Chapter 10

10

“I’m telling you, I deserve a medal, Clint.” River sank into his office chair with a glass of whiskey and put his feet up. “Kacey isn’t sleeping; I’ve ended up in his bed every night for almost a week, and I haven’t touched him. I’m like a fucking monk over here.” Or a not-fucking monk.

“Mm. This is Sam’s friend? The one with the death wish?”

“That’s him.” Though he wasn’t sure he agreed with the description. Not anymore. The healthier the boy got, the better they were connecting.

“These Texans. I don’t know about them.” Clint’s chuckle made him smile. “So, talk to me. Is he scared to sleep alone?”

“Scared? No. I don’t think he’s scared of much. Worried, yes. He’s really in his head, and I don’t completely understand why. But I’ve managed to distract him with questions until he’s sleepy and he seems to… appreciate my presence.” The boy was a snuggler. Some nights he’d had to extract himself just to use the bathroom. Kacey was definitely seeking comfort.

Touch.

Contact.

But when he was awake, Kacey was subdued, spending hours with a notebook and pencil, staring out the window, thinking.

“You know what to do with a boy who is too in his head, River.”

“I know what to do with a sub, but Kacey…” Kacey was not a sub. Or, he had potential, but he didn’t know he was a sub. Something like that.

“Well, if he’s not a sub, then he’s not right for you.”

“It’s not that black and white, Clint.”

“You need a submissive. If you’re interested in making him a lover, then he’ll have to understand you have needs he can’t meet.”

“You know I don’t do that.” He couldn’t do that to Kacey—or anyone—that was why he was chronically single. The Dom in him had won that battle long ago. He sighed. “That’s not why I called. Thomas and I need your blessing on something else entirely.”

“Of course. What do you need?” Clint always listened to their requests, even if he denied them.

“Well, Sam and Kacey have something to work out, and we want to bring them Home to do it.” Their club, Sin Deep, was referred to more often as Home by its members for good reason.

“Are they going to indulge in fisticuffs?”

“I’d like to say no, but anything is possible. Texas cowboys…” He chuckled. He didn’t think Thomas would allow it, and Kacey’s fingers were just finally healing.

“Tommy is rather firm about Dr. O’Reilly fighting, so I’ll just assume you will be responsible for your boy, yes?”

“I heard that, Clint.” He snorted. “Yes, I’ll be responsible for Kacey. But since he’s not a member, we wanted to be sure to get your permission.”

“I trust you both, and I will admit to a hint of curiosity, although between Tommy, Winter, and you, I’m concerned we’re becoming a cowboy bar.”

Good grief, Clint was right. “Harley is Texan too.” Ha. Maybe Harley could mediate. “Well, maybe we should start calling it ‘Down Home’.” He chuckled.

“Yes, that isn’t going to happen. There might be a tiny boom of displaced Texans. We’ll adjust.”

River laughed. “Adjusting is what we do, my friend. We’re always adjusting.” Nothing as unpredictable as a sub except several in the same place at the same time.

“That’s our lot in life.” Clint’s overly dramatic voice made him chuckle.

“All right. Well, I think we’ll all be by this evening. I’ll reserve a room in case we need it. Thank you.” River was ready to end this conversation; he didn’t need any more of Clint’s wisdom about whether Kacey was someone he should pursue. It was too damn late for that.

Kacey was his. He wasn’t sure exactly why, but it was true.

What was even more true was he was Kacey’s.

“See you tonight.”

Clint sounded amused, but River didn’t take the bait. He hung up, finished sniffing the whiskey he’d poured with no intention of drinking, and texted Thomas.

River

We’re on for tonight. Time?

Thomas

Late enough for the club to be busy so Kacey has something to look at? Or early enough that we can slip out before he sees much?

Great question.

River

Eight. Best of both worlds?

They’d get in early enough that Kacey wouldn’t be too distracted but leave late enough to give the boy a taste of the life.

Thomas

Done. See you then.

