Looking for Trouble(47)

Clay chuckled and shook his head. It was amazing how much more he laughed now than he had when Dylan first met him. His eyes had changed too—they weren’t as sad anymore.

“I’m sensing a theme here…”

“Well, you’d be pretty bad at catching a hint if you weren’t,” Dylan replied.

“Maybe later. I’m not in the mood right now.” There was mischief in Clay’s voice and a sparkle in his eyes.

Dylan crossed his arms. “Wait. Are you trying to withhold sex because I was being a responsible pet owner and thinking of Dakota?” The second Dylan said it, he realized how his words sounded, both now and in the car when he’d called himself Daddy Dylan. “I mean, not that Dakota’s mine or anything. I’m like…a foster dad? Temporary, or whatever.”

Now he sounded like an idiot, so he turned away, feeling his face heat. “I’m going to go check out the bedroom, even if you don’t want to play kinky sex games with me!”

Clay wrapped his arms around Dylan from behind, the way he had down by the water. His chin rested on Dylan’s head, and somehow, without being able to see him, Dylan knew he had his eyes closed.

“Don’t run from me. I’ve spent my whole life running from something or other, and I’m tired. I’m trying to keep my feet planted, but I need you to do it with me. Dakota needs her Daddy Dylan too.”

Was that Clay’s way of trying to say he wanted them to be permanent? That he wasn’t temporary? He wasn’t a hundred percent sure that was what he meant, but Dylan wanted it to be. “Okay.”

“Good.” Clay kissed the top of his head. “Now, I can show you the cabin, and the bed, which I will be fucking you in.”

“Thank God. I was worried I should have brought my dildo.”

“Ha-ha. Very funny.” Clay swatted his ass.

There wasn’t much to see in the cabin. It was open concept—the living room, kitchen, and dining room all one large space. There was wood everywhere he looked, though Dylan didn’t know what kind it was. Sort of separating some of the spaces were large pillars, which gave it a unique vibe Dylan liked.

Off the living room was the bedroom, which had a king bed, a bathroom, and a sliding glass door leading out back.

It was simple, homey, rustic. Perfect.

“Are you hungry?” Clay asked when they put their things in the bedroom.

“Starving.”

“I’ll make us some lunch.”

“I’ll help.”

Clay went back out to grab the groceries they’d gotten on their way up. They made fries and grilled-cheese sandwiches for lunch. Dylan figured afterward they would make their way to the bedroom to continue where they left off in the car, but they didn’t. He didn’t know whether to be disappointed or not, but then Clay asked, “Do you know how to play?” and pointed to a table that was a chessboard, and Dylan felt ridiculously fluttery. Most men didn’t want to just spend time with him the way Clay did. They wanted to fuck, and that was the end of it. Typically, that was all Dylan wanted as well, but it was different with Clay.

“No, but you can teach me.”

“Okay.”

“I’ve heard chess is confusing, so sorry if it takes me a while to make sense of it.” Sometimes it was hard for him to keep his concentration long enough to learn some things. His brain just didn’t seem to have the patience for them, and Dylan didn’t want this to be one of those things. He wanted Clay to be able to teach him without getting frustrated. He wanted to enjoy their time together. “I was dating this guy once, and he used to get so annoyed with me if I didn’t catch on to something right away.”

“Hey.” Clay smiled at him. “If you want to learn, it doesn’t matter how long it takes. I’ll teach you. That’s never something you have to apologize for. He was a dick for making you feel that way.”

“Okay,” Dylan replied, savoring those words, locking them away inside him where he could keep them safe and remember them.

They took the chess table to the back deck. Dakota lay on her back, enjoying the sun as Clay showed him how to play. Somehow, his brain seemed to click perfectly into place. He made sense of chess, understood it quickly. His mind didn’t wander, and he didn’t feel stupid or lose his patience as he often did.

“I’ve decided I’m a chess genius,” he told Clay, well into their second game.

“Oh, you have, have you?” Clay asked.

“Yep.”

“Hmm…well, I think I agree with you, but I won’t admit it again.”

Okay, it was silly, but Dylan beamed at that. He felt…good. Like he had someone who believed in him, other than his dad, who sort of had to. Even if it was something as minor as a game of chess.

When they finished, they cuddled on the couch and watched a movie together. It was so different from any relationship Dylan had ever had—the way he and Clay spent time together. It made him realize that those other men, they weren’t relationships at all. Clay just seemed to like spending time with him.

Once the movie was over, they freshened up and went to downtown Asheville for dinner. It was already buzzing with excitement, though Dylan didn’t hear the drumming yet.

At the intersection of four streets was a large grassy area with huge trees hanging over it. Boxing it in were short brick walls. He noticed a few people sitting on them and talking.