Learning-to-Feel (2 page)

"Um, she might have mentioned that," I admitted.

He laughed again, and it made me smile.

"Well, I'll be out of your hair in a few weeks. This old house needed some TLC," he stopped and looked at me, "unless you want me to leave sooner."

I figured it was only a few weeks and not wanting to tread on any toes my first day in town, I told him, "No, it’s fine. Really it’s fine. I don’t mind."

He grinned again and walked back out to my car, lifting more boxes and carrying them inside. When we had the car empty, he said, "Come on, I'll give you a quick tour."

He explained as we walked through the bottom floor that this house belonged to the hospital, that was how he ended up the official caretaker. "I’ve been here in Belfast for about six months now. Originally, I was just passing through," he said as we walked through a large open living room.

We walked into the kitchen, and he said, "I was in the diner minding my own business when two guys started talking about the hospital needing painting. They knew I was painter, because everyone knows everyone else's business, and they offered me the job. I told them there was a difference between painting hospitals and painting on canvas," he said and rolled his eyes. "But I figured why not."

He looked at me and shrugged. "Anyway, it took a month or so to do the outside of the hospital, and they told me 'bout this place. It needed painting, and I needed somewhere to stay... "

"So, you're a traveling painter?" I asked.

He laughed at that. "I am actually a painter, sort of. Well, I want to be. But the traveling painter gig pays better." He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and corrected himself. "Actually, it pays... period. I’ve yet to make it in the painting world."

He turned and climbed the stairs, and I followed him. I didn’t look deliberately, but he was right in front of me, and I found myself looking at his legs and the shape of his shoulders
.
It wasn’t until I got to the top of the stairs I realized I’d just checked him out.

Him.

A guy.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked me. "You looked a little pale."

I exhaled in a huff. Fuck. "Yeah, I’m fine." But my heart was pounding erratically.

He didn't look convinced. So I smiled and looked down the hall, hoping he'd stop looking at me, which thankfully he did. He showed me the bathroom and which room would be mine. He said it was the biggest and brightest. "I painted it first," he told me, "knowing you'd be needing it soon."

Trent pointed to the other doors. "That’s the spare room, and the other room is the one I’m staying in."

I noticed a door at the end of the hall. "Where does that door lead to?"

"Oh, the attic," he said. "If you don’t mind, I do some painting up there. The canvas type," he said with a grin. "If you need the space, I can clear out."

"No, it’s fine," I reassured him. "I can’t imagine I'll need to use the attic."

"It’s just that the lighting is perfect up there," he explained.

I pointed to the door. "Can I see it?"

He hesitated. "Um, I don’t usually show my work to anyone... "

"Oh," I shrugged. "That’s okay."

"No, it’s all right," he said, walking toward the end of the hall. He hesitated again but opened the door and walked up the narrow flight of stairs, and I followed him.

It was a huge, loft-style space, and there was incredible light streaming through the dormer windows. He moved quickly, nervously, and his hair looked a lighter blond in the sun. Jesus, now I’d noticed his hair...

I looked elsewhere, anywhere else, and I saw some canvases, square, rectangular and different colors. I didn’t look too closely, he was obviously uncomfortable at my being in his space, but I recognized what I saw.

There were colors which mimicked outside, blues, greens and greys. Only colors, minimal shapes, mostly lines and textures.

"You do abstract?" I asked him.

He looked a mixture of shocked and shy. "Contemporary abstract," he corrected me gently. "You know art?"

I smiled. "Not really. My mother does. I’ve not had much time for anything but work... " my words trailed away as I looked out the window. I saw the forest, mountains and the water. "Holy shit! The view is amazing!"

He chuckled. "I know. Come on, I'll show you outside."

We left the attic and headed back downstairs, and Trent talked as we went. "I’ve painted the lounge rooms and the kitchen, fixing things as I found them. I still have to do the other bedrooms and the hall, but I was finishing up the bathroom today," he said.

"I thought you smelled like paint before," I said without thinking. I cringed at just admitting I noticed what he smelled like.

