8. Wyatt

“Sir. That is not yours.” I gently tugged the bag of cheese away from Bear. “I already paid the cheese tax, and I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to eat more than that.”

He grabbed the pack with a giant paw and pulled it back toward him.

Chuckling, I rolled my eyes, popped his claws out of the plastic, and took the cheese back to the refrigerator where he couldn’t get it. In the two seconds I had my back turned, he descended on my sandwich, snatching a piece of meat away.

“Hey!” I tried to reach him, but he took off, landing on the kitchen floor with a heavy thump before trotting into the living room. He hopped onto his cat tree and start eating his prize. I sighed. “Really, dude?”

He continued chewing defiantly.

From the other end of the counter, Moose watched me expectantly. I rolled my eyes, gave him a smaller piece of turkey, and then put everything away, keeping my sandwich plate in my hand so neither of the thieves could attack it again.

As I settled on the couch, Lily gazed at me with big brown eyes. I’d kept a few pieces of meat on the edge of the plate specifically to share with her, so I gave her one, which had her tail wagging.

Of course, the cats immediately joined me on the couch. Bear sat on the cushion beside me while Moose perched primly on the armrest. I still wasn’t used to how big they were, and being flanked like this was almost intimidating. Even Lily gave them each a little side-eye before focusing on me (and my sandwich). She was trained to concentrate on me and nothing else, but she still maintained situational awareness, and I didn’t think even the strictest trainer would fault her for noticing a pair of giant cats looming over both of us.

When I’d been watching the hockey game earlier, I’d taken off her vest so she could chill for a while. She’d passed out in the middle of the living room floor, and Moose had come over to check her out. I could only imagine how startled she’d been to open her eyes and discover this giant gray creature peering down at her and tapping her snout with his monster paw. She’d jumped, which in turn made him jump, but then they’d sniffed noses and relaxed. Lily thought that meant they should play, but Moose just walked off in search of something more interesting, leaving her wearing a puzzled expression.

A few minutes later, she’d managed to goad Bear into playing with her. He seemed confused (though I was beginning to think that was his natural state), and she was happier than I’d seen her in ages.

I hoped her trainer wouldn’t be mad at me for giving Lily more downtime and playtime while we were here. She was still focused on me when I needed her, but man, after everything she’d been through, I just couldn’t resist letting her relax for a change. Maybe that made me a bad handler. Or maybe that ship had already sailed around the time I’d been unable to keep us housed.

Play with the kitties, Lily. I don’t care what it does to your training as long as you get to be happy for a little while.

Right now, she had her chin on my thigh, and though her eyes flicked to each cat now and then, she was mostly focused on me. Well, somewhat on me. I had no doubt that more than a few brain cells were zeroed in on my sandwich.

“You guys are like pigeons,” I told my gathered audience. “Or seagulls. Definitely seagulls.” I looked at Bear. “Did you know that you’re huge?”

He stared back at me with wide eyes, almost as if my question really did blow his tiny cat mind. I chuckled and petted him.

Something brushed against my finger, and I turned to see Moose pawing at the hand holding the sandwich.

“Excuse you,” I said. “That’s mine.”

Like Bear, he stared at me, but his face read more like, “The fuck did you just say to me, human?”

I laughed and took a bite of my sandwich. I’d never had cats before—didn’t dislike them, just never had one—and I was starting to think I’d been missing out. These two had personality to spare, and their expressions could be hilarious.

A low rumble made Lily and me jump. Both cats turned their heads, and Moose started purring, kneading on the armrest with his massive paws.

A moment later, the door opened, and Anthony came in, and—

Oh. Wow.

He’d been wearing an overcoat when he left this afternoon, but now that was draped over his arm. Without the coat in the way, I had a glorious view of a perfectly tailored green suit. It sat beautifully on his shoulders and emphasized his long, lean body. And holy shit, those thighs.

I opened my mouth to say hello, but right then, Bear took advantage of my distraction and made a grab for my sandwich. “Hey!” I pulled it away, though not before he’d taken a bite. “What the hell, dude?”

He stared back at me with a mouthful of lettuce and a face full of confusion.

I snorted. “Not what you wanted, was it?”

