he’d summoned Carter with the power of his own yearning. He couldn’t keep himself from moving closer until he could see Carter’s face clearly in the low light.
“You’re missing campfire night,” was all he could think to say. “You love campfire night.”
Carter gave him a soft look. “Jeff.”
Jeff’s heart fluttered against his rib cage. Oh no, Carter couldn’t do this to him tonight, when Jeff’s evening had been such a disaster. He deserved his own day, untainted by this clusterfuck.
But the implication made him feel better anyway. He cleared his throat and turned to Nigella. “Sorry, Nigella, that was rude of me. This is Carter. He’s my….” Best friend, boyfriend, soul mate. “He’s with me.”
“Oh,” she said, visibly relaxing. She looked Carter up and down and then said to Jeff, “Nice.”
Carter made a vaguely embarrassed noise.
Oops. He hoped she didn’t think Carter was a sex worker. Oh well, she’d work it out eventually. “Um, could you do me a favor and have the guitars brought up? No hurry. Tomorrow morning’s fine.”
The knowing look she gave him made him squirm. “Of course. Whatever you need.”
Jeff needed to escape scrutiny, ASAP. “Thank you,” he said gratefully. Then he gestured Carter to precede him inside.
He looked just as good in the bright light of the lobby. He still walked a bit off-kilter, but the boot had a thicker sole than most shoes. For a few seconds, Jeffwatchedhim, and then Carter turned around and looked knowingly over his shoulder, and yep, Jeff had completely forgotten how to act like a human being.
Jeff cleared his throat. “So, are you stalking me now?”
“I tried doing it the easy way,” Carter said, full lips pursed against an obvious smile as they got into the elevator, “but someone wasn’t checking his text messages.”
Oh. Right. Jeff hadn’t looked at his phone since he left the venue. He figured the dozens of text messages were from people he didn’t want to talk to.
The mood from the concert tried to creep back in as Jeff hit the button for his floor. “It’s been a long, shit day, to be honest.” The doors slowly closed. “I—”
He stopped talking when Carter’s big hand slid along his jaw. “I know,” Carter murmured.
Did he know he was turning Jeff’s knees to jelly?
He shouldn’t have been able to loom like that with a broken foot, Jeff thought. It wasn’t fair. But he couldn’t bring himself to be upset about it, because when Carter kissed him, his day improved immeasurably. He melted into it as much as he could without clinging, wary of putting undue weight or stress on Carter’s foot.
That was difficult to remember when Carter smelled so good. His beard prickled against Jeff’s lips, a raw, sensual almost-pain that brought blood to the surface of Jeff’s skin, further sensitizing it. The contrast of soft lips and rough hair set his nerves alight.
The elevator stopped. Carter didn’t, right away, which Jeff would have been fine with, except he didn’t want to wait any longer to get into his apartment. The doors were closing again when Jeff flung out an arm to stop them.