He smirked and did that eyebrow flinching thing again. "Is that so?"

Feeling my face flush, I said, "I might just wash up," indicating to the bathroom door, ignoring his question completely.

I wasn’t sure if he stepped closer or if the walls were closing in on me, but I could have sworn he wasn't that close a second ago. He pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth, and his eyes seemed to spark with something unfamiliar. "I'll just be downstairs."

I closed the bathroom door and leaned over the basin, I hung my head while I concentrated on breathing. Fuck. I had no idea what was going on with me or what it was about this guy.

A guy.

A
man
for fuck's sake!

I looked into the mirror and saw myself staring back.
Messy brown hair
, pallid complexion and dark circles under hazel eyes. Though it wasn’t me. Not really. The man that looked back at me was the unrecognizable guy who just noticed another man's eyes, his dimples, his hair, his shoulders, his smell... oh, fuck.

I washed my face with cold water and told myself to pull my shit together. I was just tired and hungry.

Yeah, that was it. I was hungry. My blood sugar must have been a little low. I wasn’t even sure if there was any food in the house, but I headed back down the stairs toward the kitchen, determined that eating would clear my head.

Trent. He was there, in the kitchen, right where I didn’t need him to be, of course. I smiled awkwardly, filled the kettle and started looking through the cupboards for a cup.

Without a word, he stepped next to me and pulled a mug out of a cupboard I hadn't got to yet. I found the coffee, and he smiled at me, amused it would seem.

"Coffee?" I asked.

"Sure," he said and grabbed a second cup.

We walked outside, along with the dog, and our coffees. We stood on the veranda overlooking the huge sloping yard, and Trent told me which direction was best for walking or running. As he told me about the bay and the town, I noticed he had such a melodic voice.

I deliberately didn’t look at him and took in the lack of other noise. I heard the sounds of the forest, the birds and even the wind through the trees and the gentle lull of the water.

"It’s so peaceful here," I told him.

He looked at me for a fraction too long, then he smiled. "It sure is," he said, his eyes still on me.

His stare unnerved me. It didn't make me uncomfortable in a weird kind of way, it made me uncomfortable in a why-the-fuck-do-I-like-that kind of way. Before I lost my shit completely, I finished my coffee quickly and went back inside.

I couldn’t even begin to rationalize what I was thinking until I had more caffeine. Lots more caffeine.

Trent followed me inside and sat at the island bench in the kitchen. "So, Nathan," he said nonchalantly, "is anyone else moving here with you? Is there a Mrs. Nathan?"

I looked up at him. "No."

"Is there a Mr. Nathan?"

I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, and the confusion must have been clear on my face because he clarified, "A boyfriend?"

My breathing stuttered, my eyes never left his and all I could do was shake my head no.

And he smiled.

Fuck.

CHAPTER 3

"I'll just finish up painting the bathroom upstairs. I'll take your bags up to your room," Trent said with a smile and before I could respond, he walked out of the kitchen.

I made another coffee, straight and strong. I looked through the cupboards and the fridge, making a mental note of supplies I'd need. I popped some bread in the toaster, and by the time it was toasted, I had a friend.

"Want some?" I asked, and Bentley sat and wagged his tail.

Just as I was hand-feeding him my crust, Trent walked in and smiled. "I wondered where my offsider went. Shoulda known food was involved."

I offered an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I should have asked if it was okay."

Trent chuckled, and it was a warm sound. "It’s fine," he said. Then he told me, "His manners get away from him sometimes, but now that you've fed him, he'll expect you to share all the time."

I patted Bentley and told the dog, "That’s okay, Buddy."

When I looked up, Trent was smiling again. I was quick to explain, "I used to have a dog when I was a kid." I wasn’t entirely sure why I’d just said that. "I used to share my food with him all the time."

I quickly washed my plate and cup then told Trent I'd head back into town, get some groceries and a few other things, and have a look around.

"I could come with you," he said quickly. "I need to grab some supplies from the hardware store, if that’s okay?"