He started spitting out the lettuce, looking for all the world like he was completely baffled and that I’d insulted all his ancestors somehow.

And in that moment of distraction, Moose made his attack from my other side, yanking an entire piece of cheese free.

“What—seriously?”

Anthony laughed as he shrugged off his suit jacket. “I did tell you that you’ve gotta watch those two around food.”

“You did. And I know. Just keep letting down my guard.” I met Lily’s soulful eyes, which asked why the kitties had had bites and she hadn’t. With a groan, I pulled a piece of meat out of the sandwich and handed it to her. Then I got up and hobbled over to the kitchen island. Not that my food would be any safer there—Bear had jumped up on the other island and was arching his back and purring as Anthony petted him.

“Hey, buddy.” Anthony smiled, though there was a hint of sadness. “You miss me?”

Bear bumped his head against Anthony’s hand, then turned in a circle, back still arched. Anthony scratched behind the cat’s giant ear, and Bear flopped onto his side, nearly knocking over a bottle of dish soap next to the sink with his long tail. Anthony, still smiling halfheartedly, scratched Bear’s belly while the cat’s giant paws kneaded in the air.

Moose joined him on the counter, and he ignored Bear swatting at him as he, too, demanded affection from Anthony.

“I think they did miss you,” I said. “I swear I wasn’t ignoring them today.”

Anthony chuckled almost soundlessly. “You’re good. They can have my nephews over, playing with them all day long, and they’ll still act like this as soon as I get home.” He tousled Moose’s ears, which earned him a swat. “You should see them when I’ve been gone for a few days.”

“Oh, I bet.”

He petted Moose, which prompted some purring and an arched back. “I used to worry they were really stressed when I was gone, but…” He shook his head. “I check the cameras all the time, and they’re either sleeping, playing, or watching birds out the window.”

“They just lay on the guilt as soon as you get home?”

“Bingo.” Laughing, he rolled his eyes. “Cats are so good at emotional manipulation.”

“And stealing food. I never realized they hunted in tandem.”

Anthony snorted. “You should see them when I bring sushi home.”

“Oh, man. I would not want to fight over fish with these two.”

“You have no idea.” He petted Moose again, then gestured at the hallway. “I’m going to go change out of this. I’ll be back in a minute.”

I nodded.

He left the kitchen with both cats on his heels, and I almost dropped my sandwich. Turned out those tailored green trousers didn’t just make his thighs look good. I was envious of the fine fabric that got to lay across that gorgeous ass.

I shook myself and tried to turn my attention back to finishing my food, but I couldn’t escape the image of my host in that suit. My libido had been MIA since long before I’d been evicted—dire straits were not what I would call an aphrodisiac—and even yesterday, I’d barely paid much attention to this man who’d scraped me up. Not what he looked like, anyway. Apparently all it took was twenty-four hours of food and shelter to dial back the survival drive enough to start remembering how much I liked men.

I didn’t have a chance with Anthony and I knew it, but I had to admit, it did feel good to notice an attractive man again. I’d almost forgotten what it was like, but oh, I was remembering now. Especially since Anthony was… wow.

I’d been in heaven in the Army—surrounded by men who were absolutely jacked and either wore utilities (which were sexy as hell) or snug T-shirts (which were fine by me). Sometimes I even got lucky and found a fellow soldier who also liked how I looked in utilities, and I’d… Well, I’d get lucky.

But oh my God, none of them held a candle to a ripped professional athlete in what had to be a bespoke suit. I’d never even thought about what a hockey player might look like. What little exposure I’d had to the sport had been seeing the guys in their bulky gear. Why had no one thought to tell me about the jaw-droppingly sexy bodies they had under all those pads? Or about the suits they apparently wore to and from games? Not that I’d ever have had a shot with one even in my best days, but I could’ve at least ogled them.

And now I was sleeping under the same roof as a hockey player who looked spectacular on the ice or in a suit, and—

My stomach flipped as my mind snapped to this morning.

To the man who’d picked up Anthony for practice.

Goddammit. Anthony was hot enough to wake up my dormant libido annnd he was also queer.

And spoken for.

And light years out of any league I might have ever been in.