He grinned and got out of his chair to go in search of the boy, whom he’d left watching TV.

Kacey was sitting on the floor, hunched over and busily writing something, pencil just flying.

He quietly moved to the couch and sat, knees knocking gently into Kacey’s shoulder. “Hey. What are you working on?”

“Huh? Just playing.” The notebook was turned over before he could glance more than a beautifully illustrated eye.

“Playing at what?” He combed his fingers through Kacey’s curls. He just couldn’t help himself. “Can I see?”

“It’s just doodling.” Kacey glanced up at him and handed over the notebook, and it was him. It was clearly him, drawn with skill and care.

He’d met some talented artists along the way, but no one that could capture a person this well. “You call this a doodle? For real?”

“Yeah…” Kacey blushed near purple and snatched the notebook back. “They aren’t for looking at. They just make me happy.”

He started to protest but stopped himself. There wasn’t much that made Kacey happy right now, and if River pushed the boy about how talented he was, he might ruin that too. One day. Not today. “Well, I like it. Your notebook is almost full, so how about we go for a walk and get you a new one? Maybe get some dinner?”

“Yeah? I’d like that. I used to buy bunches of them to play in when school started because they were on sale.”

River would have to find a real sketchbook for his boy. Something with some texture on the paper. Some good sketching pencils. The whole thing.

“Cool.” He got up, playing at casual. “And after dinner, I’ll take you over to my club.”

Kacey stood and stretched up tall, bones popping and cracking. “Do I need to wear a good shirt? ’Cause I’ll have to iron it.”

“Do you mind? I think that would be good.” He would dress a little too. “There’s an iron and board in the closet in the hall next to your room.”

“Yessir. I’m on it. You need anything pressed while I’m doing mine?”

“No, thank you, I’m good. My dry cleaner does everything for me. Meet you back out here when you’re ready.” He wasn’t sure what he should wear. He wanted to look the part tonight, but he didn’t want to have to come back and change.

It only took a few minutes before he heard singing coming from Kacey’s bedroom, and it made him chuckle. That was a happy sound, almost confident.

He found himself feeling a little lighter too. Kacey finally seemed healed up enough to go farther than the immediate neighborhood, and it was going to be good to get out.

He pulled on black jeans and a black T-shirt. He didn’t want to overdress for the rest of his day—he assumed Kacey would be in Wranglers and button-down or crisp tee because that was what Sam wore nearly every time he dressed for something. But his shirt was fitted and showed off his shoulders and chest and made him feel handsome and powerful.

When he left his room, he found Kacey waiting in the front room, pulling on a pair of boots that were ancient and holey, and yes, wearing a pair of Wranglers that were two sizes too big and a crisp light-gray button-down.

“Hey, you look great.” Swimming in your jeans, but great. “I like that shirt.” They were going shopping, if not today then soon. He’d ask Sam where to go.

“Thanks. I do too. It’s my favorite.” Kacey grabbed a folded-up cap and shoved it in his back pocket. “I’m ready when you are.”

It was nice to see Kacey doing normal things with his hands again. “Great. I’m good to go.” He stuffed his wallet in his front pocket and grabbed his key, then held the door for Kacey.

“Thank you, sir.” Kacey nodded to him, looking around, so curious.

He stopped them on the sidewalk and let Kacey get a look around. “I love this neighborhood. Come on, this way.” The West Village had narrow streets and some trees, but it wouldn’t be long before they walked out of it and into bigger, busier streets.

Kacey had the cap on, and was staying up with him, gaze seeming to take everything in like a sponge.

That could be good or bad. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing. Just watching. It’s different than being up there.”

“Yep. It is. It’s a big city.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and strolled, giving Kacey time. “I remember when I first got here, I was sure I’d made a mistake. I was stuck here for a while because I didn’t have much money, and I kept thinking… okay, when I have a hundred dollars, I’m outta here. That became two hundred and three… I rented an apartment, I made some friends, I found some places I liked to go. And then I didn’t want to leave.”