"Oh," I said hesitantly. "Okay... "

"I could show you the sights of Belfast," he said, still smiling. He was always smiling...

We walked outside, Trent told Bentley to 'stay' on the porch, and we got in my car. "I think he’s a little disappointed," I said, nodding pointedly at the dejected dog.

"He can come if you want him in your car," Trent said with a raised eyebrow, and I looked into the pristine backseat of my car. Trent laughed, "Didn't think so."

My nerves around him seemed to have settled down, and I wondered if I was imagining things, imagining my attraction to him. I’d never been attracted to men before. I’d never been attracted to
anyone
before, not really. But a
guy?
The thought had never crossed my mind.

Even in college, not that I ever went out, but surely if I had tendencies for guys instead of girls, I'd have realized this then, or even back in high school?

But I’d never really had tendencies for girls either.

I snuck a look at him as I was driving. God, why was the line of his jaw so intriguing? And when he looked out the window and his neck stretched just so, why did I want to touch it? I wanted to lick it.

Fuck. My cock throbbed at the thought. Jesus fucking Christ, what was happening to me? I’d never had this kind of reaction to
anyone
before. I was libido-less, for crying out loud.

Now?
My libido sparks
now?
For a guy?

Fuck.

"So, you're the new doctor?" Trent asked, making small talk, oblivious to my internal catastrophe.

"Um yeah, it would seem so," I said, and tried to smile.

"Why'd you leave Boston?" He asked personal questions so easily.

My hand left the steering wheel and ran through my hair. I was so unfocused, so conflicted, so not me. This guy, who I’d known for all of an hour and a half, had completely dishevelled me. "I needed a change," I told him, opting for honesty.

"Think you'll find it here?" he asked, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

His lips...

My dick twitched. Fuck.

Before I could answer, he pointed and said, "Turn up here."

So I turned where he directed me to and soon found myself looking at the hospital. "Just thought you might like to see your new place of employment," he said.

I pulled over and looked at the small, single story building. It wasn’t anything like Boston General, that was for goddamn sure.

"When do you start?" Trent asked.

"Day after tomorrow," I answered him. "But I thought I might go in and do the meet-and-greet thing in the morning."

"The whole town's been talking about the new doctor," he said and flickered his eyebrows. "The nurses will love you."

I looked at him, shocked at his blasé comment.

He laughed. "Oh, I think they are expecting some old retiree. Dr. Hine was about two hundred years old when he left. I don’t think they’d be expecting a single, obviously attractive young man."

I blinked at him. "Obviously attractive?"

"Seen yourself lately?" He said with a chuckle and pulled down my sun visor so the mirror was staring back at me. "Surely I’m not the first person to call you that."

My head shook, and I was left speechless. He was so open, so free about personal subjects and said the most unguarded things - the polar opposite of me.

I folded the sun visor back up to its rightful position. "Um, you might be," I said quietly. "The first person to call me that." I cleared my throat and pulled the car back out onto the street.

He stared at me, I felt it. And it was both awkward and exhilarating, and the fact that I half liked it was disturbing to me.

"Where's the market?" I asked him, trying to take his attention off me.

He pointed up ahead. "Turn left up here and follow it to the main street," he said, still looking at me.

I found a local Thriftway and pulled up out front, just as Trent spoke again. "Surely there was a line a mile long of broken hearts when you left town?"

I looked at him, and a bubble of uncomfortable laughter escaped me. "Uh... no," I muttered, and quickly grabbed my keys and darted out of the car.

I grabbed a basket at the front of the shop, and Trent was soon behind me. "No?" he asked incredulously.

"Please, just drop it," I urged him. Surely he could see the pleading in my eyes.

"Okay," he said softly as he nodded. Then his tone changed, as did the topic of conversation. "So, what's on the grocery list?"

We grabbed a few things from each aisle, and it was easy. We liked a lot of the same things, ate similar foods. He told me he enjoyed cooking and shook his head at me when I confessed that being a doctor in the ER usually meant I lived on coffee and sandwiches from a vending machine.