Ah, well. At least my libido had come back to life, and just because I couldn’t touch Anthony didn’t mean I couldn’t check him out. Might as well enjoy those luxuries while I had them.

A few minutes later, as I was cleaning my now-empty plate, Anthony returned. He was dressed down now in a pair of shorts and a Boston shirt. He was unreasonably sexy in shorts, of course, especially since I had a better view of his sculpted, powerful thighs. Why had no one ever told me what ice skating did to a man’s physique?

I didn’t want to get caught staring, though, so I gestured at my own shirt. “Boston? I thought you played for Seattle.”

Anthony laughed as he got himself a glass of water. “I was drafted by Boston. Played my rookie season and half my second season there.” He shrugged. “And I have the shirts and stuff—might as well wear them.”

“That’s not against the rules?” I teased. “Nothing in your contract about wearing a rival’s shirt?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “I mean, I’d be stupid to go out in public with it, but here?” He gestured around the room with his glass. “I can wear whatever I want.” He took a sip. “Hell, Simon wears Portland shirts behind closed doors.” With a grimace, he added, “That would be a scandal if someone found out.”

“Ooh, so they’re the actual rival.”

“Big time. Seattle and Portland have been at each other’s throats since before I was born. If someone here found out he still wears their logo sometimes?” Another grimace.

I chuckled. “And I thought football fans were bloodthirsty.”

“Clearly you’ve never been to a playoff hockey game in Canada.” He gestured toward the couch, and as we headed toward it he added, “Hockey fans take the sport very seriously.”

“Apparently.” I eased myself down on the couch, leaving some comfortable distance between us. “I watched the game tonight. I don’t quite understand how it works yet, but it was definitely entertaining.”

Anthony’s laugh was halfhearted at best. “They’re usually better than this one. Tonight’s game was…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

I studied him. He had looked pretty frustrated whenever I’d seen him on-camera. There’d been a moment when he’d been smiling brilliantly and hugging his teammates as they celebrated a goal—one scored by his boyfriend, no less—but the rest of the game, he’d just seemed… off. I hadn’t watched him play enough to know if that was normal for him, but the commentators had even said he wasn’t himself tonight.

“I don’t know what’s going on with number twelve tonight, Eric,” I recalled one of them saying as Anthony had skated to the penalty box the second or third time. “Not just the penalties, but the turnovers. I’ve never seen Aussie struggle this much to control the puck.”

“This has not been a good season for him,” the other commentator had remarked. “He’s been inconsistent since the preseason. Turning over the puck, taking penalties, allowing rushes—I don’t know what’s changed, but this is not the same defenseman we’ve seen the past few seasons.”

I turned to Anthony. “Can I ask you a question about…” I gestured at the TV. “The game?”

He studied me warily, as if he thought I might ask about everything the commentators had been saying about him. “Um. Sure. Go ahead.”

“I guess I’m just curious—why do they call you Aussie?”

He laughed, sounding relieved as if he’d thought I was going to ask about his penalties or something. “Oh, that. My last name is Austin, so that’s what guys have called me since my youth days.”

“Ooh, okay. I guess that seems obvious now.” I gestured over my shoulder. “I saw your name on your jersey and everything, but I wasn’t sure, you know? And you don’t exactly sound Australian.”

Anthony snorted. “No, and I won’t torment you with my terrible Australian accent, either.”

“Can’t be any worse than mine, but I’ll take your word for it.” I nodded toward the TV again. “I’ve never actually watched hockey before. It was, um… It was interesting.”

“Yeah?” He raised his eyebrows. “In a good way?”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely. I just don’t understand a lot of it.”

He was nodding as I spoke. “I’ve heard it’s a little weird for people at first.”

“It wasn’t for you?”

“I’ve been playing since I was like four, so…” He half-shrugged. “I was internalizing all the rules before I learned how to write my name.”

I whistled. “I couldn’t even in-line skate when I was a kid. You were playing hockey at four?”

“A lot of us start young.” He twisted toward me and rested his arm on the back of the couch. “One of these nights, we can watch a game, and I can explain some of it. It’s a little late tonight to start one, though.”

“Yeah, I’m not going to last much longer tonight. That does sound like fun, though.”

His eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Sure.” I shrugged. “I’m curious about it. Like I said, it was fun to watch.” I paused. “But while we’re on the subject—what the fuck is offside?”

Anthony laughed. “That one trips everyone up at first. Trust me.”

“So it’s not just me?”

“No, definitely not.” He leaned forward and put his glass on a coaster. “Okay, so the ice is divided into three zones…”

I joltedawake and flinched away from the light, but I didn’t flinch very far. A heavy, familiar weight on my chest kept me mostly still, and as I exhaled and relaxed onto the mattress, I let my hands settle on Lily. She licked under my chin, and I realized she’d been doing that when I awoke.

“Fuck,” I whispered into the stillness. I wiped a sweaty, shaky hand over my face, then petted her. “Good girl.”

Over the thumping of my heart, I realized there was another sound. Another rhythmic thumping that was getting louder.

Footsteps, my brain decided, and a second later, there was a tap at my door.

“Wyatt?” Anthony sounded worried. “You okay?”

“I’m good,” I called out. I gently nudged Lily aside and started to sit up in bed. “It’s open. I’m… I’m good.”

The door opened slightly and he poked his head in, his hair disheveled and his eyes wide. “Uh, I heard shouting. Are you…?” His brow pinched.

Heat rushed into my face as I leaned against the headboard. “Yeah. It’s…” I laughed nervously. “Nightmares. They’re kind of a thing.”

His mouth formed a soundless Oh. Straightening a little, he came partway into the room. Some part of my brain tried to notice that he was wearing nothing but a pair of black gym shorts, but that spark of attraction that had come to life a few hours ago had been snuffed out by the nightmare. Anthony leaned against the door frame and started to speak, but he paused and he looked around the room. “You sleep with the lights on?” He didn’t sound judgmental, just curious.

“No, no.” I patted Lily. “She turns them on when I’m having a nightmare.”

Anthony blinked. “Really? She’s trained to turn on the light?”

“Yeah.” I smiled as I stroked her short coat. She leaned against me, resting her head against my chest. “It’s kind of amazing the things service dogs can do. She’ll even clear a room for me if I don’t feel safe.”

“Clear a room?”

I nodded, still petting her. “If I give her a command, she’ll go into a room ahead of me and give it a sweep. Make sure it’s safe.” More heat rose in my cheeks. “It’s, um… I mean, I’m sure it sounds kind of stupid, but—”

“No, I don’t think so.” He folded his arms loosely across his bare chest. “If you’ve got trauma that she can help by going into a room like that…” He gestured around the room as if to say, go on.

“Yeah. It’s… I won’t get into why that’s a thing for me, but it helps a lot.” I paused, then added sheepishly, “Anyway, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up. Probably should’ve warned you about it.”

Anthony was already shaking his head. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you had somebody here to help.” He motioned toward Lily.

I smiled down at her. “She’s made my life a million times easier, believe me.”

“I bet she has.” He paused. “Well. I, uh… I didn’t mean to come barging in. I was just worried that—”

“It’s fine. It’s fine. I get it. I roomed with a guy who had night terrors before I went to combat, and it’s… kinda startling even if you do know it’s coming.” I smiled. “Thanks for checking in.”

He returned the smile. “Don’t mention it. Do you want me to, uh…?” He gestured at the light switch, which was right by the door.

“Please. And thanks again.”

He gave me another quick smile. “Good night.”

“Let’s hope. G’night, Anthony.”

Then he shut off the light and closed the door. I sat there for a moment, listening to his footsteps fading down the hall and up the stairs. I must’ve really been freaking out if he’d heard me from that far away.

I wrapped my arms around Lily and kissed the top of her head. Her tail thumped on the mattress. Thank God for this amazing dog.

It had actually been a while since I’d had a nightmare this bad. Out on the streets, I couldn’t sleep deeply enough to dream as intensely as I did when I was someplace safe, secure, and warm. I’d still have bad dreams, but the truly terrible dreams—the ones that were so fucking real—only happened when I could actually sleep.

I guess that was the price I paid for having a roof and a bed for the time being. I slept better, but I also dreamed harder.

All things considered… I’d take it.