Page 45 of Sight Unseen

“Nate, you’re high,” I said tightly. “You’re talking crap. Anyway, I thought that’s why you had dates.” I spat the word out, the bad news of the day catching up with me. “It’s a date’s job to get you off, not a friend. So forget it.”

“I had a date, Cody. A sexy, all-man version who wanted to have sex with me.” Those words cut me to the core. “But when it came to the crunch, I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t ready.” He sniffed. “So today was my pity party at how useless I am, and I wanted some weed to relax. Maybe I overdid it though. I feel a bit sick.”

I couldn’t deny the satisfaction knowing nothing had happened last night. And he did look a little green. I eyed the empty plant pot to my left, thinking it would be useful for a barf bag for Nate if he needed it.

“You’re still getting over Jon. I can see that. And you’re not useless, you idiot. Jesus, it was one damn date that didn’t go well.” I wondered if there’d be another one. “What did he say—your date?”

Nate closed his eyes, looking exhausted. “Blu was a complete gentleman. He said it was obvious I wasn’t ready to move on and we could still be friends.”

Oh. I hadn’t expected that. “Well, that’s good, isn’t it? Making a new friend?”

He nodded. “But I wasn’t getting over Jon. I’m over him already. It was someone else I kept thinking about.” His face slackened and he lolled back in the deck chair, cheeks flushed, those long dark lashes falling over his cheeks. He was asleep.

Damn. But it beat seeing him upchuck so I was glad for that. My stomach wasn’t good with that sort of thing and I’d probably have joined him.

I gazed at Nate’s peaceful face with growing frustration. He wasn’t getting over Jon? Then who the hell had he been thinking of when he denied Blu? I wanted to wake Nate up, shake him and ask him who he was getting over. I wouldn’t though. There was still time to find that out when he wasn’t stoned and I’d be able to trust what he said.

I knelt beside his still form. “You promised me donuts, you bastard,” I muttered, running my fingers down his bristled cheeks. “Instead you left me with a twisty pretzel. That’s so wrong. What the hell happened all those years ago, Clayman? I thought we had something special. You broke my heart when you told me you didn’t want me, you know that?” I brushed a strand of hair from his forehead. “I still feel the same way about you as I did then. No one’s ever come close to making me feel the way you do. Christ, I wish you hadn’t walked away. Who knows what might have happened between us.”

I couldn’t resist planting a soft kiss on his cheek. “Instead I get to be your best friend. I’ll take whatever you give me if it means I’m still in your life. Even if it’s not everything I want.”

I stood up with a sigh. It looked like he’d be out for a while and I couldn’t leave him there wearing only a towel. I huffed out a breath and braced myself to cart Nate to his bedroom. I’d try to ignore the fact that carrying him in my arms like a baby made his cock bounce up and down as I walked.

I tried to ignore it.

But I was only human.

***

Two days later there was a knock on my door. I’d been back from work only for an hour. I glanced at my wall clock. Eight p.m. Living in a beach house not far from the ocean meant the person at my front door could have been anyone: a fellow surfer wanting to shoot the breeze about today’s waves, or the next-door neighbor who made a habit of borrowing my homemade chilli sauce. Or it could have been Dev, who liked to drop in unannounced.

I opened the door and stared in surprise. Nate.

After the whole “getting high on weed” thing and putting him to bed a couple of days ago, he’d sent a subdued text the next morning thanking me for getting him to bed, and that had been it.

I’d told myself the usual excuse: I’d been too busy with the gallery and dealing with yet another diva of an artist to text Nate back.

He had come to my place before and knew his way around. Any taxi service he might have used stopped on the street right outside his front yard, and my place was only a stone’s throw from the road. It was easy enough for him to find his way here, and each time he did I was so proud of him. I didn’t want to appear patronizing because a grown man managed to walk ten steps down a backyard path. However, in my book, it was a big deal.

In only five months, Nate had come a long way.

“Wow, this is a surprise. I wasn’t expecting you.”

He fidgeted, his hand clenched around his cane. He looked tired. “Yeah, sorry. I tried calling but you didn’t answer.”

“Really? I didn’t hear it.”

He rolled one shoulder, looking uncomfortable. “Maybe you switched the volume down or something.”

I snapped my fingers. “That’s probably it. I was in a meeting this evening with a couple of clients. Come on inside.” I ushered him into the house and tried not to ogle him. Nate always looked good in long denim shorts and a cut-off tee shirt, and I hoped I wasn’t drooling at the picture he made of casual sexy guy.

“Sit down, make yourself comfortable. I’ll get us some lemonade.”

Nate sat down in the huge wicker chair, which was his favorite. “Homemade?” He laid his cane at the side of the chair.

I tut-tutted. “Of course. My very own Cody Fisher concoction.” I poured us a glass each, passed it to Nate, who took it with a smile. He drank thirstily and my eyes were drawn to the sheen of sweat on his throat, the small drop of lemonade that ran down his mouth. He pushed out a pink tongue and licked it up.

My shorts grew tighter.