“That’s cool.” Kacey’s nod was quick, sure. “I have some money, but I have to figure how to make it last until I get a job. There’s got to be something a guy with no real skills that last longer than eight seconds can do.”

His first thought was that Kacey was quite an artist, but he backed off that for now. “If you’re willing to work, there is plenty to do. You must have some skills. If you’re looking to get into anything specific, let me know. The guys at the club have all kinds of connections.”

“Thanks. I figure there’s got to be a simple job like stocking at a store or whatever. Something I can’t mess up too bad.”

“That’s easy enough, I bet. Let it wait a little, though, get your head around the city and how you feel about it.” How you feel about me, the club, my needs and yours… Jesus, he’d gone right off the deep end. He took Kacey’s hand. “I’ve got you covered for now.”

“You are my guardian angel.” Kacey squeezed his fingers, then whispered. “You gonna get in trouble for this? Holding my hand.”

He smiled down at Kacey. “Nope. And neither are you. Welcome to New York.”

“Yeah? This is… this is different. Good, but different.” Kacey took a shaky breath. “I don’t want you hurt on my account.”

“That won’t happen.” River pointed to another couple coming toward them on the sidewalk—a cute blond guy and a tall dark-haired one, also holding hands. “See? Not just us.”

“Makes being into someone a lot easier, huh?” Kacey squeezed his fingers.

That would have been a simple comment if not for the squeeze. So what did that mean? Kacey was into him? Was he flirting?

River was not a flirt. He didn’t understand flirting. Seduction, sure. Negotiation, no problem. But flirting? Not his strong suit.

“Mhm.” He squeezed back because he thought Kacey might be expecting that, it seemed like the right thing to do.

“What’s your favorite place here? Do you have one?”

“My club. That’s an easy answer. But I do love to wander in Central Park. I like the big IMAX movie theater. I like the little dive pizza joint around the corner.”

“That’s cool. Little dive places rock. I used to love my chips and salsa at Dos Salsas.”

“Mmm. I could demolish a plate of nachos. Maybe we should do Mexican for dinner.” They wandered uptown, because he had a place in mind, an art supply store that all the college kids went to. The place would impress Kacey for sure, hopefully inspire him some too.

“Yeah? You like Mexican food? I thought y’all just ate bagels and cheesecake…” That drawl was pronounced, the tease obvious. He loved the way Kacey’s sense of humor was returning.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I like a good bagel and schmear.” He laughed and made sure Kacey saw his smile. Kacey needed more smiles. “And I’m sure the Mexican food here isn’t the same as where you come from, but you can indulge me.”

“As long as there’s chips and salsa, I’m in.” Kacey gave the strangest laugh—a weirdly bitter sound that seemed to come from nowhere.

He just let that be for a few more minutes as they walked, letting Kacey settle again before he asked. But he had to ask… that was his job. “Are you okay?”

“Huh? Oh, I was just having thoughts. Nothing that matters.”

Oh, no. He couldn’t let the boy get away with that. He pulled Kacey to the edge of the sidewalk out of the way and looked at him seriously. “Everything matters. Everything.”

“What? I was just… It’s just…What do you care about my stupid shit? It’s just my dumb brain.”

“I care about you, so I care about your shit. And is that how you talk to yourself? You should be kinder. You’re not stupid at all.” And if you’re going to be mine, I need to understand you completely.

“Oh, right. I’m an Einstein.” Kacey rolled his eyes. “I was just thinking about how you said how the food wouldn’t be the same, like I would care. I don’t care. They hate me. Fuck their food.”

He pulled Kacey into a hug. “Damn right, fuck them. Hate has no place in my life or yours. We can have Italian.”

Kacey was stiff for a moment, then made a sound that was half-sob, half-laugh. “I love Italian.”

“Pasta is good for the soul.” He didn’t let go. He didn’t care that they were on the street. Kacey needed to know he was safe with him no matter where they were. “And garlic bread is a gift from the gods.”

“Uh-huh. I’m sorry, man. I’ve never been so… weird. I usually just drink if I feel like this until it goes away.”

“Drinking is for cowards, and you are not a coward.” He had some strong feelings about using alcohol rather than enjoying it.

“Drinking is for pain relief, like in the old westerns. It’s to smooth the edges.”

“We’re not in an old western. You don’t drink for pain relief or to smooth anything, or you wouldn’t then decide to let someone kick your ass. Try again, cowboy, because I know better.”

“Oh, not that kind of hurting.” Kacey snorted. “’m a bullrider. Body hurting is like praying, sorta, I think. It’s the soul-hurting that you can’t fix.”

And this was a conversation that they needed to explore, possibly not on the street.

Possibly not today, either.

“Ah. I think I understand you.” In theory, but Kacey’s brand of soul-hurting was something he was going to have to dig into eventually. He took a breath, gave Kacey another squeeze, and took his hand again. “So… we were headed to an art supply store. We’re almost there.”

“Oh yeah? Do you paint and all?” Kacey seemed more than willing to follow along.

“Nope. I don’t paint. I don’t draw. I know how to make a very nice paper airplane though.” He winked at Kacey. “And I can draw a pig made of circles with chicken legs.”

“Oh, modern art then. Very popular.” Wicked little cowboy.

He chuckled. “Very. I’m a misunderstood artist.” They turned a corner, and the store was right where he remembered, on the opposite side of the street. From here, it looked like it took up half the block going north and east. It had big two-story windows and an escalator they could see from the street. And from where they were standing, it looked like the inside was a riot of color.

“Wow. Wow, look at that! How wild.” There was a vague hunger in Kacey’s eyes.

“Right? I walk by it once in a while, but I’ve never had an excuse to go in. But I have one now.” He tugged Kacey across the street.

“You’ve never been in? Really?” Kacey followed along, eager now. “We can explore together, then?”

“That’s the plan.” This idea was looking better and better. He knew nothing about art, let alone art supplies, but if it made Kacey happy and distracted him for a while, he was all in.

Kacey wandered around, peering at brushes and paints, models and watercolors and canvasses. He wasn’t sure the boy knew anything about them either, but he was curious and tactile.

“Oh, hey. This is your section.” There was an entire wall of sketchbooks and several shelves of pencils and drawing supplies. River pulled down a hardcover book and handed it to Kacey. “What kind of book do you like best? Something like this?”

“Oh, this is fancy. Isn’t there something for just doodling? I don’t want to waste this, it’s so neat.” Kacey stroked the paper inside the sketchbook. “How cool is this?”

“It’s not a waste if you use it. Did you see all the pencils?” He was buying the book, and that was that.

“I know! All different kinds. Did you know there were a bazillion different types? I knew about… a couple-three, but that’s it.”

“No, I know nothing at all. I mean, I thought a pencil was a pencil. Show me a couple that you like.”

“Well… they got different numbers, and number two is normal, and there ain’t no one, just a B…so I would think 8B, 5B and—look! Look at all the colors…”

River plucked a couple of each from their little cubbies. “Have they got a box of them or something? An assortment?”

“Yeah, down here. I wonder if they have a low-end set that I could play with, just to experiment.” Kacey bent, and that sweet ass was right there.

Right there.

And… he reached out and gave it a little pat.

Mhm. He did that.

Kacey peered at him from between those short, skinny legs. “I felt that.”

Okay, the kid wasn’t pissed, so… “Good to know your ass hasn’t gone numb.”

“Nope. I been lucky and not busted that.” Kacey stood up, a small tin in his hand. “I’ll get this one. It’s not bad, and there’s an eraser in it. None of these have erasers.”

“Fair enough.” He took the tin from Kacey. “I think there’s a second floor…”

“What do you think is up there?” Kacey’s eyes twinkled, the green and gray and gold so damn pretty. “Wanna guess?”